Twitterotica themes have been hanging around for some time, with various writers tackling weekly challenges such as #wankwednesday and so on, and writing challenges far and wide are abundant. So when Ruby Kiddell and I started talking about trying to get the weekly smut-a-thons going again I was all for it. Well, she tackled it with her customary flair and the first linky love Wank Wednesday went off with great success!! The goal is two-fold; for writers, a weekly challenge to keep the, err, juices flowing. For readers, you’ll find all the stories linked off at the bottom of each week’s prompt. Are you game? So, welcome to the linky love edition of Fuck Me Friday. All you have to do is this;
- Write a story with the prompt as your title. Today’s will be :
- Tweet it with both the prompt hashtag and the hashtag #FuckMeFriday
- And lastly add it to the links at the bottom of this post.(note, if you don’t want to tweet it or don’t have a blog, I invite you to post your story in the comments section.
~ Court ~
I blinked at the words, tears coalescing to dangle, tempting, at the edge of my lashes. I trembled; the last leaf on a wind stripped branch; the muscle held tight, refused rest, until it fails.
“I. Said. Choose.” I winced. He hadn’t moved. Could I wait him out? The brick beneath my cheek, warm now, pressed ragged, red, fired teeth into my flesh. I could feel every inch of the wall he held me against, every inch of him behind me.
I didn’t want to choose.
My fingers flexed. My mind narrowed in on the pull of the dried mortar against my nails, pushing them back from my skin, threatening their connection.
Abruptly his weight was that of a trebled gravity, shoving me harder. A warm drop spilled down my cheek to dampen the porous wall. Everything reached me through a tunnel as the brick beneath my cheek dug tiny, dull knives into my skin with casual disregard. The scent of copper filled my nose. He growled, his lips against the flesh behind my ear, his body a strung bow ready to pierce me.
“I don’t want to.”
“What?” His fist twisted in my hair, sparking a wash of tiny pained pinpricks across my scalp.
“I don’t want to choose.” My voice started out firm and faded to a whisper.
He leaned harder, the absence of him inside me beating against the walls of my cunt, a blooded tympani drum. “You can’t have it all, Sierra.” His voice, near conversational, juxtaposed against the ridge of his cock nestled in the cleft of my ass, made me ache.
“Why not?” Why were we doing this? Why were we wasting precious time in this dank alley behind his studio instead of losing ourselves in lust?
“I can hurt you.” My cunt clenched as he increased the pressure on my body, setting loose a wave of sharp sensation through my body. “I can court you.” He eased his weight off of me, sliding a gentle caress down the outside of my arm. “I can’t do both.”
I shuddered. A tear slithered loose, sliding a hot line down my cheek. He leaned against me, inhaling sharply before catching that droplet on his tongue. He groaned and rocked against me.
“If you won’t chose, I will.” His fingers dug into my hips, pressing deep, denting my flesh. “Lift your skirt.” My mind spun.
“Here in the all-”
“Yes,” he said, slicing my words into ribbons on the gravelly edge of his voice. “Here. Here I’m going to fuck you. In this filthy alley, against this wall, where anyone can walk around the corner and see you taking my cock.”
I shook my head, I resisted. But my cunt swallowed him wetly when he thrust up into me and I clung to the wall, canting my hips for his pleasure as he drove into me, each thrust dragging my cheek against the brick. I would be marked. I didn’t care. All that mattered was the coiling monster that was my orgasm clawing for release from deep in my groin. His fingertips pinched my at my skin. I wanted to crawl out of my own body. I wanted to drop to my knees and beg him to fuck my mouth.
I wanted. I needed.
When tears ceased to find the shape of drops, sliding down my cheek in a stream, he rubbed his stubbled jaw through them, his thrusts deep and controlled. “Come on my cock,” he murmured, his voice somehow merging with my little pants for breath, “come on my cock and show me just how much you don’t want to chose.”
Somewhere in my mind a tiny voice asked, Are you that easy, to come when bidden? My body answered with relish. I convulsed on his cock, clenching as he pinned me against the wall. He didn’t come. Instead he held himself in check, and still, forcing me to grind myself onto him to come.
“Maybe I can do both,” he whispered, tasting the damp corner of my eye with a kiss so tender I sobbed. “Maybe.”