As I searched for the perfect image to go with today's blog title, I stumbled upon an interesting article titled, Behind Closed Doors. The story is here if you'd like to read it.Below is my story for Alison Tyler's recent contest, Fucking Crazy . My story didn't win, but I thought I'd share it with you anyway. As always, her contests are really fun. Every story is fabulously written; offering a sexy, hot and quick read for someone whose pressed for time, but still aching for a little something, something.
Fucking Miles Davis
“Shhh…I think someone’s coming.” Her voice was raspy and hot.
“Yeah. Hello? It’s me.” He whispered thrusting deeper into her ass.
“No. I mean I think someone else is in the room.” She murmured louder as she twisted her reddened, sweaty face around.
A slice of light echoed from under the closed closet door. They both saw the looming shadow standing there on the outside of the door.
They didn’t move; they were suspended in mid-fuck. It was silent except for the slow drip of sweat that fell from her brow and pooled on top of a shoe box top. Pounding hearts, full deep breaths, lust, need and too much wine filled the small, dark space.
“Fuck it. Just fuck me.” Her need surpassed her fear of getting caught, like someone passing the baton in a race.
He pulled his wet cock out and drove himself inside her again. She closed her eyes; turned her head back toward the wall, her fists grasped the plastic coated shelving and she began moving her hips up and down; meeting each penetrating rhythmic grind.
She felt her orgasm building as his cock shimmied against every splitting fiber deep within her. “Fuck me hard. I’m going to come…” she said huskily; feeling the release of orgasm move across her body.
She crawled on all fours and opened the door, cautiously. Her eyes came face to face with Miles Davis, the party host’s black cat.
Do Not Disturb,
Neve
“Yeah. Hello? It’s me.” He whispered thrusting deeper into her ass.
“No. I mean I think someone else is in the room.” She murmured louder as she twisted her reddened, sweaty face around.
A slice of light echoed from under the closed closet door. They both saw the looming shadow standing there on the outside of the door.
They didn’t move; they were suspended in mid-fuck. It was silent except for the slow drip of sweat that fell from her brow and pooled on top of a shoe box top. Pounding hearts, full deep breaths, lust, need and too much wine filled the small, dark space.
“Fuck it. Just fuck me.” Her need surpassed her fear of getting caught, like someone passing the baton in a race.
He pulled his wet cock out and drove himself inside her again. She closed her eyes; turned her head back toward the wall, her fists grasped the plastic coated shelving and she began moving her hips up and down; meeting each penetrating rhythmic grind.
She felt her orgasm building as his cock shimmied against every splitting fiber deep within her. “Fuck me hard. I’m going to come…” she said huskily; feeling the release of orgasm move across her body.
She crawled on all fours and opened the door, cautiously. Her eyes came face to face with Miles Davis, the party host’s black cat.
Do Not Disturb,
Neve
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