EROTIC STORY: “Not Allowed”

EROTIC STORY: “Not Allowed”

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She shivered as he pushed his fingertips gently through the hair at the side of her head, his warm palm covering her ear as he pulled her soft lips towards his own, hard at first with hunger, and then softly – like he was tasting a fine wine.

He used the same hand to draw her head back, and she kept her eyes closed for a moment as she held onto the feeling of that kiss, finally opening them to meet his own blue eyes. Usually bright blue, they were almost black now – a sure sign his mind was totally on her and what was to happen next.

The kitchen around them faded, and he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close enough so that he could bury his nose in her wet her. He loved the way she smelt when she’d just got out of the shower. The way all her skin felt so soft and warm. Even the ultra-soft white dressing gown she wore.

Sliding a hand inside it, he smoothed his hand up over her belly, fingers caressing the side of her breast as they kissed again.

She pulled his hips into hers, feeling him already hard through his jeans.

Pushing him back, her fingers unzipped his flies.

He grabbed her ass in both hands hard, pulling her to his chest and lifting her up off her feet, sitting her on the cold wood of the table, making her gasp and grin at the same time.

He kissed that grin, opening her gown and sliding it off her shoulders as she dropped his jeans to the floor with his boxers still inside them. She reached for him but he pushed her back down onto the table.

He stripped the shirt over his head, before pulling her roughly to the edge of the table, her legs wrapping around his waist, and his penis dangerously close to her.

Leaning over her, he kissed softly at her breasts, sucking a nipple as she ground herself against his hardness, feeling her moisture spread over his shaft. She squirmed to try to position herself for him to enter her, but he pulled back, standing upright again, but still resting up against her.

“No.” he said through a smile, thrusting slowly forwards so that his whole length ran against hers and back down again.

She moved again, trying to embrace his tip, and let out a small cry as he pulled himself back from her yet again.

Staying between her legs, he grabbed a couple of cushions from the chairs, once more leaning over her – and sliding against her clit again – as he placed them under her head, tenderly kissing her. She felt his dick twitch as he kissed her, and her whole body tensed in frustration and need.

Then he stood upright again, very slowly dragging his fingertips down the sides of her body – tickling her ribs, leaving trails of fire over her hips, moving up and in over her inner thighs. She gasped his name.

His fingers wrapped around his own shaft, and then swirled over his head, spreading her juices over himself. She went to sit up and reach for him, but he gently but firmly pressed on her stomach with his other hand, pinning her back down.

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He gripped his shaft and moaned as he ran his cock along her again, slowly, holding himself against her entrance for what seemed like an eternity, and then working his hand steadily up and down. When she glanced up she was surprised to see that he wasn’t looking down there – he was watching her face.

She held the eye contact, and realised how hard she was breathing – and how much he was turning her on. She could see from his face how much she was turning him on, too.

His eyes dropped, looking at her pussy, darting over the curves of her hips and her breasts. His hand stroked at her belly, too where it still rested on her.

But always his eyes sought out her own, and stayed on them for the longest.

She wanted to touch him. She wanted his hands to be hers. She wanted him inside her.

Instead she watched him as he watched her. She wasn’t even aware that she’d been playing with her nipples until she moved her hands slowly down over her body, and it was like an electric surge through her whole aching body as she touched her clit.

He watched her hands travel, and she watched his own hand, moving in that hypnotic motion. She spread herself wide open for him, his cock only millimetres from the wetness that was by now dripping from her.

Her mouth hung open in anticipation, hoping he would take the invitation and plunge himself deep inside her – but also hoping that he wouldn’t.

He didn’t.

She could feel his warmth he was that close to her, and her mind was in overdrive with the teasing.

He felt the same, half crazy with his own need for her, and his pre-cum dripped onto her – something she might not normally notice, but her and now she convulsed, her legs dragging him against her, and she cried out loudly as his cock again touched her clit.

But he pulled away again – his smile lost this time in his own pleasure. She fought desperately against her orgasm, and held herself right on the brink. His hand working up and down so close to her…

He was close, too, his eyes half closing, and as she reached between her legs again to open herself to him, he came hard, back arching as his stream shot over her, some shooting into her wet hole as she crashed into her own orgasm with one slightest touch at her clit.

He looked down at his cum over her belly. It was so sexy.

Heavily flushed, she lifted herself into a sitting position, and this time he embraced her, kissing her shaky mouth as they held each other tightly – neither having any words that could say more than the post-orgasmic shudders that hit their trembling bodies in waves…

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Book Snobs

Book Snobs

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Firstly, I’m thankful that you buggers can read at all, and even more so that you’re willing to.  That seems to be rare these days.

I read my first full length adult novel when I was eight years old – it was “The Jonah” by James Herbert.  I was always encouraged to read by my Mom, and it horrifies me that most kids these days either can’t or won’t!  You should teach your kids to read by pointing them at my blog.  I’m totally kid-friendly in my blogs.

Kind-of.

But what pisses me off almost as much as the proud illiterates, are the Book Snobs.

Sure, they read.  They’ve probably read all the shitty, out-dated, irrelevant ‘classics’ and think they’re better than you because of that.  It’s a bit like Shakespearean actors who believe you can’t act if you haven’t done The Bards plays.

And it’s total bollocks.  Shakespeare is dead.  Nobody thinks like that, nobody talks like that, and nobody looks like that (err… am I quoting “She Watch Channel Zero” by Public Enemy there?) and I couldn’t give a kippers dick about Shakespeare or your ‘classic’ novels.

Let’s take this back all the way to the very basics: It’s about the story.

Book Snobs forget about this and insist it HAS to be perfectly written to be ay good, and they miss out because of this.

Velentino Rossi’s autobiography, for example, is shocking badly written.  There was so much repitition that even I nearly gave up on it.  An even better example is the immortal (immoral?) Mark Brandon ‘Chopper’ Read – an Australian criminal who spent more time in jail than out of it, and in his own words:

“Yeah, I know – and I can’t even bloody spell. What about those poor bloody academics, those college graduates, battling their guts out to write some airy-fairy piece of exaggerated artwork? And here’s a bloke, sitting in a cell, who can’t spell, and he’s written a best-seller. It’s sold two hundred and fifty thousand copies. And it’s still selling. And he’s writing another one. And I can’t even spell. I’m semi-bloody-illiterate.”

But he has awesome stories to tell!

We shouldn’t forget that this stuff started from people around campfires telling their story before anyone could read or write.  If they have a great story to tell then you have to bite it back and let them get on with it.

Not everyone is an academic, but that doesn’t mean they don’t have a story to tell.

A recent example of this is a book called “The Driver” by Alex Roy which I’ve been reading.  I knew nothing at all about it and took a chance when I saw it in a charity shop, and I have to say it’s fantastic despite pretty poor writing!  It’s about Alex’s quest to beat the fastest time across the US from New York to L.A. in 32hrs 07mins, and his participation in other underground car rallies like the Gumball 3000.

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Again it’s no work of literary genius, but his passion comes through and it’s a Hell of a story!  As is a lot of Choppers own stuff, as mentioned earlier.

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So what else is out there like this?  What have you read that was terribly written but an awesome story?

And if you say my blog then I will track you down and make you eat your own heels.