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Smashwords – Raven Lake Summer – a book by Bastille Winters
hello, my dear readers… I know it has been a very long time, but as promised, I wrote a novella. it’s called “Raven Lake Summer,” and as of today, it’s available on Smashwords (and iBooks, and a few others as well) for just $1.99! support my writing and I’ll do more of it! 🙂
No one at the high school caught Sibley’s attention, and she didn’t catch theirs either. She was tiny for eighteen, wispy and forgettable, her hair and eyes mud brown and unassuming. She sat at the back of every class, doodling fat lines with the softest pencil she could buy at the tiny corner store; she drew face after achingly intimate face.
Sibley was the first out the door when the last bell rang, her thick rag skirt wheeling around her legs as she fled through the long grass behind the school. She put rigidity and fact behind her, the strict lines of the schoolhouse fading below the curve of the hill until she was free of prying eyes.
She ran so often that even the three-mile jog felt easy; she was still breathing lightly, eyes bright, when she trotted up to the abandoned telegraph station and slipped into the cool interior. She’d arranged her sketchbooks on the operator’s shelf, where the logs had been long before she’d found the place; she slipped the latest, only half full, between the last one and the rock that served as a bookend.
Then Sibley sat down on the chair and lifted her skirt.
She reached for the Morse key and slid it to the exact center of the desk, where there was a groove in the wood. She gently touched the metal button as she slipped her other hand between her lower lips and gently distributed the moisture gathering there. She closed her eyes and shivered with a private smile. This was always a perfect moment of anticipation.
She began to tap the familiar Morse code, slipping her fingers inside herself as she did so: C-O-M-E-stop-T-O-stop-M-E.
A light breeze stirred the dead leaves swept into the corner. Sibley smiled, her eyes still closed, and pressed the key again: C-O-M-E-stop-T-O-stop-M-E.
The wind picked up. Eddies of exotic scents caressed Sibley’s cheeks and made her wrinkle her nose with a smile. She began to tap the message once more: C-O-M-E—
Then it was there with her, a figure neither male nor female, twice as tall as she was and rippling with muscle. Its ethereal skin crackled arcs of light in an unnamable color. Sibley tilted back in the chair to look up at the being, her hand never moving from between her legs.
The being trained its vivid purple gaze on her, consuming her. Sibley widened her legs invitingly, her face alight with desire. The first time she had discovered the being that lived in the abandoned lines, its power had terrified her and she had fled. She’d lain awake, thinking of those eyes that had wanted her, and finished herself off with her hand as she imagined its lightning fingers on her body.
The next day she’d returned to tap the message again.
Now, as it had when she’d first offered herself to the being, it bowed low. Sibley inclined her head, but not very far; she couldn’t take her eyes off its sinewy torso, how the lines of muscle drew her gaze down to the space between its legs.
It was neither male nor female, and possessed the organs of both, after a fashion. The cock was a hard, smooth muscle that writhed of its own accord, split at the end in a way that made perfect sense to Sibley’s body. Below that was its slit, a hotbed of pleasure itself, sleek and moist. Everything danced with the same innocuous energy that lanced across its skin.
Sibley lifted her legs higher and it approached her, sinking to a squat before the chair. It leaned down and put its thin lips to her clit while it slid two fingers inside her. Sibley’s whole body shuddered as energy flowed into her, burrowing straight into her brain and rendering her shaky and helpless.
The visions came quickly on the heels of the pleasure. She saw the world as this being did; she viscerally understood how electrical impulses swelled and subsided, the facilitators of life and death, and she gave herself over to the moment of sensation.
Sibley came, wet and hot, against the being’s face. She reached for the back of its head and the hairs on her arm came alive.
Suddenly it gripped her wrist with terrible strength and stood, holding her like that and staring down at her as if demanding something without words. Sibley squirmed until the chair was back on all four legs and got to her feet, glancing at the fingers that clasped her wrist unfailingly. The being slowly tilted its head, its amethyst eyes blazing until she could not look away, and then it wrenched its hand free of her pussy, grabbed her at the waist and hoisted her into the air.
Its cock came alive, the two heads straining towards her cunt, and she strained back. Her breath came in short gasps and she laced her hands behind the being’s head, wanting it, wanting everything it would do to her. It bore her weight in one hand and brought the other to hold her chin firmly. Its eyes of solid purple flicked back and forth as it studied her.
Then with a masterful twitch of its torso, it plunged its cock into her. Sibley screamed at this first penetration. Wet as she was, the head inside swelled to fill her and it hit her deep. The other head jabbed into her clit and sent an unbearable sensation straight behind her eyes. The being wrenched her free and went into her again, and Sibley’s head filled with a perfect scientific understanding of these wonders of her body. She curled her hands into claws on the being’s shoulder and rocked, thin body racked with shudders. Her peak-like breasts tightened and prickled and the being opened its mouth to rasp three lightning-fork tongues across her chest.
It flipped her without warning and she landed on the seat of the chair with a grunt. She planted her legs far apart and offered herself once more. For a moment, she tensed; the being did not take her, but its fingers coaxed her drippings from her cunt to her asshole, and she clenched up in anticipation. Remembering, then, how this would feel, she forced herself to take deep breaths.
The split cock was made for this. One shrunk to a manageable size, the other still wide and ridged for her pussy, and Sibley moaned as the being filled her completely. She slid her fingers down herself and found the steaming, sparking slit, sliding against her hand as the being slammed into her. A shuddering sigh rasped out of her as the fiery softness settled like a mantle around her fingers.
The being took her hair and pulled her head up so she stared out at the dull sky. Lightning scattered across the clouds and danced behind her lids as she closed her eyes and shuddered and her orgasm was like an electrical storm.
Her cunt pulsated and she knew her ass was clenched tight, but still the being held back its own pleasure. When the climax ceased coursing through her muscles, it lifted her again and slipped free, the two-headed cock merging to become one massive organ.
Sibley held herself upright against the chair, unable to stand under her own power. She stared at the cock as more arcs of lightning danced across it, cleaning and drying it. She wanted to rush forward and press her mouth to it, to thank it for the quake and the aftershocks still making her tremble.
She glanced up and the being inclined its head very slowly. She took it as permission. Shakily, she dropped to all fours and crawled over to where the being stood, tilting her head so her hair fell down to her ass and tickled where she had just been penetrated.
It responded by palming her head and guiding her face beneath the cock, to that sweet slit that smelled of fire and fruit. Sibley’s tongue stretched out and she traced the heavy lips, rewarded by a full-body shiver. She reached behind and clasped the firm legs in her hands, sinking her whole face into its irresistible musk. She drank greedily of the spicy wetness, a cinnamon kiss.
After it had come like a sweet flame into her mouth, it guided her back to its cock and gave her its all once more. Sibley felt high, her head buzzing with charged visions, and she tumbled away from the creature with a helpless giggle. She splayed on the floor, writhing a little.
For the first time the being’s expression changed. It did something that was not quite a smile but still conveyed satisfaction; it lightened, or lifted, Sibley could not say which. She patted the dusty floor beside her, the patch of sunlight pushing valiantly through the clouds. The being sank down, the way it did to lick her, and her cunt clenched at the thought.
But it curled up beside her, head on its folded arm. Its other hand gently stroked the floor. Sibley rested her fingers right beside, close enough that electricity jumped from its slowly fading skin to hers.
They lay there until the being was just a promise of a light, and only then did Sibley dare to touch its cheek. It seemed to sigh, and then it was gone completely.
She sat up, smoothing down her rag skirt. Her wobbly legs carried her to the table and she lingered over the Morse key. Only for a moment. She knew it could not return for many days, after it had drawn its full strength once more from what electricity still flowed.
But she would be back then. Sibley would come again for her being in the wires.
rallying cry of Apple-autocorrect-using erotica writers everywhere: clit not clot
anyone interested in the link to my e-r-o-t-I-c-a blog let me knowwwww
Where Lizza goes, I follow.
She’s not like me. She’s the most beautiful girl I know. She has hair as blonde as highway grass. She wears terrible clothes and is still the epitome of cute. She smiles at people and they give her everything she wants, except she only wants adventure. She eats whatever she wants and fits into her size two yoga pants.
She’s wonderful.
I’m gangly and I lean forward too much when I walk. I own two pairs of shoes: sandals for summer, hiking boots for winter. My eyes are different colors, which I can’t even name. I never lost my high school acne. I smile at people and they ask me if I’ve thought about brushing my teeth.
I’m awful.
But Lizza loves me.
So I follow her into the musty crawlspace. It smells like dead rats, just the smell we had to cover up with incense when I was a kid. In college, my MCU boyfriend Kato burned a lot of incense. He said it was for sex trances. I was still pretty sure it was to cover up the smell of rats.
MCU wasn’t my school, by the way. MCU is mutual cover-up. We were both gay and not really ready to traumatize our families. He met Reis around the same time I met Lizza, so our breakup was hones to god mutual.
She’s squeezing my hand and I’m here and now—she’s saying it, too: “Here and now, babe.”
“Sorry.” The fog starts clearing, though. When she first figured it out, Lizza insisted on setting a mental safeword for me.
“When I say ‘here and now,’” she’d said, her limeade eyes glowing across the dorm room at me, “you have to stop worrying. It’s my promise that it’ll be okay. Okay?”
That was when I’d known I needed her. “Here and now,” I tell her, “I’m okay.”
“Are you sure? We don’t have to do this.”
“I just—a crawlspace? Couldn’t we take a swim in a nasty community pool or something instead?”
“Bluejane,” she says. I hate her for using my favorite nickname. “I think it’s where the ring went.”
We both heave a sigh. Her mom came to visit us last week, mostly to scold. Her ring disappeared just before she left. She walked out of the door calling me a thief at the top of her voice.
“So you want me to go in there for your mom.”
“No,” Lizza says, somehow turning around in the tunnel, because she’s got my face in her hands. I melt. I always melt. “For me.”
Every time she kisses me, I want to write her name a thousand times in a notebook, surrounded by hearts and wedding bells. She’s that intoxicating. We’ve been kissing for eleven years.
Shy as fox, I pinch my lips together and intertwine my fingers with hers. “Lizza, we’re almost those thirty-somethings. We’re supposed to hire nice muscley men to do this stuff.”
She ponders that, tilting her head and catching her lip under her just-too-big front teeth. I stare at her lips. She giggles. “You really wanna spend a little bit of savings just so you don’t have to go under the house?”
“Absolutely,” I say. “Mostly because I want to go inside and cuddle the fuck out of you until you want to eat me out.”
“Oh.” It’s too dark to see it, but I hear her blush. Her silhouette gets slinky and her voice is naughty-girl, and if I had a tail, well, it’s wagging. “Do it. Wait. This is why you were downloading Game of Thrones this morning.”
I start crawling backwards. I can see my hair frizzing out of my ponytail. “Maybe.”
“You know I love you for many reasons. This is merely the most obvious at this moment.”
“Come kiss me,” I say. I’m out of the crawlspace. The fresh air smells amazing and I don’t even throw pebbles at the squirrel chattering on our oak tree. I run to the door, breathless like recess. I love that I hear her feet swishing in the grass behind me. We never mow. We’re too busy kissing.
Where I go, Lizza follows.
I think about this every day. Four thousand, three hundred and eighteen times, at least, I think about why Lizza follows me. Not one of those times did I think of a good answer. But she does: through the grocery store. “You have magical veggie-picking powers. Hippy cred to your momma.” Into the house. “I can never get the stupid door unlocked. Also my brother always told me as a kid that the Skog would get me if I went in first, because he wanted to be first. I have no idea what the Skog is.” To church on the three big ones, Easter, Christmas Eve, Christmas. “Look, it doesn’t hurt to bribe all the deity-things, and if there’s a one reason why I might believe in a loving god, Bluejane, it’s you.”
Me. The androgynous tangly geek spending half her time watching anime and Invader Zim and the other half learning about marine biology. Somehow, we were stuck together in a dorm room, and she stuck with me for a year before I found out she was gay. It didn’t take me long to remember I was, too.
That first night, we slept together.
That wasn’t first. First, we lay in the dark in our bras and underwear, staring at the red numbers on her alarm clock. She reached for me and my whole body was on fire where her skin pressed against mine.
“There’s a reason I’m doing this,” she whispered against my forehead. “There’s a reason I say what I’m about to say.”
I held my breath. I probably felt like a dog on the Fourth, I was so tense. I thought of all the worst ways it could go.
“I love you, Jane Lee, because you really, truly don’t give a fuck.”
I never swore back then. I thought she was angry, so I started to cry. She sort of laughed, sort of said, “Aww,” and hugged me tight. Her hands wandered up to the back of my head and sifted through my oily hair.
“No, Bluejane. Okay, I want to be serious, but that’s what I’ve called you in my head all this time, and I’ve really wanted to call you that out loud, too, but—I didn’t know if you loved me. Now it doesn’t matter.” She kissed my forehead. It wasn’t the first time she’d ever done that, but it was the first time it made me tremble. “I’m telling you anyway, you beautiful girl. Well!” She squeaked with delight and my arms squeezed involuntarily, because my heart seized up when she laughed like that. “There’s another thing I’ve waited too long to say. No, listen to me.”
I did. I could barely believe my ears.
“I’ve always thought I was good at not caring what people think, and then I met you. First thing I noticed about you was your Zim notebook. Really,” she insisted when I frowned, “and I thought it was really…I couldn’t believe it. Cute. I thought it was adorable, and amazing. I started following your lead sometimes, speaking my mind and really not caring. Then I realized you were adorable, and amazing, always there across the room from me. Especially when you came under the blankets.”
Ohhhh.
I started to shake again. “Shit,” I said in a tiny voice. I never swore. I wasn’t angry. The tears started up.
Lizza put her face very, very close to my cheek. We just barely didn’t touch. Her lips burned my ear. “I love you, Bluejane. I love you and everything you do, and you should never be ashamed of yourself.”
She began to kiss her way down my cheek. Her tongue took my tears away, one by one, like a soft sponge. She found my lips and I drank her in. She had a little bit more spit than I expected. I didn’t know what was hotter, my face or my desire to put her nipples in my mouth.
“Lizza,” I breathed into her flowery hair.
“Mmm,” she said. She kissed my neck now, my collarbone now. I braced when she kissed where the car accident had broken the bone, but she was so gentle. My chest heaved under her.
Without another word, I reached behind her back and flipped her bra clasp open. The shape and lace fell away and I saw her breasts as if I had never seen them before. They were mine now. I hadn’t seen them that way before.
They swung away from her, the perfect size for my hands. I fumbled like a bad receiver but I got a nipple to my mouth. I imagined what I would want her to do with mine and I did it.
She rose and fell over me like a snake. I kept a determined hold on her breast and flicked my tongue in every direction. She was stronger than I’d thought. She lowered herself on top of me slower than I could see, and then my bra loosened too. Her hands didn’t stop their slide down my back. I tugged her panties off too.
For a while, we didn’t really move. I wanted to remember how it felt to be a lesbian for the first time for—forever, I guess. I thought very hard about how I would describe the moment. I thought about Lizza’s exact smell: lavender lotion, cornbread, the air after a rain in May. That’s what I thought about hardest.
She began to slide down me like a fireman’s pole. I still couldn’t believe what was happening, so I let her. She kissed above my bellybutton. Kissed my bellybutton. Kissed my little lumpy tummy. Kissed above my hairline. Kissed the hairy places, and then spread my lips with her fingers. The warm, hard tip of her nose touched my wetness.
She made the sound again: “Mmm.” Then her velvety tongue began to move across me in tiny strokes. In my head, in my heart, I promised her everything.
Sometimes, Lizza lifted her head just long enough to say, “I love you, Bluejane.” She always went right back to me. Sometimes she slipped a finger inside me where I was wettest. Mostly she sucked me and licked me and stroked me with her impossibly soft tongue.
I was afraid to come. Just at the right moment, she said, “Come, or else,” and I had to. I did a lot of coming under covers, but this was a new level of tender satisfaction.
I heaved and squirted. I arched my back while I hoped I wasn’t splashing her chin. I heard Lizza’s perfect lips smack together and her giggle filled my ears as she tumbled forward onto me. “You are delicious.”
I touched her over and over. I kept trying to think of ways to assure myself she was real, but only her skin satisfied me. “Oh,” I said. Shame was the most natural reaction. “Do I need to—”
She put a finger to my lips, then kissed me like a butterfly. I tasted my lips and my own orgasm—unafraid, I thought. I don’t care what she thinks. “I don’t mind that,” I said.
“Then whenever you’re ready,” Lizza said, “we’ll see if you like how I taste too. But I don’t care if it never happens. I want to taste you and kiss you forever.”
“Okay,” I said. I didn’t feel afraid with her.
She pulled the blanket up around us and tucked it beneath my other side. “Forever is a long time,” she said. It was the only time that night she sounded anything but happy.
“This is the best thing I’ve ever had,” I said. It was true. “Until further notice, I’m going to keep it.”
“Okay,” Lizza said, wriggling like a puppy in my arms. “Lucky me.”
Lucky me, I think. Every day, for four thousand, three hundred and eighteen days, I’ve thought about these words. I still can’t believe it.
She’s in the house now, too, shutting the door. I walk backwards towards the couch, watching. She loves to pounce. “Cheat,” Lizza says, and laughs and pounces anyway. We tumble onto the couch in a tangle.
I squirm so I’m behind her all the way. I’m usually the big spoon. “Consider yourself cuddled the fuck out of.”
“That’s a terrible sentence.”
“Shut up.”
She giggles and I squeeze her tight to me. I feel so protective of my little Lizza. I’m small, too, but I’m wiry. My brothers forced me to learn how to fight. She only had one brother, and he was always sick, so she knows how to be gentle.
She settles in. My fingers just barely roll her nipple between them through her shirt as she flips on the Apple TV and we start debating what we are least against watching.
To be continued…
I really want some inappropriate questions right now
I’m writing erotica so really nothing is TMI
This is part 2 of an TBD-part continual story! You can check out part 1 here. Thanks for reading!
Venice could barely breathe as she gently pushed the library’s heavy double doors closed and turned the deadbolt. She stood on her tiptoes and peered into the nearly-empty parking lot. Parents ran in circles, rounding up sleepy but determined youth shrieking about the library’s puppet collection.
The quiet, scholarly young man who had kept to his corner all evening caught Venice looking and raised the corner of his mouth in thanks. His mane of curly black hair was almost irresistible, but she’d managed. Venice blushed and dropped back on her heels, reassuring herself that the deadbolt was secure.
Now. She took a deep breath, turning to face her library. Shelves heavy with knowledge strained towards the ceiling, and the silence made her quickened breathing loud and obvious. Tonight it was just her and her library.
Clever girl, she thought, crazy, stupid, clever girl.
Because it wasn’t really just her and her library, at least not for long. She looked down at her watch. Quarter after eight. Just enough time left to straighten up and finish her day job, and then the real work would begin.
Tonight was the second indulgence. Venice had spent a lot of time justifying the original act to herself—the first time was a fluke, a taste to drive her wild. What she wanted now was a feast. She wanted to be filled with cocks, with cum. She was hungry and she wanted to sate her appetite. This, she told herself, was just sexual release. Just an exploration of her sexual identity.
She was not, she told the insistent little voice, a whore.
Her gaze fell to the stack of unpaid bills on her desk and she flushed with irrational anger. A librarian’s salary was barely enough to keep the lights on. If she did have to turn elsewhere for additional income, well—that was her business. The little voice could go shove it.
She bagged up the trash and checked her phone. She dumped all the paper waste cans into one and checked her phone. One message this time, confirming the library address. Her face hot, she pocketed the phone, heaved the trash over her shoulder, and scooped up the paper waste can on her way towards the back door.
Venice was just tossing the trash into the dumpster when the sound of a pebble kicked across asphalt made her whirl around. She screeched as she stared through the shaggy black hair of the scholarly young man.
He threw up his hands, clearly realizing he had nearly traumatized her. “Totally didn’t mean this to come off like it is right now.”
Venice clapped a hand to her heart. “What, fucking creepy? Jesus. Only rapists and how-to-catch-a-whatever cops hide in the bushes like that.”
“I wasn’t hiding in the bushes,” he protested, but then dropped his hands to his sides with a half-chuckle. “Okay. This is not going better. Let me try again?”
“All right,” Venice said warily, because she couldn’t deny the tingling his earnest face summoned between her legs. She folded her arms and tried to strike an intimidating pose. “Your best shot. Go.”
Hiding his relieved grin, the young man approached with a hand extended. His brown eyes barely glinted through his mop of hair. “Hey. I’m Tavis. I stayed for six hours today because I kept looking at you. I looked because you’re beautiful and you love books and, well, I’m a sucker for those things. But I couldn’t get up the courage to say anything inside, so—I decided to gamble on your being attracted to creepers who wait for you to take out the garbage. Again, that’s Tavis, and the number’s two-four-three, seven-seven-zero-nine, in case the, uh, the police need it.”
He stood sort-of grinning with his hand out. In the twilight, he was irresistible. Venice took a deep breath and giggled. It was time she unleashed her own awkward demons on a stranger, come what may.
She took the tips of his fingers and shook them. “A pleasure, Tavis. I’m Venice. In a sec I’ll text you my number because I’m already rather fond of you, but you should probably know that I’m staying late tonight because I’ve arranged a gangbang in the archive section. You’re welcome to join.” She rushed through the last sentence with all the breathlessness and gravity of a child offering their greatest possession to a friend.
Now it was her turn to gaze solemnly, hopefully at the other. Tavis’s head began to tilt slowly until he was looking at her at a 90-degree angle.
“Wow.”
“Wow what?” Venice said, snappier than she had intended.
Tavis raised his hands in defense again. “Wow, I’ve never met a woman so brave as to actually live out her fantasies.”
“Oh.” She dropped her guard, and with it the paper waste can.
“Now,” Tavis said, rubbing the back of his mop, “while I would love to be a stud and join you, what I’m actually facing is a two-year drought and probably the lowest self-esteem of my life. Can I take you out on Friday night instead? After your shift of course. I wouldn’t dare take such a beautiful woman from her books.”
Venice was blushing furiously, and her now-free hand twitched towards her pantline. “Yes,” she said, “you may.”
“Oh thank god.” Tavis passed the back of his hand across his brow, leaving just a faint sheen under his hair.
He looked ready to say something else when Venice added, “But won’t you come in? I mean—if this is how we’re going to start something, then maybe you should know. What I do. Sometimes.” Venice’s mind churned. She knew she could be ruining her best chance at serious stability, but—her newfound lust (and with it, courage) demanded that she be true to herself.
He hesitated. She watched him process, biting her lip as he turned slightly to look at his dumpy pickup truck.
Finally, he sucked in his breath. “All right. But promise me,” he said, trying very hard to be stern, down to the wagging finger, “that I won’t embarrass myself.”
“I can’t promise that,” Venice said, relief giving her the spunk to pop forward and kiss his cheek, “but I can promise you ought to have a good time.”
She led him through the back door. In the half-light, Tavis caught her wrist and stole their first kiss. Venice’s whole body lit up with heat as she returned it, sucking in his smoky breath.
—-
The others arrived almost together. Venice sprinted across the library to answer the tandem knocks at the back door and found that the beefy ex-football player and the hunky construction worker were exchanging grunts about their alleged reasons for being there.
Furiously tucking her hair behind her ear, Venice pointed to each of them. “You’re both here for the same reason.”
“Ahh,” the ex-football player said, his dark eyes sliding up and down her body as his equally dark hands rubbed together. “Let’s do this then.”
The construction worker simply nodded. Men of few words, Venice thought, shivering with anticipation. She led them inside and to the archive section, where Tavis was sitting on the floor, a book spread across his crossed legs. He leaped to his feet and offered both the newcomers a hand.
“Tavis,” he said. They looked at his hand, at each other, then over at Venice.
“No names,” she said, wincing.
“Ahhh. Ehhhh. That’s my stage name.” He grasped his crotch with a cheesy, toothy grin as if demonstrating the size of his package. Venice dove between him and the newcomers and held his wrists.
“Shhhh,” she said. “Just—they’re here to fuck me.” Hearing herself say it aloud made the anticipation harder to contain. “So help them out and just fuck the shit out of me, okay? And I’ll tell you about my childhood and where I went to school and all of that stuff later.” She touched his jawline with affection that shocked her with its strength.
Tavis nodded furiously and drew a line across his jugular. “No talking. Just humping. Got it.”
Venice rolled her eyes with a smile and turned around, right into the grasp of the construction worker. He raked his gaze up and down her body, her upper arms clasped in his sun-cracked hands, then he spun her around and slowly undid the zipper on her skirt. Venice froze as his fingers explored past the thick black fabric to the insubstantial lace of her underwear.
Soon the dark hands of the ex-football player were exploring her pale legs. Venice knelt down on the ground and presented her face to both the newcomers. The construction worker flipped his dark hair out of his face as he slid his hard cock out of his pants. He rested it on her cheek for a moment, then slapped her with it. The black man did the same; they took turns leaving tiny stinging welts on her cheeks.
Venice slipped her hand past the welcoming lace and fingered herself. She was already sticky and throbbing, and even a delicate touch made her spasm as the cocks slapped her face. Abruptly, the black man grabbed her face and twisted it towards him, offering her the tip of his cock. She flicked out her tongue and traced the circumference of the swollen head, her eyes rolling back to seek his approval. His lip curled in response and he shoved her face away.
Out of the corner of her eye, Venice saw Tavis. He was hunched awkwardly, sometimes shifting as if to move forward and join in, but every time he hesitated. She desperately tried to catch his gaze; finally she did, and gave him as encouraging a smile as she could with a dick between her lips.
He moved forward, stop-start, stop-start, until finally he was close enough to press his palms to her breasts. His entire body relaxed as if an electrical current had just been switched off and let his limbs be, and with a shuddering sigh he leaned into his newfound task. He rolled her nipples between skillful fingers and soon Venice’s hand was working over time on her clit as she was yanked towards orgasm.
She gasped for air and turned to take the other cock in her mouth. The black man only let her suck that for a moment before he jerked her off her feet and laid her down on the ground. Whimpering, Venice flattened her legs open, lotus-on-her-back, and was grateful for those yoga classes, somewhere in the back of her foggy head.
A huge cock teased her entrance with just its tip and she leaned into it, moaning. It lingered there, stroking her to silkiness, then suddenly retreated. Venice vocalized her displeasure, but was swiftly silenced as the construction worker swatted her face and then dropped a fistful of balls on her face.
Venice’s tongue swirled between them; she nearly gagged on the smell of Axe soap but was grateful he had showered. Meanwhile, the cock tip had been replaced by a heavy pair of lips, mercilessly sucking her clit and mouthing her whole pussy. A thick, muscular tongue dove between her lower lips and sought another orgasm, a wave made more powerful by the heavy palm that ground into her clit.
Again, delicate fingers descended and teased her nipples. Venice arched her back, scrunching her face into wrinkled pleasure. “Fuck me,” she said, breaking the otherwise wordless soundtrack, then realized they were alone and cried out, “Fuck me!”
Someone obeyed. Someone hard and ridged and powerful, slamming into Venice’s pussy with the enthusiasm of a stallion.
Her eyes fluttered open and she saw Tavis. But it wasn’t Tavis. The same mop of hair, the same brown eyes, but he seemed to steam with dark heat and a fiery single-mindedness that left Venice breathless. She arched her feet, her pussy in the air, and he reached beneath her and grabbed each ass cheek in his long but assuring hands. He hissed, and the air by her ears crackled. Venice squeaked and wriggled into his crotch, grinding her nub into the coarse hairs beneath his belly.
She came so explosively that she vaulted off of his cock. His hands were still on her ass. Just as the lights began to dim in her vision, Tavis pulled her back down, smeared her juices downward, and eased into her ass. A thrill lanced through Venice. “Tavis—fuck,” she said. Again: “Fuck fuck FUCK—”
He slid her up and down his shaft, and his ridges rippled pleasure through her ass so she could feel every fiber of muscle, quivering with readiness. She opened her eyes enough to see Tavis stretching out his neck to take the black cock deep in his throat before the construction worker blocked her view, straddling Tavis to bring his cock down to her pussy.
His eyes, too, were brown, but they glinted with shards of sunlight from his hours outside. His rough hands were not gentle. He jerked her on his cock, disregarding the strain on her asshole, which sent rivers of ecstasy gushing down the dick deep inside her. Three men moaned, each their own sound: throaty and angry; dreamy and determined; clanging and earthy.
Venice’s voice lashed across them all, culminating in a shriek that might have been a name. Her nails curled like claws into the carpet and her spasming anus squeezed an orgasm out of Tavis’s rigid cock. He gagged with the intensity and his throat made the black man come, his hand descending to palm Tavis’s curly head of hair. The slick walls of Venice’s pussy swallowed the construction worker’s cock and coaxed free a hot load of thick cum.
Slowly, they sagged and extricated themselves. Venice lay on her back on the wet carpet until she heard the door closed twice. Then, in a tiny voice that shook out of her trembling body, she hoped out loud: “Tavis?”
“I’m here,” came his voice, very close to her ear.
She reached up without looking and found his hair. Her knuckles collected his curls. “Oh good,” she said. “I hoped you wouldn’t run away.“
Venice ran her finger up the bridge of her nose. It was pure habit – she’d abandoned her clunky librarian glasses years ago, after the laser surgery, but it was as ingrained in her as her adoration of books. She kept an eye on the three shuffling young men who had just entered and were drifting towards the dusty archive section. One was white and looked a lot like her kid brother, with blonde hair and freckles; the other two could have been twins, their dark skin absorbing the light as they vanished beyond where she could see them.
Trying to perfect her disapproving librarian stare, Venice stood up and scanned the library. There was a graduate student in one corner, dutifully spread-eagled across her homework, but otherwise the building was empty. With a sigh – she could never leave well enough alone, and she knew it – Venice sidled away from the desk and made a beeline for the archives.
She had to navigate a bit of a maze to find them, but at least she found the trio, lounging against the shelves in a tight half-circle. She cleared her throat. "Excuse me. Can I help you find something?“
One of the twins raised a hand in greeting. "Hey, suga’. Got a quiiiiet little corner back here.” He dragged out the I so the pinch in Venice’s gut tightened and drifted lower. Without thinking she rested her hands on her hips, just above the line of her slacks.
“Yes,” she said, then cleared her throat because three pairs of eyes belonging to three well-built, good-looking, inevitably well-hung men were boring into her. "Ahem. Yes. I do. And I want to keep it that way, so what can I help you find?“ She tried to stand taller, but all 5’5” of her was minuscule in comparison to the bulk surrounding her.
They shifted closer, and Venice felt her heart in her pussy, its throbbing ever quickening. This was something she’d barely let herself admit she’d dreamed about. This was one of the deepest, darkest fantasies she had, one she’d never let surface, even in her open relationship with Ken. That was long gone, and she hadn’t been fucked properly in months (though there was that one hipster at the bar, but he’d been laughable), and – their eyes, their stances were very clear. They wanted her.
All of them.
She realized she must have conveyed the same with her gaze, because they backed off just a bit now and a ripple of knowing laughter ran around the circle. Venice’s cheeks burned and she ducked to peek out into the library. All was still quiet. On an impulse, she dashed out towards the door and flipped the sign: “Out, Back Later, Will Return in One (1) Hour.” She turned the lock, too. The grad student had dozed off and did not even stir.
Venice darted back to where the men were waiting, her fingers working to unbutton her blouse. By the time she returned, her shirt was off and dangling at her waist where it was still tucked into her slacks, and both the twins had their cocks out. The white boy was still unzipping his jeans, but soon three sizeable dicks were waiting in a circle for her.
Barely able to breathe, Venice knelt down in the center and reached for all three, two with her hands and one with her mouth. Her lips closed around the nearest twin’s cock. He tasted like baby powder and cheap cologne and hungry sweat. She was readying herself to take him deeper when he grabbed the back of her head and plunged into her throat.
Venice gagged uncontrollably around the mass of pulsing flesh. She tried to pull away, to breathe, but he held her there by the hair. Even as she blinked away tears from the blow, Venice could not deny that she was turned on. More than turned on: she was unleashed. She clamped her teeth gently around the cock and tugged without moving, just using her neck, and was rewarded with a satisfied sigh from the man. Her hands kept working when she remembered to move them.
Finally he let her go and she turned to his brother, closing the distance with small steps of her knees. His hair and flesh smelled the same, but he tasted wilder, woodier, like a room that has been opened to a forest. He was less violent, so she was able to gaze up at him with her wide brown eyes, thrilled when he smiled through the contortions of pleasure.
Suddenly she was grabbed from behind and someone roughly undid her slacks, yanking them down her legs. The twin she was blowing dove both his hands into her bra and released her tits so they swung brazenly when she moved. Her ass was pulled into the air and her hands hit the floor. It was the white boy behind her; he even moved like her brother, swinging with every step he took. He positioned himself behind her while the twins shoved their cocks in her face. Venice frantically licked them both, back and forth, while the third cock hovered at her entrance.
Then it was in her ass, not her pussy, lubed by a wad of spit the white boy dropped just before he pushed inside of her. Venice could have screamed as guilt and pleasure overcame her, but her inner librarian squawked, “INSIDE VOICE!” and she muffled it against the carpet. As he slammed into her, the white boy grunted. The twins chuckled under their breath. One knelt down on the carpet and offered her his very erect cock. Through her tears, Venice reached for him and sucked hard. There was no recovering now – she was lost in the adrenaline.
With a final heave, the white boy came in her ass, his ill-cut nails digging into her sides. Venice arched her back and took him as deep as she could, having to catch her breath as he popped out and sat back, hard. The twin in her mouth yanked himself free and wrenched her around so he could delve into her pussy. He was massive, but compared to the ass fucking he felt like a dream. Venice let herself fall into the rhythm, focusing only on the sound of her bare thighs slapping his.
The other twin tipped her chin back and made her open her eyes. "Yeah, take it like a bitch.“ He was grinning, his teeth very white in the dim light. Venice opened her mouth and he slid his cock inside, holding her head so he rammed into the back of her throat. She was skewered from both ends – now a third place, as the twin behind her slid his finger into her lubed asshole. He wriggled it vigorously as he increased his thrusting; as if on the same wavelength, his brother did the same. Venice was completely filled. The pain was excruciatingly wonderful. She knew exactly how brutalized she would feel tomorrow, and all she wanted was more.
She came, uncontrollably shaking and writhing against them. The cock in her mouth squirted first, gushing warm and thick down her throat. Venice swallowed obediently and gasped for air, her hips convulsing as the finger in her asshole pumped with the ferocity of a vibrator. Then the cock in her pussy hardened, pulsed, came. The twin shoved her away and she was left in a shivering heap on the floor.
Above her, three pairs of jeans zipped and buttoned. Three pairs of Nike tennis shoes clunked past her head. None of them said a word. Venice did not dare lift her head. She wanted them to leave before she stood and collected what remained of her dignity. She stared almost unseeingly into the row of archived books, and it was only when she realized she was reaching to put them in the correct order that she knew she would be just fine.
Shakily, she stood and dressed. Her legs would not hold her, so she hobbled back to her desk and sat down with relief. Blood pumped in her lower extremities and she could hear her heart in her ears.
The grad student raised her head, wiping drool from the corner of her mouth. She caught Venice’s gaze across the room and smiled. "Quiet in here,” she said.
“Yes,” Venice said, her hand slipping into her pants and touching her engorged clit. She was already reminiscing, a coy smile on her trembling lips. "Quiet. Sure.“
Now that I have passed the 100 follower mark, I want to announce that at 250 followers, I will be publishing a book – a collection of short smut-tastic writings! It will be published in e-book form and available through Amazon and possibly other distributors. Some of the stories will be original and unreleased, while some will be expanded and revised tales from Fantasy Digest. Now is your time to weigh in on what stories you might like to see in the collection! Message me with your requests – I am always open for ideas! 🙂