Saturday, 19 April 2014

Slutburbia, Chapter One - Free!

Juanita pulled the blinds apart and peeked through again, waiting for a glimpse of the new neighbor. A second glimpse to confirm what she already knew, he was fucking hot. Not just hot, not sexy, but Fucking Hot, capital letters like a title. Her spying was rewarded as the front door opened and he stepped out into the bright morning light, arms above his head stretching. He was dressed for running, the tight clothing accentuating his lean muscular body and rock hard abs. He paused on his front walk, dropped down into a squat. Oh yes, Fucking Hot.

"I'm all packed, did you call the driver?" Her husband Tony called from upstairs, interrupting her reverie. She pulled back, hoping the sudden movement of the blinds popping back together didn't attract any attention from next door.

"Yes dear, Jonathan will be here in a few minutes. He swung by Starbucks to pick you up an Americano."

"Did you tell him black? You know I can't have any dairy before an away game, I don't think Jonathan knows though. Did you remind him?"

"I did, it will be black...calm down darling, you're getting amped up for no reason. This game is in the bag."

He swept into the room, a bundle of nerves packaged in the body of an athletic handsome man. Tony was a minor league ball player with major aspirations. Juanita wasn't entirely sure if he'd ever make it that far, but she loved his sexy swagger and she loved the money he had...and she loved him. They'd been married for five years now and everyone kept asking about a baby, Juanita told them they were trying but no success so far. She told Tony she was trying, and part of his anxiety at the moment was the thought that his "swimmers", as he called them, weren't working.

They were probably fine, she was covertly getting a depo shot regularly, there was no way in flippin hell she wanted a  baby. She worked hard for this body, and she loved nothing more than her free time.

He was standing at the front door, bouncing on the balls of his feet, packed bag on the floor. She had to put him out of her misery, so she walked over and started rubbing his shoulders. She knew the car would be here soon so she'd only have to appear this generous and loving for...and there it is! She wins wife of the year and only has to put in three seconds of work. Win win!

"I'm going to miss you," she lied and kissed his mouth. He had once driven her crazy with that mouth, he was an expert pussy eater and knew things to do with his tongue that she had never heard of before him. The emphasis on the "was". He hadn't gone down on her in over a year and her clit ached for him. These days he was more of a two pump chump and her kitten hadn't been purring in a long time. She sighed and stroked his jawline. If only he wasn't so damn fine, it would be easier to deal with.

"Don't worry babe, it's only a couple of days." He kissed her cheek, slapped her on the ass, picked up his bag and was gone.

"That's the problem," she said to the closed front door. "Only a couple of days." She preferred the road trips that lasted over a week or more. Or training camps, oh yes, training camps. Those were pure heaven for Juanita. There was no way for her to be dragged along to camp. What kind of trouble could she possibly get up to in only a couple of days?

"Let's see if Fucking Hot is back from his run," she said to the empty house and walked back to the window.


Book Club was always held on a Wednesday afternoon. It seemed to be the perfect day for it. The girls with kids all had something to put them in, ballet, soccer, it didn't matter but it freed them up for some social time. The girls without kids found Wednesday to be the easiest day of the week to escape their husbands. And who cares if it's just an afternoon? Not much to be done on a mid week afternoon, right?

Wrong, it was more like a wine fuelled gossip fest with the possibility of some girl on girl hook up between bored housewives. Juanita wasn't one to spread rumours, outside of Book Club that is, but she had a feeling Sarah and Anna were getting together to rub each others kitties on the sly. There had been public kissing contests in the past, most recently when Amanda had claimed to be the best kisser ever. That was more a matter of pride than lesbian tendencies though. Juanita had won hands down, and felt a little tingly thrill every time her lips touch another woman's, but it was cock she craved. Next door cock at the moment. She couldn't wait to tell the girls about Fucking Hot just a few feet from her front door. She also couldn't wait to keep her eye on Sarah and Anna to see what the actual fuck was up.

The door bell rang, it would be Louise, Juanita's best friend and the biggest bitch this little suburb had to offer.

"Darling, you look ahmaaaaaaaazing," Louise said the moment Juanita opened the door.

"Liar, you know I look awful. I spent the day preparing for Club," Juanita lied, her maid had done everything and she did look amazing.

"I got you a gift from Mexico, you know we just got back. I want to give it to you in front of the girls though, I brought a little something for everyone. Your people really know how to party," she smiled and walked into the front parlor.

"My people? I was born in Seattle."

"You know what I mean, the people you came from," Louise said, waving her hand dismissively.

Juanita decided to let it go, but she filed it away to bring up when they were having their next fight. Sometimes it was hard to be the only "ethnic minority" in a suburb filled with perfect white skin and perfectly dyed blonde hair.

Soon the girls started arriving and her front parlor filled up. Almost everyone was here, suspiciously Sarah and Anna were both absent. Juanita wondered if anyone else noticed.

"Ok, ok, now that we're all here," Louise said as she got up off the sofa and walked to the front of the room. "I came bearing gifts. First off, Juanita. I found this and laughed so hard I just had to have it for you." She dramatically pulled a small cloth bundle from her over sized Vuitton and thrust it at Juanita. Juanita took it it slowly and rolled it open. It was a hideous neon pink T-Shirt with a bright green lizard leaning against a palm tree. The caption read "Juan is the loneliest number." Juanita was stunned, she didn't know what to say. What an utterly atrocious and mean spirited "gift".

"Do you like it?" Louise asked, laughing. "Turn it around, show the girls!"

Juanita obeyed, still stunned into silence and keeping her face emotionless.

"Oh! My! God! That is the funniest fucking thing I've ever read!" Tiffany declared and the rest of the girls followed suit.

Racist cunts, Juanita thought, but she finally laughed and joined in the fun. She glanced over and saw a smug look on Louise's face that she felt like slapping off. Instead she walked over, threw her arms around her friend and said "Thank you, I love it!".

She fought the urge to kick them all out of her house and sat down on the chaise, looking elegant and composed. "If you can't beat them, join them and be better at it than they are," her mother always said in her perfectly practiced unaccented English. She had come to the US illegally from Mexico, fleeing an abusive husband and 7 months pregnant. She had found Seattle because she wanted to be as far away from her husband as possible. Juanita loved her mother with all her heart and thanked her for the thousandth time for giving her the spine of steel it took to navigate the world of the white upper middle class.

Louise produced a large bottle of Tequila and said "this is for everyone, grab the shot glasses."

Juanita called her maid and soon the Book Club girls were doing tequila belly shots trying to decide who has the best abs. Juanita won, again.


After the Club girls went home and the house was tidied up, Juanita remember Fucking Hot next door. She didn't tell any of them about him, and didn't mind now. She wanted to keep him for herself. She walked slowly up the stairs, her head pounding and her legs feeling like lead. She clutched the stupid pink shirt in one hand, she wanted to toss it in the trash, but she decided to tuck it deep in her lingerie drawer as a reminder that these women were not truly her friends, and she would have to fight twice as hard as any of them to come out ahead. It gave her more drive, more determination to succeed, but not at the moment. She needed a hot bath and a hotter cup of tea, then a cuddle in bed with a good book. She wondered if any of those bitches even knew how to read.

She couldn't resist taking a peek out her bedroom window to see what Fucking Hot was up to. She could see right into his master bedroom from her walk in closet. She made sure the light was out so she could part the blinds and not be seen. Jackpot! He was there, and he was naked.

Juanita reach over and pulled her velvet stool to the window so she could sit down and enjoy the show. His body was glorious, not an ounce of fat on it and perfectly sculpted and evenly tanned. He knew how to work out, she didn't like a beefcake body, or one with giant shoulders and arms with stick legs. He was well proportioned, he moved like a cat as he picked up his clothes and tossed them into a hamper.

Oh god, he picks up after himself. That's O worthy right there.

She leaned farther to see him walk towards the bed. A door opened to the left, must be the master bath, and a stunning blonde came out, also naked. She smiled and did a little dance for him, swinging her hips and teasing him.

He swept her up and threw her on the bed, her face looked shocked but she went along with it.

This is getting interesting, Juanita thought. She shifted on the stool and spread her knees slightly. She was getting warm and wet at just the opening act.

Fucking Hot started to massage the blonde, she could see the lust on the blonde's face as she watched him rub her legs and work his way up. She parted her legs and exposed her shaved cunt, he slapped her thigh, said something, and the blonde closed them tightly, a surprised look on her face. He turned slightly to pull the blonde up the bed and Juanita got her first look at his giant cock as he leaned over the blonde to play with her nipples.

Oh my god, it's gorgeous, she thought and pushed her panties aside, starting to rub her own smooth mound, teasing the top of her slit with her forefinger.

She watched him rub the blonde's flat stomach, gently circling her pussy, teasing but not quite touching it. He kneeled on the bed beside the blonde and pried her legs open, she seemed reluctant but Juanita knew he had asked her to play this part. He forced the legs wide open finally and started working the smooth pussy with his fingers. Juanita couldn't stand it, she found her own sweet spot and imagined he was fingering her, rubbing the outer lips and flicking the clit gently.

He bent over and parted the blonde's lips, exposing her delicate pink flesh. He dove in, the enthusiasm obvious by the look of total pleasure on the blonde's face. Juanita sped up, rubbing herself harder, holding the blinds with one hand and fingering her own sopping pussy with the other. She moaned and was glad she had sent the maid home. She was panting lightly and continued to watch the show.

He inserted a couple of fingers and started fucking her hole while sucking her folds. The blonde started to buck and thrust herself to meet his eager face. Juanita hated that woman with all her heart at this moment, she would have done anything to be the body writhing underneath him. The blonde went stiff, completely still, her eyes closed and her head thrown back against the pillows. She must be cumming, Juanita was a moment behind but shuddered her own shameful, wet orgasm in the closet. She let the blind drop and got up to wash her hands. She was embarrassed that she had watched, but intrigued at the thought of fucking the neighbor.

She had her bath, sipped her hot tea to alleviate the tequila crazies and dried herself off, fully intending to read a book. She walked back into her closet to find some cozy PJs and couldn't resist taking a look. She sat on the stool, naked, and as she parted the blinds the image of him parting the blonde's lips sprang into her mind.

She leaned forward and looked, not sure what she wanted to see. He had the blonde on the bed on her hands and knees. Her beautiful white ass was in the air, she wiggled it, inviting him to have her. He was behind her stroking his thick, long cock. He reached out and slapped the ass, hard. Juanita saw the blonde jump and collapse onto the bed. She could see the red hand print coloring the perfect white ass immediately. He reached down, grabbed a fistful of hair and pulled the blonde up, yanking her head back viciously. Juanita was appalled at this treatment, but her pussy heated up immediately. He slapped the ass again, then pushed his fingers into the blonde's pussy from behind. He fingered her hard, thrusting his hand back and forth, holding her in place with his other hand. Juanita couldn't look away, she couldn't believe how he was abusing this woman and she seemed to love it. She couldn't stand it, she ran to her nightstand and grabbed her little vibrator, the silver bullet. She settled back down and opened the blinds again.

Fucking Hot now had the blonde face down on the bed, both her arms were behind her back and her ass was sticking straight up in the air. That was fast. She appeared to be bound, she could see a black rope wrapped around her wrists. Juanita clicked the vibe on, applied it to her clit and started to rock back and forth, one hand on the vibe, one hand holding the blinds open.

He stroked his cock once, then pushed it into the blonde's pussy. Juanita could see him bury it deep, the shaft was so thick and long she wondered how that was physically possible. He withdrew slowly and Juanita imagined her own pussy clenching around it, begging him to fill her cunt again with his huge member. The vibe buzzed along her clit sending pulses of pleasure along her spine, to the tips of her fingers and the ends of her toes. She balanced on the stool, feet wide, eyes locked on the scene in front of her.

He thrust himself back in, she saw the blonde's body lift with the force of it, her face still pressed into the mattress. He increased his rhythm, thrusting harder and faster, pounding the blonde's body until he paused, leaned back, and fell on top of her, covering her like a stallion. Juanita was fascinated with this perfect man and craved his cock, his abuse, more than anything she could think of. She watched him pull out, flip the blonde, drag her towards the edge of the bed and force her to clean his cock. Juanita held the vibe tight against her clit, her legs lost all feeling as she crashed into her own orgasm, imagining her mouth on that thick dick, slurping up her own juices mixed with his cum. She ran her tongue over her lips, dropped the blinds and thrust a couple of fingers inside of herself. She could feel her pussy tighten and pulse, twitching as she completed her wave of pleasure.

She felt ashamed as soon as she was done. Ashamed but obsessed, she knew she needed to feel that cock inside of her, and soon. She got up, washed her hands and put the vibe away. She was about to crawl into bed but couldn't resist one more look. She crept into the closet and parted the blinds again. He had the blonde on the floor, elaborately tied up, and was flogging her with what appeared to be a riding crop. The blonde had her ass in the air again, her hands tied around her ankles and seemed to have a gag over her mouth. He hit her ass with the crop, then inserted the handle into her pussy. He fucked her a few times with it, pulled it out and hit her again.

His cock was fully engorged and magnificent.

He turned and faced Juanita's window, looking up directly at her. She started, let the blind drop and sat unmoving in the dark. Fuck, did he see me? How could he know I was here? No, there's no way he saw me.

After a few minutes she dared to look again, his drapes were drawn and she could see nothing.

Fuck, he did see me.

She crawled into bed, humiliated, and drifted to sleep thinking about what she'd tell Tony if the neighbor said anything. How could she explain away the fact that she'd fingered herself in the closet watching him whip a gorgeous blonde?


Something woke her up, a loud cracking sound. She sat up in the dark, her heart pounding, and listened. Did I set the alarm after the maid left? Was that breaking glass or a gun shot? She couldn't be sure. She glanced at the clock, it was 4:48.

She hadn't imagined it. She was sure she heard a noise, but not coming from her house, somewhere in the street maybe, or was it next door? She heard another sharp crack. Definitely not from her house. If it was a gun shot, it wasn't like anything she'd heard on TV. There's no way that was a gun shot, she thought and laid back down. Not in this neighborhood.

She went back to sleep, Tony would be home in the morning and she had to look her best.

Thursday, 17 April 2014

Therapist - Chapter One, Illustrated

I give you the first chapter of Therapist in all its unedited, raw, first draft glory. I corrected some spelling errors, and that's it folks. This is how this shit tumbles from my head. I would like to thank my Peeners Joni and Vikki for the graphics. They are gorgeous and needed to be used somewhere the world would see.

PS TBR Therapist today, let me know you want to read this!


Saturday, March 29th. 7:00 PM

I hear the group before I see them. Blythe’s obnoxious laughter carries across the packed restaurant and I suppress a wince. Her barking laugh is immediately followed by Patrick’s deep guffaw. She is such a fucking cow and poor old Paddy is constantly trying to claw his way into her oversized La Senza panties. So gross. I tell the maitre’d my name and he guides me through crowded tables and elegant diners to the gathering near the back.
“There he is! Alexandre,” Blythe calls out when I arrive. She claps her hands together like a tubby little seal and gives me a huge grin. Her teeth are definitely not her best asset. She stands as though to give me a hug, but I bypass her and pretend I didn't notice her attempt. The group joins in clamouring for my attention so I give them all a cheerful wave and take my place by the window, at the end of the table. Blythe looks stricken, but sits down, her face a confused mess. What is she thinking, why would I want to feel her sweaty little body against my suit?
“Hey gang!” I say as I sit down, “Who’s buying the mojitos?” This is an old joke, one that was exhausted years ago, but never seems to get old in this particular circle.
“You are,” they all reply and laughter breaks out all round.
“I guess I am,” I say and shrug my shoulders. I raise my hand to attract the waitress’ attention and the evening starts.
Jason is to the left of me. He is the most tolerable of my former classmates. We all suffered through the rigorous Doctorate of Clinical Psychology program at UBC together. It creates a bond, all those long hours and anxious nights spent worrying over the nuances of the language in your thesis while preparing for exams. They’d all completed the program, done their research, earned their grant money and been licenced by the province to practice in their respective fields, as had I.
Many hadn’t made it, so in some strange way this is why I still put up with their bullshit, years later. I feel like these people are the closest thing I have to peers, although I am infinitely more clever than the lot of them combined. But they don't need to know that.
“Jason, tell me all about the conference in Seattle,” I say and smile warmly at him. He launches into a long, detail explanation of his presentation at the annual meeting of the American Psychological Association. He covered the topic of sociopaths, and the irony is not lost on me as he talks.
He leans close to talk to me above the din. “It was bollocks, really amazing,” he says and takes a drink from his glass. Jason spent a year in London and never did quite pick up the local vernacular. Sometimes I wonder if he is legitimately ignorant or just fucking with us all. I’m leaning towards the former.
“What happened? How did your talk go?” I ask and survey the rest of the table. Eleven in total, including myself. None of the others are of much consequence, except for Jane. Plain Jane. I fucked her once, before I knew what I was doing. I know she wants to hook up again, she probably has notebooks full of, “Mrs. Jane Dane” written in cursive over and over. It was never going to happen. Not only is the name Jane Dane utterly ridiculous, but her hair is too thin and her tits too small. I almost feel bad for continually rejecting her. She catches me looking and gives me a small smile, almost a grimace. I smile back and look away, but see her stare at me in my peripheral vision, her face betraying her longing need.
“I killed it, the talk I did was incredible,” Jason tells me. I fade out as he starts to detail the points of his research paper. His research is so far away from mine, I found it hideously dull. I nod and make appropriate noises and take the chance to scan the rest of the restaurant. Nothing interesting, mostly groups like ours, but most likely coworkers. I was on the fence about picking somebody up tonight, today’s session with Rebecca had gone so well, I almost think it might hold me over until Monday.
Back to Jason, make appropriate noise of admiration, make eye contact, let him talk. And he does talk, he truly loves the sound of his own voice.
Part way through our drinks, the chef sends out amuse bouches for our party. I lean back to let the waitress set the tiny dish in front of me, and that’s when I see her. At first I catch a glimpse of long legs in black stockings, a short, tight fitting cherry red dress, elbow length white evening gloves and elegant black strappy heels. Very old Hollywood, and not exactly out of place in a high end restaurant such as this, but noticeable because she is smoking. Vancouver has been a no smoking city for several years. I am entranced by her and the defiant smoke hanging in the air around her head like a halo. She is mostly in shadow, I can barely see her face, but I can make out her dark red, full lips parting to receive the cigarette. I watch her inhale and the end lights up, a signal in the midst of the noise. A red light at the end of the dock instead of green, appropriate given my backwards life.
I cannot seem to look away. I want to taste her mouth, I want to slide my tongue in between those lips and suck the nicotine from her moist insides. I’m not a smoker, but my body craves her taste. Suddenly I understand a summer of longing staring out across the water. I need her to notice me.
“Hey, are you gonna to eat that?” Jason breaks into my reverie. I turn and smile at him, reach down and pop the miniscule crab cake into my mouth.
“Fucking right I am,” I say and the group laughs. I am such a card.
I turn back and notice that she has gotten up and is leaving the restaurant. I can just see the back of her now. Her hair is black and thick and rolls down her back like a landscape. The flashing red soles of her Louboutins like the tail of a deer, taunting me and challenging me to follow. Her ass has the slightest jaunty wiggle as she exits. Just as the door is closing, she turns and looks at me. I want to look away, because I have been caught staring at her ass, but I still cannot. She arches one perfectly sculpted brow, a smirk passes over her lips, and she is gone.
I shake my head and turn back to the group. I can’t escape the feeling that I know that woman from somewhere. I look back at the doors, half expecting her to be back, but she isn’t.
I join the conversation and argue amicably about the latest season of The Bachelor. I have never seen an episode, but I can fake my way through anything. I spend the rest of the evening half there, but half of me has gone with the woman and I can’t make myself focus fully. Nobody notices, and we wrap up the night on a happy note. They all love me, I love me, it’s all good.
On the way out I notice a cigarette butt just outside the door. It’s stained with bright red lipstick, so I bend and slip it into the pocket of my suit jacket.
“What was that?” Blythe asks as she slips her hand-bag over her shoulder.
“Oh, a lucky penny,” I reply and shoot her my winning smile.
“You are so old fashioned,” she says and smiles at me, her thin lips stretching over her too-large teeth. She links her arm in mine, turns to the group and loudly announces, “Hey guys, Alexandre just picked up a lucky penny, isn’t that adorable?”
The group agrees and we all start off down the sidewalk. A bar is decided upon and most of us head in that direction. Blythe’s hand burns on my arm as I resist the urge to pluck her fingers off and push her to the pavement. All I can think about are those red lips forming a perfect ‘O’ as the mystery woman took a long drag on the butt I have in my pocket. I need to find her, or at least a reasonable substitute tonight. I need to fuck a woman until she cries, and then fuck her some more.


She’s drunk, really drunk. I don’t know if she can stand on her own, but I’m taking her home. To her home, I would never take her to my apartment. She said her name is Jennifer, but truth be told, I don’t fucking care. The rest of my group left long ago, and I found this one parked by the washroom, sniffling about her boyfriend ditching her for another girl. Ever the gentleman, I offered to take her home.
I signal a taxi and it slides slowly towards us waiting on the curb.
“Where are you taking me?” she slurs her speech and can barely focus on my face.
“Home, sweetie, remember? You’ll be ok,” I reassure her and guide her into the back seat.
She’s petite, blonde, tight ass and huge tits. Perfect.
“I hope you don’t think you’re gonna take advantage of me,” she whispers loudly as we settle in. This is followed by her hand placed firmly on my cock, through my pants.
“I think I’m the one that has to worry,” I tell her and smile. She smiles back, she trusts me. Perfect again.
“I’m at 2288 East First,” she tells the taxi driver. A dirty, terrible area, she probably thinks she’s there for the ethnic diversity and pays exorbitant rent to live mid point between a Cuban restaurant and a Vegan grocery.
“Are you ok?” I ask as she leans her head on my chest. I like them drunk, but I don’t like them throwing up.
“I’m fine,” she replies and closes her eyes. Her breathing slows and I worry that she’s fallen asleep. It’s going to look pretty bad if I have to carry her into her apartment. I plan my actions always with the idea that I might have to explain them to the police at some point. I’m meticulous in my behaviours so that I will have hundreds of people to back me up if anybody ever accuses me of anything. I’m that nice guy next door who nobody ever suspects.

The driver is looking at me in the rearview mirror. I smile and say, “I think she had a little too much to drink, we’re supposed to be meeting my parents in the morning. It freaked her out.”
He laughs and says, “I think I was the one overdoing it before I met my in laws, I know how she feels.”
Tension broken, we make small talk as he weaves in and out of busy Friday night traffic. Subjects include the unseasonably wet winter, the Canucks’ shitty performance in Tampa last night, how much he hates the new Cambie Bridge bike passes the time and helps me blend in with any one of the hundreds of young party goers he’ll drive home tonight. If anything comes up, he won’t remember me. This is how I like it.
We pull up in front of an older low rise apartment and I shake her gently. “Jen,” I say, “we’re home.”
She opens her eyes and looks up at me. She smiles and says, “I remember you!” I laugh and roll her off me, help her up out of the cab and let her lean against me as I pay the driver. I give him a twenty for a seventeen dollar fare. I don’t want to stand out by being too cheap or too generous, so I land right in the middle.
He drives off and we head to her front door. She fumbles with the keys and finally gets us in. She’s on the second floor and I help her up the stairs. She giggles and talks too loudly the entire time, but we make it to her apartment without pause.
Inside, I take the time to make sure she lives alone. It’s a bachelor, nicely furnished with splashes of pseudo tribal shit thrown here and there. A wooden African mask, a rain stick propped in the corner, an apache blanket draped on the sofa.
I lead her to the futon in the corner and she sits down. It’s already flat and obviously her bed. A black cat is glaring at me from a stack of papers on a desk nearby, files and folders are haphazardly strewn about the floor underneath. That’s right, she told me she’s a grad student of something. Anthropology maybe?
“Are you going to be ok?” I ask. She looks up at me and focuses her eyes. I continue, “I should probably get going.”
“Don’t you dare,” she replies and grabs my jacket. She drags me down to sit next to her and pulls her knee high leather boots off, one by one. “Don’t think you’re getting away that easy, mister,” she laughs and tosses them across the room.
“I think you’re too drunk for this,” I tell her and rub her shoulders. This is like catnip to drunk college girls, being told they are too drunk for something is the most effective reverse psychology of all. Get her to agree to her own sloppy fuck, it’s golden.
“No way,” she slurs and pulls her tight sweater over her head, “I did not have too much to drink. Besides, I’m not wearing any panties.” She grabs my hand and shoves it between her legs to make her point. Her cunt is hot and dripping, she’s ready for me.
“Are you sure about this?” I ask and let her kiss me. She smells a bit off so I don’t kiss her for long. She reeks of some hippy perfume masking pungent sweat and tequila shooters. At least she’s not a smoker. But I’ll bet you twenty dollars she’s got one of those magical crystals she rubs on her pits every day to combat body odour. Here’s a hint, they don’t work.
She falls back a little, going limp. She’s passing out but I still haven’t gotten off. I take her hand and place it on the bulge in my pants, she rubs slowly, but I can sense her fading fast.
I let her slide down onto my arm and lay her gently on the messy futon. Her lack of underwear is perfect, no tearing or dragging panties off her body. She moans and shifts, wiggles back onto the bed, and spreads her legs. “You’ll have to make this fast,” she says, her voice barely louder than a whisper, “I think I’m passing out.”
“No problem,” I say and move between her legs, on my knees. I unzip my pants, I slide them down over my hips, pull out my cock and shove it into her, no ceremony or niceties needed. I plunge deep inside her, she’s tight even though she’s barely conscious. She’s so fucking hot and wet I want to explode right then and there. I feel her juices coat my balls as I pick up rhythm. Her slack body jerks as I pump her cunt, her head lolls to the side and she coughs. “Come on baby, don’t puke,” I say and put my hands on her hips to steady her.
She moans and I can feel her cunt tighten around me, she’s present in there somewhere and that’s good enough for me. I feel like I’m about to finish, but I can’t quite get there. She’s passed out, so no tears. I like tears. I like humiliating the stupid little bitches I’m fucking. I like them to go through all the emotions I am incapable of. My fetish is humanity, and I want to drain my balls into the sticky, hot mess of feelings that I bring up in the bitches stupid enough to open their bodies to me.
I don’t know how to get this one feeling enough for me to come. I move up and balance over top of her, still railing her, covering her like an animal and pounding her hard enough I can feel her hip bones crashing against me. I grab her nipple and twist, but she doesn’t react. I slap her face and she mumbles something but doesn’t wake up.
“Come on, you stupid little cunt, come on,” I snarl at her but she’s passed out cold. I sit up, she’s still impaled on my cock and I drape her over my left shoulder. I have one hand around her back and I dig my finger into her flesh as I plough away. She’ll probably wake up sore and bruised and have no recollection. This isn't working though, I need <fingernails red lips cigarette smoke like a halo> something different than this. The physical contact is distracting, I can feel her skin burning hot on mine all the way through my suit jacket.
I shift and let her flop back to the bed. I move her to the edge so I can fuck her from kneeling. I slide back in deep, take one hand and reach into my suit pocket. I pull out the cigarette butt and stare at the bright red lipstick. I roll it between my thumb and forefinger and pause, my cock buried balls deep inside the cunt of the slut from the bar. I take a moment and think about the woman at the restaurant, the old Hollywood diva with the waves of black hair and a halo of smoke. I can almost see the red glow of her signal as she inhaled from the very butt I am holding. I breathe in the scent of the cigarette and the effect is instantaneous.
I explode. My balls tighten and I feel it coming, hot and desperate and almost painful as it leaves my body. I remain like that, unmoving, coming, my cock spasms the only motion for almost a full minute. I can see those perfect, full, red lips and imagine she’s wrapped around me instead of this girl. I imagine a woman like that would be worthy of my affection as well as my physical release. I could come deep inside of her and feel her deep inside of me.

A woman like that might make me feel as much as I want them to feel. As much as I need them to feel. I consider it briefly, what it would be like to get so emotional about something as base as sex. I suspect a woman like that would be able to sooth my scraped soul and bring me into full technicolour. She would pull the world into focus and wake me the fuck up. Let me feel...something...anything.
Jen moves under me, sighs and smiles.
“That was hot,” she mumbles and reaches for me. I put the cigarette butt back in my pocket, withdraw, wipe myself on her blanket and zip myself up. I stand, look down at her and reach back into my pocket to feel the cigarette. I have to know it’s safe. I have a sudden flash of holding Jen down, slitting her throat and running my hands through the blood. I almost feel like I have done this before and need to do it again. I can’t recollect when though, and don’t know if I ever will. I'm confused for a moment, it was probably something I watched in a film one time. Besides, I like my freedom too much, and I like fucking warm bodies.
I lean down, pull her cum stained blanket across her body and watch her for a moment longer. She looks peaceful, serene, considering the events that just occurred here. She doesn’t know how lucky she is that I don’t like getting my hands dirty.
I turn and leave, take a long walk through the the streets and reach my apartment as the sun rises and the city wakes up.

Thursday, 10 April 2014

Tuesday, 1 April 2014

April Fools Day prank, Jaden style...

In case you missed it, I posted this on my author page as my April Fools Day joke. ;)

So, I had a revelation last night...I am too scared to publish anything else from The Beast series... I will be publishing my side project instead.
It's called "Shattered Taints" and it's the love story between two gay porn stars who find each other after an orgy. They both suffered the same accident of being dry slammed from behind, hence the name of the book...
They shattered their taints, but themselves back together in each other's arms.
Coming in April. I hope you like the cover.
PS Happy April Fools Day!
PPS There are a couple of follow up books after The Beast in the works. 

Teaser Tuesday - Therapist

I'm humming away on Therapist, but it is becoming a much more complicated story than I initially thought.

Nothing about his story is as it seems.

I hope to finished by late April, know I am doing my best, but it may be delayed by a week or two if I can't figure out what the hell is up with him. ;)

I wish I could tell you more, but I can't.

Until then, another teaser!