I am determined to write a blog that actually makes it to the end of the process, instead of the many abortions that have happened lately. I'm horrible about that, writing things that never see the light of day. I should post whatever I write, despite whether I deem it worthy or not. I censor myself far too much for my own liking. Must work on this.
I have been so incredibly frustrated the past couple days. Frustrated and hurt, to be truthful. There is this huge THING between my grandmother and myself that I want more than anything to resolve, but I'm at a loss as to just how to accomplish that. I am a sarcastic person by nature. I speak loudly, and if I get confused or frustrated (usually with myself) it shows in my voice. I use roughneck phrases and I swear a lot. I sound like a bitch, I guess, that seems to be the general consensus. Whatever, I can deal with that because I know I'm not actually a bitch, most days. (This is not to say I can't BE a bitch, because that would be an outright, bald faced lie.) My grandmother, however, seems to think that my tone of voice is directed at her, and she gets pissed off. It's not, I don't think I'm better than her, I don't think she's stupid, I'm not talking down on her, it's just the way my voice is. I cannot get her to understand this. So, she takes offense and gets extremely pissy and sometimes outright hurtful with me, which does set me off. So then, I get bitchy with her. All because she misunderstood me. It's a vicious fucking cycle and I'm beginning to think the only way to resolve it is for me to just stop speaking entirely. I don't want to argue all the time, I dislike arguing more than nearly anything else. Also, there's another issue with her that I can't figure out a way to solve. When someone says something and I know it to be incorrect, I speak up. I wouldn't want to be misinformed about something, and I assume that most others wouldn't either. I don't do it to lord my intelligence over anyone, or to act high and mighty or whatever. I just want people to have the correct information. So, if something is said to me and it's incorrect, I will correct the statement and then explain my reasoning, why it was incorrect. If I am proven to be wrong, then I will back down and accept that I was wrong. She refuses to let me explain anything. She cuts me off mid word and gets pissy with me. Now, if you know me, you know that I have some deep seated self confidence issues, and someone cutting me off in the middle of speaking is something that kicks me hard. It makes me feel as if what I have to say is of no importance and that hurts me more than I can express. I ask her if she would please let me finish speaking or explaining and she takes it as me being a smart ass, and she gets even pissier. It's NOT me being a smart ass, I honestly just want to be allowed to speak my piece without being made to feel unimportant. She just won't listen to me, and I honestly think that she considers me stupid and not worth the air it takes to form my words, some days. This isn't every day. Most days we're fine, and I think if she and I could just hash out these two things we could probably have a good relationship. I would really like for that to happen, but it's been like this for so long, I don't think it ever will.
I have so many projects on my computer I need to work on, and I just never get around to them. I have over 3000 mp3's I need to go through and clean up the track tags of. I have I don't even know how many pictures I need to give names and organize. I have video I need to burn to DVD. I need to organize a hard copy list of all the sites I have a username/password on. I need to get all this shit done before November, because once I get a decision one way or the other at my court date I'll either be going back to school or getting a job. Once the real world comes back into my life, I get the feeling that these smaller and less important things will fall to the wayside, and I don't really want that to happen. I guess instead of talking about it here, I should probably go and work on one of those projects, eh?
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Ponderous.
I'm going to attempt a blog now, despite the fact that my head is absolutely killing me. I spoke to my Aunt Becki last night, and she told me something that, despite having been told this by a cousin not long ago, took me by surprise. She told me that several family members she's spoken to have commented to her that I've changed dramatically of the past little while. They've told her that I'm happier, I seem more driven and that in general, I'm more pleasant to be around. I suppose that I have changed, though. I DO feel more driven. I've set a workout plan for myself and have followed it for quite a while now, I've stuck to the vegetarianism thing, despite how downright hard it's been at times. I have a definite plan in place for going back to school that I will put into action as soon as my life gets put back on the road. I feel like my bipolar highs and lows have become more spread out (though by no means have they disappeared) and my overall mood is generally better. I'm no longer thinking about ending my life on a daily basis, and sometimes, when I look in the mirror, I'm almost ok with the person who looks back at me. As for the happiness part, I'm not sure, because I honestly don't remember what true happiness is supposed to feel like. Over all, it's a good thing, I guess. I did have to sit down and think about it when a close friend told me that my changes have made me "boring and unoriginal", and that I was more normal now, because none of those things are good things to me, but ultimately I decided that if "normal, boring and unoriginal" mean that I'm not constantly in a black pit of depression, well, so be it.
Also, I've finally received a date when my life will be put back on track, one way or the other. Come November 9th I'll have a decision. I'm terrified of appearing in court (really, how much sense does it make for someone with anxiety disorders to have to speak in a court?) but I have my ativan, and I have the knowledge that doing so will end the nearly three year hiatus my life's been on. So, wish me luck. Wish me lots and lots and lots of luck. :c)
Also, I've finally received a date when my life will be put back on track, one way or the other. Come November 9th I'll have a decision. I'm terrified of appearing in court (really, how much sense does it make for someone with anxiety disorders to have to speak in a court?) but I have my ativan, and I have the knowledge that doing so will end the nearly three year hiatus my life's been on. So, wish me luck. Wish me lots and lots and lots of luck. :c)
Never, Ideas, Babies and the Tree in Me
I have decided that if I ever have a child, I will name it Never. Imagine the poor child's confusion when being yelled at or told to do something. "NEVER, GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE!", "Never, take out the trash.", "Never, quit picking your nose!". Think they'd grow up hating me?
I'm in a weird mood, and Livejournal is finally working for me again, so I decided to take advantage of that fact. My brain has been churning lately, and full of ideas, but it's as if they've got dragon fly wings attached and I've got a hole in my net. I might catch them and hold onto them for a minute or two, but they escape and dance just out of my reach. I suppose I should be grateful for the few minutes they're in my hands, the little bit I'm able to pound out on the keyboard. Eventually they'll have to land, and then I will catch them and force them to share their secrets with me.
The past few weeks have been busy ones for me. Full of visits from family, first my second/third cousins on my Grandma Bell's side were here for a week. Then second/third cousins from Grandpa Bell's side were out at the house visiting for two days, then finally this past Saturday I was at a surprise party for my Grandma Anglin's 70th birthday. As I do, I sat back and watched/listened to these different branches on the tree that makes up me, and made some observations.
My Grandma Bell's relations (and for the most part, my Grandma Bell, too) generally overlook me. This really doesn't bother me much, I'm content to blend into the background most of the time - easier to observe people that way. I don't think many of that branch of the tree really like me much, or perhaps my tattoos and piercings put them off, or perhaps my less than perfect exterior is hard for them to look at. I don't really know. Honestly, in most cases, I really don't care. My cousin Robin did take time to tell me that I looked happier than she'd ever seen me (she's one of the few that actually notices me, I think.) which is possibly true, at least in part, but it made me acknowledge the fact that when the down slide part of my bipolar disorder happens, I'll have that much further to fall. Oh, well.
Seeing Grandpa Bell's relations was good. My second cousin Penny and her daughter Jennifer were there, along with Jennifer's two kids and her sister Kim's son. It was good seeing Jennifer, and her kids are adorable. It brought back memories from my childhood/early teen years when Penny and Kim, Jennifer and Jamie would come and we'd spend hours upon hours playing SNES and playing in the creek and just being kids. Those were good times, and Jamie and I reminisced over that fact when I spoke to her the next day via Myspace IM. It's surreal that we're all grown up now, they've all got families of their own. Tempus fugit.
My mom's side of the family, however, is a whole different experience. These people care about me, take time to speak to me, and I feel like I belong there. They're a lot more open minded, and I'm not the only tattooed, pierced freak of the bunch. (And when I say 'freak' it is NOT an insult. I am quite proud to be a freak. :cP) Nor am I the only crazy one. Nobody puts on airs, nobody is ashamed, nobody is uptight...everybody is who they are and that's that. This is NOT to say there aren't issues, FAR from it, it's just a different vibe.
My best friend had her baby last Wed. I've only seen two pictures of him so far, but he's adorable. He was a big boy, 9lbs, 13oz. I can't wait to meet him. I hope Heidi and Brian and Ethan are re-adjusting to life with newborn well.
And now, I shall nap.
I'm in a weird mood, and Livejournal is finally working for me again, so I decided to take advantage of that fact. My brain has been churning lately, and full of ideas, but it's as if they've got dragon fly wings attached and I've got a hole in my net. I might catch them and hold onto them for a minute or two, but they escape and dance just out of my reach. I suppose I should be grateful for the few minutes they're in my hands, the little bit I'm able to pound out on the keyboard. Eventually they'll have to land, and then I will catch them and force them to share their secrets with me.
The past few weeks have been busy ones for me. Full of visits from family, first my second/third cousins on my Grandma Bell's side were here for a week. Then second/third cousins from Grandpa Bell's side were out at the house visiting for two days, then finally this past Saturday I was at a surprise party for my Grandma Anglin's 70th birthday. As I do, I sat back and watched/listened to these different branches on the tree that makes up me, and made some observations.
My Grandma Bell's relations (and for the most part, my Grandma Bell, too) generally overlook me. This really doesn't bother me much, I'm content to blend into the background most of the time - easier to observe people that way. I don't think many of that branch of the tree really like me much, or perhaps my tattoos and piercings put them off, or perhaps my less than perfect exterior is hard for them to look at. I don't really know. Honestly, in most cases, I really don't care. My cousin Robin did take time to tell me that I looked happier than she'd ever seen me (she's one of the few that actually notices me, I think.) which is possibly true, at least in part, but it made me acknowledge the fact that when the down slide part of my bipolar disorder happens, I'll have that much further to fall. Oh, well.
Seeing Grandpa Bell's relations was good. My second cousin Penny and her daughter Jennifer were there, along with Jennifer's two kids and her sister Kim's son. It was good seeing Jennifer, and her kids are adorable. It brought back memories from my childhood/early teen years when Penny and Kim, Jennifer and Jamie would come and we'd spend hours upon hours playing SNES and playing in the creek and just being kids. Those were good times, and Jamie and I reminisced over that fact when I spoke to her the next day via Myspace IM. It's surreal that we're all grown up now, they've all got families of their own. Tempus fugit.
My mom's side of the family, however, is a whole different experience. These people care about me, take time to speak to me, and I feel like I belong there. They're a lot more open minded, and I'm not the only tattooed, pierced freak of the bunch. (And when I say 'freak' it is NOT an insult. I am quite proud to be a freak. :cP) Nor am I the only crazy one. Nobody puts on airs, nobody is ashamed, nobody is uptight...everybody is who they are and that's that. This is NOT to say there aren't issues, FAR from it, it's just a different vibe.
My best friend had her baby last Wed. I've only seen two pictures of him so far, but he's adorable. He was a big boy, 9lbs, 13oz. I can't wait to meet him. I hope Heidi and Brian and Ethan are re-adjusting to life with newborn well.
And now, I shall nap.
Things I Hate.
This disease that plagues me. The knowledge that for every drop of happiness I taste, there will be an equal amount of depression. That the higher I fly, the farther I have to fall when the down slide comes. That there will ALWAYS be a monster lurking inside me, just out of sight and always ready to pounce and rip me to shreds. That no one seems to understand what I go through, and no matter how hard I try to explain it to them, they will never understand because they're "normal". That my best friend prefers me off my meds, because she says I'm an entirely different person when on them, but she doesn't realize the maelstrom that churns inside me when I'm not on my meds. It's like riding nonstop and sitting backwards and blindfolded in the world's steepest roller coaster...except instead of ripping up and down all the time, sometimes the cars will stop at the highest peak, and that's awesome, feels great, but the whole time you're looking at the sheer fall and knowing that it can't last, that you'll eventually get pushed over and start plummeting down the tracks.
Textual Vomit
Mads requested a blog, and so, blog I shall. I haven't really got a subject in mind, so who knows where the hell this'll go.
I'm reading a thread on the 'Box about irrational fears. Some of them are silly, like someone's fear of condiments, etc, but some of them definitely aren't. I suppose it's all a matter of perspective. My fears are very valid to me, but I'm sure other people would find some of them ridiculous. Like..my fear of maggots. I mean, come on. They eat FLESH. (yeah, yeah, yeah, so it's dead flesh..WHATEVER.) They're just gross and tiny and sickly pale and absolutely terrifying to me. I almost hit Ev's mom in the face once over maggots. I'd mopped the kitchen the night before, and she woke me up to look at the kitchen floor, which was covered in maggots. Because it was TOTALLY my fault the dumb hag left her food encrusted mop head to be infested by blowflies, which laid eggs. I completely knew that when I mopped the floor, so it MUST have been my fault that the nasty little shits hatched all over the floor. I about had a goddamn panic attack when she brought me in to look at them. It was only the fact that she didn't know about my fear that kept me from busting her jaw. Also, my fear of cannibals. And deep water. And alligators and crocodiles. And sharks. Aside from the deep water, you won't find any of the others around here. Well, perhaps the cannibals...who's to say. Anyway, silly fears, right? Silly to you, but very real to me.
I'm failing at this on the spot blog writing thing. My mind's blank. www.Fmylife.com is a hilarious website. I think I'm coming out of my "glad to be alone" relationship stage. Or, perhaps I just require the physical side of a relationship. I've also noticed myself changing. I guess I outgrew the shaved headed dyke stage. Style wise, I'm finding myself shifting from ghetto to sort of punk-ish. Is it weird for a 27 year old to still be going through changes like this? I can't really tell as I'm the only basis for comparison I have. I'm not entirely sure that that last sentence made sense, but I'm not changing it. I'm fully aware I'm rambling, also, but I have no intention of changing that, either. I have a family get together Sat. That should be fun, I rarely get to hang out with that side of the family due to lack of car, and I really enjoy myself when I'm able to do so. I really dislike Mads' family, and I wish I could bring her home and feed her.
Ok, I'm done rambling. This blog has been entirely pointless, though I suppose that I'm able to write anything is a good thing, even if it is utter shite.
I'm reading a thread on the 'Box about irrational fears. Some of them are silly, like someone's fear of condiments, etc, but some of them definitely aren't. I suppose it's all a matter of perspective. My fears are very valid to me, but I'm sure other people would find some of them ridiculous. Like..my fear of maggots. I mean, come on. They eat FLESH. (yeah, yeah, yeah, so it's dead flesh..WHATEVER.) They're just gross and tiny and sickly pale and absolutely terrifying to me. I almost hit Ev's mom in the face once over maggots. I'd mopped the kitchen the night before, and she woke me up to look at the kitchen floor, which was covered in maggots. Because it was TOTALLY my fault the dumb hag left her food encrusted mop head to be infested by blowflies, which laid eggs. I completely knew that when I mopped the floor, so it MUST have been my fault that the nasty little shits hatched all over the floor. I about had a goddamn panic attack when she brought me in to look at them. It was only the fact that she didn't know about my fear that kept me from busting her jaw. Also, my fear of cannibals. And deep water. And alligators and crocodiles. And sharks. Aside from the deep water, you won't find any of the others around here. Well, perhaps the cannibals...who's to say. Anyway, silly fears, right? Silly to you, but very real to me.
I'm failing at this on the spot blog writing thing. My mind's blank. www.Fmylife.com is a hilarious website. I think I'm coming out of my "glad to be alone" relationship stage. Or, perhaps I just require the physical side of a relationship. I've also noticed myself changing. I guess I outgrew the shaved headed dyke stage. Style wise, I'm finding myself shifting from ghetto to sort of punk-ish. Is it weird for a 27 year old to still be going through changes like this? I can't really tell as I'm the only basis for comparison I have. I'm not entirely sure that that last sentence made sense, but I'm not changing it. I'm fully aware I'm rambling, also, but I have no intention of changing that, either. I have a family get together Sat. That should be fun, I rarely get to hang out with that side of the family due to lack of car, and I really enjoy myself when I'm able to do so. I really dislike Mads' family, and I wish I could bring her home and feed her.
Ok, I'm done rambling. This blog has been entirely pointless, though I suppose that I'm able to write anything is a good thing, even if it is utter shite.
Losing My Damn Mind!
I go to brush my teeth and instead I organize the bathroom.
I go to make dinner, and I brush my teeth instead.
I go downstairs for something to eat, and end up reading a magazine and not eating at all.
I go to gather laundry to take to the washer, and instead I sit on my floor and read a book.
I intend to search out 16 hole Doc Marten steel toe boots, and instead I read an ask Amanda session on twitter.
I open a torrent website and it takes me 20 minutes and two downloaded torrents to realize I'd intended to open Ebay, not Isohunt.
I get a new IM and instead of opening that window, I open iTunes.
I intend on opening iTunes and instead I open the chat window.
I intend on opening the chat window and instead I sit here minimizing/maximizing iTunes repeatedly, "stuck" in my head with no idea what it was I was trying to do. Sometimes this lasts a full 3 minutes.
I'm losing it.
:c)
I go to make dinner, and I brush my teeth instead.
I go downstairs for something to eat, and end up reading a magazine and not eating at all.
I go to gather laundry to take to the washer, and instead I sit on my floor and read a book.
I intend to search out 16 hole Doc Marten steel toe boots, and instead I read an ask Amanda session on twitter.
I open a torrent website and it takes me 20 minutes and two downloaded torrents to realize I'd intended to open Ebay, not Isohunt.
I get a new IM and instead of opening that window, I open iTunes.
I intend on opening iTunes and instead I open the chat window.
I intend on opening the chat window and instead I sit here minimizing/maximizing iTunes repeatedly, "stuck" in my head with no idea what it was I was trying to do. Sometimes this lasts a full 3 minutes.
I'm losing it.
:c)
Self Perception/Others' Percieved Views
I want, more than anything, to be able to look in a mirror and see something worth looking at in it. I want to BE worth looking at. I'm trying, I really am. Healthier choices in drinks, going vegetarian, exercising. It just doesn't seem to be making a difference. Maybe I'm not doing enough. I can feel my muscles growing, but nothing else is changing. It's discouraging. I'm so sick to death of being overweight. I feel like everyone looks at me with disgust. Like every time someone whispers something to someone else, they're talking about how disgusting I am. Like my family looks down on me because of my weight. Like my friends consider me the "fat friend". I'm surrounded by people with great bodies, people that can walk into a store and find nice clothes that fit them. And it seems so easy for them, for the most part. And meanwhile, here I sit, trying so hard not to be spiteful and jealous of them, and mentally failing. Why does every goddamn good thing in my life have to be so hard to attain? I swear I'd appreciate things just as much if, once in a while, they'd be a bit easier in coming. I feel like I've been constantly fighting tooth and nail since I was a very small child and, goddamnit, I'm tired. Life should not be a constant bare knuckled fight. I just want a brief reprieve from the fight.
Passionate.
Something was brought to my attention earlier, and I've been rolling it around in my head. It's weird. I'm a passionate person. Very passionate. I LOVE things, or I HATE them. Capital letter feelings. All my emotions are that way. I don't get mildly blue, I get down in the deepest depth of blackness I can't see the light at the top. When I'm excited I'm like a fucking chihuahua on crack. There just really isn't an in between for me. Same goes for things in my life that mean a lot to me. Music. Art. Movies. Books. When something strikes me, it strikes me deep. And I want to share it with people. I want to express to them how much this song meant to me, how it struck me deep, how it moved me to tears. How this movie made my breath catch. This book made me think in ways I'd never thought before. I want to share with them, so they can feel at least a little bit of what it made me feel.
But, I usually don't.
For some reason I feel like expressing the extent of my emotions is a bad thing. Like other people don't care to hear about it. Like they'll think I'm stupid for feeling that deeply. I guess it's just kind of not done in my family. Like expressing emotions is a sign of weakness or something. I think that's bullshit, but I'm so afraid of being ridiculed that I rein myself in. It's ridiculous that I should feel I have to do that.
I remember once, it was in like..July 2000. I had just come home from Lilith Fair, which was the first big concert I'd ever gone to. That concert rocked me to my core. Like..I didn't even have a comparison for how awesome it was. And when I got home, I was still riding that high. And my mom asked me how the concert was, and I remember drawing a breath to try and sort through the mass of adjectives that were trying to spill out to explain to her how amazing it'd been, my eyes all wide, and I told her "it was absolutely phenomenal, Mom." And she just looked at me and rolled her eyes, and like that the subject was dropped.
It's just not done. We don't show strong emotions. We don't show our passion for the things that move us.
And you know what? I'm sick of it. Fuck it. People wanna look at me funny, let 'em. I'm an emotional, passionate person. Deal with it.
But, I usually don't.
For some reason I feel like expressing the extent of my emotions is a bad thing. Like other people don't care to hear about it. Like they'll think I'm stupid for feeling that deeply. I guess it's just kind of not done in my family. Like expressing emotions is a sign of weakness or something. I think that's bullshit, but I'm so afraid of being ridiculed that I rein myself in. It's ridiculous that I should feel I have to do that.
I remember once, it was in like..July 2000. I had just come home from Lilith Fair, which was the first big concert I'd ever gone to. That concert rocked me to my core. Like..I didn't even have a comparison for how awesome it was. And when I got home, I was still riding that high. And my mom asked me how the concert was, and I remember drawing a breath to try and sort through the mass of adjectives that were trying to spill out to explain to her how amazing it'd been, my eyes all wide, and I told her "it was absolutely phenomenal, Mom." And she just looked at me and rolled her eyes, and like that the subject was dropped.
It's just not done. We don't show strong emotions. We don't show our passion for the things that move us.
And you know what? I'm sick of it. Fuck it. People wanna look at me funny, let 'em. I'm an emotional, passionate person. Deal with it.
Two part blog from Father's Day 09
Part 1
A day to celebrate the man responsible for half your creation. Honor the one who taught you to ride a bike, encouraged you, taught you to drive? (I'm grasping at straws to find father/daughter activities because I know absolutely nothing of what a father is supposed to teach his daughter.) For those of you with awesome dads who stepped up to bat for you and were there for you, awesome. Enjoy your day, enjoy your dad, be thankful that the fates chose to bestow that gift on you.
For me, however, this day is wrought with a myriad of negative emotions and confusion. I try to remain positive, and be thankful I had any father at all, but then I remember what life was like when he was around. I remember helping him with his funny smelling plants in the basement that I couldn't tell mom about, I remember how he used to have me help him roll joints by having me lick the gum at the edge of the paper. I remember sitting on the front porch all day long, waiting for him to come spend time with me like he promised to, only to have my mom bring me inside at dusk. I remember, probably most vividly of all the memories, him beating the fuck out of my mom. I'm terrified of all men, thanks to this man, and I'm sure as fuck not going to celebrate him.
Part 2
I blogged earlier, when I was angry. Well, when I was VERY angry. Now I'm just generally upset and feel guilty and righteous at the same time and that has me feeling confused. I have a huge hurricane of emotions going on in my mind and I really need to lay them out. Hopefully I can do that in a manner that's not overly confusing for anyone who may read this, but if I can't pull that off then I just can't. So, if that's the case, my apologies to those of you who do read it.
Where to start, where to start, where to start?
I guess since it's father's day, and that's what my previous blog was about, I'll start there. Firstly, I feel that I should express that I do love my father. It's kind of programmed into people to do so, regardless of the family you've ended up with, you love them somewhere inside yourself. It's what bonds us together. For the first few years of my life, I was even a "daddy's girl". I didn't know yet that the things he did were sometimes bad things. All I knew was he was my dad. It wasn't until I was older and reflected on my early memories that I actually realized how inherently FUCKED UP things were. Most of my life, he wasn't there, and that hurt. He hurt my mom, both in front of me and behind closed doors, and that hurt and scared me. He didn't ever hit me, but he didn't need to. That seed of fear and pain was planted. Despite this, I loved him. I grew up mainly without him in my life, just occasional weekend visits, occasionally saw him at my grandparent's. Despite this, I loved him. -Ugh, I'm having issues with keeping my thought flow from jumping around, this is probably gonna get messy- Anyway, I love him. Sometimes I hate him. Most of the time I'm scared of him. As far as I know he considers me a joke, or not worthy of being his daughter or something anyway, so I doubt my opinion of him matters much anyway. Despite the mixed feelings, I still yearn for a relationship with him. I still want to know the mystery factors in the equation that equals me. He gave me (and all his kids) his eyes, I know that. His nose, for sure. My face is a fair amount his, though my mother is there, too. He shared his back and neck problems. He passed his temper on to me, on to my brother. I'm scared of my brother, and I'm scared of myself. I'm scared of intense anger. I'm leery of confrontation. I'll stand up for myself and others, if I feel the subject is something worth fighting for, but I hate having to argue. I will fight, physically, to defend myself or others who can't defend themselves, but I hate having to resort to it. I hate it because of the place it takes me to. I see red and lose myself. Literally. When my vision goes red, my mind shuts off and I have no grasp of what I'm doing. That kind of anger terrifies me. Knowing it's inside me, makes me sick.
I do not advocate men hitting women. I do not advocate parents hitting their children. Spanking, smacking a hand, that's one thing, but leaving bruises and marks on your child is ridiculous. There is not a case where beating up on someone who cannot feasibly defend themself against you is ok. No matter how you try to justify it, it just isn't ok. No matter when you grew up, how you grew up, this is something that should be universally accepted. No one should be made to feel smaller than they are, no one should be made a victim. This is what abuse does.
I've lost my train of thought entirely, but my mind is less cluttered now, so maybe that was all I needed to get out.
A day to celebrate the man responsible for half your creation. Honor the one who taught you to ride a bike, encouraged you, taught you to drive? (I'm grasping at straws to find father/daughter activities because I know absolutely nothing of what a father is supposed to teach his daughter.) For those of you with awesome dads who stepped up to bat for you and were there for you, awesome. Enjoy your day, enjoy your dad, be thankful that the fates chose to bestow that gift on you.
For me, however, this day is wrought with a myriad of negative emotions and confusion. I try to remain positive, and be thankful I had any father at all, but then I remember what life was like when he was around. I remember helping him with his funny smelling plants in the basement that I couldn't tell mom about, I remember how he used to have me help him roll joints by having me lick the gum at the edge of the paper. I remember sitting on the front porch all day long, waiting for him to come spend time with me like he promised to, only to have my mom bring me inside at dusk. I remember, probably most vividly of all the memories, him beating the fuck out of my mom. I'm terrified of all men, thanks to this man, and I'm sure as fuck not going to celebrate him.
Part 2
I blogged earlier, when I was angry. Well, when I was VERY angry. Now I'm just generally upset and feel guilty and righteous at the same time and that has me feeling confused. I have a huge hurricane of emotions going on in my mind and I really need to lay them out. Hopefully I can do that in a manner that's not overly confusing for anyone who may read this, but if I can't pull that off then I just can't. So, if that's the case, my apologies to those of you who do read it.
Where to start, where to start, where to start?
I guess since it's father's day, and that's what my previous blog was about, I'll start there. Firstly, I feel that I should express that I do love my father. It's kind of programmed into people to do so, regardless of the family you've ended up with, you love them somewhere inside yourself. It's what bonds us together. For the first few years of my life, I was even a "daddy's girl". I didn't know yet that the things he did were sometimes bad things. All I knew was he was my dad. It wasn't until I was older and reflected on my early memories that I actually realized how inherently FUCKED UP things were. Most of my life, he wasn't there, and that hurt. He hurt my mom, both in front of me and behind closed doors, and that hurt and scared me. He didn't ever hit me, but he didn't need to. That seed of fear and pain was planted. Despite this, I loved him. I grew up mainly without him in my life, just occasional weekend visits, occasionally saw him at my grandparent's. Despite this, I loved him. -Ugh, I'm having issues with keeping my thought flow from jumping around, this is probably gonna get messy- Anyway, I love him. Sometimes I hate him. Most of the time I'm scared of him. As far as I know he considers me a joke, or not worthy of being his daughter or something anyway, so I doubt my opinion of him matters much anyway. Despite the mixed feelings, I still yearn for a relationship with him. I still want to know the mystery factors in the equation that equals me. He gave me (and all his kids) his eyes, I know that. His nose, for sure. My face is a fair amount his, though my mother is there, too. He shared his back and neck problems. He passed his temper on to me, on to my brother. I'm scared of my brother, and I'm scared of myself. I'm scared of intense anger. I'm leery of confrontation. I'll stand up for myself and others, if I feel the subject is something worth fighting for, but I hate having to argue. I will fight, physically, to defend myself or others who can't defend themselves, but I hate having to resort to it. I hate it because of the place it takes me to. I see red and lose myself. Literally. When my vision goes red, my mind shuts off and I have no grasp of what I'm doing. That kind of anger terrifies me. Knowing it's inside me, makes me sick.
I do not advocate men hitting women. I do not advocate parents hitting their children. Spanking, smacking a hand, that's one thing, but leaving bruises and marks on your child is ridiculous. There is not a case where beating up on someone who cannot feasibly defend themself against you is ok. No matter how you try to justify it, it just isn't ok. No matter when you grew up, how you grew up, this is something that should be universally accepted. No one should be made to feel smaller than they are, no one should be made a victim. This is what abuse does.
I've lost my train of thought entirely, but my mind is less cluttered now, so maybe that was all I needed to get out.
Words and words and words.
Words and words and words and words. I didn't intend on writing, every attempt I've made recently has produced utter shit. I'm supposed to be in bed, asleep. I have to go shopping tomorrow. Vegetarian friendly food and tampons. My head wouldn't shut up. I stared at the window and the darkness of the sky that was a different color black from the darkness of the wall. I feel creatively stifled. I complain that my muse has run away, but I don't think that's the case. I have plenty of ideas, plenty of half formed poems floating around my head, plenty of story lines, designs to be sketched, painted...
**dog chooses this fine time to decide he needs to go outside, lets see if this stream of words lasts the 10 minutes this will take.**
Anyway, ideas, designs, story lines, poems...they're all still there. What's changed is me, I think. I have had this overwhelming feeling of...not being myself, I guess...for a while now. Everything I do, everything I say, everything I think, it feels like it belongs to someone else, comes from someone else. Like the thoughts from my own brain are plagiarism because I don't know the person whose head I'm pulling them from. So, to put them to type, to paper, would end in them feeling fake, not mine. Plus, I feel as if the things I'm putting out into the world are just sitting there, stagnant. Like, I don't know if anyone reads them, really? Or maybe they are actually reading them, but my subject matter is so fucked up that they're afraid to respond? I don't know, I don't put my stuff out there to receive feedback or praise or criticism or whatever, but those things are nice to have, just so you know that yeah, someone does appreciate what you're doing. Or even that they don't appreciate it but they did read it. I don't know, I guess it's human nature to seek acknowledgment. Or maybe I'm an attention whore. OK, so I'm definitely an attention whore, but isn't it fairly natural to crave that which you rarely receive?
I wish I knew what it was that was going on inside my brain. I wish I knew who I was now. I used to be social, I used to crave interaction with friends, used to love going out and cutting lose and all that went along with that. Now, I'm solitary. I have a very small group of people I relate to, and everyone else makes me feel anxious, like I'm standing at the edge of a room full of close friends and I don't know and can't relate to any of them. I stammer over my words, it takes me numerous attempts to get out a full sentence that makes sense. To hear me talk, you wouldn't know that my IQ is above 150. You'd think I was a simpleton who had no grasp of the English language. I avoid phone conversations at all costs. I want to do all these things, but I'm so scared of failing that I can't even try. Most people around me completely underestimate me now, simply because I can't find it in me to prove to them that I can actually do things. This never used to be me. Never. I had friends. I did things. I talked on the phone. I decided to do something and I DID it. I didn't let fear drive me. I miss that person.
"I wish you could remind me who I was, cause every day I'm a little further off"
I've given up practically everything that I've ever enjoyed. Drugs. Gave em up. Smoking, yep..gave that up too. Drinking? Gone. Food? Cut meat out of my diet entirely. The last "vice" I had was soda, and hell, I gave that up too. All these things have made/will make me a healthier person in the long run, but what is left for me to enjoy? Is it truly healthy for someone to give up EVERY little (or big) vice they've got? I guess I'll find out. It'll either work, or I'll rebel completely and end up high/drunk/devouring all the meat I can find while smoking 3 cigarettes at a time and mainlining soda. I really hope it works out for me, though. I really want to get myself in shape and stop feeling like a fat, disgusting cow. I'm tired of looking at myself in the mirror and wanting to cry. My entire life I've been the "chubby one" or "the fat friend". I remember once, I was camping with some friends, and I was sitting on the end of a pier after dark. My friend's brother and his friend were within earshot and I heard him ask his friend if he liked anyone. His friend said there wasn't anyone there worth giving a chance. He said "well, what about Aimee?" His friend responded, "are you kidding me? The back of her neck looks like a pack of hot dogs." I was like 12. I'm 27 now and I still feel the pain that statement drove into me. I've convinced myself that that's how everyone looks at me, friend, potential lover, current lover, family...how could anyone possibly look at me and not see how flat out disgusting I am? How could they, when even I can't?
Huh, maybe my former friend was right. Maybe I do try and make myself more than I am to hide how small I feel inside. Maybe I drive away everyone close to me because if I strike the first blow, it'll hurt less when they hit back. Maybe I push and push and push because I really just want to see how much people care, how much they'll take from me before their love for me isn't enough to hold it together anymore. Maybe I run away not to be alone, but to see if anyone cares enough to follow. Maybe I get defensive and standoffish when people berate me for my shit because I'm already berating myself internally and I need them to see that I beat myself up harder than anyone else ever could, and that I don't need them to tell me what I did wrong, I need them to help me see what I did right.
Maybe I need to stop typing before this turns into a total mess of melodrama and self pity.
The birds are chirping outside and the sky is starting to lighten. It's electric blue against the black of the walls now. I'm getting all together too used to falling asleep to the sounds of birds. Insomnia is an annoying house guest who has long overstayed her welcome. I have an idea for a new tattoo that I think is awesome, and if I can just convince Photo shop to work with me a little bit later, I'm going to lay out the design. Black shoulder to lower back length angel wings and my favorite Jim Morrison quote; "Death makes Angels of us all and gives us wings where we once had shoulders smooth as ravens claws", done in script between them. I'm reading the book House of Leaves, and, for the first time in my entire life, finding a book to be confusing. Captivating, but I can't sit and read more than a few pages at a time because it makes me dizzy trying to follow the two separate, yet intertwined, story lines. Amanda Palmer has officially bumped Ani Difranco out of my favorite performer spot. Her music is amazing. Beautiful, painful, amusing, perfect and imperfect all at once...and best of all, it runs the full gamut of emotions. You can hear the woman smile in her songs...her laughter after some lines makes me crack a smile. One of her songs has even given me an entirely different perspective on a painful blemish on my past, allowing me to look at it with less pain. I love music that invokes genuine feeling and emotion in me. I'm rambling now. It's light out. I've got to be up in about 4 hours. I was supposed to be asleep two hours ago. Oh well, I don't regret writing this. I'm pretty proud I've written this much, actually. It still feels fake, as if I'm stealing it from someone else's head, though. Oh well, it's a start, at least.
**dog chooses this fine time to decide he needs to go outside, lets see if this stream of words lasts the 10 minutes this will take.**
Anyway, ideas, designs, story lines, poems...they're all still there. What's changed is me, I think. I have had this overwhelming feeling of...not being myself, I guess...for a while now. Everything I do, everything I say, everything I think, it feels like it belongs to someone else, comes from someone else. Like the thoughts from my own brain are plagiarism because I don't know the person whose head I'm pulling them from. So, to put them to type, to paper, would end in them feeling fake, not mine. Plus, I feel as if the things I'm putting out into the world are just sitting there, stagnant. Like, I don't know if anyone reads them, really? Or maybe they are actually reading them, but my subject matter is so fucked up that they're afraid to respond? I don't know, I don't put my stuff out there to receive feedback or praise or criticism or whatever, but those things are nice to have, just so you know that yeah, someone does appreciate what you're doing. Or even that they don't appreciate it but they did read it. I don't know, I guess it's human nature to seek acknowledgment. Or maybe I'm an attention whore. OK, so I'm definitely an attention whore, but isn't it fairly natural to crave that which you rarely receive?
I wish I knew what it was that was going on inside my brain. I wish I knew who I was now. I used to be social, I used to crave interaction with friends, used to love going out and cutting lose and all that went along with that. Now, I'm solitary. I have a very small group of people I relate to, and everyone else makes me feel anxious, like I'm standing at the edge of a room full of close friends and I don't know and can't relate to any of them. I stammer over my words, it takes me numerous attempts to get out a full sentence that makes sense. To hear me talk, you wouldn't know that my IQ is above 150. You'd think I was a simpleton who had no grasp of the English language. I avoid phone conversations at all costs. I want to do all these things, but I'm so scared of failing that I can't even try. Most people around me completely underestimate me now, simply because I can't find it in me to prove to them that I can actually do things. This never used to be me. Never. I had friends. I did things. I talked on the phone. I decided to do something and I DID it. I didn't let fear drive me. I miss that person.
"I wish you could remind me who I was, cause every day I'm a little further off"
I've given up practically everything that I've ever enjoyed. Drugs. Gave em up. Smoking, yep..gave that up too. Drinking? Gone. Food? Cut meat out of my diet entirely. The last "vice" I had was soda, and hell, I gave that up too. All these things have made/will make me a healthier person in the long run, but what is left for me to enjoy? Is it truly healthy for someone to give up EVERY little (or big) vice they've got? I guess I'll find out. It'll either work, or I'll rebel completely and end up high/drunk/devouring all the meat I can find while smoking 3 cigarettes at a time and mainlining soda. I really hope it works out for me, though. I really want to get myself in shape and stop feeling like a fat, disgusting cow. I'm tired of looking at myself in the mirror and wanting to cry. My entire life I've been the "chubby one" or "the fat friend". I remember once, I was camping with some friends, and I was sitting on the end of a pier after dark. My friend's brother and his friend were within earshot and I heard him ask his friend if he liked anyone. His friend said there wasn't anyone there worth giving a chance. He said "well, what about Aimee?" His friend responded, "are you kidding me? The back of her neck looks like a pack of hot dogs." I was like 12. I'm 27 now and I still feel the pain that statement drove into me. I've convinced myself that that's how everyone looks at me, friend, potential lover, current lover, family...how could anyone possibly look at me and not see how flat out disgusting I am? How could they, when even I can't?
Huh, maybe my former friend was right. Maybe I do try and make myself more than I am to hide how small I feel inside. Maybe I drive away everyone close to me because if I strike the first blow, it'll hurt less when they hit back. Maybe I push and push and push because I really just want to see how much people care, how much they'll take from me before their love for me isn't enough to hold it together anymore. Maybe I run away not to be alone, but to see if anyone cares enough to follow. Maybe I get defensive and standoffish when people berate me for my shit because I'm already berating myself internally and I need them to see that I beat myself up harder than anyone else ever could, and that I don't need them to tell me what I did wrong, I need them to help me see what I did right.
Maybe I need to stop typing before this turns into a total mess of melodrama and self pity.
The birds are chirping outside and the sky is starting to lighten. It's electric blue against the black of the walls now. I'm getting all together too used to falling asleep to the sounds of birds. Insomnia is an annoying house guest who has long overstayed her welcome. I have an idea for a new tattoo that I think is awesome, and if I can just convince Photo shop to work with me a little bit later, I'm going to lay out the design. Black shoulder to lower back length angel wings and my favorite Jim Morrison quote; "Death makes Angels of us all and gives us wings where we once had shoulders smooth as ravens claws", done in script between them. I'm reading the book House of Leaves, and, for the first time in my entire life, finding a book to be confusing. Captivating, but I can't sit and read more than a few pages at a time because it makes me dizzy trying to follow the two separate, yet intertwined, story lines. Amanda Palmer has officially bumped Ani Difranco out of my favorite performer spot. Her music is amazing. Beautiful, painful, amusing, perfect and imperfect all at once...and best of all, it runs the full gamut of emotions. You can hear the woman smile in her songs...her laughter after some lines makes me crack a smile. One of her songs has even given me an entirely different perspective on a painful blemish on my past, allowing me to look at it with less pain. I love music that invokes genuine feeling and emotion in me. I'm rambling now. It's light out. I've got to be up in about 4 hours. I was supposed to be asleep two hours ago. Oh well, I don't regret writing this. I'm pretty proud I've written this much, actually. It still feels fake, as if I'm stealing it from someone else's head, though. Oh well, it's a start, at least.
Hate
Hate
I am livid. I am sickened. I am saddened. I am a whole vast plethora of negative emotions that I don't even know the names for. I am, mostly, dissapointed in humanity.
My close friend and I were at the bar last night. The Horse was pretty slow for a saturday, which early in the evening was a subject for complaint...as the night wore on it ended up being a blessing in disguise. For the most part it was a normal Saturday night albeit the aforementioned slowness, the usual shows, then dancing and all around just gay people out enjoying the company of people like us, not to mention the straight friends that we welcome and don't discriminate against...although as it turns out that favor was not to be returned this particular Saturday night. Now, before I delve into what actually happened, let me just say that to some this event may seem small, a prank really...and I suppose it could be rightfully viewed as such by those who have never experienced hate. To me however, and the maybe 75 other people there it was a blow, both physically and to who we all are as people. That said...it was pretty close to close. My friend and I were actually working our way to the door, she wanted to stop to finish her drink so we went back to our table. I was walking down the stairs as she finished the last few swallows and I glanced up to see someone running towards the dance floor. It was the security gaurd, Bird. The next thing I know she and a handful of others are running back away from the dance floor covering their faces and hunkered down. Backing up the stairs trying to assess what had just happened it hit me also. First my nose started burning and as that happened I broke for the door knowing what it was. By the time I made it outside I, along with half of the people in the club were in various forms of wheezing, coughing, hacking, vomiting and heaving. Not one of us could stop our eyes from burning and pouring tears. And let me say, I have problems with no one, sex, race, sexual orientation, religion or any other status they may have..so my next comment is not me profiling someone or stereotyping them, it is simply me giving a description. A skinny white straight boy came up into our club...where as everyone is, he was welcomed with open arms...he paid his entrance, walked up to Bird and maced her in the eyes, after which he took off running like a chump. No real reason, no explanation, and if there WAS some beef he had he didn't even handle it in a respectable manner. Instead he took whatever his problem was and made it EVERYONE in the bar's problem also. Now let me remind anyone who may read this and may be thinking "well so?" or "It was just mace". A few years back, a smallish club in Chicago IL. Someone pepper sprayed someone else. The end result? A panic which lead to twenty one people dead, trampeled to death in an attempt to get out the door and find relief in the fresh air outside. Therein lies the blessing of last night. Had the Seahorse been filled to capacity like it is most Sat. nights the very same situation as in the club in Chicago very possibly and most probably could have arisen. Not to mention the fact that in the crowd there were asthmatics. While I don't know the severity of their conditions I do know this. Had my fiance been there with us as I had been wishing on the phone with her a few hours prior, she would have been in need of immediate medical attention. As it was, I was unsure if I would need an ER myself.
Sadly, this is not the first attack on this small, nondescript club on Western Av. Aside from the arson that was well before my time, no more than two years ago there was a life snuffed out in front of the club. Once again...it was a hate crime. A young male was shot because he was gay. Simply because he loved differently than those on the other side of the gun.
I guess when it comes down to it, this whole entry was written in hopes that by going back through it I could answer the question that has been running through my head since it cleared enough for me to think last night.
WHY?
Really, Why?
Unfortunately...I don't think there is an answer to my question.
I am livid. I am sickened. I am saddened. I am a whole vast plethora of negative emotions that I don't even know the names for. I am, mostly, dissapointed in humanity.
My close friend and I were at the bar last night. The Horse was pretty slow for a saturday, which early in the evening was a subject for complaint...as the night wore on it ended up being a blessing in disguise. For the most part it was a normal Saturday night albeit the aforementioned slowness, the usual shows, then dancing and all around just gay people out enjoying the company of people like us, not to mention the straight friends that we welcome and don't discriminate against...although as it turns out that favor was not to be returned this particular Saturday night. Now, before I delve into what actually happened, let me just say that to some this event may seem small, a prank really...and I suppose it could be rightfully viewed as such by those who have never experienced hate. To me however, and the maybe 75 other people there it was a blow, both physically and to who we all are as people. That said...it was pretty close to close. My friend and I were actually working our way to the door, she wanted to stop to finish her drink so we went back to our table. I was walking down the stairs as she finished the last few swallows and I glanced up to see someone running towards the dance floor. It was the security gaurd, Bird. The next thing I know she and a handful of others are running back away from the dance floor covering their faces and hunkered down. Backing up the stairs trying to assess what had just happened it hit me also. First my nose started burning and as that happened I broke for the door knowing what it was. By the time I made it outside I, along with half of the people in the club were in various forms of wheezing, coughing, hacking, vomiting and heaving. Not one of us could stop our eyes from burning and pouring tears. And let me say, I have problems with no one, sex, race, sexual orientation, religion or any other status they may have..so my next comment is not me profiling someone or stereotyping them, it is simply me giving a description. A skinny white straight boy came up into our club...where as everyone is, he was welcomed with open arms...he paid his entrance, walked up to Bird and maced her in the eyes, after which he took off running like a chump. No real reason, no explanation, and if there WAS some beef he had he didn't even handle it in a respectable manner. Instead he took whatever his problem was and made it EVERYONE in the bar's problem also. Now let me remind anyone who may read this and may be thinking "well so?" or "It was just mace". A few years back, a smallish club in Chicago IL. Someone pepper sprayed someone else. The end result? A panic which lead to twenty one people dead, trampeled to death in an attempt to get out the door and find relief in the fresh air outside. Therein lies the blessing of last night. Had the Seahorse been filled to capacity like it is most Sat. nights the very same situation as in the club in Chicago very possibly and most probably could have arisen. Not to mention the fact that in the crowd there were asthmatics. While I don't know the severity of their conditions I do know this. Had my fiance been there with us as I had been wishing on the phone with her a few hours prior, she would have been in need of immediate medical attention. As it was, I was unsure if I would need an ER myself.
Sadly, this is not the first attack on this small, nondescript club on Western Av. Aside from the arson that was well before my time, no more than two years ago there was a life snuffed out in front of the club. Once again...it was a hate crime. A young male was shot because he was gay. Simply because he loved differently than those on the other side of the gun.
I guess when it comes down to it, this whole entry was written in hopes that by going back through it I could answer the question that has been running through my head since it cleared enough for me to think last night.
WHY?
Really, Why?
Unfortunately...I don't think there is an answer to my question.
Original erotic fiction - The Mirror
WARNING! This story is a depiction of sex between two consenting females. If that kind of thing bothers you, isn't your cup of tea, makes you want to tie someone to a fencepost, then by all means do not read. If you are under age, do not read. If your state has laws in place against this sort of thing, then you should probably move...just sayin'. Otherwise, please read on and enjoy. Constructive criticism is welcome as always, but please, don't be rude.
The Mirror
I walk into the room and sense your presence before my eyes locate your form. You're there, standing in front of the mirror. I can see your angelic face reflected back at me, your eyes closed as you fuss lightly with your hair. A soft smile flits across my lips as I silently watch you doing your thing. My eyes slowly sweep lower, taking in the soft satin of your night gown and the softness of your skin that I can't feel at the moment, but know just the same. A small fire ignites inside me as I enjoy your curves, which the nightgown caresses as gently as a lover. Quietly I make my way to you, standing behind you and wrapping my arms around your waist. Your eyes remain closed but your head leans back against my shoulder, acknowledging my presence. Feeling the flame inside me grow hotter, I move my lips to your neck, leaving a trail of fire hot kisses from just below your ear to your shoulder, where the spaghetti strap of your gown lies. Grasping the strap with my teeth I slide it over your shoulder, allowing it to drop down your arm. My lips trail their way back up your shoulder and neck, then begin their journey along your nape, kissing and suckling every spot that draws interest. I move to the other side, paying the skin there the same homage and relieving the satin strap there of it's job. Slowly with a sound like the fluttering of a butterfly, the nightgown drops to the floor puddling at your feet. Your body is free of all cover now. I move my hands up your sides as your arms raise and your hands intertwine behind my head. Your thumb strokes the skin at the base of my neck, setting me on fire all over again and in response I grip tightly to your hips, pulling you back against me while my tongue lips and teeth work magic on your neck. I knead your hip with my left hand while my right traces paths up your stomach, making intricate patterns of flame dance across your skin. Slowly the paths my right hand travel lead to your breast and I stroke my fingernails lightly up the underside and over, settling on your nipple. I grasp it firmly between my thumb and index finger, rolling it and causing it to go from erect to rock hard instantly. My left hand squeezes your hip one last time before traveling southward to the apex of your thighs. Moving my middle finger down through your curls, I find a pool of wetness waiting for me there. I glance into the mirror in front of us and see that your eyes are open and smoldering as you watch my reflection taking possession of yours, and your mouth opening slightly as I slide my finger further past your lips and graze your erect clit. I hear the slight gasp of breath as I use my index and ring fingers to spread you open for me, and a sharper one as I slide my finger lower and slowly enter you. Once again looking into the mirror I watch your face transform as I slowly slide all the way into you and begin to set my rhythm. Your arms behind my head tense and you run your fingers through my short hair and dig your fingernails into the base of my head. Instinctively knowing what you need I increase the tempo of my thrusts, then add a second finger. Your gorgeous mouth opens and a low moan is released into the charged silence of our room. I feel my wetness slowly saturating my boxers, feeling the silken wetness of your walls engulfing me always brings me to my knees. Your breathing is becoming more shallow and faster as I thrust and I know it's a matter of seconds. I watch the mirror intently as I begin to feel your walls gripping down on me, then releasing. Your orgasm is breaking and as it does I feel the molten wetness soaking my hand. You call out my name once, twice, then I feel your body go limp in my arms. I slide out of you and turn you around slowly, kissing your lips hard. I pull back and look into your beautiful eyes. "I love you baby," I say, then take your hand in mine to lead you to the bed. We lay back and begin anew in silence, as the mirror holds witness to our love.
The Mirror
I walk into the room and sense your presence before my eyes locate your form. You're there, standing in front of the mirror. I can see your angelic face reflected back at me, your eyes closed as you fuss lightly with your hair. A soft smile flits across my lips as I silently watch you doing your thing. My eyes slowly sweep lower, taking in the soft satin of your night gown and the softness of your skin that I can't feel at the moment, but know just the same. A small fire ignites inside me as I enjoy your curves, which the nightgown caresses as gently as a lover. Quietly I make my way to you, standing behind you and wrapping my arms around your waist. Your eyes remain closed but your head leans back against my shoulder, acknowledging my presence. Feeling the flame inside me grow hotter, I move my lips to your neck, leaving a trail of fire hot kisses from just below your ear to your shoulder, where the spaghetti strap of your gown lies. Grasping the strap with my teeth I slide it over your shoulder, allowing it to drop down your arm. My lips trail their way back up your shoulder and neck, then begin their journey along your nape, kissing and suckling every spot that draws interest. I move to the other side, paying the skin there the same homage and relieving the satin strap there of it's job. Slowly with a sound like the fluttering of a butterfly, the nightgown drops to the floor puddling at your feet. Your body is free of all cover now. I move my hands up your sides as your arms raise and your hands intertwine behind my head. Your thumb strokes the skin at the base of my neck, setting me on fire all over again and in response I grip tightly to your hips, pulling you back against me while my tongue lips and teeth work magic on your neck. I knead your hip with my left hand while my right traces paths up your stomach, making intricate patterns of flame dance across your skin. Slowly the paths my right hand travel lead to your breast and I stroke my fingernails lightly up the underside and over, settling on your nipple. I grasp it firmly between my thumb and index finger, rolling it and causing it to go from erect to rock hard instantly. My left hand squeezes your hip one last time before traveling southward to the apex of your thighs. Moving my middle finger down through your curls, I find a pool of wetness waiting for me there. I glance into the mirror in front of us and see that your eyes are open and smoldering as you watch my reflection taking possession of yours, and your mouth opening slightly as I slide my finger further past your lips and graze your erect clit. I hear the slight gasp of breath as I use my index and ring fingers to spread you open for me, and a sharper one as I slide my finger lower and slowly enter you. Once again looking into the mirror I watch your face transform as I slowly slide all the way into you and begin to set my rhythm. Your arms behind my head tense and you run your fingers through my short hair and dig your fingernails into the base of my head. Instinctively knowing what you need I increase the tempo of my thrusts, then add a second finger. Your gorgeous mouth opens and a low moan is released into the charged silence of our room. I feel my wetness slowly saturating my boxers, feeling the silken wetness of your walls engulfing me always brings me to my knees. Your breathing is becoming more shallow and faster as I thrust and I know it's a matter of seconds. I watch the mirror intently as I begin to feel your walls gripping down on me, then releasing. Your orgasm is breaking and as it does I feel the molten wetness soaking my hand. You call out my name once, twice, then I feel your body go limp in my arms. I slide out of you and turn you around slowly, kissing your lips hard. I pull back and look into your beautiful eyes. "I love you baby," I say, then take your hand in mine to lead you to the bed. We lay back and begin anew in silence, as the mirror holds witness to our love.
Original erotic fiction - In The Club
WARNING! This story is a depiction of sex between two consenting females. If that kind of thing bothers you, isn't your cup of tea, makes you want to tie someone to a fencepost, then by all means do not read. If you are under age, do not read. If your state has laws in place against this sort of thing, then you should probably move...just sayin'. Otherwise, please read on and enjoy. Constructive criticism is welcome as always, but please, don't be rude.
In The Club
The strobe lights flicker making our fluid movements on the dance floor look short, chopped. The colored lights make patterns of red and blue and pink and green alternate in your eyes as they're locked with mine. The music is blaring, but it seems a mile away as your eyes draw me in. The passion I can see just beneath the surface teases me, as does your body moving against mine. I've seen you eyeing my jeans, I know that what's inside them has been on your mind all night. The bulge at the inseam has been waiting for you, waiting for the right moment since we walked in. In the midst of all these people I think the right time may have come. I move you slowly to the slightly darker corner of the dance floor and pull your hips to me, grinding that hard lump into you. The lights flash around us as I pull your leg up mine, stopping at my waist. I made sure you wore a skirt tonight, but feeling underneath it, it appears you took it one step further. I move my hands to your ass, grasping hard and pulling you closer into me. You, eager and impatient move for my zipper and pull it down, your hands diving inside for what you've been anticipating. As you grasp my cock and pull it through my fly, I lift your ass slightly, allowing you to align my head with your wet entrance. I grin as I feel exactly how much of that wetness there is. Pulling your ass closer to me, I slide into you completely. Your long moan is drowned out by the bass of the music around us. I cover your mouth with mine and move my hips slightly, teasing. You're ready, i can tell that by your movements against me. Ready and impatient. I move my hips slowly at first, finding my rythym. The pace speeds up quickly, neither of us want this to go slowly. Tonight, I want to fuck you. I grasp your thigh hiked up on my leg and pound into you. You meet every stroke, you're not even attempting to hide how bad you want this. Your nails are clenching into my back through my wife beater and your lips are all over my neck, biting and sucking. Your need is primal, we're fucking like two wild animals in a crowd of people who know no difference. I tense slightly as I feel your nails dig into my shoulders deeper. There'll be bloody half moons there tomorrow, but I don't care about that. All I care about is that you're close. I grind my hips in a circular motion while I pump in and out of you and soon I feel your teeth bite down hard into my shoulder, muffling your scream. Your body stills against me, and ever so slowly I pull out of you. I wrap my arms around your waist loosely as we both regain composure and straighten our clothes. The song ends, and i take your hand as we walk off the dance floor. You're unsteady on your feet so I walk you through the packed club to the door. As I pass the DJ booth, I toss a ten into the tip cup. He did well tonight, maybe he'll play our song again.
In The Club
The strobe lights flicker making our fluid movements on the dance floor look short, chopped. The colored lights make patterns of red and blue and pink and green alternate in your eyes as they're locked with mine. The music is blaring, but it seems a mile away as your eyes draw me in. The passion I can see just beneath the surface teases me, as does your body moving against mine. I've seen you eyeing my jeans, I know that what's inside them has been on your mind all night. The bulge at the inseam has been waiting for you, waiting for the right moment since we walked in. In the midst of all these people I think the right time may have come. I move you slowly to the slightly darker corner of the dance floor and pull your hips to me, grinding that hard lump into you. The lights flash around us as I pull your leg up mine, stopping at my waist. I made sure you wore a skirt tonight, but feeling underneath it, it appears you took it one step further. I move my hands to your ass, grasping hard and pulling you closer into me. You, eager and impatient move for my zipper and pull it down, your hands diving inside for what you've been anticipating. As you grasp my cock and pull it through my fly, I lift your ass slightly, allowing you to align my head with your wet entrance. I grin as I feel exactly how much of that wetness there is. Pulling your ass closer to me, I slide into you completely. Your long moan is drowned out by the bass of the music around us. I cover your mouth with mine and move my hips slightly, teasing. You're ready, i can tell that by your movements against me. Ready and impatient. I move my hips slowly at first, finding my rythym. The pace speeds up quickly, neither of us want this to go slowly. Tonight, I want to fuck you. I grasp your thigh hiked up on my leg and pound into you. You meet every stroke, you're not even attempting to hide how bad you want this. Your nails are clenching into my back through my wife beater and your lips are all over my neck, biting and sucking. Your need is primal, we're fucking like two wild animals in a crowd of people who know no difference. I tense slightly as I feel your nails dig into my shoulders deeper. There'll be bloody half moons there tomorrow, but I don't care about that. All I care about is that you're close. I grind my hips in a circular motion while I pump in and out of you and soon I feel your teeth bite down hard into my shoulder, muffling your scream. Your body stills against me, and ever so slowly I pull out of you. I wrap my arms around your waist loosely as we both regain composure and straighten our clothes. The song ends, and i take your hand as we walk off the dance floor. You're unsteady on your feet so I walk you through the packed club to the door. As I pass the DJ booth, I toss a ten into the tip cup. He did well tonight, maybe he'll play our song again.
Original erotic fiction - More
WARNING! This story is a depiction of sex between two consenting females. If that kind of thing bothers you, isn't your cup of tea, makes you want to tie someone to a fencepost, then by all means do not read. If you are under age, do not read. If your state has laws in place against this sort of thing, then you should probably move...just sayin'. Otherwise, please read on and enjoy. Constructive criticism is welcome as always, but please, don't be rude.
More
"More Baby, pleaseee," I moan as your fingers thrust into me. Two wasn't enough, I felt filled, but still wanted more.
"More," I pant in your ear, before biting down roughly on the skin just below your lobe.
You oblige, sliding two more fingers inside me. I gasp hard at the sudden stretch of my walls, then start thrusting back on your hand. Every muscles in my body is tensed as I rock my hips back and forth on you. A sheen of sweat is visible from my head to my toes.
"M-m-oree," I stutter, my voice shaky with passion.
Your eyes connect with my almost black, passion filled orbs as you silently question if I'm ready for what I'm requesting. Your response is a pleading look and a long deep moan, both telling you the answer is yes.
You withdraw your fingers almost completely and I immediately feel their loss inside. Soon though, I feel bit by bit the most incredible feeling ever. Your hand enters me slowly, stretching me to my utmost limits, and I feel one of your knuckles graze my sweet spot. Ever so gently you start thrusting, sooo slowly. I can feel each slight vibration before your hand even moves. It feels so good. You add more lube and begin setting a slow deep stroking pace deep inside me. My hands, once gripping the sheets, now stray to your hair, grasping tightly and pulling your lips to my mouth. I kiss you hard, my tongue gaining entrance and dueling with yours. I release one hand and slide it between us, stroking my clit in quick circles as you thrust into me. My body begins to tingle and before I can even register that I'm going to come, my back is arching and I am screaming your name. I fall back to the bed breathing heavy, my eyes closed tight. I feel you lay your head on my chest and idly wonder if my heart is hurting your ear. I fight to open my eyes, and kiss the top of your head before moving to my side. I look into your eyes again, and softly whisper to you,
"Don't get too comfy baby, I want more."
More
"More Baby, pleaseee," I moan as your fingers thrust into me. Two wasn't enough, I felt filled, but still wanted more.
"More," I pant in your ear, before biting down roughly on the skin just below your lobe.
You oblige, sliding two more fingers inside me. I gasp hard at the sudden stretch of my walls, then start thrusting back on your hand. Every muscles in my body is tensed as I rock my hips back and forth on you. A sheen of sweat is visible from my head to my toes.
"M-m-oree," I stutter, my voice shaky with passion.
Your eyes connect with my almost black, passion filled orbs as you silently question if I'm ready for what I'm requesting. Your response is a pleading look and a long deep moan, both telling you the answer is yes.
You withdraw your fingers almost completely and I immediately feel their loss inside. Soon though, I feel bit by bit the most incredible feeling ever. Your hand enters me slowly, stretching me to my utmost limits, and I feel one of your knuckles graze my sweet spot. Ever so gently you start thrusting, sooo slowly. I can feel each slight vibration before your hand even moves. It feels so good. You add more lube and begin setting a slow deep stroking pace deep inside me. My hands, once gripping the sheets, now stray to your hair, grasping tightly and pulling your lips to my mouth. I kiss you hard, my tongue gaining entrance and dueling with yours. I release one hand and slide it between us, stroking my clit in quick circles as you thrust into me. My body begins to tingle and before I can even register that I'm going to come, my back is arching and I am screaming your name. I fall back to the bed breathing heavy, my eyes closed tight. I feel you lay your head on my chest and idly wonder if my heart is hurting your ear. I fight to open my eyes, and kiss the top of your head before moving to my side. I look into your eyes again, and softly whisper to you,
"Don't get too comfy baby, I want more."
Original erotic fiction - Sunlight
WARNING! This story is a depiction of sex between two consenting females. If that kind of thing bothers you, isn't your cup of tea, makes you want to tie someone to a fencepost, then by all means do not read. If you are under age, do not read. If your state has laws in place against this sort of thing, then you should probably move...just sayin'. Otherwise, please read on and enjoy. Constructive criticism is welcome as always, but please, don't be rude.
Sunlight
My eyes slowly open to the golden stream of sunlight blazing it's way across my cheek. I stretch lightly, and roll to my side to see if you're still awake. Giggling softly to myself at the sight of you, all covered up and wrapped up with nothing but a tuft of hair and your nose sticking out of the covers I slowly move to the edge of the bed and rise. I walk around the bed to your side and kneel next to your sleeping form. Kissing the tip of your nose I attempt to find my way through the blankets you have wrapped around you. Ever the deep sleeper you just grumble and turn over, unwrapping the rest of the covers and allowing me access to your sleeping form. I, being the evil being that I am, take full advantage of this. I slowly climb onto the bed and swing one leg over your hips. Looking down at you I smile as the stream of sunlight that danced it's way across my face to bring me back to reality is now attempting the same for you. You're a fighter though. All it's attempts are in vain thus far. I decide to help it out and gently run my fingertips up your sides under your nightshirt. I can feel the muscles over your ribs ripple at the sensation, so I move my fingertips up across your tummy, then up to your breasts. I love the silky softness of the underside of your breasts so I linger there, stroking from side to side, then from the bottom of your aureola to the base of your breast. You shiver, starting to wake up and as your eyes slowly open I kiss you softly.
"Good morning, Beautiful," I whisper.
A slow smile forms on your lips and you look so gorgeous that I have to kiss you again. My hands return to your breasts, stroking slow patterns around your nipples and back down over the underside. I see your eyes darken as arousal begins to take hold of you. Moving my hands to the hem of your shirt, I lift it slowly over your stomach then up and over your shoulders as you lift up partially to allow me access. Your nipples harden as the cool morning air caresses them and I lean down to take one into my mouth, bathing it with broad strokes of my tongue. My fingers make their way to your other nipple, pinching lightly and grazing nails across skin. I move my body so that instead of straddling your hips, I'm straddling one leg and so are you. I slowly begin rocking my hips against your leg, putting direct pressure on both of our centers. As I grind on you my mouth switches nipples. This time I use my teeth, biting gently and tugging. A light sweat is breaking out on both our bodies and the temperature in the room is no longer the cool of morning. Your thrusts to meet me are getting less rhythmic, as are mine to you. I Press down harder into your thigh, opening myself onto you. My wetness slicks your thigh, increasing the friction against my clit. Fair is fair. My leg has been soaked with you for a while now. Coming ever nearer to the edge, I press harder into you, grinding both of us faster. My release comes hard, arching my back and making my scream your name, and I feel you let go also, rising up off the bed to grip my arms tight as you lose control. Wave after wave rides through both our bodies, finally releasing us as we both collapse back to the bed. My head lays on your stomach and I kiss the sweat dampened skin there before once again giving in to sleep. My last thought as I lose consciousness is what a beautiful way to start the day.
Sunlight
My eyes slowly open to the golden stream of sunlight blazing it's way across my cheek. I stretch lightly, and roll to my side to see if you're still awake. Giggling softly to myself at the sight of you, all covered up and wrapped up with nothing but a tuft of hair and your nose sticking out of the covers I slowly move to the edge of the bed and rise. I walk around the bed to your side and kneel next to your sleeping form. Kissing the tip of your nose I attempt to find my way through the blankets you have wrapped around you. Ever the deep sleeper you just grumble and turn over, unwrapping the rest of the covers and allowing me access to your sleeping form. I, being the evil being that I am, take full advantage of this. I slowly climb onto the bed and swing one leg over your hips. Looking down at you I smile as the stream of sunlight that danced it's way across my face to bring me back to reality is now attempting the same for you. You're a fighter though. All it's attempts are in vain thus far. I decide to help it out and gently run my fingertips up your sides under your nightshirt. I can feel the muscles over your ribs ripple at the sensation, so I move my fingertips up across your tummy, then up to your breasts. I love the silky softness of the underside of your breasts so I linger there, stroking from side to side, then from the bottom of your aureola to the base of your breast. You shiver, starting to wake up and as your eyes slowly open I kiss you softly.
"Good morning, Beautiful," I whisper.
A slow smile forms on your lips and you look so gorgeous that I have to kiss you again. My hands return to your breasts, stroking slow patterns around your nipples and back down over the underside. I see your eyes darken as arousal begins to take hold of you. Moving my hands to the hem of your shirt, I lift it slowly over your stomach then up and over your shoulders as you lift up partially to allow me access. Your nipples harden as the cool morning air caresses them and I lean down to take one into my mouth, bathing it with broad strokes of my tongue. My fingers make their way to your other nipple, pinching lightly and grazing nails across skin. I move my body so that instead of straddling your hips, I'm straddling one leg and so are you. I slowly begin rocking my hips against your leg, putting direct pressure on both of our centers. As I grind on you my mouth switches nipples. This time I use my teeth, biting gently and tugging. A light sweat is breaking out on both our bodies and the temperature in the room is no longer the cool of morning. Your thrusts to meet me are getting less rhythmic, as are mine to you. I Press down harder into your thigh, opening myself onto you. My wetness slicks your thigh, increasing the friction against my clit. Fair is fair. My leg has been soaked with you for a while now. Coming ever nearer to the edge, I press harder into you, grinding both of us faster. My release comes hard, arching my back and making my scream your name, and I feel you let go also, rising up off the bed to grip my arms tight as you lose control. Wave after wave rides through both our bodies, finally releasing us as we both collapse back to the bed. My head lays on your stomach and I kiss the sweat dampened skin there before once again giving in to sleep. My last thought as I lose consciousness is what a beautiful way to start the day.
A Vague, Misty Memory
I remember vaguely, in a fuzzy, slightly out of focus sort of way, when I was a little girl. My grandpa would come pick me up and take me to the park out on Barron Lake road and let me play there until the sun started to set, and he would give me those little suckers with white and different colored polka dotted wrappers. Then he would pick me up and carry me back to his old green 74 Chevy and we would go back to the house and wait for grandma to get home. I think we did this every Friday. More than any of that, I remember in my minds eye, the long blonde pigtails, the sparkle in my brown eyes and mostly the smile on my face. I don't think I've smiled like that since I was little. It was a smile that made my whole face light up. One that you could see in my eyes. Nowadays my eyes don't smile. They look sad, or they're just there. The 74 Chevy is dead now, and the most interaction my grandfather has with me is when he tells me how stupid whatever action I'm doing is or how I'm screwing up my life in this way or that. We don't spend any time just the two of us and I hurt sometimes inside because of that. He's an old man now and the days I have with him are numbered. And yet we just don't have the relationship we did when I was young and we never will again. I love him, and I miss that feeling that I only partly remember.
A Child's Smile
A Child's Smile
Have you ever watched a child smiling? Have you ever noticed that when they smile, their entire face lights up with the power of the joy in their hearts? Its very rare to see that kind of smile outside of a child's face. Adults just don't smile that way. The smile of an adult rarely makes it past their lips. What happens, I wonder, to take that joyful brightness from a person's eyes after they reach adolescence? Is the harshness of growing up and realizing that the world isn't the beautiful eternity you thought it was enough to dampen a persons soul and extinguish their light? Enough to chase the joy from their eyes, from their hearts? I watched my friend's son play today..and the smile never left his face..the brightness of it nearly brought tears to my eyes. His laughter in play had a melody that struck me deep inside. It saddens me to think that in a few short years that will leave him. He will have so short a time to be free, to feel that happiness and hopefulness before it's dragged from his soul. I want to smile with the naivety of a child again. I want to feel like a person finding first love, heart bursting with the strength of it instead of held back and slowly rationed for fear of being hurt or hurting someone else. A child knows nothing of pain. I know too much of it. That smile, that beautiful all encompassing joy...it's something that is lost to me..lost to all adults I think. Maybe instead of fighting wars and preaching politics the world should study the faces of their children. I think that in the faces of our children lies all the answers that as adults we so desperately seek. It's just a matter of looking in the right place.
Have you ever watched a child smiling? Have you ever noticed that when they smile, their entire face lights up with the power of the joy in their hearts? Its very rare to see that kind of smile outside of a child's face. Adults just don't smile that way. The smile of an adult rarely makes it past their lips. What happens, I wonder, to take that joyful brightness from a person's eyes after they reach adolescence? Is the harshness of growing up and realizing that the world isn't the beautiful eternity you thought it was enough to dampen a persons soul and extinguish their light? Enough to chase the joy from their eyes, from their hearts? I watched my friend's son play today..and the smile never left his face..the brightness of it nearly brought tears to my eyes. His laughter in play had a melody that struck me deep inside. It saddens me to think that in a few short years that will leave him. He will have so short a time to be free, to feel that happiness and hopefulness before it's dragged from his soul. I want to smile with the naivety of a child again. I want to feel like a person finding first love, heart bursting with the strength of it instead of held back and slowly rationed for fear of being hurt or hurting someone else. A child knows nothing of pain. I know too much of it. That smile, that beautiful all encompassing joy...it's something that is lost to me..lost to all adults I think. Maybe instead of fighting wars and preaching politics the world should study the faces of their children. I think that in the faces of our children lies all the answers that as adults we so desperately seek. It's just a matter of looking in the right place.
1 in 600
"Only 1 in 600 Pit Bulls will find a home - For every Pit Bull placed in a loving home 599 die."
The rest are put to sleep for nothing more than being what they were born as. It saddens me as I look at my little brindle female with her bright white nose and stripe between her eyes and her bright and sunshiney outlook on life. All the world is a playground is my sweet little girl's thought. Unless there's yelling or thunder or gunshots. Then the world is a huge scary place for her. Every stranger is a new person to lick, a new person to rub her belly and love on. If you've never seen a dog smile then you've never looked at my Willow. She loves life, and she loves you. Even if she doesn't know you. I look at her and it brings tears to my eyes as I type, this thought that darkens my thoughts tonight. If we lived in a different part of the country, or even in a different county the animal control officers could come and put a catch pole around my little brindle princess, even though she'd follow them with her tail wagging all the way to their truck with no leash or catch pole, just because they may have cookies for her...and put her behind bars, her days numbered.
My gaze goes from Willow, wagging her tail, even in her sleep she's happy, to my boy. My muscular, macho little boy with his dark fur in stark contrast to the bright white of his toes and chest. Ever the protector, always on the lookout to ensure no one is trying to hurt his mom. Quick to growl, even as he's hiding behind my legs..or more commonly as he's approaching you and licking your hand. His little way of saying I like you, but you're still a stranger so please keep a safe distance from my mom until I've smelled you and made sure you're safe. My burly little hooligan who loves nothing more than running after sticks and tormenting his older sister by running past her with a stick and then evading her attempts to steal it. Who is so excited to see his family that his whole body shakes with the ferocity of his tail wags. He would be put down because he's scared, no one would take the time to get past the growls and grumbles that are all talk. They wouldn't care that he's scared because his Mommy's ex room mate's husband used to beat him while mommy was at work and she never knew it until much later...all they would care about is what they would view as aggression.
I saw a shirt today, it had four squares lined up next to one another, each with a picture inside. A black man, a Latino, a Chinese man and a Pit Bull Terrier. The caption underneath reads "Racial profiling is unfair". Damn right it is. Breed restrictive legislation is just an extension of racism. A way to legitimize racial genocide.
Think about it.
The rest are put to sleep for nothing more than being what they were born as. It saddens me as I look at my little brindle female with her bright white nose and stripe between her eyes and her bright and sunshiney outlook on life. All the world is a playground is my sweet little girl's thought. Unless there's yelling or thunder or gunshots. Then the world is a huge scary place for her. Every stranger is a new person to lick, a new person to rub her belly and love on. If you've never seen a dog smile then you've never looked at my Willow. She loves life, and she loves you. Even if she doesn't know you. I look at her and it brings tears to my eyes as I type, this thought that darkens my thoughts tonight. If we lived in a different part of the country, or even in a different county the animal control officers could come and put a catch pole around my little brindle princess, even though she'd follow them with her tail wagging all the way to their truck with no leash or catch pole, just because they may have cookies for her...and put her behind bars, her days numbered.
My gaze goes from Willow, wagging her tail, even in her sleep she's happy, to my boy. My muscular, macho little boy with his dark fur in stark contrast to the bright white of his toes and chest. Ever the protector, always on the lookout to ensure no one is trying to hurt his mom. Quick to growl, even as he's hiding behind my legs..or more commonly as he's approaching you and licking your hand. His little way of saying I like you, but you're still a stranger so please keep a safe distance from my mom until I've smelled you and made sure you're safe. My burly little hooligan who loves nothing more than running after sticks and tormenting his older sister by running past her with a stick and then evading her attempts to steal it. Who is so excited to see his family that his whole body shakes with the ferocity of his tail wags. He would be put down because he's scared, no one would take the time to get past the growls and grumbles that are all talk. They wouldn't care that he's scared because his Mommy's ex room mate's husband used to beat him while mommy was at work and she never knew it until much later...all they would care about is what they would view as aggression.
I saw a shirt today, it had four squares lined up next to one another, each with a picture inside. A black man, a Latino, a Chinese man and a Pit Bull Terrier. The caption underneath reads "Racial profiling is unfair". Damn right it is. Breed restrictive legislation is just an extension of racism. A way to legitimize racial genocide.
Think about it.
Erotica Fanfiction - Random Naughtiness
A/N. Dorky first attempt at fanfiction based on an episode of Roseanne. Be gentle, as stated, this was my first attempt. Also, ironically, my only finished multi part story. Depiction of sex between females, talk of orgasms and penises..depiction of marijuana usage..blah blah blah..if it offends you, don't read. Constructive criticism welcome.
Fandom: Buffy The Vampire Slayer
Pairing: Willow/Tara
Random Naughtiness
Chapter 1
Willow heard a muffled scream coming from the basement. Dropping the dustrag she'd been using to dust the mantle, she ran downstairs tailed closely by Anya. Fully expecting to find Buffy engaged in hand to hand combat with an evil...well, something evil that lurked in the basement, she grabbed a stake on her way down. Hopping the last step she landed fully at the ready to give Buffy what backup she could offer. She glanced over her shoulder finding Anya doing the same. As her eyes finally landed on the slight blonde however, it wasn't as she expected. Instead of the offending beastie, she found her best friend angrily shaking a pair of jeans at her girlfriend.
"I. Am. Going. To. Kill. Dawn." With each clipped word the slayer shook the offending jeans at Tara, who was fighting to keep an amused look under wraps, lest she face the other woman's fury next.
Willow walked up to her friend and cautiously placed a hand on her shoulder.
"Buff, what happened? Did she stain another pair of your jeans?"
"No. The little brat went too far this time. I mean, we just got past the whole stealing, sneaking out with the undead, juvenile delinquent phase...and now this!"
Having said that she tossed the thoroughly shaken jeans to the side and tossed a ziplock baggie at Willow.
The redhead looked at the baggie in her hand and gave the blonde slayer a confused look.
"She..uh, you're upset that she's keeping spell components in her pants?"
This said Willow opened the bag and sniffed deeply.
"Uhm, wait. This doesn't smell much like anything we use in our spells does it Tare?"
The blonde Wiccan had been leaning back against the dryer until now, with a slightly amused look on her face.
"Will, honey..come here." She leaned in and whispered softly in the redhead's ear. "Honey, that isn't for spells...its Marijuana."
"Oh" The redhead blushed slightly at her naivety. "OH...BAD! Very bad Dawnie!"
Anya walked up and grabbed the baggie quickly from Willow's hand. She sniffed it, making a slight face.
"It stinks. Why would anyone want something this stinky in her pocket?"
Tara, finally leaving her spot against the dryer, walked over and took the bag from the former demon.
"Come see," she tossed over her shoulder as she walked up the stairs.
Chapter 2
Tara sat back against the cool wall of the bathtub and inhaled deeply from the joint in her hand. It had been a while, but she had managed to roll a few quite successfully, and now was in process of teaching the other women the finer points of expanding their minds. She hit it deeply one more time before handing the joint to Buffy, who was perched cross legged on the closed toilet seat. The blonde slayer looked at the small cigarette shaped thing in her hand with a tepidacious expression on her face, then back at Tara, who nodded in encouragement.
"Just put it to your lips and breathe in slow and deep Buffy. After you inhale, just hold it down for as long as you can. It's really not that hard."
The slayer put it to her lips and slowly began inhaling. As her lungs filled with the smoke she closed her eyes, trying to relax herself. She opened them again to see Anya looking at her expectantly.
"Do I get a turn any time soon, or are you going to sit there with the Marijuana cigarette in your hand and waste it? Which, might I add is also wasting money. Money was spent on this and I am in no way having any part of any wasting of money, be it mine or someone else's."
That said, the ex-demon reached over and grabbed it from Buffy and hit hard on it. Her eyes slightly widened as she fought to keep the smoke down. Exhaling a cloud of thick white smoke she handed the joint to Willow, who was sitting next to Tara with a fearful expression on her face.
With huge green eyes she looked at the blonde, as if asking her what to do. In answer Tara smiled softly at her girlfriend and took the joint from her hand. Inhaling deeply she leaned in closer to Willow, as if moving to kiss her. She stopped a few inches from Willows face and placed the joint between them, cherry facing herself. She motioned Willow to move in closer and as their lips grazed, began exhaling as Willow inhaled.
The bathroom was quiet for a long while as the four women all sat and enjoyed as the creeping tendrils of marijuana smoke invaded their brains. Suddenly, for no particular reason Buffy started laughing. The others soon joined in, although no one really knew why, but it served to break the zone they had all been in.
"Mannnn...WOW. I didn't know this bathroom floor was so clean!" Buffy said as she moved to hands and knees to examine the floor more closely. "You could almost eat off of it!"
With that her hazel eyes grew wide.
"OOOH...wow...food sounds amazing right now. Tara, does this stuff always make you hungry, because right now, I so could eat about four horses!"
Tara just sat back with a look of complete amusement on her pretty face. She was enjoying this.
"Mann you guys, I'll be right back..I hafta get somethin to munch on," Buffy slurred as she walked out of the bathroom.
She returned momentarily, with an armload of various foodstuffs that should have broken down even one with slayer strength.
"Ok you guys, I have chocolate pudding, brownies, cheetos, mike n ikes, skittles, BBQ lays, and Flintstone pushups. If you want some, you can share the pushups, cause they're gonna melt fast. Otherwise go get your own."
With that, she began to work her way through the enormous amount of food.
Tara now sat against the bathroom wall with Willow leaning back against her between her legs. She scanned the room as she absently played with the redhead's silken locks.
"Uh, You guys? Just out of curiosity, where is Anya?" The blonde spoke for the first time since her buzz had set in.
Everyone looked around the room, until their gazes settled on the closed shower curtain around the bathtub. Buffy pulled it open slowly to find the former vengeance demon sitting with her knees drawn against her chest and clutching her push up as if it were protecting her against all evil.
"Ahn...are you ok?" Tara asked gently, noting the slightly wild look in the other woman's eye.
"N-no, I'm really not, because what if Xander comes home from work and finds us like this and he gets angry with me and refuses to allow me my penis privileges anymore and then what will I do? Then I won't have any orgasms and that would be bad. And I don't like bad things to happen. So none of you had better tell him anything about this..I was a vengeance demon once, you know. I could have you all disemboweled with a simple phone call you know. And leave my push up alone! It's mine and you may not have it. The blonde woman finished her rant and pulled the shower curtain back around the tub.
"Well...Ok then, Tara muttered.
She looked around the room once again, noting Anya in her own world in the tub and Buffy oblivious to everything except the food in front of her, already half gone. Her gaze finally stopped on her girlfriend, who's eyes were fixed on her face with a serene smile on her lips. Smiling back at the redhead, Tara sat upright, forcing Willow to do the same. She looked at Willow, and then at the door adjoining the bathroom to their bedroom, her intent clear in her eyes. Willow, being uncharacteristically quiet, nodded eagerly as they both slipped unnoticed out of the bathroom.
The only sound in the quiet house was the loud click of their bedroom door locking.
Chapter 3
Willow flopped back onto the bed, reveling in the feel of the down comforter beneath her body. She felt...well, she wasn't sure exactly how to describe how she felt. She knew one thing though; she suddenly had an itch that only Tara could scratch. Whether this was as a result of the weed or just her hormones, she wasn't too sure, but the redhead wasn't complaining either way.
As she stood staring at Willow laid back on the bed, Tara broke into a huge grin. She'd known the effect the drug would have on the feisty redhead, and it was becoming more and more apparent the longer she sat watching her. Willow had noticed her watching and was developing a devilish gleam to her eye. She captured Tara's gaze and held it as she crooked one finger, signaling the blonde to come closer. She sat next to Willow on the bed and leaned down to kiss her softly when suddenly she found herself flipped on her back with Will on top of her.
Willow leaned down, and with her lips oh so close to Tara's ear she whispered,
"So baby..do you always come when you're fingered or is that only for me?"
That said, the redhead set about claiming the curvaceous blonde's lips with her own.
Without ever removing her lips from those of her lover, Willow began running her hands up Tara's sides. Moving down to the hem of her shirt, The redhead pulled it up and over Tara's head and tossed it behind them. Eyeing the creamy white flesh that she had exposed Willow virtually growled her pleasure at the sight. She leaned down and deftly used her teeth to unhook the front closure bra Tara was wearing.
Pulling the sheer black fabric away from her breasts, Willow sent her mouth on a journey to discover and rediscover all the sights and landmarks of the flesh before her.
"Mmmm, I could live here for a lifetime Baby." Willow murmured as she leaned in to circle one nipple with the tip of her tongue.
Tara's eyes were glazed over with passion as her love continued the treatment of her breasts. Her lower lip caught firmly between her teeth she allowed a slight moan to escape. Her head was spinning and swimming in the most delicious way and she knew she had it in for her.
Willow had only just gotten started.
Dawn walked into the silent house with a puzzled expression on her face. She knew she saw Buffy's jeep outside, but there seemed to be no one home.
"Oh well, she sighed. Not as if I'm not used to being left by myself."
The teen walked upstairs to use the bathroom. She walked into the room noting with a confused expression that the shower curtain was pulled closed completely and that there were a multitude of snack food wrappers littering the floor. And on top of that, it smelled really strange. Cautiously, not wanting to alert an intruder should there be one, Dawn pulled back the shower curtain. The sight that she found there was suprising to say the least. There, in the bathtub, looking very comfortable, were Buffy and Anya. The two were passed out curled up against one another and Buffy had what appeared to be the remains of a joint in one hand and a melting fudgecicle in the other. Her peaceful face was coated in sticky chocolate. Anya slept with one arm wrapped around the slayer's waist and her face buried in the crook of her neck.
Laughing silently, tears running down her face, the teen quietly tiptoed to her bedroom where she grabbed her Polaroid. This was too great an opportunity to pass up. Silently creeping back into the bathroom she proceeded to take a complete roll of film starring the ex demon and the slayer.
"Oh yeah...this will get me out of trouble for a loooooooooong time." With that, the girl quietly re-shut the shower curtain and made her way downstairs.
***
Willow sucked Tara's throbbing clit into her mouth and bit down gently. Her first second and third fingers slid in and out of Tara's hot wetness rapidly as the blonde's back arched and her nails dug into the sheets above her head.
"Oh my fucking Goddess, Willow fuck me baby. Harder. Fuck me harder Willow, Please."
The blonde's face contorted and her thighs wrapped themselves tighter around Willow's head. She was so close to the edge, Willow knew, and so she did what it took to push her there. Using her fourth finger she slid almost all the way in as she bit down on her lover's clit and sucked. Tara responded immediately, her moan echoing through the quiet house.
Tara grabbed for the redhead, gesturing weakly for her to come up and kiss her.
"L-love...you..Will," she panted out breathlessly.
"Love you too baby." Willow slid closer and kissed her lover softly.
"love you forever."
The first thing Buffy thought as she slowly woke up was that her neck and back felt like she'd slept in a bathtub.
Slowly opening her eyes, she looked around in confusion...she was in a bathtub...and she wasn't alone. As she moved around to look at the warm body pressed against hers, she almost screamed. Elbowing Anya in the side she jumped out of the tub.
"HEY...wha..where the hell am I?" The former demon looked up with an expression of confusion marring her features.
"And why are you all chocolaty?"
Buffy glared at Anya in response before walking to the sink and gazing at herself in the mirror. As she turned to give Anya another dirty look, she noticed the camera and empty film wrapper laying on the counter.
"Well, first..I think this is where we passed out after Tara got us high, and second....I believe we were caught." She held up the empty camera, showing it to the other blonde.
Anya's eyes went wide in fear.
"Oh nononono...it was Xander, and he's going to kill me."
"No, not Xander, but I almost wish it had been. Looks Like Dawn just secured her place in the 'Never getting in trouble again' hall of fame"
"It was Dawn?" Anya snickered slightly at the irony of the situation.
"It was Dawn."
***
Willow woke up feeling slightly smooshed and with a completely filled feeling in her nether regions. Opening her eyes, she saw her girlfriend passed out on top of her, one hand still between the redhead's legs with her fingers buried inside her.
Smiling softly, Willow began tickling the back of Tara's exposed neck.
"Wake up honey, I kinda need to move and it's really not possible like this," she whispered as Tara stirred.
As Tara's hand pulled out of her, Willow shuddered. All in all, she found this to be a lovely way to wake up.
"Mmmm, honey, what time is it?" Tara murmered slightly before buying her face in the pillow next to her girlfriend's head.
"It's...uhm, shit Tare...it's almost nine thirty. At night. Dawnie's been home for almost seven hours and I'm almost willing to bet there's no one else up."
As she said that there was a knock at the door connecting the bathroom to their bedroom.
"Or not." The witches scrambled to throw clothes on.
Walking to the door, the slight redhead opened it.
Buffy stood there holding a Polaroid camera and an empty film package. Not to mention covered in dried chocolate.
"Guys...we're busted."
Willow looked at her friend, not sure whether to laugh at her appearance or to freak at the evidence in her hands.
"Dawnie?" Tara asked from the bed.
"Uh huh." Buffy nodded her head, looking ashamed of herself.
"Well...uhm..Buffy, why don't you clean yourself up. Willow and I will go downstairs and test the waters and make her some dinner. Tell Anya to go do damage control...buy some popcorn or ice cream, rent a couple movies...and mostly not to mention a word about anything. Just act as if all were normal." The tall blonde walked behind Willow and put her arms around the smaller girl's waist.
"If we don't act like anything's wrong, she'll have no reason to bring it up."
***
A COUPLE HOURS LATER
***
"Anya, this movie is great! I never pegged you to be a Jay and Silent Bob fan." Dawn gave the group a knowing look as the final credits ran on the movie.
Getting up and stretching, she smiled at her sister.
"Well, I think I'm going to go to bed now. I wasn't able to sleep off my buzz all day like some people that will remain nameless."
With a million watt grin at everyone the girl began making her way up the stairs, quietly singing the chorus of Afroman's "Because I got high" as she went.
The End
Fandom: Buffy The Vampire Slayer
Pairing: Willow/Tara
Random Naughtiness
Chapter 1
Willow heard a muffled scream coming from the basement. Dropping the dustrag she'd been using to dust the mantle, she ran downstairs tailed closely by Anya. Fully expecting to find Buffy engaged in hand to hand combat with an evil...well, something evil that lurked in the basement, she grabbed a stake on her way down. Hopping the last step she landed fully at the ready to give Buffy what backup she could offer. She glanced over her shoulder finding Anya doing the same. As her eyes finally landed on the slight blonde however, it wasn't as she expected. Instead of the offending beastie, she found her best friend angrily shaking a pair of jeans at her girlfriend.
"I. Am. Going. To. Kill. Dawn." With each clipped word the slayer shook the offending jeans at Tara, who was fighting to keep an amused look under wraps, lest she face the other woman's fury next.
Willow walked up to her friend and cautiously placed a hand on her shoulder.
"Buff, what happened? Did she stain another pair of your jeans?"
"No. The little brat went too far this time. I mean, we just got past the whole stealing, sneaking out with the undead, juvenile delinquent phase...and now this!"
Having said that she tossed the thoroughly shaken jeans to the side and tossed a ziplock baggie at Willow.
The redhead looked at the baggie in her hand and gave the blonde slayer a confused look.
"She..uh, you're upset that she's keeping spell components in her pants?"
This said Willow opened the bag and sniffed deeply.
"Uhm, wait. This doesn't smell much like anything we use in our spells does it Tare?"
The blonde Wiccan had been leaning back against the dryer until now, with a slightly amused look on her face.
"Will, honey..come here." She leaned in and whispered softly in the redhead's ear. "Honey, that isn't for spells...its Marijuana."
"Oh" The redhead blushed slightly at her naivety. "OH...BAD! Very bad Dawnie!"
Anya walked up and grabbed the baggie quickly from Willow's hand. She sniffed it, making a slight face.
"It stinks. Why would anyone want something this stinky in her pocket?"
Tara, finally leaving her spot against the dryer, walked over and took the bag from the former demon.
"Come see," she tossed over her shoulder as she walked up the stairs.
Chapter 2
Tara sat back against the cool wall of the bathtub and inhaled deeply from the joint in her hand. It had been a while, but she had managed to roll a few quite successfully, and now was in process of teaching the other women the finer points of expanding their minds. She hit it deeply one more time before handing the joint to Buffy, who was perched cross legged on the closed toilet seat. The blonde slayer looked at the small cigarette shaped thing in her hand with a tepidacious expression on her face, then back at Tara, who nodded in encouragement.
"Just put it to your lips and breathe in slow and deep Buffy. After you inhale, just hold it down for as long as you can. It's really not that hard."
The slayer put it to her lips and slowly began inhaling. As her lungs filled with the smoke she closed her eyes, trying to relax herself. She opened them again to see Anya looking at her expectantly.
"Do I get a turn any time soon, or are you going to sit there with the Marijuana cigarette in your hand and waste it? Which, might I add is also wasting money. Money was spent on this and I am in no way having any part of any wasting of money, be it mine or someone else's."
That said, the ex-demon reached over and grabbed it from Buffy and hit hard on it. Her eyes slightly widened as she fought to keep the smoke down. Exhaling a cloud of thick white smoke she handed the joint to Willow, who was sitting next to Tara with a fearful expression on her face.
With huge green eyes she looked at the blonde, as if asking her what to do. In answer Tara smiled softly at her girlfriend and took the joint from her hand. Inhaling deeply she leaned in closer to Willow, as if moving to kiss her. She stopped a few inches from Willows face and placed the joint between them, cherry facing herself. She motioned Willow to move in closer and as their lips grazed, began exhaling as Willow inhaled.
The bathroom was quiet for a long while as the four women all sat and enjoyed as the creeping tendrils of marijuana smoke invaded their brains. Suddenly, for no particular reason Buffy started laughing. The others soon joined in, although no one really knew why, but it served to break the zone they had all been in.
"Mannnn...WOW. I didn't know this bathroom floor was so clean!" Buffy said as she moved to hands and knees to examine the floor more closely. "You could almost eat off of it!"
With that her hazel eyes grew wide.
"OOOH...wow...food sounds amazing right now. Tara, does this stuff always make you hungry, because right now, I so could eat about four horses!"
Tara just sat back with a look of complete amusement on her pretty face. She was enjoying this.
"Mann you guys, I'll be right back..I hafta get somethin to munch on," Buffy slurred as she walked out of the bathroom.
She returned momentarily, with an armload of various foodstuffs that should have broken down even one with slayer strength.
"Ok you guys, I have chocolate pudding, brownies, cheetos, mike n ikes, skittles, BBQ lays, and Flintstone pushups. If you want some, you can share the pushups, cause they're gonna melt fast. Otherwise go get your own."
With that, she began to work her way through the enormous amount of food.
Tara now sat against the bathroom wall with Willow leaning back against her between her legs. She scanned the room as she absently played with the redhead's silken locks.
"Uh, You guys? Just out of curiosity, where is Anya?" The blonde spoke for the first time since her buzz had set in.
Everyone looked around the room, until their gazes settled on the closed shower curtain around the bathtub. Buffy pulled it open slowly to find the former vengeance demon sitting with her knees drawn against her chest and clutching her push up as if it were protecting her against all evil.
"Ahn...are you ok?" Tara asked gently, noting the slightly wild look in the other woman's eye.
"N-no, I'm really not, because what if Xander comes home from work and finds us like this and he gets angry with me and refuses to allow me my penis privileges anymore and then what will I do? Then I won't have any orgasms and that would be bad. And I don't like bad things to happen. So none of you had better tell him anything about this..I was a vengeance demon once, you know. I could have you all disemboweled with a simple phone call you know. And leave my push up alone! It's mine and you may not have it. The blonde woman finished her rant and pulled the shower curtain back around the tub.
"Well...Ok then, Tara muttered.
She looked around the room once again, noting Anya in her own world in the tub and Buffy oblivious to everything except the food in front of her, already half gone. Her gaze finally stopped on her girlfriend, who's eyes were fixed on her face with a serene smile on her lips. Smiling back at the redhead, Tara sat upright, forcing Willow to do the same. She looked at Willow, and then at the door adjoining the bathroom to their bedroom, her intent clear in her eyes. Willow, being uncharacteristically quiet, nodded eagerly as they both slipped unnoticed out of the bathroom.
The only sound in the quiet house was the loud click of their bedroom door locking.
Chapter 3
Willow flopped back onto the bed, reveling in the feel of the down comforter beneath her body. She felt...well, she wasn't sure exactly how to describe how she felt. She knew one thing though; she suddenly had an itch that only Tara could scratch. Whether this was as a result of the weed or just her hormones, she wasn't too sure, but the redhead wasn't complaining either way.
As she stood staring at Willow laid back on the bed, Tara broke into a huge grin. She'd known the effect the drug would have on the feisty redhead, and it was becoming more and more apparent the longer she sat watching her. Willow had noticed her watching and was developing a devilish gleam to her eye. She captured Tara's gaze and held it as she crooked one finger, signaling the blonde to come closer. She sat next to Willow on the bed and leaned down to kiss her softly when suddenly she found herself flipped on her back with Will on top of her.
Willow leaned down, and with her lips oh so close to Tara's ear she whispered,
"So baby..do you always come when you're fingered or is that only for me?"
That said, the redhead set about claiming the curvaceous blonde's lips with her own.
Without ever removing her lips from those of her lover, Willow began running her hands up Tara's sides. Moving down to the hem of her shirt, The redhead pulled it up and over Tara's head and tossed it behind them. Eyeing the creamy white flesh that she had exposed Willow virtually growled her pleasure at the sight. She leaned down and deftly used her teeth to unhook the front closure bra Tara was wearing.
Pulling the sheer black fabric away from her breasts, Willow sent her mouth on a journey to discover and rediscover all the sights and landmarks of the flesh before her.
"Mmmm, I could live here for a lifetime Baby." Willow murmured as she leaned in to circle one nipple with the tip of her tongue.
Tara's eyes were glazed over with passion as her love continued the treatment of her breasts. Her lower lip caught firmly between her teeth she allowed a slight moan to escape. Her head was spinning and swimming in the most delicious way and she knew she had it in for her.
Willow had only just gotten started.
Dawn walked into the silent house with a puzzled expression on her face. She knew she saw Buffy's jeep outside, but there seemed to be no one home.
"Oh well, she sighed. Not as if I'm not used to being left by myself."
The teen walked upstairs to use the bathroom. She walked into the room noting with a confused expression that the shower curtain was pulled closed completely and that there were a multitude of snack food wrappers littering the floor. And on top of that, it smelled really strange. Cautiously, not wanting to alert an intruder should there be one, Dawn pulled back the shower curtain. The sight that she found there was suprising to say the least. There, in the bathtub, looking very comfortable, were Buffy and Anya. The two were passed out curled up against one another and Buffy had what appeared to be the remains of a joint in one hand and a melting fudgecicle in the other. Her peaceful face was coated in sticky chocolate. Anya slept with one arm wrapped around the slayer's waist and her face buried in the crook of her neck.
Laughing silently, tears running down her face, the teen quietly tiptoed to her bedroom where she grabbed her Polaroid. This was too great an opportunity to pass up. Silently creeping back into the bathroom she proceeded to take a complete roll of film starring the ex demon and the slayer.
"Oh yeah...this will get me out of trouble for a loooooooooong time." With that, the girl quietly re-shut the shower curtain and made her way downstairs.
***
Willow sucked Tara's throbbing clit into her mouth and bit down gently. Her first second and third fingers slid in and out of Tara's hot wetness rapidly as the blonde's back arched and her nails dug into the sheets above her head.
"Oh my fucking Goddess, Willow fuck me baby. Harder. Fuck me harder Willow, Please."
The blonde's face contorted and her thighs wrapped themselves tighter around Willow's head. She was so close to the edge, Willow knew, and so she did what it took to push her there. Using her fourth finger she slid almost all the way in as she bit down on her lover's clit and sucked. Tara responded immediately, her moan echoing through the quiet house.
Tara grabbed for the redhead, gesturing weakly for her to come up and kiss her.
"L-love...you..Will," she panted out breathlessly.
"Love you too baby." Willow slid closer and kissed her lover softly.
"love you forever."
The first thing Buffy thought as she slowly woke up was that her neck and back felt like she'd slept in a bathtub.
Slowly opening her eyes, she looked around in confusion...she was in a bathtub...and she wasn't alone. As she moved around to look at the warm body pressed against hers, she almost screamed. Elbowing Anya in the side she jumped out of the tub.
"HEY...wha..where the hell am I?" The former demon looked up with an expression of confusion marring her features.
"And why are you all chocolaty?"
Buffy glared at Anya in response before walking to the sink and gazing at herself in the mirror. As she turned to give Anya another dirty look, she noticed the camera and empty film wrapper laying on the counter.
"Well, first..I think this is where we passed out after Tara got us high, and second....I believe we were caught." She held up the empty camera, showing it to the other blonde.
Anya's eyes went wide in fear.
"Oh nononono...it was Xander, and he's going to kill me."
"No, not Xander, but I almost wish it had been. Looks Like Dawn just secured her place in the 'Never getting in trouble again' hall of fame"
"It was Dawn?" Anya snickered slightly at the irony of the situation.
"It was Dawn."
***
Willow woke up feeling slightly smooshed and with a completely filled feeling in her nether regions. Opening her eyes, she saw her girlfriend passed out on top of her, one hand still between the redhead's legs with her fingers buried inside her.
Smiling softly, Willow began tickling the back of Tara's exposed neck.
"Wake up honey, I kinda need to move and it's really not possible like this," she whispered as Tara stirred.
As Tara's hand pulled out of her, Willow shuddered. All in all, she found this to be a lovely way to wake up.
"Mmmm, honey, what time is it?" Tara murmered slightly before buying her face in the pillow next to her girlfriend's head.
"It's...uhm, shit Tare...it's almost nine thirty. At night. Dawnie's been home for almost seven hours and I'm almost willing to bet there's no one else up."
As she said that there was a knock at the door connecting the bathroom to their bedroom.
"Or not." The witches scrambled to throw clothes on.
Walking to the door, the slight redhead opened it.
Buffy stood there holding a Polaroid camera and an empty film package. Not to mention covered in dried chocolate.
"Guys...we're busted."
Willow looked at her friend, not sure whether to laugh at her appearance or to freak at the evidence in her hands.
"Dawnie?" Tara asked from the bed.
"Uh huh." Buffy nodded her head, looking ashamed of herself.
"Well...uhm..Buffy, why don't you clean yourself up. Willow and I will go downstairs and test the waters and make her some dinner. Tell Anya to go do damage control...buy some popcorn or ice cream, rent a couple movies...and mostly not to mention a word about anything. Just act as if all were normal." The tall blonde walked behind Willow and put her arms around the smaller girl's waist.
"If we don't act like anything's wrong, she'll have no reason to bring it up."
***
A COUPLE HOURS LATER
***
"Anya, this movie is great! I never pegged you to be a Jay and Silent Bob fan." Dawn gave the group a knowing look as the final credits ran on the movie.
Getting up and stretching, she smiled at her sister.
"Well, I think I'm going to go to bed now. I wasn't able to sleep off my buzz all day like some people that will remain nameless."
With a million watt grin at everyone the girl began making her way up the stairs, quietly singing the chorus of Afroman's "Because I got high" as she went.
The End
Original erotic fiction - Bound and Unbound
WARNING! This story is a depiction of sex between two consenting females. If that kind of thing bothers you, isn't your cup of tea, makes you want to tie someone to a fencepost, then by all means do not read. If you are under age, do not read. If your state has laws in place against this sort of thing, then you should probably move...just sayin'. Otherwise, please read on and enjoy. Constructive criticism is welcome as always, but please, don't be rude.
Bound and Unbound
She lays back against the bedsheets, cool cotton against her skin, as she sizes me up. She is handcuffed to the headboard and that in and of itself excites her. I'm standing at the foot of the bed with the flat sheet that I pulled from her between my hands and she's unsure of what's to be done with it. Her eyes widen as I bring out my knife. She knows I'd never hurt her but that doesn't stop her mind from running wild with all the possibilities this new prop could mean. She watches quietly, eyes widening a bit when I split the sheet down the center with my knife and use the first half to secure first the left ankle to the bedpost, then the right. Shes fully bound now. Completely at my mercy. She's fidgeting on the bed, anxious to know where I'm going to take this. I climb onto the bed with her, straddling her hips and leaning forward to take her lips. I kiss her deeply, then draw back and look deep into her eyes. I see the flame of her arousal there, and chuckle to myself. That flame will turn into an inferno by the time I'm done with her. I move my lips to her neck and nip that sensitive spot she loves just below her earlobe. I smile at the slight gasp that brings, then work my way down her collarbone with featherlight touches. Her breasts are my next stop. I keep my touches light as I stroke across the underside of her breast, lowering my lips to the other. I take her hardened nipple between my teeth, teasing it with the top of my tongue ring as she whimpers and arches against me. I alternate between the two, soft gentle touches and nips borderlining on painful, only to be soothed by my tongue until she's panting heavily and her whimpers have turned into almost moans. Knowing I can make her come simply from continuing to love her breasts I move away, sitting upright straddling her hips again. She grins at me, her eyes afire with passion. Haha, she wants to play it cute I see. That grin tells me she knows I'm trying to make her scream and she's not going to make it easy on me. Fair enough, I can play dirty too. I move off of her, and off of the bed altogether, searching for something. I can feel her eyes on me, wondering what I'm up to I'm sure. Patience my dear, all will be revealed in time. My lips quirk into a quick grin as I plot exactly how much time. I climb back to my knees at the foot of the bed, this time between her legs as I look at her again. For a moment I'm spellbound at her beauty. Coming back to reality I dip my finger into her, then meeting and holding her eyes I slowly lick my finger clean. A gasp from her tells me that my action had the desired effect. Moving up the bed some, I straddle her stomach and pull my other hand from behind my back. As I turn the vibrator I'd hidden from her sight on I see a sense of relief flit across her face. Ah, she thinks her release is soon to come! The look or relief is soon taken over by one of shock however, as I begin to slide the vibrator across my chest and use it to tease my nipples. I move the vibrator slowly across my chest, then down my stomach before sliding it slowly into it's final resting place. I meet her eyes, and her fire burns ever brighter as she realizes that what I'm doing is for her, and only her. As I slowly pump myself with the vibrator I feel her eyes traveling from my eyes all the way back down, unsure of which view is making her wetter. She can see and smell my arousal but no amount of her struggles with the cuffs have freed her to feel it or taste it. She's fully focused on my ministrations with the vibratior now. I moan, only to hear it in stereo as I realize she's moaning with me. She's so close and I've still not broken her. Ah, but I speak too soon, her whimpers and moans have given way to a shaky "b-b-baby?". "Yes my love?" I ask her in a low, thick voice. "I-I n-n-n-need" she stammers. "You need what?" "I-I want y-y-ou to..." she pauses. "Want me to what baby?" "I w-want you to m-make me..." "Scream my name?" I suggest with a cocky grin. "Yessssss" she hisses, seemingly she's forgotten that she's not a screamer, and that's fine by me. I meet and hold her eyes, letting her see a bit of the cockiness there, before moving down between her thighs to my own piece of heaven. I start slowly, dipping my tongue between her oh so wet lips and tasting her, then sliding my tongue inside her. She's whimpering and thrusting her hips against me, trying for more. I don't comply, keeping my tongue at a slow lap against her swollen clit. I slide a single finger inside her, teasing her until she's on the edge, then pulling out. I'm enjoying the way she's reacting to me so I bring her to the edge again and again, only to pull back just as she's about to fall into ecstacy. Her whimpers have turned into words now, or more to the point two words repeated over and over. "Baby, please! Please!" Ha, for someone who wasn't going to scream my name she's sure working up to it quite nicely. Deciding now is the time to end her torment I slide the vibrator into her as my tongue lashes her clit, revelling in the long moan she releases. I fuck her fast and hard with the vibrator, keeping pace on her clit with my tongue and teeth. It's not long before her entire world explodes, all the orgasms I'd built her up to and then pulled her back from colliding and exploding all at once. Her body arches off the bed as her vocal cords betray her will. Wave after wave of climax washes over her until she lays back against the sheets again, spent. Moving up to her hands I uncuff her and kiss the chafing from the cuffs as I lay her hands at her sides. She's passed out hard at this point, so I kiss her forehead softly before moving to untie her ankles. Having unbound my angel I pull the comforter back onto the bed and wrap her in my arms. My last thought before I fall asleep utterly content with the world is a smart assed "well, that'll teach her to say never, won't it?"
fin
Bound and Unbound
She lays back against the bedsheets, cool cotton against her skin, as she sizes me up. She is handcuffed to the headboard and that in and of itself excites her. I'm standing at the foot of the bed with the flat sheet that I pulled from her between my hands and she's unsure of what's to be done with it. Her eyes widen as I bring out my knife. She knows I'd never hurt her but that doesn't stop her mind from running wild with all the possibilities this new prop could mean. She watches quietly, eyes widening a bit when I split the sheet down the center with my knife and use the first half to secure first the left ankle to the bedpost, then the right. Shes fully bound now. Completely at my mercy. She's fidgeting on the bed, anxious to know where I'm going to take this. I climb onto the bed with her, straddling her hips and leaning forward to take her lips. I kiss her deeply, then draw back and look deep into her eyes. I see the flame of her arousal there, and chuckle to myself. That flame will turn into an inferno by the time I'm done with her. I move my lips to her neck and nip that sensitive spot she loves just below her earlobe. I smile at the slight gasp that brings, then work my way down her collarbone with featherlight touches. Her breasts are my next stop. I keep my touches light as I stroke across the underside of her breast, lowering my lips to the other. I take her hardened nipple between my teeth, teasing it with the top of my tongue ring as she whimpers and arches against me. I alternate between the two, soft gentle touches and nips borderlining on painful, only to be soothed by my tongue until she's panting heavily and her whimpers have turned into almost moans. Knowing I can make her come simply from continuing to love her breasts I move away, sitting upright straddling her hips again. She grins at me, her eyes afire with passion. Haha, she wants to play it cute I see. That grin tells me she knows I'm trying to make her scream and she's not going to make it easy on me. Fair enough, I can play dirty too. I move off of her, and off of the bed altogether, searching for something. I can feel her eyes on me, wondering what I'm up to I'm sure. Patience my dear, all will be revealed in time. My lips quirk into a quick grin as I plot exactly how much time. I climb back to my knees at the foot of the bed, this time between her legs as I look at her again. For a moment I'm spellbound at her beauty. Coming back to reality I dip my finger into her, then meeting and holding her eyes I slowly lick my finger clean. A gasp from her tells me that my action had the desired effect. Moving up the bed some, I straddle her stomach and pull my other hand from behind my back. As I turn the vibrator I'd hidden from her sight on I see a sense of relief flit across her face. Ah, she thinks her release is soon to come! The look or relief is soon taken over by one of shock however, as I begin to slide the vibrator across my chest and use it to tease my nipples. I move the vibrator slowly across my chest, then down my stomach before sliding it slowly into it's final resting place. I meet her eyes, and her fire burns ever brighter as she realizes that what I'm doing is for her, and only her. As I slowly pump myself with the vibrator I feel her eyes traveling from my eyes all the way back down, unsure of which view is making her wetter. She can see and smell my arousal but no amount of her struggles with the cuffs have freed her to feel it or taste it. She's fully focused on my ministrations with the vibratior now. I moan, only to hear it in stereo as I realize she's moaning with me. She's so close and I've still not broken her. Ah, but I speak too soon, her whimpers and moans have given way to a shaky "b-b-baby?". "Yes my love?" I ask her in a low, thick voice. "I-I n-n-n-need" she stammers. "You need what?" "I-I want y-y-ou to..." she pauses. "Want me to what baby?" "I w-want you to m-make me..." "Scream my name?" I suggest with a cocky grin. "Yessssss" she hisses, seemingly she's forgotten that she's not a screamer, and that's fine by me. I meet and hold her eyes, letting her see a bit of the cockiness there, before moving down between her thighs to my own piece of heaven. I start slowly, dipping my tongue between her oh so wet lips and tasting her, then sliding my tongue inside her. She's whimpering and thrusting her hips against me, trying for more. I don't comply, keeping my tongue at a slow lap against her swollen clit. I slide a single finger inside her, teasing her until she's on the edge, then pulling out. I'm enjoying the way she's reacting to me so I bring her to the edge again and again, only to pull back just as she's about to fall into ecstacy. Her whimpers have turned into words now, or more to the point two words repeated over and over. "Baby, please! Please!" Ha, for someone who wasn't going to scream my name she's sure working up to it quite nicely. Deciding now is the time to end her torment I slide the vibrator into her as my tongue lashes her clit, revelling in the long moan she releases. I fuck her fast and hard with the vibrator, keeping pace on her clit with my tongue and teeth. It's not long before her entire world explodes, all the orgasms I'd built her up to and then pulled her back from colliding and exploding all at once. Her body arches off the bed as her vocal cords betray her will. Wave after wave of climax washes over her until she lays back against the sheets again, spent. Moving up to her hands I uncuff her and kiss the chafing from the cuffs as I lay her hands at her sides. She's passed out hard at this point, so I kiss her forehead softly before moving to untie her ankles. Having unbound my angel I pull the comforter back onto the bed and wrap her in my arms. My last thought before I fall asleep utterly content with the world is a smart assed "well, that'll teach her to say never, won't it?"
fin
Erotica Fanfiction - Untitled
WARNING! This story is a depiction of sex between two consenting females. If that kind of thing bothers you, isn't your cup of tea, makes you want to tie someone to a fencepost, then by all means do not read. If you are under age, do not read. If your state has laws in place against this sort of thing, then you should probably move...just sayin'. Otherwise, please read on and enjoy. Constructive criticism is welcome as always, but please, don't be rude.
Fandom: Vaguely SVU
Pairing: Vaguely Casey/Olivia
Brown eyes met and held green as her hand slowly and gently traversed the fair skin below it, meandering ever south ward. She gently parted her lover's dripping wet folds and stroked with the softest of touches. She noted in the back of her mind the deepening shade of green before her, first grass green, now evergreen as passion clouded them. Their foreheads touched as she continued her soft ministrations, their eyes never wavering. Her fingers stroked her lover's walls thouroughly, but never fast, never rough. She saw her love's eyelids flutter at the same time she felt her inner muscles start to grasp at her, and she looked deeper into the jade orbs in front of her as she used the rough pad of her workworn thumb to slowly stroke the bundle of nerves she felt throbbing for her attention. She allows all the love she feels to flood her chocolate orbs as she flicks rhythmically, feeling her lovers walls clench, then spasm around her. Still stroking deeply but gently, she draws every last spasm out of her love before kissing her softly, still holding her lover's gaze. Smiling against the passion reddened lips below her she whispers to the woman who owns her heart; I love you.
Fandom: Vaguely SVU
Pairing: Vaguely Casey/Olivia
Brown eyes met and held green as her hand slowly and gently traversed the fair skin below it, meandering ever south ward. She gently parted her lover's dripping wet folds and stroked with the softest of touches. She noted in the back of her mind the deepening shade of green before her, first grass green, now evergreen as passion clouded them. Their foreheads touched as she continued her soft ministrations, their eyes never wavering. Her fingers stroked her lover's walls thouroughly, but never fast, never rough. She saw her love's eyelids flutter at the same time she felt her inner muscles start to grasp at her, and she looked deeper into the jade orbs in front of her as she used the rough pad of her workworn thumb to slowly stroke the bundle of nerves she felt throbbing for her attention. She allows all the love she feels to flood her chocolate orbs as she flicks rhythmically, feeling her lovers walls clench, then spasm around her. Still stroking deeply but gently, she draws every last spasm out of her love before kissing her softly, still holding her lover's gaze. Smiling against the passion reddened lips below her she whispers to the woman who owns her heart; I love you.
Erotica Fanfiction - Restrained
WARNING! This story is a depiction of sex between two consenting females. If that kind of thing bothers you, isn't your cup of tea, makes you want to tie someone to a fencepost, then by all means do not read. If you are under age, do not read. If your state has laws in place against this sort of thing, then you should probably move...just sayin'. Otherwise, please read on and enjoy. Constructive criticism is welcome as always, but please, don't be rude.
Fandom: NCIS
Pairing: Abby/Ziva
Restrained
The silk of the blindfold is soft against my face, the hard steel of the handcuffs cold against my wrists as the gentle air from the fan caresses my naked body. My senses are heightened by my lack of vision, and I can hear her moving nearby, the soft swish as her clothing drops to the floor, the muffled thunks as her glossy black boots hit the plush carpet, the quiet compression of the bedsprings as she sits nearby. My nerves are screaming out for her as I feel her moving closer to me on the bed, but she has yet to touch me. I bite my lower lip in anticipation, a whimper trying to escape my throat, but I refuse to allow it to break. Still, I hear her chuckle as if she's heard me. She's close to me now; I can feel the heat from her china doll skin warming my side as I silently wonder if she's going to leave me here bound forever. Then, again as if she's heard my silent pleas, I feel her shift. Her satiny thighs straddle my ribs as she kneels over me, her raven's wing hair dancing over the hyperaware skin of my breasts as she leans forward, causing my nipples to harden painfully. This time the whimper I try to contain breaks past my lips, and she leans forward, pressing her own lips against the passion reddened bell of my ear.
"Aww, is there a problem here?" I can feel the grin that stretches her lips against me.
"I would like to see you." Part of me is shocked when my plea is answered and she removes the blindfold.
"Ok. You can look, but you can't touch." She smirks at me, her green eyes sparkling with promise as she moves slightly up my body. She's so close to me now I can smell her arousal as well as see it glistening against her swollen lips. Her hands slowly travel up her sides to her breasts, and I watch intently as she teases her pale pink nipples into hard peaks. My mouth waters and my gaze is fixed on her pale hands as they tug at her nipples, then as one hand travels down the smooth, milky expanse of her stomach. My nostrils flare as I watch the hand slowly descend, until it hovers above her wetness. Green eyes catch and hold my dark brown as her middle finger languidly parts her folds and slides past them. My eyes fly to the scene so close to my face, her pupils dilating as she spreads herself and uses the tip of her finger to stroke her swollen clitoris, all the while making sure I can see clearly everything that's happening before me.
I thought my eyes would roll back into my head when she slid two fingers into herself and started slowly pumping. Her hips rolled against her hand and her back arched as she moved her thumb to stroke her clit while her fingers pumped harder. The smell of her arousal assaulted my senses as I watched her raptly. I could feel my arousal pooling against my thighs as her movements became more frenzied. She was getting close, I could tell by the roughness with which her hips thrusted and the soft, mewling moans that escaped her throat. Her free hand moved from her breasts to the headboard as her body pitched forward, and with one final thrust her entire body went rigid. I arched up, trying to achieve some sort of contact with her but restrained by the cuffs as her body shook with the power of her orgasm. Moaning my name softly she collapsed against my chest as her heart raced and her breathing hitched.
I felt my head spin as her swollen lips found mine, kissing me deeply before reaching above me to release my sore wrists from the restraints. I wrapped my arms around her taller frame and brushed her sweat dampened hair off her forehead, whispering in her ear as I felt her settle against my chest.
"I love you Abs."
"LuvyewtooZi"
Fin.
Fandom: NCIS
Pairing: Abby/Ziva
Restrained
The silk of the blindfold is soft against my face, the hard steel of the handcuffs cold against my wrists as the gentle air from the fan caresses my naked body. My senses are heightened by my lack of vision, and I can hear her moving nearby, the soft swish as her clothing drops to the floor, the muffled thunks as her glossy black boots hit the plush carpet, the quiet compression of the bedsprings as she sits nearby. My nerves are screaming out for her as I feel her moving closer to me on the bed, but she has yet to touch me. I bite my lower lip in anticipation, a whimper trying to escape my throat, but I refuse to allow it to break. Still, I hear her chuckle as if she's heard me. She's close to me now; I can feel the heat from her china doll skin warming my side as I silently wonder if she's going to leave me here bound forever. Then, again as if she's heard my silent pleas, I feel her shift. Her satiny thighs straddle my ribs as she kneels over me, her raven's wing hair dancing over the hyperaware skin of my breasts as she leans forward, causing my nipples to harden painfully. This time the whimper I try to contain breaks past my lips, and she leans forward, pressing her own lips against the passion reddened bell of my ear.
"Aww, is there a problem here?" I can feel the grin that stretches her lips against me.
"I would like to see you." Part of me is shocked when my plea is answered and she removes the blindfold.
"Ok. You can look, but you can't touch." She smirks at me, her green eyes sparkling with promise as she moves slightly up my body. She's so close to me now I can smell her arousal as well as see it glistening against her swollen lips. Her hands slowly travel up her sides to her breasts, and I watch intently as she teases her pale pink nipples into hard peaks. My mouth waters and my gaze is fixed on her pale hands as they tug at her nipples, then as one hand travels down the smooth, milky expanse of her stomach. My nostrils flare as I watch the hand slowly descend, until it hovers above her wetness. Green eyes catch and hold my dark brown as her middle finger languidly parts her folds and slides past them. My eyes fly to the scene so close to my face, her pupils dilating as she spreads herself and uses the tip of her finger to stroke her swollen clitoris, all the while making sure I can see clearly everything that's happening before me.
I thought my eyes would roll back into my head when she slid two fingers into herself and started slowly pumping. Her hips rolled against her hand and her back arched as she moved her thumb to stroke her clit while her fingers pumped harder. The smell of her arousal assaulted my senses as I watched her raptly. I could feel my arousal pooling against my thighs as her movements became more frenzied. She was getting close, I could tell by the roughness with which her hips thrusted and the soft, mewling moans that escaped her throat. Her free hand moved from her breasts to the headboard as her body pitched forward, and with one final thrust her entire body went rigid. I arched up, trying to achieve some sort of contact with her but restrained by the cuffs as her body shook with the power of her orgasm. Moaning my name softly she collapsed against my chest as her heart raced and her breathing hitched.
I felt my head spin as her swollen lips found mine, kissing me deeply before reaching above me to release my sore wrists from the restraints. I wrapped my arms around her taller frame and brushed her sweat dampened hair off her forehead, whispering in her ear as I felt her settle against my chest.
"I love you Abs."
"LuvyewtooZi"
Fin.
Erotica Fanfiction - Storm Over Troubled Water
WARNING! This story is a depiction of sex between two consenting females. If that kind of thing bothers you, isn't your cup of tea, makes you want to tie someone to a fencepost, then by all means do not read. If you are under age, do not read. If your state has laws in place against this sort of thing, then you should probably move...just sayin'. Otherwise, please read on and enjoy. Constructive criticism is welcome as always, but please, don't be rude.
Fandom: D.E.B.S.
Pairing: Lucy/Amy
Storm Over Troubled Water
The storm threw angry white yellow bolts of lightning out over the ocean, the bright energy seeming to be absorbed by the turbulent water, maybe stirring it up. The waves were large and frothy, beating against the shore as if they wished to cause it pain. The shore itself was as turbulent as the water, grains of sand being pulled from their resting place on the ground to fly through the air with the power of a tornado. They beat against the driftwood strewn about, stark white as a clean bone against the darkness of the night and the storm, and against the tall, slight woman leaning against a classic Cadillac. The windows were up on the beautiful car, protecting its interior from the fury outside, but the lone figure had no such protection. She made no attempt to shield her face from the blowing sand, nor to cover her dark locks from the torrential rain pouring over her and soaking her blue jeans or her black wife beater. No, she welcomed the pain and wetness, especially the wetness running down her face, for the rain hid the copious tears that pricked at the back of her eyelids, and made their way down her cheeks as her body shook violently with the strength of her crying. No, she barely noticed the storm around her for the storm going on inside her own body. She shook her head violently, tossing water and tears from her face as she gritted her teeth. She couldn't believe the events of the evening. She had planned the evening perfectly. It was their one year anniversary, she had intended on surprising Amy with a beautiful candle lit dinner that she had lovingly prepared for the two of them. Not to mention the favor she'd had to call in to a chef friend of hers to actually teach her to cook the meal. She had bought the finest swordfish steaks she could find, prepared them in banana leaves, and steamed them to perfection. The fish she had laid on a bed of wild long grain rice. She'd added a small salad of romaine leaves with sliced roma tomatoes and tossed with a raspberry vinaigrette and for dessert she had chocolate dipped strawberries that she had intended to segue to the bedroom, where she had made their bed with pale rose colored silk sheets strewn with long stem cala lilies. At the top of the bed resting between their silk encased pillows was a flat red pillow in the shape of a heart with a small jewelry case tied to the pillow with a pale rose colored ribbon. Once everything was done, right on schedule and with no 'oopses', she changed into a pair of black dress slacks and a crimson silk v neck shirt with a black dress jacket over it, then moved to the living room where she sat to wait the ten minutes until Amy should walk through the door. And waited. Checking the clock she saw it was well past time for Amy to be home, so she grabbed for the phone to call her. It's not like her to be late and not ca…no sooner had the thought passed her mind than the phone in her hand rang, the caller ID announcing Amy's cellular number. Clicking the talk button to answer she moved to the floor to ceiling window and looked at the ominous dark clouds rolling in over the darkness of the ocean.
"Hello?" Lucy's voice shook slightly with worry.
"Babe, hi…I just wanted to call you and let you know that I'm going to go out for a drink with Skye for a bit. She's just broken up with her boyfriend and needs a shoulder. I shouldn't be too late ok?" Lucy's eyes darted to the plates on the table, the candles waiting to be lit and she felt tears prick the back of her eyelids. Amy seemed to have forgotten. Lucy took a long breath and opened her mouth to speak, hoping her voice wouldn't waver.
"Baby, you still there?" Amy inquired, wondering at her love's extended silence.
"Yeah, yeah I'm here."
Amy picked up on something in Lucy's voice and she wondered at it, but her thought process was interrupted by Lucy speaking.
"You and Skye have fun. I'm gonna go." Lucy spoke quickly, and as she pulled the phone from her ear to turn it off she heard Amy saying "love you". Pressing the talk button again to disconnect the phone she tossed it on the couch and made her way to their bedroom. She ignored the bed as she changed from the dress clothes she'd worn for their dinner to street clothes and made her way from the house.
The third door in their four car garage opened and Lucy backed out slowly, pausing to click the remote door opener to close it. She sat there in the driveway thinking about where to go as the first fat drops of rain fell. Making up her mind she pulled out into the road and drove a short distance before pulling her car out onto the sand of the beach, a safe distance from the waves that were already beginning to pick up with the incoming storm. Exiting the car she kicked her flip-flops off near the car door and moved around to the front end. She leaned back against the car as she started crying harder in concert with the rain coming faster and harder.
Amy clicked the garage door opener and pulled her sleek black Mazda RX8 into the spot and clicked the opener to close the door again. She noticed that Lucy's caddy was missing and furrowed her brow as she opened her door and grabbed her book bag and turned, a tiny bit unsteady from her drinks, to the entryway to the house. Upon disarming/resetting the alarm she closed the door behind her and walked into the dark house. She fumbled for the light switch and, upon finding it, the dining room was flooded with soft light. Amy's eyebrows rose as she saw the beautiful place settings for two and the candles gracing the center of the table. The food on the plates had long gone cold. She looked into the kitchen, opened the refrigerator door and saw the plate of obviously hand dipped chocolate strawberries. Through the slight alcohol haze her mind was reeling, trying to figure out what it was that she was missing. Then, like a brick wall, the date hit her.
"Sonuvabitch"
She moved to the bedroom, noticing the curtain pulled back from the floor to ceiling glass window behind their couch as she passed. Turning on the light in the bedroom her eyes widened as she saw the bed. Sitting on the edge of it she picked up one of the lilies, stroking the beautiful flower idly as she realized how bad she'd messed up. Lucy generally wasn't the most romantic, not that Amy minded, she always managed to let her know she was loved…but it appeared she'd pulled out all the tricks she had up her sleeve to make tonight special. Amy's eyes teared up and she rose from the bed. Walking back into the living room she stood, unknowingly, in the same spot Lucy had stood earlier when Amy had crushed all her hopes for the evening. Looking at the raging storm over the ocean, Amy suddenly knew where Lucy was. She quickly changed into jeans and a tank top and ran out the door, keys in hand. She raced out of the drive and tore the few blocks to the public access area of the beach. She parked her car in the lot, stepped out of the car and was immediately drenched. With an especially bright bolt of lightning she made out the rear end of the Cadillac about halfway out on the sand and began making her way towards the car. Rounding the front bumper she stopped, knowing Lucy sensed her, and took in her girlfriend's wet and distraught visage. At this point Lucy was sitting on the hood of the Cadillac completely drenched and still crying, though quietly. Amy moved towards Lucy and took one of the thin woman's hands in her own, softly pulling her from the hood of the car. Lucy allowed this, but stepped back from Amy as soon as her feet hit the sand. A flash of lightning showed Lucy's face as the epitome of hurt. For her part Amy's face was remorseful and pleading. She slowly moved closer to Lucy, until she was close enough to risk putting her hand on her lover's cold and wet cheek. Her other arm wrapped around Lucy's waist and pulled her closer to her, Finally close enough to whisper against Lucy's ear Amy told her dark haired love that she was sorry in as many ways as she could think of. Seeing that none of them were doing anything to ease her lover's pain, she pulled Lucy's face to hers and kissed her softly. Lucy didn't respond, her lips cold and unmoving as Amy kissed her. Amy didn't give up though, she softly and slowly kissed those ungiving lips until they had warmth in them and began responding to her own. Soon Lucy was returning Amy's kisses with passionate and angry kisses of her own. She seemed to be punishing Amy's lips for ruining their anniversary. The rain poured down over both of them as their lips and tongues dueled for dominance. Amy wasn't giving in to Lucy this time, she had something to make up to her lover. As the rain poured over their bodies Amy reached for the hem of Lucy's beater, pulling it upward until their locked lips blocked any further progress. Pulling away from Lucy long enough to remove her shirt and then her own, smirking at the distinctive lack of bras on both of their parts. Lucy moaned into Amy's mouth as she felt the cold downpour against her bare skin, her nipples immediately hardening as they brushed against Amy's rain slick chest. Amy's hands soon found their way to Lucy's sensitive breasts and bringing another gasp from her lover as she rolled the nipples between her index and thumbs. Massaging the entirety of Lucy's smallish breasts under her skilled hands she felt Lucy's back arching, pressing her breasts more fully into her strong hands. Taking one of her hands away, Amy made her way down to the button fly of her jeans and undid them, then lifted Lucy to the hood of the car where she encouraged her to lay back as she slid her jeans down and off, once again noticing a distinctive lack of undergarments. Lucy began to sit back up but Amy stopped her with a hand to her chest. She scooted Lucy's bottom to the edge of the car and knelt down in the wet sand. She moved her right hand to Lucy's smooth mound and spread her lips, allowing the downpour direct contact with her lover's clit. Lucy gasped at the new feeling, her back arching as the water rolled down and over her. Amy pressed her face against Lucy's mound, slowly licking her lover from bottom to top; her tongue pointed and hard against Lucy's slit. After flicking hard against her clit once, twice, Amy moved back down and entered Lucy. Drawing her lover's elixir out, she stroked her up and down a few times until Lucy's clit was erect and causing her to writhe and moan against the hood as the water pounded against it while Amy's tongue worked its magic inside her. Soon enough though, Amy replaced her talented tongue with her long, slender fingers and began a process of sucking and licking and nibbling Lucy's erect clit as the rainwater washed over both of them and her fingers stroked and curled inside her love, massaging her from the inside as her mouth massaged her. Lucy, never really a vocal lover, was bucking against the hood of her car moaning with abandon and calling to Amy and Jesus and screaming words that would make a sailor blush. Amy felt Lucy tightening against her fingers, felt the orgasm building under her, felt Lucy explode against her face, bucking her hips hard against Amy's face. Amy felt her lover's orgasm start to fade, but she still continued her work inside and outside her lover. Lucy was beyond words now, only able to make guttural sounds and wrap her hand in Amy's soaked golden locks. Amy suddenly bit down on Lucy's clit and made a move with her fingers she'd never used on Lucy before and grinned against her lovers wet mound as she felt her lover's immediate orgasm that seemed never to end, back to back to back to back Lucy came, her use of words completely gone. Amy began licking Lucy's clit with short, choppy moves, enjoying the reaction it had in Lucy, though Lucy was far from in control of them. Lucy, Amy noted with amusement, was passed out spread eagle on the robin's egg blue hood of her 54 Caddy. Gathering her clothes and shoes Amy pulled her lover across the rain slick hood and carried her against her chest to the Mazda, where she placed her naked girlfriend in the passenger seat and then moved around to the driver's side. She grabbed her cell phone and quickly dialed Scud, apologizing for calling so late, but asking him and Janet to drive out to retrieve Lucy's car and bring it home for them. Scud agreed and Amy drove them home, wondering if this made up for Lucy's ruined night or if she would have to do some more groveling on her knees. She grinned, contemplating all the ways she could make it up to her lover.
Suddenly she didn't think she wanted to be forgiven.
Fine
Fandom: D.E.B.S.
Pairing: Lucy/Amy
Storm Over Troubled Water
The storm threw angry white yellow bolts of lightning out over the ocean, the bright energy seeming to be absorbed by the turbulent water, maybe stirring it up. The waves were large and frothy, beating against the shore as if they wished to cause it pain. The shore itself was as turbulent as the water, grains of sand being pulled from their resting place on the ground to fly through the air with the power of a tornado. They beat against the driftwood strewn about, stark white as a clean bone against the darkness of the night and the storm, and against the tall, slight woman leaning against a classic Cadillac. The windows were up on the beautiful car, protecting its interior from the fury outside, but the lone figure had no such protection. She made no attempt to shield her face from the blowing sand, nor to cover her dark locks from the torrential rain pouring over her and soaking her blue jeans or her black wife beater. No, she welcomed the pain and wetness, especially the wetness running down her face, for the rain hid the copious tears that pricked at the back of her eyelids, and made their way down her cheeks as her body shook violently with the strength of her crying. No, she barely noticed the storm around her for the storm going on inside her own body. She shook her head violently, tossing water and tears from her face as she gritted her teeth. She couldn't believe the events of the evening. She had planned the evening perfectly. It was their one year anniversary, she had intended on surprising Amy with a beautiful candle lit dinner that she had lovingly prepared for the two of them. Not to mention the favor she'd had to call in to a chef friend of hers to actually teach her to cook the meal. She had bought the finest swordfish steaks she could find, prepared them in banana leaves, and steamed them to perfection. The fish she had laid on a bed of wild long grain rice. She'd added a small salad of romaine leaves with sliced roma tomatoes and tossed with a raspberry vinaigrette and for dessert she had chocolate dipped strawberries that she had intended to segue to the bedroom, where she had made their bed with pale rose colored silk sheets strewn with long stem cala lilies. At the top of the bed resting between their silk encased pillows was a flat red pillow in the shape of a heart with a small jewelry case tied to the pillow with a pale rose colored ribbon. Once everything was done, right on schedule and with no 'oopses', she changed into a pair of black dress slacks and a crimson silk v neck shirt with a black dress jacket over it, then moved to the living room where she sat to wait the ten minutes until Amy should walk through the door. And waited. Checking the clock she saw it was well past time for Amy to be home, so she grabbed for the phone to call her. It's not like her to be late and not ca…no sooner had the thought passed her mind than the phone in her hand rang, the caller ID announcing Amy's cellular number. Clicking the talk button to answer she moved to the floor to ceiling window and looked at the ominous dark clouds rolling in over the darkness of the ocean.
"Hello?" Lucy's voice shook slightly with worry.
"Babe, hi…I just wanted to call you and let you know that I'm going to go out for a drink with Skye for a bit. She's just broken up with her boyfriend and needs a shoulder. I shouldn't be too late ok?" Lucy's eyes darted to the plates on the table, the candles waiting to be lit and she felt tears prick the back of her eyelids. Amy seemed to have forgotten. Lucy took a long breath and opened her mouth to speak, hoping her voice wouldn't waver.
"Baby, you still there?" Amy inquired, wondering at her love's extended silence.
"Yeah, yeah I'm here."
Amy picked up on something in Lucy's voice and she wondered at it, but her thought process was interrupted by Lucy speaking.
"You and Skye have fun. I'm gonna go." Lucy spoke quickly, and as she pulled the phone from her ear to turn it off she heard Amy saying "love you". Pressing the talk button again to disconnect the phone she tossed it on the couch and made her way to their bedroom. She ignored the bed as she changed from the dress clothes she'd worn for their dinner to street clothes and made her way from the house.
The third door in their four car garage opened and Lucy backed out slowly, pausing to click the remote door opener to close it. She sat there in the driveway thinking about where to go as the first fat drops of rain fell. Making up her mind she pulled out into the road and drove a short distance before pulling her car out onto the sand of the beach, a safe distance from the waves that were already beginning to pick up with the incoming storm. Exiting the car she kicked her flip-flops off near the car door and moved around to the front end. She leaned back against the car as she started crying harder in concert with the rain coming faster and harder.
Amy clicked the garage door opener and pulled her sleek black Mazda RX8 into the spot and clicked the opener to close the door again. She noticed that Lucy's caddy was missing and furrowed her brow as she opened her door and grabbed her book bag and turned, a tiny bit unsteady from her drinks, to the entryway to the house. Upon disarming/resetting the alarm she closed the door behind her and walked into the dark house. She fumbled for the light switch and, upon finding it, the dining room was flooded with soft light. Amy's eyebrows rose as she saw the beautiful place settings for two and the candles gracing the center of the table. The food on the plates had long gone cold. She looked into the kitchen, opened the refrigerator door and saw the plate of obviously hand dipped chocolate strawberries. Through the slight alcohol haze her mind was reeling, trying to figure out what it was that she was missing. Then, like a brick wall, the date hit her.
"Sonuvabitch"
She moved to the bedroom, noticing the curtain pulled back from the floor to ceiling glass window behind their couch as she passed. Turning on the light in the bedroom her eyes widened as she saw the bed. Sitting on the edge of it she picked up one of the lilies, stroking the beautiful flower idly as she realized how bad she'd messed up. Lucy generally wasn't the most romantic, not that Amy minded, she always managed to let her know she was loved…but it appeared she'd pulled out all the tricks she had up her sleeve to make tonight special. Amy's eyes teared up and she rose from the bed. Walking back into the living room she stood, unknowingly, in the same spot Lucy had stood earlier when Amy had crushed all her hopes for the evening. Looking at the raging storm over the ocean, Amy suddenly knew where Lucy was. She quickly changed into jeans and a tank top and ran out the door, keys in hand. She raced out of the drive and tore the few blocks to the public access area of the beach. She parked her car in the lot, stepped out of the car and was immediately drenched. With an especially bright bolt of lightning she made out the rear end of the Cadillac about halfway out on the sand and began making her way towards the car. Rounding the front bumper she stopped, knowing Lucy sensed her, and took in her girlfriend's wet and distraught visage. At this point Lucy was sitting on the hood of the Cadillac completely drenched and still crying, though quietly. Amy moved towards Lucy and took one of the thin woman's hands in her own, softly pulling her from the hood of the car. Lucy allowed this, but stepped back from Amy as soon as her feet hit the sand. A flash of lightning showed Lucy's face as the epitome of hurt. For her part Amy's face was remorseful and pleading. She slowly moved closer to Lucy, until she was close enough to risk putting her hand on her lover's cold and wet cheek. Her other arm wrapped around Lucy's waist and pulled her closer to her, Finally close enough to whisper against Lucy's ear Amy told her dark haired love that she was sorry in as many ways as she could think of. Seeing that none of them were doing anything to ease her lover's pain, she pulled Lucy's face to hers and kissed her softly. Lucy didn't respond, her lips cold and unmoving as Amy kissed her. Amy didn't give up though, she softly and slowly kissed those ungiving lips until they had warmth in them and began responding to her own. Soon Lucy was returning Amy's kisses with passionate and angry kisses of her own. She seemed to be punishing Amy's lips for ruining their anniversary. The rain poured down over both of them as their lips and tongues dueled for dominance. Amy wasn't giving in to Lucy this time, she had something to make up to her lover. As the rain poured over their bodies Amy reached for the hem of Lucy's beater, pulling it upward until their locked lips blocked any further progress. Pulling away from Lucy long enough to remove her shirt and then her own, smirking at the distinctive lack of bras on both of their parts. Lucy moaned into Amy's mouth as she felt the cold downpour against her bare skin, her nipples immediately hardening as they brushed against Amy's rain slick chest. Amy's hands soon found their way to Lucy's sensitive breasts and bringing another gasp from her lover as she rolled the nipples between her index and thumbs. Massaging the entirety of Lucy's smallish breasts under her skilled hands she felt Lucy's back arching, pressing her breasts more fully into her strong hands. Taking one of her hands away, Amy made her way down to the button fly of her jeans and undid them, then lifted Lucy to the hood of the car where she encouraged her to lay back as she slid her jeans down and off, once again noticing a distinctive lack of undergarments. Lucy began to sit back up but Amy stopped her with a hand to her chest. She scooted Lucy's bottom to the edge of the car and knelt down in the wet sand. She moved her right hand to Lucy's smooth mound and spread her lips, allowing the downpour direct contact with her lover's clit. Lucy gasped at the new feeling, her back arching as the water rolled down and over her. Amy pressed her face against Lucy's mound, slowly licking her lover from bottom to top; her tongue pointed and hard against Lucy's slit. After flicking hard against her clit once, twice, Amy moved back down and entered Lucy. Drawing her lover's elixir out, she stroked her up and down a few times until Lucy's clit was erect and causing her to writhe and moan against the hood as the water pounded against it while Amy's tongue worked its magic inside her. Soon enough though, Amy replaced her talented tongue with her long, slender fingers and began a process of sucking and licking and nibbling Lucy's erect clit as the rainwater washed over both of them and her fingers stroked and curled inside her love, massaging her from the inside as her mouth massaged her. Lucy, never really a vocal lover, was bucking against the hood of her car moaning with abandon and calling to Amy and Jesus and screaming words that would make a sailor blush. Amy felt Lucy tightening against her fingers, felt the orgasm building under her, felt Lucy explode against her face, bucking her hips hard against Amy's face. Amy felt her lover's orgasm start to fade, but she still continued her work inside and outside her lover. Lucy was beyond words now, only able to make guttural sounds and wrap her hand in Amy's soaked golden locks. Amy suddenly bit down on Lucy's clit and made a move with her fingers she'd never used on Lucy before and grinned against her lovers wet mound as she felt her lover's immediate orgasm that seemed never to end, back to back to back to back Lucy came, her use of words completely gone. Amy began licking Lucy's clit with short, choppy moves, enjoying the reaction it had in Lucy, though Lucy was far from in control of them. Lucy, Amy noted with amusement, was passed out spread eagle on the robin's egg blue hood of her 54 Caddy. Gathering her clothes and shoes Amy pulled her lover across the rain slick hood and carried her against her chest to the Mazda, where she placed her naked girlfriend in the passenger seat and then moved around to the driver's side. She grabbed her cell phone and quickly dialed Scud, apologizing for calling so late, but asking him and Janet to drive out to retrieve Lucy's car and bring it home for them. Scud agreed and Amy drove them home, wondering if this made up for Lucy's ruined night or if she would have to do some more groveling on her knees. She grinned, contemplating all the ways she could make it up to her lover.
Suddenly she didn't think she wanted to be forgiven.
Fine
Erotica Fanfiction - Predatory
WARNING! This story is a depiction of sex between two consenting females. If that kind of thing bothers you, isn't your cup of tea, makes you want to tie someone to a fencepost, then by all means do not read. If you are under age, do not read. If your state has laws in place against this sort of thing, then you should probably move...just sayin'. Otherwise, please read on and enjoy. Constructive criticism is welcome as always, but please, don't be rude.
Fandom: D.E.B.S.
Pairing: Lucy/Amy
Predatory
The dark haired beauty walked into the busy club, a predatory gleam to her nearly black eyes. She scanned the crowd with a self confident smile. There was an overabundance of beauty out there, a sea of women out there just waiting for her to choose the cream of the crop. She glanced down at herself, the black jeans with the waistline that sat just above her pubic bone, the halter top that lifted and pressed her breasts into perfection. Yep, everything's straight. At that thought she chuckled. Well, except for what's inside the clothes.
She fought her way through the crowd to the bar, well aware of the burning stares as everyone's eyes moved to her. The bartender moved to her as she arrived, her eyes traveling up and down Lucy's body.
"What can I get you," she asked, her eyes conveying just what she'd like to get her.
"Two shots of Patron silver and a top shelf long island." The bartender's eyebrows shot up at the order, then prepared and handed it to her gorgeous customer. "On the house honey, and here's my number in case you feel like having something a little more intoxicating later"
Lucy favored the woman with her smile and then took her shots back to back. The smooth tequila burned its way down to her stomach and she smiled again. Grabbing her Long Islandshe turned from the bar, tucking the bartender's number in her back pocket as she walked away.
Moving through the floors packed with people with the ease of water she prowled, much as a lean and wild panther would search out her next meal. Her dark eyes were akin to a panther's too. Predatory, searching, always alert, always ready to pounce. Women were making themselves visible to her left and right, but Lucy gave them little more than a passing glance. She was in search of quality, not quantity and most of these women were a dime a dozen. She moved her way up the stairs to the upper seating area overlooking the dance floor and settled herself into a seat near the railing. A tall, waifish redhead with intense green eyes made as if to sit down, but at Lucy's glance she backed away slowly.
As she sat sipping her drink and scanning the crush of dancers below her she settled on one figure that suddenly seemed to her to be the only one on the dance floor. Long slim legs sheathed in tight blue denim rose to a brief glance of well defined pale skin at her abdomen. A spaghetti strapped tank top hung loosely over her obviously free breasts. A defined collarbone, a graceful swan like neck and a face that was a mask of ecstasy as she danced by herself. Gorgeous, in a word. Perfect. Everything Lucy had come to the club weekend after weekend in search of suddenly there in front of her. She watched for a moment as the songs changed and the sway of the blonde goddess's hips changed to suit.
Her feet moving as if of their own accord Lucy abandoned her drink and made her way to the dance floor. Her gaze fixed on the blonde, she walked with determination. Her nostrils flared delicately with her excited breathing, her pupils dilated with the thrill of the hunt. Narrowing in she moved up in front of the taller woman, and as she did the blonde's eyes opened and looked into Lucy's. Moving closer still Lucy's body matched rhythm with the other woman's and holding her gaze she took the blonde's hands in her own and moved them to her own neck. The blonde complied, allowing one hand to slide at the back of Lucy's neck and moving the other to the shorter girl's hip. Lucy's own hands moved to the blonde's waist and she allowed herself the privilege of grazing her fingertips down the woman's bare midriff before settling them there. Pulling the blonde closer still she put their bodies in the closest proximity possible as they ground against one another, their eyes never blinking, never breaking their heated stare. The two figures moved against and with one another as if they'd been born to dance this dance together. As if every day of their life had been spent training for this one moment when their bodys met on this dance floor. The crowd around them moved to give them berth and then stood watching. Their hips swayed and gyrated against one another, their hands traveled against skin and fabric and tangled in hair as if they were old lovers and not two strangers in a club.
The last notes of the song faded and the two slowly stopped moving, still looking into one another's eyes. Lucy grinned at the blonde, and motioned her head towards the exit. The blonde's eyebrows quirked for a moment, then she nodded her head in consent, her eyes smoldering. Lucy grabbed her hand and led her out of the club.
Lucy hailed a cab and opened the door for her leggy blonde prey. Climbing in next to her she gave the cabbie her address and then focused back on the task at hand. The blonde woman was looking her up and down, and Lucy was enjoying every minute of the scrutiny. She moved closer to the blonde, relishing the scent of her shampoo and perfume as she neared her.
"So, beautiful, what's your name?" Lucy's lips were so close to her ear that she could feel the skin as she spoke. "I'm Lucy Diamond."
"A-amy," the blonde returned. "Amy Bradshaw."
"Amy, are you aware that out of all the women in the club tonight, you were by far the most beautiful?" Lucy poured on the charm. This much talk with one of her conquests was very unlike her, but she paid no mind to the fleeting thought. All semblance of thought was given up in the next moment anyway, when the blonde's lips ceased their attempt to talk and instead moved to her throat, where they were doing the most amazing things to her skin.
Slowly Amy's lips trace a trail of fire up the side of Lucy's sensitive neck. She bit down at Lucy's pulse point, then soothed the pain away with her tongue. Down Lucy's jaw line, moving to her lips, hovering so close that Lucy could feel the heat radiating from her. Amy moved closer, her bottom lip barely grazing Lucy's, and then suddenly they screeched to a halt.
"Six dollars and thirty seven cents please," the cabby's loud voice broke their enchantment. "Miss, we are here, that will be six dollars and thirty seven cents please!"
Rolling her dark eyes skyward, she thrust a ten through the window and was out of the cab and on her way up the walkway before the driver could blink.
Unlocking the front door of the townhouse she held the door open so Amy could step inside, checking the woman's ass out as she walked past. She walked in the door behind Amy and barely taking the time to shut the door she had the taller blonde pressed against the wall and took her lips with such fire that she rendered both of them breathless. Their tongues dueled for dominance as their hands traveled new terrain. Dragging her nails up Amy's stomach Lucy broke the kiss.
"Had to finish what we started back there," she said with a cocky grin, then took Amy's hand in hers and led her up the stairs to her bedroom. They made short work of removing one another's clothes and soon were naked and entangled on the bedspread, their lips yet again dueling, their hands searching and teasing. Lucy pulled back and moved fully onto the bed, grabbing Amy's hands and urging her to follow, and when she did she straddled her hips and pinned her hands above her head with one hand.
"If you fuck like you dance then this could turn out to be an interesting night Miss Bradshaw." Lucy's lips twisted into a smile. She released Amy's hands and moved them to her breasts as her mouth moved to tease Amy's earlobe.
Lucy leaned in and gave Amy a hard but quick kiss, kissing her deep enough to entice, but cut it short and pulled away from the kiss, her lips hovering over Amy's briefly as she stared into her eyes. She hovered there, letting Amy feel her breath hot against her lips, but as Amy reached up to claim her lips she pulled away teasingly. She moved her fingertips to Amy's palms, tracing little patterns in the sensitive skin there, enjoying as Amy squirmed slightly under her touch. Done with her palms, she slowly let her fingers trace their fiery designs down Amy's forearms, biceps, over her breasts and down over her torso, relishing in every gasp, moan and whimper she drew from the blonde beneath her. Down her teasing fingertips went, stopping suddenly just south of Amy's bellybutton. Her thigh slid between Amy's just short of Amy's center. Her eyes burnt into Amy's deep blue pools, her lips still hovering hotly over Amy's she suddenly, simultaneously pulled Amy hard against her and took her lips in a kiss that seared.
The kiss was deep and passionate and Amy felt as if her head was going to explode as Lucy rocked against her hot center, causing the friction she had been yearning for since the club so long ago. Then, as suddenly as she had given the friction, she pulled back and moved her lips to Amy's jaw line. Her kisses rained softly from her jaw line to Amy's ear, where she flicked her tongue against the blonde's earlobe. Moving slightly Lucy positioned herself between Amy's legs and began licking and sucking her way down the side of Amy's graceful neck, down her collarbone, across her breasts and down her taught stomach until she was hovering over the most intoxicating of scents.
Meeting Amy's eyes once more to arch her eyebrow at her, she set upon the task ahead of her. As Lucy's tongue stroked Amy top to bottom the blonde moaned deeply, spurring Lucy on. Lucy entered the blonde and stroked her internally with her tongue before pulling out to lightly tease the little bundle of nerves that was almost throbbing it was so swollen. Amy gasped Lucy's name, making Lucy grin against her, then she heard something she didn't expect from the blonde.
"Lucy, wait," Amy gasped out. "I want to taste you too."
Lucy raised her head from her little slice of heaven to look at the blonde, and then nodded slightly. She moved to the head of the bed and kissed Amy one more time before straddling her head and kissing her way back down the toned body underneath her. She gasped as she felt Amy's tongue part her, reveling for a moment in the feeling before reciprocating the action. Amy's expert tongue soon had Lucy moaning against her heated, slick flesh and Lucy could tell that Amy was about to fall over the edge as well. The dark haired girl slid her fingers inside Amy and was rewarded with an audible moan from the blonde. Then she gasped herself as she felt Amy bite down gently before sucking hard on her clit. Lucy mimicked the action and felt Amy's walls tighten around her fingers as she felt herself lose control and fall over the edge.
The room was filled with moans and oddly religious exclamations as both girls climaxed against the other.
Panting heavily Lucy rolled off Amy to her side and moved up to lay next to the blonde, wrapping her tanned arms around her. Amy turned to her and kissed her deeply, allowing their tastes to mingle on their tongues. Lucy pulled the blonde tight to her chest and felt her body start to relax into sleep. This was the point where she normally made a point to tell her one night stands that it was time for them to go to sleep…in separate beds, but oddly Lucy didn't want to send Amy packing. She couldn't help but think as the last vestiges of consciousness left her that she was pretty sure she wanted to know what waking up next to this one felt like in the morning.
Fin
Fandom: D.E.B.S.
Pairing: Lucy/Amy
Predatory
The dark haired beauty walked into the busy club, a predatory gleam to her nearly black eyes. She scanned the crowd with a self confident smile. There was an overabundance of beauty out there, a sea of women out there just waiting for her to choose the cream of the crop. She glanced down at herself, the black jeans with the waistline that sat just above her pubic bone, the halter top that lifted and pressed her breasts into perfection. Yep, everything's straight. At that thought she chuckled. Well, except for what's inside the clothes.
She fought her way through the crowd to the bar, well aware of the burning stares as everyone's eyes moved to her. The bartender moved to her as she arrived, her eyes traveling up and down Lucy's body.
"What can I get you," she asked, her eyes conveying just what she'd like to get her.
"Two shots of Patron silver and a top shelf long island." The bartender's eyebrows shot up at the order, then prepared and handed it to her gorgeous customer. "On the house honey, and here's my number in case you feel like having something a little more intoxicating later"
Lucy favored the woman with her smile and then took her shots back to back. The smooth tequila burned its way down to her stomach and she smiled again. Grabbing her Long Islandshe turned from the bar, tucking the bartender's number in her back pocket as she walked away.
Moving through the floors packed with people with the ease of water she prowled, much as a lean and wild panther would search out her next meal. Her dark eyes were akin to a panther's too. Predatory, searching, always alert, always ready to pounce. Women were making themselves visible to her left and right, but Lucy gave them little more than a passing glance. She was in search of quality, not quantity and most of these women were a dime a dozen. She moved her way up the stairs to the upper seating area overlooking the dance floor and settled herself into a seat near the railing. A tall, waifish redhead with intense green eyes made as if to sit down, but at Lucy's glance she backed away slowly.
As she sat sipping her drink and scanning the crush of dancers below her she settled on one figure that suddenly seemed to her to be the only one on the dance floor. Long slim legs sheathed in tight blue denim rose to a brief glance of well defined pale skin at her abdomen. A spaghetti strapped tank top hung loosely over her obviously free breasts. A defined collarbone, a graceful swan like neck and a face that was a mask of ecstasy as she danced by herself. Gorgeous, in a word. Perfect. Everything Lucy had come to the club weekend after weekend in search of suddenly there in front of her. She watched for a moment as the songs changed and the sway of the blonde goddess's hips changed to suit.
Her feet moving as if of their own accord Lucy abandoned her drink and made her way to the dance floor. Her gaze fixed on the blonde, she walked with determination. Her nostrils flared delicately with her excited breathing, her pupils dilated with the thrill of the hunt. Narrowing in she moved up in front of the taller woman, and as she did the blonde's eyes opened and looked into Lucy's. Moving closer still Lucy's body matched rhythm with the other woman's and holding her gaze she took the blonde's hands in her own and moved them to her own neck. The blonde complied, allowing one hand to slide at the back of Lucy's neck and moving the other to the shorter girl's hip. Lucy's own hands moved to the blonde's waist and she allowed herself the privilege of grazing her fingertips down the woman's bare midriff before settling them there. Pulling the blonde closer still she put their bodies in the closest proximity possible as they ground against one another, their eyes never blinking, never breaking their heated stare. The two figures moved against and with one another as if they'd been born to dance this dance together. As if every day of their life had been spent training for this one moment when their bodys met on this dance floor. The crowd around them moved to give them berth and then stood watching. Their hips swayed and gyrated against one another, their hands traveled against skin and fabric and tangled in hair as if they were old lovers and not two strangers in a club.
The last notes of the song faded and the two slowly stopped moving, still looking into one another's eyes. Lucy grinned at the blonde, and motioned her head towards the exit. The blonde's eyebrows quirked for a moment, then she nodded her head in consent, her eyes smoldering. Lucy grabbed her hand and led her out of the club.
Lucy hailed a cab and opened the door for her leggy blonde prey. Climbing in next to her she gave the cabbie her address and then focused back on the task at hand. The blonde woman was looking her up and down, and Lucy was enjoying every minute of the scrutiny. She moved closer to the blonde, relishing the scent of her shampoo and perfume as she neared her.
"So, beautiful, what's your name?" Lucy's lips were so close to her ear that she could feel the skin as she spoke. "I'm Lucy Diamond."
"A-amy," the blonde returned. "Amy Bradshaw."
"Amy, are you aware that out of all the women in the club tonight, you were by far the most beautiful?" Lucy poured on the charm. This much talk with one of her conquests was very unlike her, but she paid no mind to the fleeting thought. All semblance of thought was given up in the next moment anyway, when the blonde's lips ceased their attempt to talk and instead moved to her throat, where they were doing the most amazing things to her skin.
Slowly Amy's lips trace a trail of fire up the side of Lucy's sensitive neck. She bit down at Lucy's pulse point, then soothed the pain away with her tongue. Down Lucy's jaw line, moving to her lips, hovering so close that Lucy could feel the heat radiating from her. Amy moved closer, her bottom lip barely grazing Lucy's, and then suddenly they screeched to a halt.
"Six dollars and thirty seven cents please," the cabby's loud voice broke their enchantment. "Miss, we are here, that will be six dollars and thirty seven cents please!"
Rolling her dark eyes skyward, she thrust a ten through the window and was out of the cab and on her way up the walkway before the driver could blink.
Unlocking the front door of the townhouse she held the door open so Amy could step inside, checking the woman's ass out as she walked past. She walked in the door behind Amy and barely taking the time to shut the door she had the taller blonde pressed against the wall and took her lips with such fire that she rendered both of them breathless. Their tongues dueled for dominance as their hands traveled new terrain. Dragging her nails up Amy's stomach Lucy broke the kiss.
"Had to finish what we started back there," she said with a cocky grin, then took Amy's hand in hers and led her up the stairs to her bedroom. They made short work of removing one another's clothes and soon were naked and entangled on the bedspread, their lips yet again dueling, their hands searching and teasing. Lucy pulled back and moved fully onto the bed, grabbing Amy's hands and urging her to follow, and when she did she straddled her hips and pinned her hands above her head with one hand.
"If you fuck like you dance then this could turn out to be an interesting night Miss Bradshaw." Lucy's lips twisted into a smile. She released Amy's hands and moved them to her breasts as her mouth moved to tease Amy's earlobe.
Lucy leaned in and gave Amy a hard but quick kiss, kissing her deep enough to entice, but cut it short and pulled away from the kiss, her lips hovering over Amy's briefly as she stared into her eyes. She hovered there, letting Amy feel her breath hot against her lips, but as Amy reached up to claim her lips she pulled away teasingly. She moved her fingertips to Amy's palms, tracing little patterns in the sensitive skin there, enjoying as Amy squirmed slightly under her touch. Done with her palms, she slowly let her fingers trace their fiery designs down Amy's forearms, biceps, over her breasts and down over her torso, relishing in every gasp, moan and whimper she drew from the blonde beneath her. Down her teasing fingertips went, stopping suddenly just south of Amy's bellybutton. Her thigh slid between Amy's just short of Amy's center. Her eyes burnt into Amy's deep blue pools, her lips still hovering hotly over Amy's she suddenly, simultaneously pulled Amy hard against her and took her lips in a kiss that seared.
The kiss was deep and passionate and Amy felt as if her head was going to explode as Lucy rocked against her hot center, causing the friction she had been yearning for since the club so long ago. Then, as suddenly as she had given the friction, she pulled back and moved her lips to Amy's jaw line. Her kisses rained softly from her jaw line to Amy's ear, where she flicked her tongue against the blonde's earlobe. Moving slightly Lucy positioned herself between Amy's legs and began licking and sucking her way down the side of Amy's graceful neck, down her collarbone, across her breasts and down her taught stomach until she was hovering over the most intoxicating of scents.
Meeting Amy's eyes once more to arch her eyebrow at her, she set upon the task ahead of her. As Lucy's tongue stroked Amy top to bottom the blonde moaned deeply, spurring Lucy on. Lucy entered the blonde and stroked her internally with her tongue before pulling out to lightly tease the little bundle of nerves that was almost throbbing it was so swollen. Amy gasped Lucy's name, making Lucy grin against her, then she heard something she didn't expect from the blonde.
"Lucy, wait," Amy gasped out. "I want to taste you too."
Lucy raised her head from her little slice of heaven to look at the blonde, and then nodded slightly. She moved to the head of the bed and kissed Amy one more time before straddling her head and kissing her way back down the toned body underneath her. She gasped as she felt Amy's tongue part her, reveling for a moment in the feeling before reciprocating the action. Amy's expert tongue soon had Lucy moaning against her heated, slick flesh and Lucy could tell that Amy was about to fall over the edge as well. The dark haired girl slid her fingers inside Amy and was rewarded with an audible moan from the blonde. Then she gasped herself as she felt Amy bite down gently before sucking hard on her clit. Lucy mimicked the action and felt Amy's walls tighten around her fingers as she felt herself lose control and fall over the edge.
The room was filled with moans and oddly religious exclamations as both girls climaxed against the other.
Panting heavily Lucy rolled off Amy to her side and moved up to lay next to the blonde, wrapping her tanned arms around her. Amy turned to her and kissed her deeply, allowing their tastes to mingle on their tongues. Lucy pulled the blonde tight to her chest and felt her body start to relax into sleep. This was the point where she normally made a point to tell her one night stands that it was time for them to go to sleep…in separate beds, but oddly Lucy didn't want to send Amy packing. She couldn't help but think as the last vestiges of consciousness left her that she was pretty sure she wanted to know what waking up next to this one felt like in the morning.
Fin
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