Troy King Erotica

Awesome erotica for awesome adults only

Sketch of a first chapter of a ghost story

Yeah, I know it gets old, but I don’t want anyone saying “Oh noes! No one warned me that a blog about erotic writing might have stories that contain sex!  Now I’ve read a story about sex and I’m horribly offended.”  Yes, like everything else on this blog this bit of a short story is about sex.  If you’re under 18, please go somewhere else.  If you’re offended by sex, please go somewhere else.  I’m sure there are plenty of places you can find on the Internet that won’t offend your delicate sensibilities.

That said, here’s a sketch of a first chapter of a ghost story.  We’ll have to see how this plays out in the long run, but I’m kind of liking it so far.

He’s balls deep inside of her and every time his hips thrust his hard cock forward he catches a glimpse of her hands open and close.  Her wrists are bound and her bright red fingernails alternate between digging into her palms and splaying open, like she can’t figure out quite what to do with them.  Some small part of him finds this amusing, but mostly he just focuses on how good her pussy feels wrapped around his cock.

Her hips are thrusting forward, welcoming him into her.  Her legs are wrapped around his, pulling him in.  Every now and then, one of her stiletto heel digs into his leg but he doesn’t mind too much, he’s far too close to be bothered by such things.

She’s crying out now, head thrown back, mouth open and little animal sounds pouring from her lips.  He loves it when they get into him.  Of course, how could they not?  He’s a well-endowed ten inches long, a thick meaty member that women love.  They can’t help it.  They all love his cock.  They know it and he knows it.

Russ Harding is six two.  He works out every day and his body is as hard as his cock is now.  For all his chiseled muscle, his face is soft and women love his deep blue eyes and brown hair that looks delightfully tousled.  In reality, it takes a lot of effort to get his hair to look like that.  The girl squirming under him right now couldn’t resist running her fingers through that hair at the bar earlier tonight.  When he walked out with her, he caught a glimpse of her winking to her girlfriends like she had the catch of the evening.

And really, she did have the catch of the evening.  She knew it and Russ knew it.

Now she’s under him, arms spread wide and thoroughly enjoying the ten inches buried in her pussy.  Russ is close to cumming and he lets the sensation wash over him.  Her eyes are closed, loving every second of being pressed under him, controlled and impaled by him.

It’s her tied wrists that do the most for him.  He loves it when women submit.  He feels they look best when they’re controlled, arms tied open and waiting for him.  Eyes and mouth begging for his dick inside of them.

He focuses on those wrists and her red fingernails digging into her palms.  His cock swells and twitches inside of her and his orgasm builds deep in his balls.  He feels the cum working its way up and out of his hard cock before exploding into the condom.

She’s too deep into her own pleasure to notice he just came, but she definitely notices when he stops and pulls out of her.

“Come on, baby,” she whispers.  “I’m so close.”

Russ is kneeling between her spread legs.  Her black hair is partially covering her face and her lipstick is smeared.  She’s got nice tits, easily a C cup, pert and perky with big nipples.  He looks down her body, tight abs, black garter belt, black stockings.  There’s a pair of black lace panties lying next to her hip that he cut off her earlier.  The black lace thong looked good on her, but it’s too much of a pain to unhook the garters and slide her panties down her legs, so he just cut it off with a pair of scissors.  Her pussy is perfectly smooth, whether from a waxing or a razor doesn’t really matter to him.  That smooth pussy is glistening wet and she keeps thrusting it toward him, desperate for more of his magic member.

“Please,” she moans, struggling against the ropes that keep her arms open.  “Please keep fucking me.”

When he gets off the bed, those plaintive moans take a slightly sharper edge, a hint of anger creeping into her voice.  “Come on, I’m not done,” she says.

She’s rubbing her legs together like if she squeezes them hard enough she’ll be able to give herself an orgasm.  It won’t be as good as the one she’d get from him, but it would be good enough.  Russ reaches up and unties one of her hands.

“What the fuck?” she says, getting angry now.  “You’re done?”

“I’m done,” Russ says.  “I need to go to the bathroom.  You can get your other arm.”

As he heads into the bathroom, he can hear her squirming around on the bed trying to untie her other hand.  Sure, she’s pissed now, but she’ll be fingering herself when she gets home.  He’s seen some other women leave that one hand tied and masturbate while he goes to the bathroom.

Russ drops the condom in the trash and stands over the toilet.

He’s almost finished when he feels something trace down his back.  He whirls around, expecting to see the girl, what’s her name?  Sandra or Sarah or something like that, but she’s not there.

Confused, Russ walks back into his bedroom.  Sandra or Sarah is straightening her dress and looks severely pissed off.  He faintly feels something sliding down his back and turns around to see who’s back there.

Nothing again.  Must be sweat or an air current.  These old houses are lousy with drafts.

When he turns back around, Sandra or Sarah is stalking out of the bedroom.

She stops at the doorway and turns to face him.  She still looks good, freshly fucked as they say, but she’s pretty mad.  Sandra or Sarah glares at him and mutters, “Asshole,” before stalking off.  He hears her heels clack down the stairs of his old Victorian house.  The door opens then slams shut and she’s gone.

Oh well, Russ got what he wanted.  She’ll probably tell her friends and they’ll all swear there’s no way any of them will fuck him but then they’ll get a look at his body and his hair and his eyes and their anger will melt and their legs will part.

Russ Harding is, for lack of a better word, an asshole.  He knows it and doesn’t care.

Unfortunately for Russ, something else lives in his beautifully renovated house with him.  He’s never seen it, never even noticed it.  It, however, has taken notice of him.

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This entry was posted on May 31, 2014 by in Stories and tagged , , , , , .

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