Prurient Interests: April 2010

Apr 30, 2010

Apr 26, 2010

Apr 23, 2010

Lair of the White Worm

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I wrote about this scene a few years ago. Still need to find/rip the strap on scene.

Apr 22, 2010

Apr 20, 2010

Poker Night

You love it when Mommy goes out of town and Daddy Charlie comes over to babysit. He always dresses you up and plays games with his "little girl."

Tonight, Daddy Charlie puts you into a pretty pink nightie with your hair up in pigtails. Long red ribbons keep your hair in place. You put on make-up, your lipstick matching the ribbons in your hair. You want to look pretty for him.

You skip down the long hallway from the bathroom, right next door to your bedroom, to the living room to show Daddy Charlie how you look. "Oh, Daddy!" you yell, coming into the room.

You stop dead in your tracks seeing that Daddy's not alone. He's at a big table where he and five other men sit with cards, beer, and cigarettes, playing poker.

"There's my little girl!" Daddy Charlie says, getting up and coming to you with a big smile on his face. He takes you by the hand, leading you between the two tables. He moves behind you, his hands on your shoulders, to announce, "Gentlemen, this is my little girl, Wendy. She's our entertainment for the evening."

Whoops, catcalls and applause greet his announcement. All eyes are on you. You feel blood rising in your cheeks, making your face flush with excitement. You're scared and aroused in equal measure. No one other than Daddy Charlie and Momma Pam has seen you as Wendy. Now there you are with seven other men's eyes boring into you, evaluating you, wanting you.

You know most of the faces around the table. They're Daddy Charlie's coworkers, friends, and a few people that attend Momma and Daddy's "play parties." Seeing them eyeing you lasciviously is a bit too much. Your knees weaken but Daddy Charlie rubs your shoulders reassuringly. He leads you back to his seat, placing you on his knee when he sits down. You wrap your hands around his neck and kiss his ear, so glad to be his and so glad he's putting you on display.

The games slowly get going again. Daddy Charlie puts his big hand under your nightie and squeezes your leg. The other men pretend to be fully engaged in their cards but keep sneaking glances at you. This causes a few flubs and a lot of consternation as they throw down their cards in disgust at having their minds taken off the game by adorable you.

Daddy Charlie uses your distracting presence to win a few hands at his table, giving you a kiss each time he adds the pot to his pile of chips. As the bets go around the table he unties the ribbon on your nightie, slowly opening it up to reveal your pink bra. Being exposed like this to Daddy Charlie's friends thrills you. You cross and re-cross your legs, your nightie riding up your thighs.

After a few big wins, Daddy Charlie pulls you close and kisses you on the cheek. "Time for bed, baby girl," he says. "Daddy will be in later to tuck you in."

"Yes, Daddy," you say, slowly getting off his knee and readjusting your nightie, making sure to wiggle your butt well for the table behind you. You go to the doorway and take everything in before waving to the room. "Goodnight, gentlemen!" You hope that their eyes follow you down the hall as you put a good wiggle in your walk.

You're in bed within moments with your nightie up and your panties down, touching yourself, thinking of the men in the other room; of Daddy Charlie's strong hands, of the looks the other men gave you. Did they wonder how your lips would feel around their cocks? Did they think about fucking you? Did you entice them? Did they want to put their big hands all over your little body?

You're broken from your reverie by a light knock at the door. You barely have time to pull up your panties when the door opens, revealing Mr. Tate, one of Daddy's coworkers. Your room is lit by the full moon beaming outside your window and it takes a moment for his eyes to adjust. Yet, you can see him clearly. You see the bulge in his pants and you take in your breath. He hears you and moves towards you, like a nocturnal game of Marco Polo.

He reaches out and finds your face, stroking your smooth skin, caressing your hair. His touch is far more gentle than you'd have ever thought. You'd let him do this forever if he wanted but you know he really wants more. You know exactly what that is. Your hands are on his pants and moving up over his thighs until you find his hard cock. He moans slightly when you brush it gently, the way Daddy Charlie taught you.

You can feel the outline of his mushroom head under the taut material. Your hands continue moving up to his belt and button. You unleash him, seeing his shadowy cock bounce up to say hello in the dim light. It's only the third cock you've ever seen, if you want to count the thing between your legs as a cock. This one's shorter but thicker than Daddy Charlie's. You lick your lips in anticipation of Mr. Tate entering your waiting, wanting mouth. He pulls your head towards his crotch. The gentleness is gone now, replaced by his need to feel you suck him.

And you need to do it. You have such a taste for cock and this one slides easily into your mouth, between your silken lips, taking him onto your tongue, getting his manhood wet with your saliva as he begins pumping his hips into you, his fingers entangling your hair, pulling your head to him, choking you with his girth.

Your eyes are watering but you need more of him. You keep taking him in, swallowing him down, feeling his balls getting tighter under your chin. Without more warning than that he grunts and unloads into your mouth. You swallow his bitter, salty semen. His orgasm fills your belly with warmth.

He takes himself out of you and you can't help but pout a little as he pats you on the head. As he tucks his quickly deflating cock back into his pants he says, "Charles has such a sweet little girl."

As the door closes behind him, you lay back down and find that your clitty has gotten even harder than it was before. You begin stroking it again, the taste of Mr. Tate's cum still in your mouth.

"--will be back in a few. I gotta use the head," says Mr. Stevens as he opens up the door to your room.

"Oops!" he announces a little too loudly, "Looks like I'm not in the bathroom!" He laughs loudly as if this is a joke. He turns on your bedroom light. You're blinded by the sudden brightness. He finds this funny, too, watching you blink rapidly in hopes of seeing. He's over and sitting on the edge of your bed by the time you can see clearly. He's grinning at you. You see the look in his eyes that Daddy Charlie often gets after he's been drinking too much and comes to your room. You hope that Mr. Stevens will be gentle.

He pulls back your covers and drinks you in. Your clitty is out of your panties and it's at full mast. His grin gets even bigger when he sees this. He opens up your nightie, admiring your pretty bra. His warm fingers dance across your stomach. You jump at his touch and laugh at yourself for doing so. Did his touch scare you or delight you?

His hand goes under your bra, finding a nipple and pinching it. He's too rough but the pain feels good. Your little cock gets harder from his touch. He sees this and smiles. You wonder what it'd be like if he touched your little cock. What would it be like to feel him stroke you? You know that he won't. He's not here for your pleasure, but his. You're to do whatever he wants. Daddy Charlie taught you well.

He moves closer to you. For as rough as he was on your nipples, he's as gentle with his kiss. His breath smells of bourbon and pretzels. You don't care. You love the feel of his lips on yours. More, you like the way he's moving his body to be against you. You lay back, your back propped on your pillows, your legs up on the bed. He's between them, on top of you. You feel the heat from his cock under his pants pumping against your clitty.

His kisses become more intense. He breath a little ragged. You feel his hand between you. You hear the zip of his trousers. He leans back and looks down. He's got his cock out and it's lovely. It's hard and long and his hand works it. You spread your legs wider, your little cock bouncing as you do.

He's stroking harder now, his breathing getting faster. He looks from his cock to your clitty to your face and back down again. He does this again and again. You reach your hands down, knowing what's coming next...

He cums, spraying his seed all over your little clitty. You watch his hot spunk shooting onto you. Each drop feels as if it was burning your flesh. You hold your hands out, catching the occasional glob and rubbing it against you. He lets out a long, satisfied sigh as he shakes the last few drops off onto your wet fingers.

He puts his cock away and gets off the bed. He's almost out of the door when he turns and gives you a quick smile and a wink.

You wait a few moments before getting out of bed and going to the bathroom to wash up. When you're out in the hall you can hear the men talking. You hear Mr. Stevens saying, "She could suck the chrome off a fender!" This is greeted with a chorus of laughs.

You rush into the bathroom and close the door quietly behind you. As the latch clicks you hear someone behind you clear their throat.

"I'm so sorry!" you blurt as you turn to see Mr. Hobmann standing at the toilet, his shockingly large cock in his hands. You can tell from the look in his eyes that you don't need to apologize.

He turns to you, his dick getting harder as he takes you in completely. You feel embarrassed by how messy your appear, the cum drying on you. You start to say something when he hushes you.

He takes you by the shoulders and moves you to your right and back. You're confused and scared. He backs you up against the bathtub and then lifts his head quickly. Without words you still know what he means. You step over the edge of the tub and in. He pushes down on your shoulders, forcing you onto your knees. You think that he's going to fuck your face and you're ready for this.

You're not ready for what he actually does.

Kneeling down, your nighty getting mussed, you open your mouth in anticipation of his cock. Instead, you're shocked when he holds onto his half-limp dick and produces a stream of hard-flowing urine that splashes against your face. Your first instinct is to sputter and stand up, to get away from the piss, but Daddy Charlie and Mommy Pam have taught you well. You are there for him, and he can do what he wants, even pee on you.

Urine gets into your mouth and you taste the acrid sweetness of it. You swallow, despite yourself. Your eyes have closed instinctively and you try to imagine that it's not urine pouring down your chest but Mr. Hobmann's cum. This idea only makes things slightly more tolerable.

The flow slowed and finally stops. Your eyes flutter open and you see Mr. Hobman putting his cock back into his pants. He smiles at you; there's no affection in that smile, just superiority.

You're soaked in his piss. You crumple all the way into the tub and cry.

You shower and dry, wrapping yourself in a clean white terrycloth robe before returning to your room. Inside you find Mr. Dean and Mr. Shatwick waiting for you.

They don't waste time with words. Mr. Dean is up and shutting the door behind you as soon as you're in the room. Mr. Shatwick leads you to the bed and gets you positioned there on your hands and knees. He takes down his pants as Mr. Dean's rough hands remove your robe.

You hear him spit and feel the warm saliva slide down the crack of your ass. As Mr. Shatwick holds your chin, guiding his cock into your mouth, Mr. Dean's insistent cock penetrates your behind.

The two men saw into you - one in front, the other in the back. At first their rhythm is uneven and you feel like you're going to get sick from the jostling. Finally, they synch and you feel like a regular fuck machine; a piece of meat skewered by a pair of cocks. If feels as if Mr. Dean and Mr. Shatwick were fucking each other with you between them, bearing the heat of their lust. They moan in time, moving faster, moving at the same pace.

Mr. Dean groans, deep and satisfied and you feel his cock jumping under your tongue as he floods your mouth with his spunk. You drink deeply. At almost the same time Mr. Shatwick yells, "Oh, shit!" and you feel his cock spasm in your pretty bottom. The two men pump their cum into you simultaneously. Your swallow quickly as you feel flooded from both ends.

They leave you in a huddle, panting, sore, and leaking from your bottom. You wonder what Mommy Pam's going to say when she sees your sheets.

You fall asleep. When you awake the lights are off and you've been covered up. You feel Daddy Charlie getting into bed with you. His big hands caress you gently. He whispers, "You did well tonight, little girl. You entertained my guests better than I could have hoped."

His mouth finds your neck. He kisses, sucks, and bites your skin. Shivers run down your spine, all the way down to your tender asshole where Daddy Charlie's cock nudges you. Your head goes back and you take in a deep breath, reaching back and putting your hand on Daddy Charlie's flank, pulling him towards you. You want to feel him inside of you. You want your reward for a job well done. You want to feel Daddy Charlie's cock.

He opens you. Sliding in, you feel safe and secure, a feeling that everything is right; that you're home. He makes love to you slowly, his hands around your waste, his mouth on your shoulder, biting you on occasion, marking you, reminding you that you're his alone. You pant, you moan, you beg for more, and Daddy Charlie gives it.

Slow and steady he fucks you. You open for him completely. As he takes what's his, you think about all of the men that used you for their pleasure throughout the night. None of them made you feel as special as Daddy Charlie does. No one was as tender. No one made you feel the way he can. And as you realize this, Daddy Charlie's breath comes harder and harsher. You brace yourself, moving harder against him, begging him silently to cum inside of you. You want it. You whisper, "Yes." And, with that, Daddy unleashes the floodgates. You feel his cock twitching inside of you, pumping his cum deep in you. Your eyes close and you roll back your head to rest on his shoulder as he slows his hips.

He stays inside of you and allows you to drift back into sleep with his arms around you. The last thought before drifting completely away is a question... when is Daddy Charlie's next poker game?

Apr 19, 2010

Deborah Kara Unger

Apr 14, 2010

Satin Met a Laddie

Satin unlocked in him something buried deep inside. The silky touch of that wondrous material made his skin sing and his nerves burn with delightful yearning.

He still remembered the first time he felt it. He was a teenager, rummaging through his parents' things in that small window between when he got home from school and when they got home from work. He never knew what kind of treasures he'd unearth in their chest of drawers. Once he found a Polaroid picture of a naked woman, a healthy bush between her legs, her toes pointed skyward, her back arched painfully.

He was just learning the mysteries of women when his hand swept across the soft, slick fabric of his mother's slip. He stopped there, his fingers caressing, a crackle of electricity running through him, grounding him to the spot. From that moment he'd never be the same.

The years went by and he still maintained a spot in his heart for the touch of satin but he'd never go so far as to say he had a fetish for it. He appreciated when his girlfriends and lovers wore satin panties or lingerie. When they did he'd do everything he could to keep them in their satin garb as long as possible, even preferring it to the soft suppleness of their bare skin.

In his middle age he lost his mother to cancer and visited a therapist to work out his grief. No matter how much he wanted to open up to his doctor, he couldn't do it. He felt stymied. He went week after week, just touching on cursory issues like what he was doing at work or books he'd been reading. No matter how hard he tried, he could never go deeper.

His therapist finally suggested hypnosis as a way to circumvent whatever prevented him from speaking to his feelings. At first his therapist, Dr. Lee, could put him into a state of sublime relaxation. He felt the weight of the world lift off his shoulders and he would find himself leaving therapy far more happy than when he went in. Yet, he still didn't feel as if he was making the proper amount of progress.

Dr. Lee began to hone in on what blocked his mind. She began with simple word-association as he drifted through semi-conscious. She worked for weeks, shooting arrows into the air and occasionally hitting a bulls eye; getting closer to finding exactly where the target rested.

It took two months but, finally, when digging through a particularly precarious layer of guilt-inducing topics, Dr. Lee managed to find that same drawer that he found thirty years earlier. She gingerly talked through his early sexual interests and, upon saying the word "Satin," she saw all the stress leave his body.

As if in free fall, he went from a pleasant state of relaxation deeper into a complete trance. He felt as if he had been transported to a world of clouds, where he was ensconced in the soft, cool rapture of satin. Dr. Lee came with him to this wondrous place, serving as his trusted guide, her voice a physical presence beside him.

He broke through, his words falling over each other in a rush of relaxation and safety as he spoke to his love of satin and the feelings which it provided. He felt secure in this place, his own Disneyworld where he was the happiest boy on Earth.

In subsequent sessions, Dr. Lee would take him almost immediately to "Satin Land" where his id roamed free. She would observe his patterns, listening to him spin tales of past sexual conquests. Finally, she found it was time to tame the wild bronco, reining him in.

Despite the bragging about his exploits, Dr. Lee found that this covered up a deep seated guilt. Yes, satin unlocked him but it also kept him a prisoner since he first found it because it had been in a forbidden place and he'd been doing something he shouldn't. No matter how far underground he buried it, the image of his mother still loomed large over his identity and needs.

Rather than dispel the power of his deceased mother, Dr. Lee decided to usurp her, taking the throne.

She dispelled his mother's hold, successfully becoming the root of his sexuality. Whenever he turned his mind's eye inward he would see her looking back. The voice she used when he went into a hypnotic trance now echoed from within, always there with him.

Just the word "satin" uttered from her lips sent him into a deep trance where he submitted to her desires. What interested her more, however, were his desires -- those things that he wouldn't admit to anyone, not even himself, but she dragged kicking and screaming into the light of her all-seeing inner eye.

She put into his head the need to visit Victoria's secret and buy a pair of panties. He kept these in his left pocket where he put his hand quite often throughout the day. The feel of the cool, smooth material put him into a state of perpetual priapism. She would call him, asking him to describe how he felt, touching the satin. His voice changed as he talked about it; he was free of stress, the lithe of his voice falling like a sigh. And that's when she decided to push him farther.

All of those stories he told her, all of the sexual conquests of his past; she began retelling them to him changing them slightly here and there. She began introducing other people to the tales including herself -- a silent observer taking in everything.

The rewriting of history continued slowly, spinning new tales and introducing him to new ideas, new kinks, even new partners. That time he got a blow job at lunch in the back seat of his car from one of his coworkers now featured an entirely different coworker; his male supervisor. He was wildly resistant to this at first but Dr. Lee handled this gingerly, talking him through his first bisexual experience.

Though it was only in his head, he would remember it as if it were true when he awoke and thought back on this incident. She worked to mitigate his feelings about this; something of a challenge as he was slightly homophobic and proud of his heterosexual conquests. Her task was to make him equally proud that it didn't matter the sex of the person; he was wanted by women and men.

Dr. Lee wouldn't know just how well she had done without putting him to the test.

On a Wednesday night after work while his wife was out he received a phone call from Dr. Lee where she just uttered one word. Entranced, he did everything Dr. Lee instructed. When the doorbell rang the first time, he opened it to her, not really seeing her as she entered his house to take a seat in his living room. When it rang the second time he greeted the person there, a slim, attractive young man who answered Dr. Lee's ad on Craigslist.

Though the young man--he went by the name "Donnie" on his emails--wasn't hypnotized, he did well to follow Dr. Lee's instructions. She sat and watched as Donnie was greeted with a long, lingering kiss. This quickly turned passionate and Dr. Lee felt a tinge of pleasure wash over her as she watched her patient and his new friend embrace like long-parted lovers.

His hand went to Donnie's behind and squeezed. He pulled Donnie closer and began grinding against the young man's leg, his hard cock visible under his pants. In his mind, Donnie was an androgynous woman. He removed Donnie's shirt, casting it aside and suckling on Donnie's nipples. The young man gasped with pleasure, his knees going week with passion.

Donnie wasn't a big believer in foreplay and that was fine with Dr. Lee. She smiled as he went to his knees before her patient and began undoing his buckle. Donnie was a man possessed. He longed for the sensation of a man's erect penis in his mouth. That he found Dr. Lee's patient handsome helped fuel the fire that burned within him.

Dr. Lee watched with rapt attention, speaking to her patient, leading him through the experience. As Donnie began sucking him, Dr. Lee began to slowly peel back the layers of perception which she had put between his fantasy and reality, allowing him to see Donnie for what he truly was; another man.

His spine stiffened but he allowed Donnie to continue. Dr. Lee, still invisible to him, moved closer and lifted up her skirt, placing her hand on her bottom which was swathed in satin panties. At the touch of the cool, smooth material, he relaxed again and, though he saw Donnie for what he really was, he allowed himself to enjoy the feel of his cock in another man's mouth.

The harder and faster Donnie blew him, the more he let go of his inhibitions and the tighter he grabbed onto Dr. Lee's satin panties. She whispered encouragement into his ear as she watched Donnie devour him. She saw Donnie's fingers massaging his tight balls, sliding one hand back to his ass where a finger tickled his asshole. She quieted him as Donnie opened his virgin ass. She made him admit how good it felt as Donnie slid one finger and then two into him.

Donnie worked the cock expertly, his hand blurred as he worked the base of the shaft, his mouth sucking gently but firmly the head. As she'd trained him, Dr. Lee counted him down to orgasm, allowing him to cum only when she reached the number "zero" as she went from ten down.

As she said the word two things happened. "Zero" allowed him to cum--he released his load into Donnie's waiting mouth--and it woke him from his hypnotic trance where he found his cock being sucked by another man while his therapist stood next to him, his hand on her satin-pantied ass.

His mind clouded by the orgasm, his first reaction was confusion followed by the horror of homophobia. She allowed him to come to grips with this by reaching down and keeping Donnie's head firmly on his cock as Donnie gulped down all of his spunk. Before he could ask a question, she uttered the word that put him back into his trance and made him pliable to her will again.

The next time she would bring him out earlier and put him back into trance later, letting him experience more and more situations such as this, getting him used to being her newly bisexual plaything.

Kathleen Hannah, Sexy Librarian

Apr 8, 2010

Sigourney Weaver

Apr 6, 2010

Marcelle Manhattan on erotic shaving at In The Flesh

Scratching My (Bald) Head

I can understand giving someone a compliment out of the blue. That's a nice thing. But an insult? I would think that your momma done taught you better.

Over the past few weeks I've gotten a number of comments on my collarme.com profile that either pointed out the obvious or just flat out were meant to insult me.

You see, I'm a hairy guy. I have been since the onset of puberty. Well, hairy everywhere except for the top of my bald head. But damn hairy everywhere else.

I'm not a fan of it. In fact, I hate it. I've even gone so far as to have extensive laser hair removal done to my back. It cost me thousands of dollars and really didn't do much for me. The hair just keeps on coming. And it's still thick as a bear skin rug on my chest, butt, arms and legs. It's just a fact of life.

So, to see a picture of me and comment, "You sure are hairy," just puzzles me. I suppose it's a little like seeing a tall person and asking them, "How's the weather up there?" However, most people don't say, "You're so tall that it turns my stomach" and that's the other kind of comment I've been getting.

Yes, being hairy isn't necessarily equated with being attractive.

I believe in truth in advertising. Here's me, warts and all. Or, rather, hairs and all. And, hey, if you're into shaving look at the playing field. If you're into feminization, consider this a wonderful challenge. I'm not trying to hide the person I am on the outside. So, please, I really don't need snide emails from prople like "Domina4you" saying, "About 20 domme women on here said they don't respond to you because of your pic". I'm not sure of the scientific validity of that survey but I really don't need to hear it.

I'm hairy. Get over it.

eLust 11

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