My Erotica – Out to Dry (3 page)

He didn’t
receive a response and followed up with yet another sharp crack
across the already bruised skin. When he realized Carla had sneaked
up beside him, Angelo shoved Steve off of his lap and in the same
swift movement he snatched her by her arms and dragged her across
his knees. She could feel his hard cock through his pants as it
pushed against her.

“I told you to
wait your turn, slut.” He admonished Carla and made his point with
a vicious smack against her ass. Carla screamed and wriggled
against him.

Steve stumbled
to his feet and frantically searched for his clothes, while Carla
received another swat across her backside. She whimpered, but her
pussy was dripping with arousal, and of course with Steve’s semen
dribbling out of her slit. Steve was just about to the door when he
glanced back at the pair in time to see Angelo's hand falling
against Carla's ass, leaving a bright red trail along her flesh.
Carla gazed up at Steve with a glaze of pleasure in her eyes, and
Steve found himself intoxicated with desire. He dropped his clothes
back to the floor and seized his cock with his hand and started
rubbing himself. He watched as Angelo continued to spank Carla,
much to her pleasure.

The more she
groaned with desire, the harder Angelo's strong hands struck her,
until finally she began to whimper.

“Please, no
more,” She begged Angelo, which only made him swat her several more
times.

“You do not
fuck other men, do you hear, bitch? Do you hear me, are you
listening to me, you dirty, cheap slut?” he asked sternly followed
by a barrage of smacks.

With each smack
of her flesh Steve continued to pull himself harder. He was moving
closer to the couple and flogging his already used penis. He was
wild with excitement, he had never seen anything like this before,
he had never seen someone being spanked, and he had never been
smacked before. Steve rubbed his swollen dick, and moaned and
groaned, loudly enough for the other two to notice. They turned
towards him, and Angelo laughed.

“Oh, you are as
sick as us two, you dirty man. Go on do it again, blow your load
all over the slut, blow it over her ass!”

Steve grew
closer to his climax, his cock was ready, he had closed his eyes.
When Angelo began rubbing and soothing Carla's ass, soothing the
pain he had created, Steve cried out loudly and came onto Carla’s
ass.

Angelo glanced
up sharply as he heard Steve groan with pleasure. Before he could
speak, Steve was on his knees beside him, his face upturned, and
his breath heavy.

“Is it my turn
again for being naughty?” He asked.

THE GHOSTWRITER

She had been
his ghost writer for a few years, writing erotica. He would give
her the ideas, she would fill in the blanks - it worked well. They
had even met once and spent a weekend of uncontrolled passion. But
now she was divorced, drinking too much and her writing was stale.
As Erik abused her over the phone for non-delivery of work, she had
an idea - and 30 minutes later they met in a hotel room.

For a few years
they had been a successful team. He came up with the ideas and the
passion, the excitement, the dirtiness, and she filled in the
blanks. He told her who would be involved and what they would do;
she would fill in the naughty details, the dialogue, and take the
characters on the prearranged journey.

She was his
ghost writer and they made a successful team.

She could not
write under her own name and lacked the imaginative ideas that Erik
seemed able to come up with on a daily basis. She was good at
filling in the story and writing the dialogue.

Indeed, they
had become quite a prolific team, they didn’t write best sellers
but they churned out their short stories in copious quantities and
they grew comfortable – and that was the problem.

They had
forgotten what it was like to be risqué, to be naughty, to operate
outside the square.

A few years
earlier, when they had first started their writing relationship,
they had both become excited over a few of their works and had
exchanged emails, saucy emails, which had taken the relationship
beyond a business relationship.

It started with
dirty messages to each other, and then they would deliberately
write to excite each other, hoping the other would steal away and
masturbate.

One day they
finally moved to a face to face meeting and spent a weekend fucking
each other’s brains out and reliving the sordid acts of the
characters in their books.

They
experimented, pushed each other to sexual limits, but at the end of
their weekend they agreed not to repeat the exercise and they kept
their dirty business to the work of each book.

But that was
then and over the intervening few years she had divorced from her
husband.

She was
childless in her mid-thirties and writing smut for an equally
smutty man who put the books together and published them.

Lately the
magic spark was slowly diminishing, slowly working its way out of
the partnership and she knew it.

KRISTEN

The story had
grown tiresome. She knew it, but kept typing anyway, she kept
banging away on the keyboard as though if you hit the keys often
enough they would produce some magic – they didn’t.

It was
something that had to get done. Missing deadlines didn’t just mean
that she would feel like shit in the morning, this was her job.

When Kristen
had left her husband and moved into this loft apartment downtown,
she knew that there were only two talents she had that she could
use to get some quick money.

The first was
selling her body, the second was writing. And writing got her in to
less trouble and was a lot safer so she had taken that path with
Erik.

On the
nightstand beside her computer, her phone lit up the dark room with
silent surprise. She didn’t have to look, she knew who it was.

She didn’t
answer, letting her voice mail collect the call.

“I still
haven’t heard from you and we need to publish now. You are two
weeks behind, Kristen”, pleaded a familiar voice.

Of course, who
the hell else would be calling her at this time of night? Erik was
her writing partner and owner of a website selling erotica called
‘Dirty Words’.

Before Kristen
had started writing for him the website had been populated by his
own erotic works - cheap, quick porn in words that sold in
reasonable numbers each week. But Erik complained he was burnt out
and writing the same crap all the time. He admitted that he needed
someone to help him, someone to fill in the froth of the ideas he
came up with.

Kristen was the
right girl in the right spot at the right time, she was lucky.

She
communicated with him, after a few back and forths; she had
suggested and ultimately sold him on the idea of her writing some
of his content for him – becoming his erotic fiction ghost
writer.

It had started
with stories that Kristen could write for him quickly. Erik paid
her fifty dollars a pop plus a commission of a few percent. He
would tell her the characters, describe what they would do and then
encourage her to go for it, being as dirty as she wanted.

She knew she
could be making ten times that much selling her pussy, but this was
keeping her away from people who might complicate her life, and
more importantly from danger. And she was good at this.

After many
years of marriage, preceded by a healthy sexual youth full of
variety she had plenty of rich, dirty and disgusting material to
keep her going – at least at first during the early years.

She enjoyed the
writing; it distracted her from the pain of her life. It had
allowed Kristen to pay her rent and buy a food.

Things quickly
changed, though, as their new work combination took off and became
quite popular. It wasn’t on the best seller stands but she was soon
making a thousand dollars a week from her efforts and this was a
comfortable living.

Of course,
comfortable had meant excesses in her life from time to time, and
she took to drinking to ease her over her emotional problems, she
was drinking beer heavily at first and then the harder stuff.

She would drink
heavily, alone, and use the drunkenness as her excuse to be more
creative. It worked, but it also meant sleeping in, feeling like
shit when she awoke and being slow during the day. The side effect
of her heavy drinking was that her output started slowing down and
her imagination dimmed a bit.

Now she was
struggling to finish every story and regularly falling behind their
schedule. Erik often had to call her to get her back on track, he
was being very tolerant of her but it was starting to piss him
off.

On this
particular day he had already called her many times as they had an
urgent deadline to meet.

The fifth time
Erik had called, it was twelve forty five. By then he was screaming
that she was a stupid cunt and telling her she could forget about
working for him ever again. She replied by emailing him the
story.

A few minutes
later, he called again.

“You’re late,”
he said.

“I know,” she
said, trying to sound out of breath.

“My car broke
down and I left my phone at home. I had to walk all the way up
Ventura Ave just to find someone to--”

“Shut up! I
told you when we started this that there would be no excuses.”

“I-I-I know,”
she stammered. “I’m sorry.”

“This shit
you’re sending me. It’s garbage. I can barely sell it. It’s nothing
like what you used to write. What’s wrong with you, where has your
sexual spark gone?”

Kristen thought
about some of her previous stories. They were better. Her favourite
one featured a stripper at a party who decided to take things to
the next level with five horny college students.

It had been her
first time writing about double penetration. In all the years she
had been married, she had always secretly hoped that her husband
would come home drunk with one of his buddies and that they would
take turns on her like the characters in her story. But of course
he never did. Mormons, after all, were not known for their sexual
adventures.

“What happened
to you, Kristen? You remember that story about the utility
worker?”

Yea, she
remembered it all right. The story had been called Hot Wire. First
the utility worker had watched, then he came in and what started as
a rape ended as a bondage experience like none other - one that
left both parties cumming hard. The memory of the story deepened
Kristen’s longing ache, her pussy began to warm and she could feel
herself getting wet. She hadn’t had a good fucking for years – not
since their weekend fuck session and definitely not during her
marriage. But at least it had been better than the dry spell since
the divorce.

“Now that was a
good story,” he said. “That was probably one of my best sellers,
you know!”

Something
inside Kristen began to awaken. She started feeling the old urges.
They had been strong before, back when she still wrote good
stories, but even stronger before she got hitched.

On prom night
she had sucked Graham Home’s dick and then kissed Alahna ‘Z
something’ with the cum still in her mouth. And that had just been
during the limo ride. She had been different then, more
exploratory, more adventurous and less hung up and serious.

“Did you like
it, Erik? Did you like that story? Did it give you an
erection?”

She took this
path to take the heat off herself, but just for a split second she
was aroused thinking of how she used to excite him sexually with
her words. She wished she could get him into bed again and do all
those dirty things they wrote about.

“What?”

“When you were
reading that story were you thinking about me and grabbing your
cock? Did you imagine me reaching into your pants and pulling out
that beautiful cock of yours and playing with it? Is that an idea
that still excites you Erik, it did back then you know. You used to
get off all the time with the words I wrote for you. Don’t you
think we have both lost something lately?”

Kristen even
surprised herself as she said this. She must have surprised Erik
even more because he didn’t say a damn thing.

“You know when
I wrote that I got so wet that I had to lay in the bathtub all
night and rub my pussy until I couldn’t cum anymore. I used to love
those days, Erik, I used to love getting horny for you, writing
messages to you and knowing you would take it out and whack off for
me. You know it used to drive me to such excitement that I would be
sore. What happened to us, why aren’t we like that anymore?”

Silence
again.

“Remember?
Mostly I used my fingers, but sometimes I’d use something else and
I would text you and tell you all about it, and sometimes I would
take a photo and message it to you so you could see what I was up
to. I used to love how I would drive you crazy with my pussy, and
how you loved to see me pushing things into it for you. I loved it
when you took control and just made me do outrageous sexual
things!”

Silence.

And then, “What
else did you use?”

A wicked smile
appeared on Kristen’s face. She was in control again and it felt
good.