Unbridalled (sic) : Wank Wednesday

At Aussiescribbler's, and at many another fine blog around the blogosphere, every Wednesday is Wank Wednesday. Today the prompt word is #bell. (You'll be glad to hear that I've resisted the temptation to write an erotic version of The Hunchback of Notre Dame.) For more about Wank Wednesday, and to find everyone else's contributions, check out Ruby Kiddell's The Erotic Notebook :

Unbridalled (sic)

"'Therefore, send not to know / For whom the bell tolls, / It tolls for thee' as John Donne once said," declared Teresa soberly.

"I remember him," said Cara. "He was the bartender down at the Tropicana Lounge."

"He was a poet," explained Teresa, shaking her head.

"I never knew that," Cara replied. "But he made a mean Cowboy Cocksucker."

"John Donne was a British poet from about four hundred years ago," pointed out an exasperated Teresa.

"But he was talking about death," added Fiona, "not wedding bells."

"Same difference," put in Brenda, lighting a cigar.

"I never thought that Alice would find a man," said Teresa. "Many men, yes, one in particular, never in a million years."

"Not just any man could make an honest woman of Alice," Fiona added. "It had to be a man with lots of money."

"A dishonest woman, you mean," Brenda corrected her. "Pretending that she only has eyes for her husband and doesn't actually want to be gang-banged by every hot guy in sight ; wearing designer dresses when she'd rather be rocking a boob tube and some super-tight Daisy Dukes ; staying home every night watching TV and bringing her hubby beers from the fridge instead of being out on the town with the Slut Pack fucking random guys in club toilets and waking up the next morning in the gutter covered in her own puke. That doesn't sound like honesty to me."

"That's the problem with the idea of marrying a rich guy like Manfred," explained Teresa. "It would give you the money you need to do anything you want, only you wouldn't be allowed to. It's a veritable Catch-22, as Joseph Heller would have said."

"I know," exclaimed Cara, "he was a famous baseball player, right?"

"American novelist," sighed Teresa. "One of the best."

Alice was off at a fitting for her wedding dress, and the rest of the famous Slut Pack were taking advantage of her absence to discuss how they really felt about her upcoming nuptials.

"You know the definition of a man?" asked Brenda, knocking the ash off of her cigar and taking a swig from her bottle of Jim Beam.

"I don't know," Fiona played along. "What is the definition of a man?"

"A life-support system for a cock," Brenda guffawed. She lifted the hem of her mini-dress to reveal she was wearing no panties. Then she scratched her labia as she took another swig of bourbon.

"A bit of cheese on the old taco?" queried Cara.

"No way," declared Brenda. "My cunt is in perfect health, but it is just itching to get fucked."

They all laughed.

And they laughed even harder when Fiona let out a loud fart. It was hard to believe such a loud sound could come out of someone so small. Fiona was only 3 1/2 feet tall. Her friends knew her affectionately as Mini-Fi. And she was given to flatulence.

"Are we going to allow Alice to split up the Slut Pack?" asked Brenda, tapping more cigar ash into the ashtray that she had now positioned between her massive breasts.

"What can we do about it?" asked Cara, whose blonde hair, according to scientists, had nothing whatsoever to do with the fact that she was as thick as two short planks.

"Manfred's parents place a lot of importance on appearances," pointed out Fiona. "As Alice's bridesmaids, we are central to the decorum, or lack thereof, at the wedding."

"Are you suggesting sabotage?" asked Brenda, eagerly.

"We have to stop this marriage 'by any means necessary' - as Malcolm X put it," enthused Teresa.

"I remember Malcolm's ex," piped up Cara. "She was a super-bitch from Hell. I'm not surprised he dumped her."

*          *          *

"They weren't kidding about you being the best man!" exclaimed Fiona, as she unzipped the fly of Manfred's best friend Brad's formal trousers, only to be slapped in the face by his massive erection. She tenderly stroked his balls as she licked up and down the underside of his shaft.

"I've never been sucked off by a midget before," Brad told her.

"Little person," she corrected him.

"Oh, sorry," he said, tenderly stroking her hair as she slid her lips over the bell end of his cock.

"For a little person, you sure have a deep throat," he groaned.

Little did he know that as this was taking place, Brenda was behind him casually slipping her hand into his pants' pocket and stealing the wedding ring.

Fiona removed her mouth from Brad's cock.

"You probably want to shoot your load all over my pretty face," she explained, "but the wedding starts in just a few minutes so I can't have you messing up my make-up. I'll just have to keep you safe inside my mouth where I can suck out all your yummy jism and swallow it all down so that no-one will be any the wiser."

She smeared her ruby red lipstick all down the length of his already saliva-coated cock and tickled his balls with her gloved hands until he exploded a thick hot river of cum down her throat.

"Never has doing one's duty by a friend been so much fun," giggled Fiona, reapplying her lipstick as she approached Brenda. "Did you get the ring?"

"I sure did," smiled Brenda. "And I've found the perfect place to hide it."

"Where's that?" Fiona wanted to know.

"In my ring," laughed Brenda, lifting her dress and bending over. She was wearing no panties, and, as she pulled apart the cheeks of her sizeable arse, the diamond could be seen winking ostentatiously from her sphincter.

"Perfect," smiled Fiona. "Well, can't hang about here gabbing. There's another cock to be sucked."

*           *           *

"I had my doubts about this girl," Manfred's father Mr. Mann said to his wife as they sat in the front pew of the ornately decorated Catholic church, "but I am now beginning to understand that she was just a diamond in the rough. She can be our kind of people."

"Of course she can," replied his wife Eugenia. "All we have to make sure of is that nobody finds out about her past."

"Well, we all have one of those, don't we?" he reassured her. "Money can cover up a multitude of sins."

"Ah, here comes Father Dominic," Eugenia pointed out. "I've always thought he looked too sexy to be a priest. It seems such a waste. Is it naughty to think like that?"

"Where's the other bridesmaid?" asked Mr. Mann.

"You mean the Munchkin?" Eugenia wanted to know. "She's probably just standing behind someone. It's so easy to lose sight of her."

At that moment, their driver ran down the side aisle of the church with something hidden beneath his coat.

"I found this out on the lawn," he explained in an anxious tone, discreetly showing them Fiona's bridesmaid's dress. "Her panties and brassiere as well."

"My god!" exclaimed Eugenia. "There's a nude midget on the loose! I hope she's not in the church."

Mr. Mann did the best he could to hide the evidence beneath their pew.

Father Dominic was now standing behind the altar. He was preparing himself to begin the ceremony, when he felt a breeze up the back of his cassock. He was no longer alone under there. Someone small and nude was pulling down his y-fronts.

"Manfred, do you take Alice to be your wife?" he asked, a little nervously. "Do you promise to be true to her...oh, that feels so good... in good times and in bad... bad girl... , in sickness and in health, to love her... oh, Jeez, suck my balls!... and honour her... gobble my knob, you slut... all the days of your life? Oh, fuck that's good!"

"I know Alice has always been keen to help out the disabled," said a family friend of the Mann's, "but hiring a  priest with Tourette syndrome is going a bit far."

"What the hell's going on!" Mr. Mann wanted to know.

Once she had succeeded in depriving the spunky young priest of his virginity, Fiona let him finish the vows in peace.

"Now for the exchanging of rings," he said.

"Whoops!" cried Maid of Honour Teresa. "It's stuck on my finger!" She wiggled the middle finger of her right hand, which was, indeed, decorated with a man's gold wedding band. "It's stuck on my wanking finger! Does anyone have any lube?"

"Fuck!" cried Brad. "I can't find the ring! It was in my pocket!"

"Has anyone seen the bride's ring?" asked Father Dominic.

"Practically very guy on the East coast!" cried Cara.

"I see something down there!" exclaimed Brenda, bending down to look at something imaginary on the floor and simultaneously lifting her gown to bare her buttocks to the assembly.

"Oh, my God!" cried a male voice from the crowd. "The ring's in her ass!"

Federico, the videographer, zoomed in for a close-up.

"Has anyone seen my gown?" cried Fiona, running out from behind the altar, naked as the day she was born. "Oh, there it is."

She ran over to a bright red Mr. Mann and pulled her dress out from under his pew.

"Why are you hiding my clothes, you naughty man?" she scolded him, leaping up into his lap and kissing him on the lips. "If you wanted to fuck me, all you had to do was ask!"

Federico was getting it all on camera.

"Turn that camera off!" cried Eugenia. "The wedding's off and you're fired!"

"None of this is my doing," he pointed out in his own defence. "You hired me to record the event and that's what I'm doing."

"If you think you are going to get paid for putting this schmozzle on film you've got another thing coming," she told him.

"YouTube, here I come," he smiled.

"O.K., O.K.," she relented. "We'll pay."

"Come on, let's get to the reception before Mr. and Mrs. Mann get there to lock the gate!" cried Brenda, grabbing the arm of the bewildered Alice.

"You've completely fucked up my wedding!" she cried, as Brenda dragged her out of the church.

"You would have been miserable with those snobs," Brenda pointed out.

"Manfred's not like his parents," Alice told her.

"But you would have had to live by their rules to get their money," said Brenda. "And, while Manfred is super-cute and can fuck me any day of the week, do you really think you would have been satisfied with only one guy?"

"Mmmmmm, maybe not," she conceded. "But you still deserve to have your bottoms spanked, the lot of you."

"I tell you what," Brenda told her. "As soon as all this is over, you and Manfred can take turns spanking my bottom until it is red as a beetroot. And then Manfred can fuck it with his big stiff knob."

"How do you know he has a big knob?" Alice wanted to know.

"You think we don't take a peak at your emails?" Brenda asked.

"Quick, give me a piggy-back!" cried Fiona, leaping onto Brenda's back. She had her dress back on, but the buttons weren't done up. "They're after us!"

Teresa, who was a fan of the movie The Graduate, had stolen the crucifix off of the wall and she used it to bar the doors to the church, allowing the re-unified Slut Pack to get a head start on the rest of the congregation. They all hopped into one of the limousines, and Alice drove them to the Mann's mansion where a lavish reception had been laid on.

"It's cake farting time!" cried Brenda, lifting her dress and sitting her nude arse down into the sumptuous wedding cake. She ground it all around, and then stood up, bent down, spread her cheeks and broke wind. Cream, frosting, and a diamond wedding ring, sprayed from her butthole.

Alice, giving way to the euphoria which follows release from an anxiety-provoking situation, was next. She pulled off her lacy knickers, planted her delectable bare ass deep into the cake, and blew a rip-snorting rectal raspberry.

"You chicks are real pigs!" cried Brad, who, along with Manfred, had almost beaten them back to the party.

"I'm so sorry about all of this," Alice told Manfred. "I do love you. But the girl's are right. I could never live the kind of lifestyle your parent's would expect of me."

"Don't worry," he assured her. "I love you for who you are. And if who you are is a girl who likes farting in wedding cakes, so be it. After today my parents will probably disown me. But if I can't make my own way in the world then I'm not a real Mann, am I?"

"So what are you guys going to do to the cake?" asked Cara.

"I'm going to fuck it!" cried Brad, dropping his pants to reveal his prodigious nine inches in a state of rock hard erectness. He ran at the cake and shoved his stiff prick deep into the frosting.

"What made you stiff?" asked a cheeky Alice.

"Thinking about your cake-filled cunt," he confessed, as he slid his cock in and out of the confectionary.

"That's my would-be bride's cunt you are talking about!" cried Manfred in mock disapproval.

"You were that close to getting exclusive right's to my cunt," Alice pointed out, holding her finger's close together. "But you missed out. So if Brad wants to eat wedding cake out of it, he is welcome to."

It was too good an invitation for Brad to turn down.

When Manfred's parents arrived they found : Brad licking frosting clumps out of Alice's vagina ; Manfred fucking Brenda in the ass ; Teresa and Fiona both stark naked and engaged in an act of lesbian lust involving Fiona sucking on Teresa's clit while Teresa used the groom from the top of the wedding cake as a dildo in Fiona's pussy ; and Cara had her dress up and was squatting down on the table pissing into the punch bowl.

"We'll have to lock them up in the cellar and take away their mobiles," Teresa pointed out. "We don't want them cancelling the honeymoon before we even arrive."

"The honeymoon?" asked Alice.

"Well, there's a hotel room with a super large bed booked for the next week," Teresa explained. "We might as well use it. You go in as normal and then the rest of us will sneak our way in."

"Does that include me?" asked Brad.

"Of course it does," Teresa replied. "We all want to make things up to Manfred by being very nice to his cock. But one cock isn't enough for five women. Well, four and a half anyway."

"You watch it!" cried Fiona, biting her on the bum.

*          *          *

"Rudeness, crudeness, and, above all, nudeness, shall be the order of the day," declared Alice, once they had all snuck into the bridal suite.

"Strip for us!" cried Manfred and Brad in unison.

The girls all did slow elaborate strip routines out of their now rather soiled dresses. The guy's remained dressed, but unzipped their pants and pulled out their stiff cocks. The girl's kissed their cocks and gave them lap dances as they slowly lost their lingerie. Finally, the guys were so turned on that they wanked off and spurted cum all over their formal attire and had to remove it. Now everyone was naked and feeling very frisky.

It would take a while for the guys to get stiff again, so the girl's had to resort to pleasuring each other while the guys watched.

Since Alice was the girl of the moment, they lay her down on the bed and licked her all over. Cara and Teresa sucked on a stiff nipple each, Fiona was between her legs licking out her pussy, and Brenda was on the floor sucking on her toes. When she really started to moan and writhe around, they flipped her over. Fiona was still underneath her sucking on her clit, and now Brenda crawled up behind her, spread her bum cheeks and started licking her butthole. It wasn't long before she squirted all over Fiona's face.

All the girl's had a turn having their pussy licked, and the boys helped out too. They're tongues were up to the task of pussy-pleasing, even if their cocks were still at half-mast.

"Dwarf-tossing competition!" cried Brenda, when it was time for Fiona to get her pussy licked.

"Do I have a beard?" asked an exasperated Fiona. "Do I work in a diamond mine? Do I sing 'Hi Ho Hi Ho Hi Ho'?"

But Brenda just picked her up and threw her across to Manfred who began fucking her pussy with his tongue.

"Oooooo! Me! Me!" cried Cara. "Throw her to me!"

Manfred threw her in Cara's direction, but unfortunately he didn't know his own strength and she sailed straight out through the open window. A moment later there was the sound of a loud splash from far below.

"Whoops!" cried Manfred.

The phone rang and Brad answered it.

"There's a nude midget in the swimming pool," the desk clerk informed him. "Does she belong to your party?"

*           *          *

Half an hour later, Alice and Manfred were fucking on the bed as the others all watched and provided commentary. Fiona was sulking in the corner. She'd towelled off, but her hair was still damp.

"Nice cock, you dirty bastard," cried Brenda. "Now tease her stiff clitty with the pre-cum-slippery head of that beautiful boner."

"Cute butt!" exclaimed Cara, slapping Manfred's arse playfully.

"Fuck her! I did!" cried Brad, who had been hitting the room's mini-bar a little too heavily.

"And so the wedding that never was has been consummated!" yelled Teresa.

"That stuff looks a bit too thick to be consumé," quipped Brenda, grabbing a miniature bottle of vodka in one hand and Brad's stiff cock in the other.

"Let's have a masturbation contest," suggested Teresa.

"How does that work?" asked Brad.

"We all wank off and whoever can have the most orgasms wins," she explained.

"We guys will be at a bit of a disadvantage," put in Manfred. "Especially me."

"It's a contest for we girls," said Cara. "But if you guys feel like wanking your wieners while you watch, that is not against the rules."

"Close that window first," said Fiona, climbing up onto the bed and spreading her legs. She was the champion when it came to wanking contests, so she was beginning to forgive her friends for their previous behaviour towards her.

The girls all lay in a row along the bed, each with her legs thrown over the legs of the girls on either side. And then they all started fingering themselves. Some also played with their nipples. After about fifteen minutes Fiona began screaming with her first orgasm. The others followed. Soon the room was ringing to a veritable cacophony of cums. Wet cunts were puddling the bedspread, and the two guys were rock hard and stroking themselves in appreciation of what they were witnessing.

As expected Fiona was the winner, although Teresa got a special mention for squirting so hard at one stage that she showered cunt juice all over the guy's cocks fully a metre away.

"I'm hungry," declared Brenda. "Let's call for room service."

They ordered enough food to feed an army. And a short time later there was a knock on the door.

"Come in," cried Alice.

Nobody bothered to cover up as the waiter wheeled in the trolley full of food.

"He's cute," Fiona pointed out, pulling down his trousers. "Let's keep him."

*          *          *

"It was a case of mass demonic possession," Father Dominic told the Bishop. "I think we need to cleanse the church."

His explanation was accepted that time. But a year later, when the Bishop discovered that he had drilled a glory hole in his confessional and was asking for a very unusual form of penance from some of his lady parishioners, he was forced to retire and take up a position in the porn industry.

The End

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Going Ape! : Wank Wednesday

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Tit for Tat : Fuck Me Friday

Time once more for a filthy Fuck Me Friday fable. Check out the other contributions at Aisling Weaver's site.   If you want to be horny all weekend you'll have found the right place. And make sure to tell the authors if their work touched you where you like to be touched.

Tit for Tat

So I'm a compulsive hoarder. Sue me! It's my unit and if I want to step over piles of junk rather than feel the pain of separation involved in disposing of it that's my business.

Annette no doubt meant well when she asked why I didn't weed my possessions a little, but still it annoyed me.

Annette is my new neighbour. We live in a block of ten units in a quiet seaside suburb. A week after she moved in she knocked on my door and introduced herself. I'd seen her moving in and a couple of times since then. She was a brunette with an English rose complexion and a warm infectious smile. She also had massive breasts. Nothing grotesque mind you, but cantaloupe size. Russ Meyer would have considered her to be talented. She liked to wear plaid shirts that were a little too small so that the buttons seemed in danger of popping off at any moment and she always kept the top buttons undone to show some creamy pale cleavage.

She wasn't one of those top-heavy girls either, her boobs were balanced with a big bum which filled out her tight jeans like an over-stuffed sofa. Whether she was walking towards me or walking away she was swinging something that made my cock swell warmly.

"Ooooh, brandy. I wouldn't say no," she said as she entered my cluttered lounge room and saw a bottle on the coffee table.

"Of course," I replied. "I'll get some glasses." And so I wove my way between stacks of comics, piles of VHS tapes and old pizza boxes as I headed for the kitchen.

"What a lot of junk!" exclaimed Annette as I handed her a glass. She was holding one of my comics, and surveying the piles on all sides.

"I collect things," I replied. "It's a hobby."

"It's a fire hazard is what it is," she told me. "Do you actually read these comics?"

"When I buy them I do," I responded, not sure why I should feel so defensive.

"And then you just leave them piled around gathering dust?" she asked. "They won't keep well if you don't put them in acid-proof bags."

"You sound like you collect comics yourself," I commented.

"No, but I sell them sometimes," she explained. "I make my money selling stuff on e-bay. I buy up odds and sods from deceased estates and auction them off on the net."

"You can live on that?" I asked.

"Oh, yeah," she replied. "It's time consuming but there's good money in it. And its exciting because you never know when you are going to hit the jackpot with a rare collector's item."

"Well," I said, "I don't think I could part with any of my stuff. Everything has memories."

"Including the pizza boxes?" she asked. "Sorry, don't mind me. I can be a bit rude at times. Really, it's your life. You do what you want."

Annette was something of a gardener and I would see her pruning the roses or picking weeds out of the strip of lawn between the two rows of units. Other times we would meet up at the letter box after the postie had been. Her face always lit up when she saw me. She smiled warmly, and her eyes twinkled as she exchanged small talk in an almost conspiratorially embracing manner. And she always seemed to stand just a little bit closer than I was entirely comfortable with. She had such an effusively affectionate manner that I felt as if, had she been a small dog, she would have been humping my leg.

Don't get me wrong. This made me uncomfortable only because I was unused to getting this kind of response from a woman. If I'd been a small dog I would have wanted to hump her leg too. But I'm not the kind of guy women generally pay much attention to. Short and chubby, with too little hair on my head and too much everywhere else, I'm often compared to the actor Paul Giamatti. My ex-girlfriend said I was cute and cuddly, but you won't find guys like me as centrefolds in Playgirl.

The other thing that impressed me about Annette was her perfume. I don't know what brand it was, but it was genuinely intoxicating, a mix of musk and cinnamon and wildflowers.

With her smile and her smell and her boobs and her bum and her standing so close, I felt such an impulse  just to grab her by the letterbox. But I was so unsure of myself after several years on my own. What if her warm, intimate manner with me was the way she was with everyone? I didn't want to embarrass myself by doing anything rash.

But then, one morning, I stumbled into the lounge room while eating from a bowl of cereal and noticed that something was different. Something was missing.

It took a while for me to realise what it was. It was my copy of the issue of The Puzzler in which he took on his arch enemy Sodoku Man. It had been on the top of the biggest pile of comics. It's absence was made all the more obvious because the issue underneath it was not coated in dust as the comics which topped the other piles were.

As I looked around I found that that was not all that was missing. A total of 23 comics, 5 vintage issues of Playboy, a collector's guide to Matchbox Cars and an autographed picture of David Hasselhoff were gone.

The crime rate in the district in which I live is not high, and our units are close together with front doors facing the central strip of lawn, so that any thief would run the risk of being observed. So many of us are in the habit of leaving our doors unlocked when we are asleep. Someone must have snuck in and stolen my stuff. But who?

Then I noticed it. The smell. The smell of Annette's perfume. Of course she should have been the first suspect, since she had knowledge and motive. But until I noticed the perfume I didn't think of her. I didn't want to think that she might steal from me. Maybe that was why she had been so friendly. Maybe she was just buttering me up to get access to my saleable items.

What was I going to do? Confront her? Yes. But I couldn't get her boobs and butt out of my mind. I wanted revenge for this invasion and theft, but I also wanted Annette.

Then it struck me like lightning. What's good for the gander is good for the goose. Tit for tat. If she could sneak into my unit and take something of mine, then that gave me permission to sneak into hers and steal something. But what? A pair of panties maybe. But that wasn't really what I wanted. I wanted her.

Maybe I should just go over there and walk in unannounced. If I was lucky, I might find her in a skimpy nightie or maybe I could walk into the bathroom while she was in the shower. I wasn't likely to be that lucky, but either way, I had an advantage over a sexy woman. She owed me. That couldn't be be a bad thing.

I had right on my side. I was not going to be deterred from righting the wrong that had been done against me.

I walked up to her door, turned the knob and walked straight in.

"Oh, my God! I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to... I apologise... I'll go right now," I stammered when I saw that Annette was sitting stark naked on a recliner in her living room with her legs spread and pleasuring her dripping wet pussy with a Hitachi Magic Wand vibrator.

"Don't do that," she insisted. "Be sociable and stay. Make yourself comfortable. Take your clothes off."

"I beg your pardon?" I asked.

"No need to do that, you didn't do anything wrong," she told me. "You're always welcome to visit me. You're my favourite neighbour. Now get your gear off. You must feel over-dressed. You'll find that my central heating is very efficient. You won't be cold."

"O.K., if you insist," I mumbled, beginning to unbutton my shirt. As I undressed she continued to moan happily as she buzzed herself.

"If I were having a cup of tea, I'd do the neighbourly thing and offer you a cup," she told me. "But I'm not, I'm having a wank. Can I offer you one?"

"A wank?" I asked.

"Yes, how do you like your wanks? A straight hand job, or do you like some tit with it?" she wanted to know.

"Oh, I like mine with plenty of tit," I replied. "Especially the thick creamy kind. None of that slimmer rubbish."

"Well, you're in luck," she enthused. "I have lashings of creamy tit for your wank."

By now I was naked. My cock was as hard as a rock and dribbling precum on the carpet.

"Dear, dear, you are a messy boy," she chuckled. "Now bring that thing here."

I came up close to her and she put down her wand and grasped my cock in her soft warm hand, slowly beginning to stroke it up and down.

"Is there anything else you like with your wank?" she enquired.

"Well, I am quite partial to sweet sticky buns," I told her.

"I've got plenty of honey in the kitchen," she informed me, "so that shouldn't be a problem. But you will have to have your sweet sticky buns after your wank, because I'm not a contortionist."

Then she let go of my cock and grasped one of my butt cheeks in each hand and pulled me to her chest so that my cock was between her big soft pale boobs. When I was in place she let go of me and pushed her boobs together around my cock. It felt heavenly. Her soft breasts were so silky against the hot hardness of my prick. As I stood there, leaning in to her, she drew her boobs up and down my cock. I thrust my pelvis to compliment the boob wank she was giving me. And as she moved her boobs up and down she kissed my chubby hairy belly and stuck her tongue in my navel.

All of the erotic energy that had been building in me since I met Annette was coming to a dizzying peak as I stood in her lounge room fucking her boobs. It wasn't long before I climaxed and my balls shot spurt after spurt of hot cum all over the upper slopes of her magnificent mammaries.

"You're not the only one who likes loads of cream with a wank," she grinned, bending forward to slurp and lick up all of the cum that was dribbling from my wilting cock. She then smeared the cum on her boobs down over her stiff pink nipples and sucked it off, first from one and then the other.

"Wasn't that better than a cup of tea?" she asked. "I'll go prepare your sweet sticky buns now." And she ran off to the kitchen.

When she returned she told me to sit down in the chair and then turned to face away from me. Her big pale wobbly arse was all coated in honey.

"No need to say grace," she insisted. "Just dig in."

I bent forward and began licking up all of the honey off of the big soft cheeks of her bottom.

"Mind if I stroke while you eat?" she asked politely.

"Not at all," I assured her.

And so, as I buried my face in the sweet goo all over her bottom, licking and dribbling and feeling the tickling sensation of honey dripping from the end of my nose, she began alternately playing with her stiff clit and sliding her fingers into her already half-wanked cunt.

By the time I was pulling apart her big cheeks and digging my tongue deep into her bum-hole to suck out the last vestiges of sweet honey, she was squealing her way through a body shaking orgasm.

Once our lust was sated we had a shower together to wash off all the sweat and cum. I don't think there was any honey left. I was pretty thorough licking that heavenly bottom of hers. The same bottom that rubbed all over my semi-erect prick when she had to bend down to pick up the soap.

Afterwards we sat around nude in the living room and chatted about all kinds of things.

"Yes, I did steal some of your tat and sell it on ebay," she confessed. "I didn't think you would notice. I was going to tell you later in hopes that it would teach you a lesson."

"I knew it was you because I could smell your perfume," I explained.

"Vanity. It'll get you every time," she sighed.

"I love your perfume though," I insisted. "Of all the people I know in the world, you're the one that looks best and the one that smells the best. And now I know you also feel the best."

"That's so sweet," she smiled. "I think we can be good neighbours. Feel free to drop in and hang out anytime. You're always welcome. Don't bother to knock. The only thing I insist on is total nudity. That's the way I like to be, and it just doesn't seem right if someone's present who is still wearing sneakers, or a tie or one sock."

"I like to be nude with you," I told her, "because then you can see the physical evidence of how much you excite me."

"Yes, I can see that I have a little fan as well as a bigger one," she laughed.

"Hey, not so much of the little!" I exclaimed.

"He'll do," she giggled. "You know what they say, anything more than a mouthful is a waste."

"And just let me know if there is anything I can do to help you out in other ways," I said. "I really appreciate how you do the gardening. I have some skills as a handyman."

"Really? Like what?" she wanted to know.

"I'm quite good with electrical things," I told her.

"My electric blanket has stopped working," she informed me.

"Well, it's usually not a good idea to try to fix them," I warned her. "It's better to replace it."

"Could you replace it?" she asked.

"You mean buy you a new one?" I queried.

"No. I mean take its place," she insisted. "I'm really cold in bed at night, but with another body in there with me, I think I could be toasty warm. And you're friendlier than an old electric blanket."

"We could give it a go," I agreed.

"I know I'm asking a lot," she said. "I like to sleep a good eight hours each night. So I'd be asking you to take quite a bit of time out of your evening just to help me keep warm."

"Oh, that's O.K.," I insisted. "I wasn't doing anything else."

"And there are a couple of things I should warn you about," she added. "I have a tendency to talk in my sleep. My ex-boyfriend said I said some quite improper things while I was sleeping. Let's put it this way - I'm not exactly safe for work."

"That's not a problem," I told her. "I rarely do any work while in bed."

"And my other problem is insomnia," she confessed.

"That's no good," I sympathised.

"But there is a solution," she reassured me. "I always sleep soundly after strenuous exercise."

"That makes sense," I replied.

"Its just that there is only one kind of strenuous activity I've found that I can do in bed," she warned me. "I mean its not that I don't know how to play chess, or charades, or tiddly winks. But they just aren't strenuous enough to really wear me out. Running would do it, but I can't do that in bed. So it always has to be the same thing. I suppose you can guess what that is."

"I've got a good idea," I admitted.

"You wouldn't mind helping me in that way?" she asked.

"It's only the neighbourly thing to do," I told her.

"You are so understanding," she replied, kissing the tip of my nose. "And I'm sure there will be things I can do for you. If you can think of anything, just let me know."

"Oh, I will," I assured her. "I will. I think we are going to be the best of neighbours."

The End

Celebrity Taste Buddies : Fuck Me Friday

Hopefully a little filth is what you fancy as it is once more Fuck Me Friday. So pull up a bean bag and make yourself comfortable and I'll tell you a story. Don't forget to visit Aisling Weaver's site to find out all about this Twitterotica institution and to read the stories by all the other contributors. And always remember we can't see you when you read our stories, so let us know if they made you happy.

Celebrity Taste Buddies

You know how it is in dreams. How you aren't always yourself.

Well, last night I was Gordon Ramsay.

I was about to give the Kitchen Nightmares treatment to a lady chef. I already had my shirt off as I strode into her large kitchen, resplendent with metres and metres of sparkling aluminium surfaces. There she was washing vegetables at the sink. All she was wearing was an apron. And she had the most gorgeous arse I'd ever seen, round and pert and gloriously pink. She had the figure of a fifties sex goddess, from her broad shoulders to her womanly hips and fleshy legs which tapered down to exquisitely well-turned ankles. She slowly turned to face me.

It was Nigella Lawson.

"I've been dying to poke around your pantry, Nigella," I told her.

"You think you're such a rogue, don't you Gordon?" she scolded me playfully, a naughty twinkle in her eye. "But you're really just a boorish brute. Jamie is much nicer. And cuter. Even if I can really spank his bottom when it comes to cooking."

"What are you trying to make?" I asked, shaking my head as I came over to examine the contents of the sink, and, at the same time, shamelessly fondle Nigella's nude bottom.

"I'm making a tomato surprise," she explained.

"I don't see any tomatoes there," I pointed out.

"It doesn't have any," she said. "That's the surprise."

"What's the main dish?" I wanted to know.

"This is," she replied. "We're serving a vegetarian meal."

"Fuck me!" I cursed. "Why would you want to do that?"

"It's healthy," she maintained.

"Nothing wrong with the good old fashioned English meat and two veg!" I cried.

"Gordon! Gordon! Gordon!" she sighed, shaking her head.

"Here's one I prepared earlier," I told her, pulling down my chef's pants and waving my stiff cock and balls in her general direction.

"Unimaginative," she declared, raising an eyebrow as she stared at my cock. Then she gathered a droplet of pre-cum off the tip with her finger and placed it between her succulent lips. "But boldly delicious none the less."

The next thing I knew the kitchen staff arrived from out of nowhere. Twenty female cooking students between the ages of 18 and 25 of all different body types and hair colours, and all stark naked. They weren't even wearing aprons any more, and neither was Nigella. This was a dream. None of us were going to get burned by hot fat.

They were all doing a great job of preparing a gourmet meal, but I was Gordon Ramsay, and this was Kitchen Nightmares, so I just pretended they were incompetent, because it was more fun that way.

"You've got to be fuckin' kidding me!" I cried. "You call that chopping parsley!" The cute pink-cheeked little butter ball was actually doing an awesome job, but I wanted to tell her off and spank her big bottom. And that is just what I did.

They all knew I was just pretending. And they were determined to have fun at my expense as well.

"Now to slice up some salami for the pizza!" cried a skinny freckly redhead, grabbing my cock in one hand and a huge butcher knife in the other.

"Hey!" cried Nigella, rescuing me. "This is a vegetarian dish remember?"

"Oh, dear!" cried a short bespectacled brunette. "I've made a mess!"

She had spilled a creamy cheese sauce all down the front of her.

"I'll help you with that!" I cried, sinking to my knees and enthusiastically licking the delicious thick liquid off of her erect clit.

"Here comes more!" she cried, picking up the saucepan and deliberately pouring it all over her nipples and belly and my own head. The next thing I knew there were wet tongues lapping at my back as the sauce ran down towards my arse.

"How's this?" asked Nigella, walking up and deliberately sprinkling a herb and spice mix over her pussy. "I'm not sure if I've got the mix quite right?"

Soon all the girls were getting me to taste stuff off of their stiff clits.

"I'm getting a stiff back here," I complained. "Let's do things a little differently. I'm not the only one with taste buds you know."

So from that point on all of the tasting was done by the girls, off of the end of my erect cock. Those lasses were a lovely lot of lickers. And, this being a dream, I came and came and came, filling all of their mouths with my own special recipe sauce for afters.

The weirdest bit of the dream was when whipped cream started shooting out of the end of my cock and the girls took turns to use me to decorate cakes.

Finally the meal was prepared and we all sat down to eat it.

By this time Nigella had been hitting the cooking sherry and was happily plastered.

"We don't have glasses," she pointed out. "So everyone will have to drink wine out of my cunt."

"A red, I think, with this meal," I suggested.

"I don't care, as long as it's bubbly," she slurred. "I love the feel of bubbles up my boo boo."

So she stood on her head with her legs spread while I poured a sparkling red up to the brim of her cunt.

"Ooooooh, it tickles!" she cried. And we all lined up to drink the fizzy liquid and give her clit a friendly flick with our tongues.

Of course it all ended in a food fight. And we had to lick all of the food off of each others bodies.

Just as I was laying back feeling tongues lapping at my face and nipples and fingers and balls and cock and toes and.... everything, there was a loud knock a the door.

"We heard that there was a major culinary event underway, so we thought we'd drop in," explained a gruff voice.

It was the Hairy Bikers. Thank goodness at that moment I woke up.

The End

Slice : Wank Wednesday

Today we arrive once more at Wank Wednesday, an institution established by Ruby Kiddell at The Erotic Notebook. Here is how she explains it :

Welcome to week 13 of Wank Wednesday, your weekly festival of smut.

With so many great writers of smut and erotica on Twitter and the web I thought it would be a nice idea to get a smutty blog carnival going. For writers or would be writers a weekly prompt will get you writing and as a reader well you’ll be able to get your fix of sexy stories all in one go.

All you need to do to join in is to write a story using this week’s prompt #slice and then;

Blog it – post it on your blog then come back here and add it to the link list.

Tweet it – write it on twitter using the prompt hashtag and the #wankwednesday hashtag.

Add it – if you don’t want to blog or tweet it then please do add it as comment to my post.

WE it – if you are a member at Word Ejaculation you can submit with them too, just remember to link back to me here and to add your entry to the link list.

A couple of housekeeping points;

Please include a link back to this post in your post, if not I’ll remove it from the link list.

Please take the time to read and comment on some of the other posts, it is after all about writing and encouraging writing.

Thank you for writing and reading.

Slice

No matter which way you slice it, two girls are better than none. That was the decision I had to make when Clara fell in love with Maisie.

Clara and I had been living together for ten years at that stage. We were best mates. We weren't lovers, but we did spend a lot of time fucking each other, licking each others erogenous zones and wanking off together. We were friends and these were friendly activities. True, our relationship was an unconventional one. Essentially, we didn't believe in repression. We could have pretended not to have sexual feelings for each other simply because we didn't think about each other in a romantic way, but why should we live with that awkwardness and deny ourselves lots of pleasure?

From time to time we did get involved with someone romantically. If we thought they were open-minded, then we didn't hide our uninhibited home life. If we thought it would trouble them, we did the compassionate thing and didn't tell them about it.

But when Clara met Maisie it looked like things had come to a crossroad. It was a match made in heaven. They were crazy about each other. So I did the honourable thing and started looking for another apartment. But then one afternoon, when I came back from a hard day of apartment hunting, Clara announced that she and Maisie had been discussing the situation and had come to a decision.

"We've decided to keep you," she told me. "The landlord won't let us have a dog or cat."

"How magnanimous of you," I replied, acidly. "Will I have to eat kibbles and poo in a litter tray?"

"Don't be a grumpy bum," she chuckled, poking me in the belly. "You like Maisie and Maisie likes you. It won't be so different from how it has always been. You might have to whack off a bit more, because Maisie and I are going to be very busy licking each others pussies. But you never know, we might need your cock from time to time if the batteries go flat in our vibrators."

I wasn't at all sure that this arrangement was going to be good for my dignity. But what guy could possibly turn down a front row seat at a lesbian lickoff?

For a couple of weeks I had the place to myself. The lovers had decided to spend some time in Paris having a horny honeymoon. On the first couple of evenings I went out to nudie bars with some of my mates. When I got sick of their company I stocked the refrigerator with beer, and spent my evenings masturbating to internet porn. By the end of the second week I was in a very maudlin mood, binging on chocolate bars while watching Clara's chick flick DVDs with a pair of Maisie's knickers on my head.

On a Saturday afternoon they returned with suitcases full of new clothes.

"Let's have a movie night!" suggested Clara.

So we headed down to the local video store. Clara always prefers to pick something off the shelf the old fashioned way rather than get DVDs through the mail or download movies off the internet.

"I feel like something creepy," she said.

"How about this one," suggested Maisie, picking up a film entitled Sorority Shish Kebab.

"What's it about?" I asked.

"It's a slice and dice movie about a cannibal who only eats vegans," explained Maisie enthusiastically.

How could we say "No" to that? On the way home we picked up a family sized capricciosa pizza, a large order of spaghetti bolognese, assorted bags of lollies and two two litre bottles of Coke.

"We had a fantastic movie marathon in our hotel room in Paris," gushed Maisie. "We watched all six Star Wars movies one after the other and then Clara wrapped a sheet around herself, stuck fruit buns on the sides of her head and gave me a foaming Chewbacca!"

"Dare I ask what a foaming Chewbacca is?" I queried.

"We found out about it on the internet and just had to try it," Clara pointed out.

"Yeah, I licked her clit until she was right on the verge," explained Maisie, " and then I lifted up her bum and filled her cunt with pop rocks and cola. You should have seen her squirm!"

"And after I squirted my juices into the mix she drank the lot," added Clara proudly.

"Have you ever heard of the Light Sabre Lollipop?" I asked, unzipping my fly.

"Don't be stupid," Clara replied. "You don't even like Star Wars."

Clara turned on the television and we watched a bit of Wipe Out while eating the spaghetti. When a fat guy bounced off of one of the balls and somersaulted into the water, I laughed so hard I spilled spaghetti sauce all over my t-shirt.

"We can't take you anywhere!" complained Clara.

"We aren't anywhere," I pointed out. "We're at home."

"I think he'd better take all of his clothes off," suggested Maisie. "It'll take him ages to get that sauce out of his t-shirt, and we wouldn't want him to make a mess of his jeans as well."

"Why don't you ladies join me?" I suggested.

"We don't need to," replied Clara. "We don't make a mess."

Well, I've always been something of a closet exhibitionist. And if they don't want to see my closet then I'll happily show them my cock.

I kicked off my thongs, took off my soiled t-shirt and stood up and pulled down my jeans.

"And these too," declared Maisie, pulling down my underpants and leaving me completely naked. "Nice bum," she declared with a giggle.

We ate the rest of the spaghetti without incident, then the girls decided that they wanted to get more comfortable, so they went into their bedroom and changed into their pyjamas. They were determined to maintain their position of power over me, however, so they closed the door and didn't let me peek. All the same, by the time they came back my cock was semi-erect just from thinking about being totally naked with a pair of girls whose pussies could be exposed with a simple tug on their pyjama bottoms.

"Pizza time!" cried Maisie, opening the box.

I grabbed a big slice with lots of olives. Immediately the front flopped down and a huge dollop of melted cheese fell right onto my swollen cock.

"I'll get it!" cried Maisie, diving between my legs and hungrily licking and sucking the mozzarella from my manhood. For a few moments I was in heaven, but it didn't last. She came up giggling and wiping the grease from her chin. "I never thought I'd be hungry enough to eat the cheese off a guy's cock," she declared.

"Ewwww. You're so gross!" exclaimed Clara.

"I think you like me that way," teased Maisie, giving Clara a cuddle. "Because you know I'm dirty enough to do anything you want me to do, even pee on your clit."

"Pee on her clit?" I enquired. "Tell me more."

"No, don't," insisted Clara, turning red.

"Clara's a kinky girl," Maisie told me. "She likes to lay back naked in an empty bath with her legs spread and play with herself. And then she likes me to get naked too and squat over her in the bath and let out a hot stream of steaming piss right onto her excited little girl boner. Don't you Clara?"

"You didn't have to tell him," she complained.

"Now, now," I told her, "we mustn't have any secrets. The more we share the more we care."

"Exactly," agreed Maisie. "That's why Clara and I logged onto your computer back when you were apartment hunting and found your collection of she-male porn."

"What?!?" I exclaimed.

"You don't have to be embarassed," Maisie reassured me. "We like big cocks too, only we prefer them when they're on men."

"Let's watch the movie!" cried Clara.

So we turned off all the lights and fired up the BluRay player.

I sat next to Clara and Maisie sat on her other side. Maisie took charge of opening the packets of lollies. There were Jaffas and aniseed rings and Minties.

The first time the killer leapt out of the shadows and chopped someone's head off Maisie jumped and the Jaffas rained down all over us. And Clara grabbed my leg as she screamed.

The next time the killer struck, I screamed and grabbed Clara's left boob. She looked down disapprovingly and coughed.

"I know what you're thinking," she told me. "You're thinking this movie is going to scare the pants off us. Well, it's not. Our pants are staying put."

"Cooorrrrr!" I groaned, a few minutes later, as the screen filled with soapy naked sorority sisters in the shower, and my cock stood to attention.

"Want some help there?" chided Clara, grabbing my stiff cock in her left hand and tugging the loose skin up and down.

"Don't encourage him. He's such a dirty boy," put in Maisie. The room was dark, but not so dark that I couldn't see that she had her hand down her pyjama bottoms and appeared to be energetically scratching an itch that was several centimetres inside her vagina.

The killer continued his spree. When one girl closed the mirrored door of her bathroom cabinet in such as way as to reveal the killer grinning evilly over her shoulder, Maisie squealed and pulled her feet up onto the couch.

"I think Maisie's going to piss herself," I pointed out. "You better get your girl boner out."

"If you don't stop teasing me about that, I'll get her to take a dump on your head," threatened Clara.

"If she did that, I'd have to sue 'er," I cracked. "Get it, take a dump... sewer..."

"You are going to have to pay for that!" exclaimed Maisie. "Clara, how many Jaffa's do you think you can fit in your cunt?"

The next thing I knew, the movie was on pause, Clara's pyjama bottoms were around her ankles, and me and Maisie were hunting the floor for Jaffas. In the end Maisie managed to fit 37 Jaffas into Clara's vagina. Then it was my job to use suction and the prying power of my tongue to try to get them all back out. Clara was loving it, squealing and giggling and spasming. My cock was stiff again. On the downside all that candy was making me feel a little queasy. But things were going fairly well until Clara orgasmed. When that happened the combination of lubrication from her pussy juices and her vaginal spasms caused the remaining Jaffas to shoot out of her cunt and into the back of my throat. One of them stuck there and I began to choke.

"Heimlich Maneuver!" cried Maisie grabbing me around the waist from behind and squeezing up under my rib cage.

The Jaffa shot out of my mouth, flew across the room and hit the stereo, turning on the radio. The voice of Tom Jones burst out into the semi-darkness singing, "What's new pussycat! Woah, Woah!"

"I think we'd better return to the homicidal maniac," declared Maisie. "Playing with Jaffas is too dangerous."

Once the movie was over we turned the lights back on and began tidying up. Maisie put what was left of the pizza in the fridge. Clara cleaned down the table top. My contribution to the clean up effort was to pull the girl's pyjama bottoms down every time they had their hands full. Eventually they decided it was just easier to strip off. When they came back from washing the glasses in the kitchen they found me standing in the middle of the lounge room with fifteen aniseed rings stretched over my erect cock.

"Anyone still have a sweet tooth?" I enquired.

"Both sweet and sharp," threatened Maisie doing the Piranha Chomp.

Then she came over and took the aniseed rings off one by one with her fingers and made me eat them.

My cock was still stiff. I put my arms around the girls and fondled a soft butt cheek with each hand.

"After watching that movie I'm scared stiff," I told them. "I'm afraid the Boogey Man will get me if I don't sleep in your bed tonight."

"O.K." said Maisie. "But you're sleeping on the wet spot."

For the next half hour I lay stroking my cock as I watched Maisie and Clara licking each other's pussies.

"I know you want to fuck me," said Maisie, taking a brief respite from her clit-sucking activities. "I'm not really so cruel. I'm just a tease. Why don't to crawl over Clara and slide right in. Don't worry about giving her a bit of a teabagging. Just don't expect her to lick your balls. Her tongue's mine for the time being."

So I threw a leg over Clara, bounced my balls on her forehead and gave Maisie a playful slap on the arse before sliding my cock home into her warm wet pussy. I could feel the heat of Clara's breath over my balls as she continued to lick her lover's pleasure button. It wasn't long before we all climaxed and collapsed onto the bed in a heap. Maisie's lips were covered in Clara's juices, and Clara's in both Maisie's juices and mine.

I was just returning to their bed, after drinking some orange juice, having a shower and brushing my teeth, when Maisie whispered something to Clara.

"Maisie hasn't had enough pussy licking," Clara told me. "I'm too tired. Would you mind helping her out?"

"Not at all," I replied, ever the gentleman.

"Come around here and get under the covers," Maisie requested.

I crawled into her side of the bed and slid down between her legs. She pulled the quilt up over my head.

"O.K.," she said. "Hold him Clara!"

"What's going on?" I protested, as Clara leaned on me hard.

Then Maisie let out a long, loud fart. It had a stench so thick you could slice it.