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“More tongue, Baby. Use that fantastic tongue of yours.”

“Yes, Daddy,” she obeyed. She would never disobey him, even when obeying was a challenge. Nothing worth having , nothing worth achieving, ever came without a challenge. That is what Daddy always said and she knew he was right.

Julie took the cock into her mouth again, determined to make it pleasurable this time. She let her tongue slip out and trace a trail along the bottom of the shaft to the tip, taking a moment to flick the underside and swirl her tongue around the head. A groan escaped the lips of the man attached to the cock. See Daddy, she thought. He’s enjoying it. I can be a good girl, Daddy. She stole a look and saw approval in his eyes.

The man groaned again as she continued to suck and lick. “She really is spectacular Bob. That mouth of hers, that tongue. Damn! You are a lucky man.”

“That I am, ” he responded. “That I am.” Then, turning his attention to Julie, “Come on Babygirl, show this old bastard some lovin.”

Julie was happy to hear her Daddy talk about how lucky he was to have her, although she knew that she was truly the lucky one to have such a loving and thoughtful Daddy. She would do anything for him and she knew he would always be there for her, supporting her, guiding her, loving her the way only he could.

As she went back to the task at hand she thought about her tongue and the fantastic things she could do with it. She had used it on many a man, and woman. She enjoyed it, the feeling of power she got from knowing how much pleasure she was giving them. It gave her pleasure as well. The feeling of a woman’s body reacting to her tongue lapping at her clit and invading her pussy. That was hot. The feel of a man’s cock going from soft to rock hard in her mouth with her lips firmly around it and her tongue swirling about the head. That was pure delight.

There were times, like today, when she couldn’t find the pleasure in it though. It wasn’t because her partners weren’t into it, often they were the ones being more vocal than not about how awesome she was. She did have a fantastic mouth and tongue, Daddy told her all the time, but it was not for everyone. It was different when it was someone else, though having him there with her helped. Just knowing he was there and hearing his voice helped her get past any initial nervousness or apprehension she might have, usually.

Today she couldn’t get into it. She sucked and licked, she caressed and kneaded, she opened up her throat and took every bit of him in. He groaned in appreciation enjoying every moment but she just couldn’t no matter how hard she tried. She imagined it was Daddy’s cock in her mouth. She loved sucking Daddy’s cock. To her, his was absolute perfection. Big and firm, but not too big as to hurt her jaw, and it was smooth, so smooth, with a little tuft of hair at the base. Julie closed her eyes and imagined.

The man’s groaning became louder and he started pumping, driving his cock into her mouth. She fought to keep up with him, to not just open up and let him fuck her mouth. She grabbed his ass and held him firmly, letting her mouth do the moving rather than him. She was more than ready for this to be over but she knew she had to do it right or Daddy would not be pleased. She had to show control and allow him to release at the right time.

“Are you ready Babygirl?”

She managed a nod while continuing her action on the man’s cock.

“Do it, Baby. Make Daddy proud.”

Julie knew what to do. She took the cock into her mouth with her lips about half way down his shaft. Then quickly moved her head back while her tongue kept pressure on his cock and flicked the tender underside of the head as it slid out of her mouth. A few quick strokes with the same movements, then it was time. She opened up her mouth, her throat, and took the cock all the way in. At the same moment she pressed one finger at the base of his scrotum behind his balls and inserted another well lubricated one into his ass.

“Arggg…” She felt the hot cum sliding down her throat as his body twitched and bucked trying to release every ounce. He was done.

“Great job, Baby. That’s my good girl.”

“Holy fuck! That was amazing! I don’t know where you learned those moves but you are one talented young woman.”

Julie gave him a little smile, thankful it was over. She couldn’t wait to get back to their hotel room, have a nice hot shower and snuggle with Daddy.

 

 

This week’s challenge was to make bad sex sound good. I may have come up with the challenge, but that does not mean I was able to meet it.
Click the Wicked Wednesday button below to see how others rose to the challenge.

  

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Looking around she was saddened to see how barren the land had become. Over the years she had watched as the lush, dense forest slowly retreated around them. There had once been a forest full of trees just like her and her steadfast companion. They had grown together, the two of them, to become as one.

There was a young boy in the farmhouse across the street who, for a long time, thought they were one tree. From his vantage he wasn’t able to decipher their two trunks or which limbs belonged to each of them. One day, shortly after starting school in town, he had walked down his lane to catch the bus. He was early. Too early to just sit and wait for the bus. Besides, he was a young boy and that meant staying still often took much more effort than he could muster all on his own. He dropped his bag to the ground then walked across the main road to climb the big tree. He was surprised to find that the big tree was really two separate trees that had been growing closely together. He stopped in his tracks and looked up at the trees, not quite believing what he was seeing. While he stood there, mouth open in aw, the bus arrived and took him off to school.

That was many moons ago. That young boy had grown up and had a family of his own. Those children had also grown up and had children of their own, along with another two generations. That young boy passed away, it that farmhouse across the street, a dozen years ago. He was 93, a great-great-grandfather. Mother nature mourned his passing along with his family and friends. Her tears fell from the heavens, soaking everything, flooding the farmhouse basement. They young boy, who was in actuality not a young boy, had been the last resident of the farmhouse. Everyone stopped visiting after he had passed. They abandoned the derelict old farmhouse and left it to rot.

She had been so saddened by this herself, the passing of the young boy and the abandonment of the farm. Nothing was really the same after that and now other things were changing. She had stood strong all these years, bending with the winds but never breaking. She had grown a great display of branches and produced what one could consider generations of leaves. Now she was nearing her end of existence.

Her steadfast companion was no longer. He had succumbed to a slow and terrible death after being struck by lightning and loosing one of his large major branches. He had always been there with her, side by side, shielding her from the brutal northern winds. He was no longer able to protect her and there were no other trees around to help fill that void and need in her life. Because of this, she too was dying. Just as the young boy had passed, she too was dying from old age and loneliness. It was merely a matter of time.

 

 

 

This week Marie asked us to write from the point of view of the last tree standing in the forest. This is what came to my mind. The picture above is of what I call my trees. This pair of trees sits in the middle of a field that I pass when driving to or from the cottage. I am always captivated by the beauty of nature and the way these two trees look like one large tree from the right angle. I took this picture, showing the two distinct and separate trees, to remind me of how well two people who compliment each other in the right ways can bring out a beauty in each other that you can not see otherwise. It also shows how two people can me thought of as one when in a relationship.


Clink the link below to read other’s takes on the challenge.



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Catching the signal from one of her friends, Angela brushed her skirt, took a deep breath, and walked towards where he was sitting. She was trying not to let her nerves get the best of her, though difficult it was. This was a big opportunity and she didn’t want to blow it. Darnell, the man she was meeting, was in town for a conference and looking for some company for the weekend. She had never done this before but several of her friends had and they said it was easy money. She enjoyed sex didn’t she? Why not get paid well to have it?

He stood up to greet her with a handshake and a kiss on her cheek, then helped her into a seat adjacent to his. “Would you care for a drink, my dear? A glass of wine maybe?”

“A glass of wine would be nice, thank you. Chardonnay, please.”

They sat and chatted a little. She was beginning to relax and feel at ease with Darnell. He really was quite charming and easy to like. Another drink before they headed up to his room.

Angela had never stayed at such a posh hotel before, even the carpet beneath her feet felt softer than the old mattress in her dorm room. The bed was big and lush with white linens accented in navy. A half a dozen pillows were stacked across the head of the bed and the spread was pulled down on one side. Obviously the hotel knew he was alone, or assumed he was since he alone was registered. This thought suddenly made her nervous. If anything happened to her here nobody would ever know. Then she realized Tamera would know as she was the one who arranged this.

“Were you told what to expect from me this evening?”

“Yes sir, I was informed you were into spanking or whips or something.” She felt a fool as she stammered through the words.

He chuckled slightly. “That’s good, calling me Sir. I expect that to be the protocol for the rest of the weekend. As for spanking or whips or something, yes, I do enjoy spanking young women. I do use other implements at times, but for this evening I will stick to using my bare hand. Now, please strip down to your undergarments and kneel here beside the bed while I go relieve myself. You may use a pillow should you find the floor too hard.”

She did as he requested, thankful that she had worn matching bra and panties this evening. Classic pink lace with little bows at the hips and between the cups of the bra. Very girly she thought, wondering if he would like. She knelt on the floor without a pillow, still amazed by how soft it was beneath her.

When Darnell returned to the room he went over to Angela and rubbed her shoulders. A small gesture to help relax and put her at ease. He knew this was her first time and did not want it to be a bad experience for her. “You are going to feel the warmth of my touch and the heat of my hand. You are going to like it, but you will not cum. You will pay attention to what I am doing, to how it affects you. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“I won’t hurt you. Yes, you will feel pain but it will be a good pain, a pain that will also bring pleasure with it. Don’t fight it, just relax and go with it. If you feel like it is getting to be too much, if I am hitting too hard or you aren’t comfortable for any reason say broccoli. If you say broccoli I will stop.

“Can’t I just say no, or stop?”

“Not tonight, not here with me. I am accustomed to women saying no when they don’t really mean no, when they want to put up a fight but are actually enjoying the scene. Broccoli is what we would call a safe word. It does not fit in with the context of the scene. If you say broccoli I know you truly want to stop.”

“Do you always use broccoli as your safe word?”

“Not always, it depends on the person and the scene. Is there another word you would prefer?”

“No. Broccoli. Got it.” She could feel his eyes on her, sense his disapproval. “No Sir, broccoli is a good word. If I want things to stop I will say broccoli. It is the only word that will end things.”

“Thank you, now stand up sweet girl and come over here.” He led her over to the foot of the bed and had her lean over onto the bed with her pink lace clad derrière offered up to him. He began by lightly rubbing it… then a smack, not too hard… rubbing to sooth the skin… another smack… more rubbing. He would break her in slowly. They had plenty of time.

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Click the link below to see what other stories were born of this weeks Wicked Wednesday challenge.

Wicked Wednesday

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His Message

It’s time for another Wicked Wednesday challenge…

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I had a story in mind, possibly a picture, but as happens occasionally real life gave me something to write about instead.

I was in bed and unable to sleep. Thinking about a couple of phone meetings I am to have later in the week and mulling over ideas for turning a series into a longer piece (novel?) were keeping my mind too active for sleep. I decided to get online and check out FetLife for a bit. There were five new messages waiting for me. The first two were questions about the local Munch and the last two were variations on the you’re so hot let’s hook up theme. It was the one in the middle that stopped me in my tracks.

Remember Him? I talked about Him quite a bit at the beginning of the year. The things He made me feel, the things I experienced and more I wanted to. The trip across borders to meet in the middle. The pain when He suddenly disappeared, and on my birthday no less. He is the only one I have ever called Sir, respected as Sir, the only one to ever make me orgasm without touch, just from pure will alone.

I have never felt such relief and heart break as the day I learned he was okay.

It’s a funny thing, relationships. We tend to have them, to be in them, even without realizing it. We put up walls to keep people out then suddenly realize we have dropped them to let someone inside. It doesn’t matter if you see them every day or once in a lifetime. It doesn’t matter how many times we lie to ourselves and say we are just friends.

When you connect with someone on a deep personal level, when you let them see the real you, flaws and baggage and all, a little piece of you dies when they are gone. You are no longer whole when they leave. It isn’t because they took that piece of you with them, but because they were the one who filled in the void that was there before they arrived. Before they came into your life you weren’t even aware the void was there. When they leave the void becomes impossible to miss, impossible to ignore.

It took what felt like a nanosecond to fall for Him yet I am still waiting to get over Him. Even after all this time I still think about him every day.

I sent him a message just over a month ago. I told him I still missed him. Sad and pathetic maybe, but I’m not known for keeping things to myself.

Back to that third message…

Two simple lines that began “I miss you too”.

Wicked Wednesday

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Word Limit = 175
Required Phrase – “Waiting too long”
Forbidden words – Sorry, Sorrow, Regrets, Pain
Extra Credit – Be nice this week.
Bonus Words – Tell us a true story of unrequited love (50 words)
Seems I didn’t maintain the word limit this week, nor did I actually post on Friday. Was I nice? Possibly not. Bad Stella!
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Legend has it you can bring a loved one home by wrapping yourself in the vines of their home and professing your love for them. Seemed silly, he knew, yet he would try anything that might help bring her home to him. She was the light of his life, his heart, and he was forever lost without her. He had been waiting too long to be whole again.

Saturday morning he headed out towards her villa. He walked the few miles, stopping only for some light fare and water along the way. Maybe it was his hope, optimism this could work, he didn’t know, but it seemed the world was just a much more beautiful and positive place this morning.

He was hot when he arrived, the blazing sun and walk having caught up with him, so he stripped his shirt before starting with the vines. He pulled and twisted, wrapping the vines about his body as he leaned against the brick protecting wall.

Once finished, sweat dripped from his brow until the coolness of the brick vined wall soothed his fiery skin and calmed his beating heart. He turned his head towards the heavens and prayed for his love to return. He professed his love and longing for her, his desire to hold her close to him again, to be complete and whole.

Time passed. Silence enveloped him as the dusk moved in and the birds went off to nest. He began to worry that the whole vine legend was just that, a legend, a hoax, an old fairy tale that did nothing but tell a lovely bedtime story for children to dream about.

He felt defeated and was about to untangle himself and head home when he caught sight of something in the window. A dim light in the villa gave light to the shadows that moved within it. His heart leapt before plunging to depths of heartbreak. She was one of the shadows but the other shadow wasn’t him. There was another holding her, kissing her, stroking her.

He was frozen in that moment, unable to move, lost to everything. The vines that had earlier comforted him now trapped him. The wall that had soothed him now chilled. The light that had given him hope now only showed him there was no hope.

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If you are new to Flash Fiction Friday, click HERE! for all the instructions.
To see the rest of this week’s posts, click HERE!
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Flash Fiction Prompt – 11/15 – Fuck Me

FFF Challenge – You have 100 words to make me cum.
You get 25 extra words if you write it on Thursday and do it in one draft, typos and all.
GO!

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He wakes to the feel of her mouth around his morning erection, her tongue flicking that spot that drives him mad. He begins to move his hips, fucking her mouth now rather than just being serviced.

“Fuck me,” she says. “Fuck me, please.”

Who is he to deny her? He shoves her face down on the bed and rams into her from behind.

A yelp, then a moan as she moves her ass up to meet his thrusts.

She loves when he takes what he wants.

His hands reach down, grabbing her by the shoulders, and pulls her towards him as he thrusts again.

Her moaning, and that tight ass, sends him over the edge.

He explodes insider her.

“Good morning, baby.”

“Good morning, mister.”

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If you are new to Flash Fiction Friday and would like to try your hand at it, click HERE for all the instructions.

Click HERE to see how others interpreted this photo and Advizor’s challenge.

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Rebel gave us another writing challenge this week, “write a letter to the ten year old child you had been.” I considered writing another Larry piece and have him write the letter to himself. That would be interesting. But then I decided I would take the challenge as it is, as it was meant to be, and write a letter to my ten year old self. Cathartic? Possibly.

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Dear Stella,

It is me, well you, um… oh jeez, that’s not the best way to start now is it? I am you, you are me. I just happen to be the you you become in about thirty years. Don’t freak out, it’s true. And don’t go yell at your brother, he didn’t do this. It really is me, well you. Now you’re probably thinking this is cool and I am going to tell you a bunch of awesome stuff that is going to happen to you, or the winning lottery numbers. Calm down, I’m not going to give you any winning lottery numbers. I am writing this letter to you today because I think it is important for you to know a few things earlier in life.

First, enjoy the time you get to spend with Mom and Dad. I know they both tend to push you and your brothers away, but they don’t do it because they don’t love you. They do it because they are hurting and don’t know what to do about it. Talk to them, play the piano for them, be silly and make them laugh. Don’t worry, they are both still alive and kicking, they just don’t end up doing it together much longer. In the end it’s the best thing they could have done. I know you see how things are. It will be better for you, and especially your little brother, when they move on with their lives apart. You won’t like either one of your new step-parents but that’s okay, you don’t have to. Just accept them for who they are and the fact that they make your parents happy.

You will feel as though nobody cares. That’s normal as children transition into teenagers. Don’t let this thought drown you. Remember that it is fleeting. Don’t run away with that pack from your closet or jump out of that bedroom window. See, I told you I was you. You never told anyone about those things, even after all these years and all the therapy. It’s okay, everyone should have therapy at some point in their lives. You will be spanked because you were bad and deserve a punishment. Granted, that hairbrush or Dad’s leather belt may not be the best methods to use but our parents do it because that’s what they learned from their parents. Learn, because of our parents, to change this with your own son. I still have horrible memories of that hairbrush. First chance you get at the cottage take it and throw it in the fire pit.

Next, take it easy on your twin brother will ya? That doesn’t mean let him away with everything. He needs some tough love, not hard knocks and not you fixing all his mistakes. He makes a lot of mistakes. Some of them he needs to make so he can learn from them, but others he makes because he is lost. Help him figure out who he is before he completely loses himself and drifts away from you and the family. It will break your heart when he and his daughter leave. You will never stop hurting and missing them. Your son will bring a new joy into your life though. Be thankful for that precious little guy.

Don’t ever let anyone put you down, abuse you, take advantage of you, or tell you that what you think, feel, or believe, is wrong. Just because some people have closed minds does not mean you need to close yours. It’s okay to be different. It’s okay to know things or do things people tell you you can’t possibly know or do. This may be a little cryptic but you will figure it out. You stand out in a good way. Keep doing that.

Speaking of abuse and taking advantage, stay away from any gathering where they will be playing the movie Boondocks. Seriously. Remember that name. You will go to a friends house and that movie will be playing. Leave. Just leave and go home. Actually, there is some fun to be had there, so you can stay a while but don’t spend the night. Go home. Do not spend the night! You got that?

Those things you do when you are alone in your room, fresh from your bath? It’s ok to keep doing them. Forget any of that nonsense about making you go blind or becoming some kind of deviant nobody wants to be with. It’s natural. It is natural for us to do things that make us feel good, and I know this makes you feel good. Don’t push down your desires. Celebrate them. As I said earlier, it’s okay to be different. Trust me, different is way more fun.

Another thing you must keep doing is writing. Even though Mom thinks reading books and writing stories and poetry are frivolous past times, they help you develop your sense of self and your sense of adventure. Writing also allows you to get those crazy voices to stop nattering in your head. In a few years you will be a published poet, something you wrote for Remembrance Day. Many more years down the road will start a blog and share your stories with other people, even write that book you’ve been thinking about since you read your first novel. Writing will become your personal kind of meditation. Keep it up. Listen to Mr. Walters when he talks to you about your writing. He will give you honest feedback, constructive criticism, and praise for some work well done. When he shares your story with the high school seniors, he does it because yours is the best of the school. You will only be in eighth grade at the time. Cherish that moment and carry it with you always. Maybe now is a good time to write a thank you letter to Mr. Walters.


Wicked Wednesday

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