It’s another Fuck Me Friday. Here is how hostess Aisling Weaver describes it : Welcome to another week of smut! Writing challenges can be found far and wide, and this one has just one goal – to inspire you to write!
We’ve been rolling around rather well here for a while, so I thought I’d mix it up a little. Starting today, the prompts, while still being mostly random, are going to have some sort of tie between them for each month. For instance, the rest of May will be colors, June will be sensations…essentially, the months will have a sort of theme to them. This will allow those who enjoy working on a larger scale the option to do an overreaching arc of stories, if they like, while still offering up the differences that I’ve grown to enjoy in the offerings each week.
The result of all of this, I hope, 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, without further ado, let’s get this thing rolling! To join in is as simply as this:
Write a story with the prompt as your title. Today’s will be :
#Blue
Tweet it with both the prompt hashtag and the hashtag #FuckMeFriday
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.
Blue
The answer came to Serena Moran out of the blue when she walked in on her flatmate Betty and found her sucking her boyfriend’s cock.
“Sorry,” she said, and was about to back out of the lounge room, where Betty was bending down stark naked with her pert pink bottom in the air and Matt’s stiff cock filling her mouth. Her fingers were between her thighs rubbing her slippery stiff clit.
“No need to apologise,” insisted Matt, with a cheeky smile and a twinkle in his eye, as he lay back with his muscular arms behind his head. “Come on in and watch if you like. You know you want to.”
“Yes,” agreed Betty, slipping Matt’s cock out of her mouth and stroking it sensuously with her right hand. “We wouldn’t be fucking in the lounge room if we didn’t like the idea of being watched. Doesn’t the sight of Matt’s burgeoning boner make you juicy in your panties?”
“Of course!” cried Serena.
“I thought so,” smiled Betty.
“No, not that,” Serena tried to explain. “I mean, yes, of course, seeing Matt like that gives me a happy little clit. But, more importantly, it gives me an idea about how to solve my cash flow problems and fund my next documentary.”
“How are you going to do that?” asked Betty impaling her pulsating pussy on Matt’s man meat, with a shivering moan which made her little belly jiggle.
“We’ll make a blue movie!” Serena announced triumphantly. “You and Matt wouldn’t mind being masturbation fodder for the masses, now would you?”
“Today the living room, tomorrow the world!” cried Betty, bouncing up and down joyously on Matt’s manhood.
Serena was a documentarian who specialised in films about artists. And there was something of the frustrated artist in her. Thus it was that she decided that her proposed porn directing career would take the form of a single conceptual artwork centred around the idea that her movies would be blue in more than one way. She would follow the porn cliche of parodying famous movies and television shows, but only ones which had something blue about them.
Of course she would have to begin modestly, as she had no money, but once her imagination was fired she imagined a glorious future which would lead up to her directing the world’s first 3D all CGI porn film. She would call it Pervitar for obvious reasons.
But for her first carnal creation she decided to go for something small but classic - a parody of Joseph Von Sternberg’s The Blue Angel. This would be cheap, but stylish, and would allow her to exploit Betty’s second talent - the fact that she could sing well enough to take part in Karaoke night at the local tavern. She might not sing as well as Marlene Dietrich, but, then, Marlene Dietrich couldn’t shoot ping pong balls out of her cunt.
It took a while to organise the costumes and a few props, but by the following Thursday evening Serena was bribing the night watchman at the local church hall to let them in for a midnight-to-dawn filming session. All they really needed was a stage and a dressing room and the hall had both.
“It’s kind of a depressing story,” pointed out a worried Betty, who had just watched the original film on DVD the night before.
“Don’t worry,” Serena assured her, “we won’t be sticking too closely to the Sternberg version. For a start, Matt’s not a pathetic fat middle-aged guy, and also we’re going to give the story a happy ending. We’re making a blue movie, but we don’t want to leave people feeling blue. Nobody wants to beat off to a movie that’s down-beat.”
“I don’t know the story,” pointed out Matt. “What’s my part?”
“You play the Professor,” Serena explained. “You’ve discovered that some of your students are fans of singer and live sex performer Lola, so you’ve come to the club to try to catch them out. But once you see Lola, you are lost. Cue a veritable
Cabaret of copulation.”
“So this is my costume?” asked Matt, holding up an old-fashioned frock coat liberally coated with chalk dust.
“That’s right,” nodded Serena, “along with the baggy pants over there on the chair.”
Betty already had her costume on. She wore a pink silk top hat, a red bodice, pink high heels and purple stockings with suspenders attached to a suspender belt around her waist. The only difference between her costume and that of Marlene Dietrich is that she wasn’t wearing frilly white knickers. She wasn’t wearing any knickers at all.
“We’ll do your song first,” Serena explained. “You start with your leg up in the typical Dietrich pose, but as you sing you put your leg down and then spread your thighs apart so we can come in for a close up on your bare cunt.”
Betty looked at the lyric sheet once more.
“Are you sure about these lyrics?” she asked.
“O.K. So I’m no Bernie Taupin,” Serena responded defensively. “But you try fitting a feminist critique of porno movies to the tune of Falling in Love Again.”
“But they didn’t have porno movies back then,” Betty complained.
“Actually they did,” Serena pointed out. “But the lyrics are deliberately anachronistic. It’s an art movie thing. Think Ken Russell or Derek Jarman.”
“Think protentious twat, more like,” huffed Betty. She didn’t mind spreading her pussy lips for the camera, but she did have some dignity.
Serena plugged her I-Pod into the speaker system and the room filled with the sound of a lone pianist playing the melancholy song. Betty reluctantly began to sing the lyrics Serena had written :
Face full of cum again
It’s so de rigeur
Spunk all in my hair
Let’s change it
Porn’s always been the same
Laid the same old way
Every single day
Let’s change it
Men wack off to me like monkeys at the zoo
Let’s cast some hot guys, so girls can do it too
Arse full of cock again
Poking in my poo
When I need the loo
Let’s change it
Mouth full of meat again
I’m a vegan girl
Think I might just hurl
Let’s change it
Porn’s always been so lame
By the second take
All the cums are fake
Let’s change it
Men wack off to me like monkeys at the zoo
Let’s cast some hot guys, so girls can do it too.
“Cut!” cried Serena. “Perfect. Now on to the dressing room scene.”
Fifeen minutes later, Matt and Betty were in full swing acting out a scene they felt comfortable with.
“I came here as a teacher to save my students from the primrose path,” Matt declared in his best German accent. It wasn’t a good German accent, but it was his best. “But now it is I who am the student, and you, dearest Lola, are my teacher in the art of licentiosity.”
“I always wanted to be the teacher’s pet,” purred Betty, in a slow lazy voice which hung in the air like cigarette smoke. “Especially if he was into a little bestiality,” she added, stroking his stiff cock through the front of his trousers.
“What kind of pet do you want to be?” he asked, licentiously. “Shall I give my little puppy dog the bone? Or pamper my favourite pussy? Or maybe the beautiful little beaver wants a mouth full of wood.”
“Nobody has a pet beaver!” she scoffed. “Now before you get too excited, I want you to have a look at the new song I’ve been writing.” She handed him a lyric sheet.
“Not bad,” he replied reading it, “but how many times have I told you that clitoris is spelled with a C not a K?”
“We’re not in the class room now,” she sighed softly.
“Spelling is not just something which is important in the class room,” he pointed out. “The whole of our civilization depends on our ability to communicate and be understood. I think the only way to make you understand is to do to you what I do to the boys in my class when they don’t apply themselves to their lessons.”
With that he grabbed her around the waist and pulled her over his knee. Her bum was still bare.
“Don’t you dare spank me, you brute!” cried Betty, wriggling in just the right way to generate plenty of sexy bum wobble for Serena’s camera.
Matt began slapping her butt cheeks enthusiastically. She never let him spank her “in real life” so he was determined to make the most of the opportunity to turn her behind bright pink and feel the sexy heat of the injury he was inflicting radiated back from the silky skin to his sensitive palm.
Being spanked made Betty feel deeply humiliated. She loved it. When Matt tried to paddle her heinie at home she always told him to stop. She didn’t want him to think she was some kind of deviant. But now she was determined to soak up every sensation so she would be able to return to it later when masturbating.
Serena was glad she’d decided to use the tripod. That meant that she could point the camera with one hand and slide her other hand down inside her wet panties and play with herself.
The night watchman was glad he’d accepted the bribe and let these deviants in to make their art movie. These were the kind of people who wouldn’t object to the fact that he was standing in the wings with his cock out.
“I’m sorry, my love,” apologized Matt, gently stroking Betty’s sore bottom. “Can you forgive me for being such a schweinhund?”
“Only if you kiss it better,” she insisted, trying to maintain the smoky voice even though her clit was now quivering ecstatically like a tuning fork.
He stood her up and bent down to press his lips against her hot cheeks, raining down a shower of passionate kisses before parting them and beginning to lick his way down her crack towards the glistening wet lips of her pussy. She bent far forward and he stuck his tongue deep into her region of pleasure.
“Invade Poland! Invade Poland!” Betty cried. It was an improvisation, and one that Serena felt grossly cheapened the work of art she was going for. She was no Mel Brooks. But she was so caught up in her wanking that she couldn’t bring herself to yell, “Cut!”
Matt tore down his pants, pushed Betty over the couch and began slamming his cock hard into her sloppy pussy.
“Ouch! Ouch! Ouch!” she cried, as Matt’s belly kept slapping against her spanked bottom.
“Do you want me to pull out for a money shot?” grunted Matt.
“No,” explained Serena, “this is feminist porn. No need for money shots.”
“I’ll give you a money shot!” cried the night watchman running in from the wings and shooting a huge stream of cum straight into the camera lense. At the same moment, Matt and Betty orgasmed loudly together and collapsed onto the sofa.
“I don’t know what we got there,” admitted Serena, scratching her head with pussy juice soaked fingers. “But I know it was unique.”
Half an hour later, they were wrapping up the film’s final scene.
“The Nazi’s are taking over,” said Betty. “Let’s go escape to a more egalitarian society.”
“Egalitarian?” queried Matt.
“Yes, a society were any woman, Jew or Gentile, can fuck her way to the top! Hollywood, here we come!” she cried.
“And... cut!” shouted Serena. “It’s a wrap.”
The film was a success. They set up a website from which they could sell it as an instant download, and soon it had a cult following as the worst porn movie ever made. Everyone wanted to see it.
“What’s next?” asked Betty.
“I was thinking of Blue Lagoon,” said Serena. “But we might have to work our way up to that. We haven’t got quite enough money for location work on a Pacific Island.”
“Might be some legal problems, too,” pointed out Matt. “Those kids were only about fifteen.”
“Easily fixed,” said Serena. “In our version they are so shy and repressed that they don’t discover sex until they are eighteen.”
“Porn about characters who are shy and repressed?” queried Betty.
“Sure,” pointed out Serena. “It’s super sexy when they finally do it. That’s the problem with most porn. It’s about studs and sex goddesses. So the sex doesn’t mean much. It’s like watching a Steven Seagal movie. That dude’s three times the size of all the bad guys. The outcome is a forgone conclusion. But shy characters... That way it’s a whole new adventure for them and we get to go along. And, anyway, everyone knows that shy and repressed characters are only like that because deep down they are total deviants.”
“We should get some more cast members for the next one though,” suggested Betty. “I’d love to be gangbanged by a whole bunch of guys.”
“Then you’ll love the project I’ve settled on,” said Serena. “You’ll be the only girl in the movie, and there will be lots of guys. I just hope you don’t mind all-over body make-up.”
“Nah, I’m easy,” Betty replied, stating the obvious. “What’s the title?”
“The Smurfs - An XXX Parody!” announced Serena triumphantly.
The End
