No Hope
January 3, 2026
I lie in bed, heart racing as memories flood back… Hope Bridge, the stranger, the intoxicating heat that wasn’t just from the summer sun, but from his body pressed firmly against mine. My fingers trail down my stomach until they reach the slick heat between my thighs. I'm already wet, swollen and aching, the flesh there as delicate as a ripe peach split open in the sun. My other hand finds my breast, cupping its weight before my thumb and forefinger capture my nipple, kneading it to a stiff peak that sends a thrill of energy straight to my core. I arch my back, sheets rustling beneath me like whispered promises.. I’m lost in a daydream. Reminiscent on the night after my first brand shoot, where everything felt electric, raw, and new. So many firsts unfolded under that bridge, each one more thrilling than the last.
My hands moving two steps ahead of my brain. One flat against my clit, circling with exquisite slowness. The other roaming over my body, finding the sensitive bud of my nipple repeatedly rolling them between thumb and forefinger until that sweet edge where pleasure bleeds into pain making me gasp into the empty room, the way his hand did, two days ago. Eyes squeezed shut, I chase the memory across my own skin:
“What did I say about making noise? Am I going to have to punish you again?” His voice dripping in authority, a deep husky growl that should strike fear in me, but instead, it wraps around my heart. His voice a sonorous, husky timbre, resonating through the air like the steady rumble of thunder rolling far in the distance. I tremble, the sound wrapping around me, igniting every nerve ending as my body recalls the weight of his hand wrapped around my throat like a warm embrace, igniting a fire within.
I’m supposed to be journaling… The laptop hums softly in the dim light, its screen glowing with a blank Google Doc titled: "The Bridge." Typing doesn't dull the ache. My cunt throbs with every keystroke, wet and swollen. His knuckles flashed white as he gripped my thighs, spreading me open beneath him, his honeysuckle breath as he dragged his teeth lightly across my neck. His weight pinning me to the grass as he filled me completely, claiming every inch.
It wasn't rape. Gods, no! I've rehearsed that sentence fifty times, tasting the words like forbidden chocolate melting on my tongue. Not for an audience, just for myself. I wanted it, craved it, every ravenous minute, even when my brain was a mile behind my body. I shouldn't have reveled in the pleasure so much. I shouldn't replay it over and over, each time feeling that same sinful thrill. That's the part nobody warns you about... how sometimes you're both the crime scene and the getaway driver, and you keep circling back to the scene, heart racing, hoping to get caught again. Circling over and over and over again until you’re fit to burst!
I dig my heel into the mattress, arching up for leverage, two fingers plunging deep inside my soaked pussy while my thumb circles my swollen clit. The fan's hum rises in pitch as I fuck myself harder, my wetness coating my inner thighs, the pulse between my legs reaching a fevered tempo. I open my eyes for a second, see my reflection in the dark TV screen—legs spread obscenely wide, nipples hard as pebbles, my pussy glistening as I work myself toward the edge.
“Tyler!” I cry out, lost in waves of pleasure as I chase this euphoric high. Memories flood in: the way he loomed over me during our first encounter at the brand shoot, his presence electric. His brother drove his all this way just to be part of this experience. Why did that thrill me so? The realization that he deliberately lingered after the crew had packed up and departed sent a thrill racing through me. Pretending to stroll across the street for ice cream, masking his true intentions while waiting for his ride. I was caught off guard, and oh, how deliciously surprised I was.
I keep thinking about what it means to want this. To want to be overpowered, devoured, split open and spat out like a cherry pit. I’m not supposed to. I've spent years building this identity… the empowered woman, the one who controls her own narrative, who never surrenders her autonomy.
His palm crashes against my shoulder, forcing me down. My knees hit the grass with a dull thud, the cool dampness seeping through the shorts stretched around my ankles. Towering above me, magnificent and terrifying, his shadow falling across my upturned face like a claim of ownership. When he grips my jaw, his thumb pressing into the hollow beneath my cheekbone, I feel myself melting. His cock slides between my parted lips— not gentle, not asking —commanding entry as he pushes deeper until tears spring to my eyes. I gag around his thickness, my throat convulsing, the sound drawing a dangerous smile from him. "What did I say about making noises?" The words drip like honey laced with venom, each syllable a collar tightening around my neck. His fingers tangle in my hair, twisting until my scalp burns. "Now… I'm going to fuck your face until you've learned your lesson this time."
The memory alone makes me buck against my own hand, my body remembering the perfect humiliation, the exquisite surrender. I imagine his cock still there, stretching my lips, filling my mouth until I can barely breathe. My fingers work faster now, matching the rhythm he established when he used me so thoroughly.
The laptop screen dims from inactivity. I should be writing this down, documenting every forbidden detail, but my body has other priorities. I'm so close now, balanced on that knife's edge between agony and release. "You're going to come for me," I whisper, mimicking his command from beneath the bridge. My voice sounds strange in the empty room, a pale imitation of his authority, but it's enough. Just enough.
I arch off the bed, body trembling as the feeling takes me back to that fourth orgasm, the memory so vivid I can almost feel the cool, damp grass beneath me, the earth a soft cushion against my face. Pussy, pulsing, clenching tightly around his length, as I’m bent over a sturdy log, helplessly exposed to the world around me. The sharp edges of the fallen wood dig into my skin, grounding me in this intoxicating moment, while the scent of fresh earth mingles with the heady aroma of summer. Under the bridge, the sun sinks lower, casting a warm glow that barely penetrates our humid, shadowed world. "Please," I gasp as I roll over, my voice hoarse and thick with desperation, my skin slick with sweat. "I can't take anymore, not again."
But he just smiles, that dangerous smile that sends a thrill spiraling through my stomach. It’s the kind of smile that says he knows better than I do what my body can endure. "You can," he whispers against my inner thigh, his breath scorching against my sensitive skin. "And you will."
What strikes me then, as I lay trembling beneath him, is how he hasn’t sought his own release even once. While I’ve come undone four times already, he remains entirely focused on my pleasure, his eyes locked onto my face with an intensity that feels both exhilarating and consuming. Suddenly, he lifts me effortlessly, wrapping my legs around his waist, my arms still bound behind my back. The world around us fades as he thrusts deep, each movement deliberate and powerful, pushing me to the brink once more.
The primal connection between us igniting like wildfire as his cock stretches me impossibly full, each vein and ridge dragging against my swollen walls. I feel every pulse of him as he drives deeper, his balls slapping against my ass with each thrust. His fingers dig bruises into my hips as he pounds into me, relentless and intoxicating. We reach the peak together, his seed spilling inside me just as my pussy convulses around him, milking him dry as wave after wave of ecstasy crashes through my trembling body.
I come like an accusation… hard, sharp, brief, my fingers digging into my thigh as if I could scrape the memory out from underneath the muscle. The fan almost covers the sound, but not quite. There’s a high, keening whine that belongs to me, and the neighbor’s dog picks it up and howls back, a duet of feral need. I laugh, a brittle sound, and roll onto my side, sweat pooling between my breasts.
The moment after is the worst. My pulse slows, and the edges come back into focus… the piles of unfolded laundry, the laptop’s blue glow, the journal prompt blinking like an unanswered call. I should feel disgust. Instead, I feel empty, wrung out and waiting for something else to fill me up. The worst part isn’t what happened, or what I did after. The worst part is knowing I want more. I reach for my bottle of water on the nightstand, parched from exertion, when the unmistakable ringtone of Kim Possible slices through the silence. My phone illuminates with his name—Tyler—and my heart stutters against my ribs. Without thinking, I grab it, fingers trembling slightly as I swipe to unlock. A voice note. Just three seconds long. I press play and his voice fills my bedroom, low and intimate, as if he's right beside me, lips against my ear.
"Good girl."
The bottle slips from my fingers, water splashing across my bare thighs. I freeze, those two words seizing every muscle in my body. My gaze snaps to my laptop, still open on the bed beside me. The tiny light beside the camera glows red, accusing and unmistakable.
He's been watching. The whole time.
"Fuck me." I whisper.
Twangs & Temptation
Press Play for Death
CURRENTLY BEING RE-WRITTEN WITH MORE DETAIL ROUGH DRAFT BELOW
Old Poetry & Writing’s During this oh so fun quarantine time that we all, as a mass of people, are sharing together. I would love to share with you some more of my old writings that I have saved for a wonderful quarantine day like today. Please enjoy. P.S If you have not read my previous poetry blog post keep in mind that most of my work was written at a bad time of my life. I was also 17-19 years old when I wrote most of these, so I tend to sound like a love-sick puppy or a whining teenage girl because that’s exactly what I was. I love reminiscing on old thoughts and feelings and I want to share this part of myself with the world. I no longer want to be the sad, shy, vulnerable girl I was when writing these. The girl who was too scared to show the world who I truly am. I will share more recent works once I actually get the creative juices to start writing poetry or short stories again. Until then enjoy the works of my broken past self. Boring Can’t you just hold me? Right now you’re making me feel a little boring. Probably snoring. When we could be soaring, higher than ever before, but I’m sunk on the floor. What a bore. Just something I can’t ignore. Falling Behind What do you write about when all you think about is one thing? How should this even begin? Like, life’s like a ladder that never ends. Take two steps forward and two more begin. Take A Seat Don’t know what to write, so my man’s going to get me a Sprite. Try to get my juices flowin’ so I can start growin’ to become what I want to be. letting y’all see that I’m capable, come take a seat at my table. I’ll show you what’s on the menu. Trust me, you’ll be impressed with the venue. Learning Wish I had some better words, more complex verbs. Everything just comes out boring, my puns start sounding kinda corny, but I’m still learning. Most people at this point shoulda heard of me, if not, fuck em. I’m on the next level. Too Much Too much going on, I don’t know what’s wrong. Thought everything’d be great. Let the hate dissipate. When I’m rhymin’ the whole floor starts to shake like an earthquake. Yo Joe, I ain’t fat doe. I eat a whack MC like a burrito. Mamacito. Poems Keep re-writing these lines like I was writing some poems. Which is so dumb. I don’t know, where is my flow from? But I know it makes you go numb. Dancin’ to the drums of this dopalicious beat discrete on the creep. Hot like Miami Heat, put y’all niggaz to sleep. Stuck on disbelief, watch me while I slay the chief. Shag - Know the Feeling *Click the Title for Instrumental Having good thoughts for tots. I don’t want them to ever stop feeling the euphoria till the beat drops. My senses heightened off the rocks, but the clock ticks on and on. I try not to feel anything that could be goin wrong cause we all know the feelin and life goes on. Fight or Flight Get smacked up left and right. We down to the wire. Time to fight or flight on out the door. can you hear em’ screamin’ for more and more? ♡ Bitch Niggaz ♡ *One of my favorites! Fuck this shit, most people in the game don’t even know how to spit. No way they playin’ for themselves, they’ll be puttin’ plaques of me upon they shelves. Devilish and hellfulish, these sucka’s only want one thing. Its all one big game. I’m sick n’ tired of these kids, y’all should go back to wearin’ them bibs. I don’t give no shits if you don’t think that I can spit. -Add More?- Don’t think you can erase me. You best believe I represent for all. Come on lets play a little ball. I know you’ll be cryin’ as I’m flyin’ in on y’all. This is soaring right above your head. Matter O’ fact, might as well be dead. Cause I’m done with it all, to the ground you all will fall. Bow down to the masta’, turnin’ your rap flow into a disasta’. Sorry about that, probably got your brain a little fried. Never heard someone who could actually rhyme without adding no N-words or committing a single crime. Note: I felt like this last piece needed something to connect the two different rhythms. I didn’t want to write 2 separate pieces though because it all goes well together. Suggestions are always helpful. Before anyone says anything about the title having the word Nigga in it, that’s the whole point of joke and why I titled it the way I did. So don’t get your panties in a wad. One Liners / Quick Verses Verses or one liners I wrote down because I knew it could create some fire verses if I could elaborate on them. If you like writing pretty please reach out and give me some ideas on where to take some these brief and lonely verses. Peanut Butter Wolf The peanut butter wolf. Also, the name of this new kush, smush. D.ckless Hocus Pocus! _____ got no d.ck. Go on try, give it a little kick. Jokes You look a lil’ smug, get capped wit my mug. Just kidding, give me a hug. Droppin’ Bombs I tend to drop bombs like Hiroshima, nobody said I even needed ya. Opiate You’re like my opiate, how dope is that? Spirit N’ Soul I’m not that lyrical, but I know I can be spiritual. I let words roll off my soul. Eat Rap Eating rappers catered lunch and dinners, Lynyrd Skynyrd. Smoke Wiff Blunts I smoke wiff blunts, I crack jokes, and I’m pretty nice to old folks.
“You’d be prettier if you smiled more; Could you be a doll and get someone more qualified to help me; There’s no way you could be the manager, your just a kid; Hey there pretty lady; What country are you from? Your hair looks better straight; You don’t act/sound black; Can I touch your hair?” Just a select few common micro-aggressive phrases I’ve actually had said to me by other people throughout my life, sometimes on a regular basis. Do I look as if I’m a child that shouldn’t be taken seriously? Being a 25 year old mixed woman in America, can be tough at times. I hate seeing how differently I get treated because I’m a woman, because my skin is a darker complexion, or because of my young age. I’ve had so many instances where I would be handling a disgruntled guest at my job (receptionist) and they would start yelling and carrying on with me, but as soon as I would grab the manager who was a middle aged white male, an instant 360 degree change in their demeanor. I’ve never been a person to use my race, gender, age or anything as an excuse to say I have it harder than others in life or that I face more setbacks, but when I see drastic changes in people’s behavior between me and another person in less than a minute, it’s hard to not ask myself those ‘what if’ questions. Alongside being a young, multiracial, women, I can be very shy and soft spoken. This literally gets me nowhere in life. Yay me! It’s funny because most women of color get labeled as loud, aggressive, pushy, etc. I’m in no way a loud or aggressive person and I wish stereotypes didn’t hold so much regard for the way people handle their first impressions and interactions with others. The first time in my life that I ever thought the color of my skin made me different than others was when I was in elementary school. Kids would ask me all the time, “Is that you’re Mom?” I thought nothing of it because I knew my mom was my mom. No questions asked, but one day a kid asked me a different question. “Are you adopted?” I was so confused by this question. What does adopted mean? This question was on my mind all day long until I got home and finally asked my mom what it meant. She giggled and told me the meaning and that I was in no way adopted. I still never grasped the concept of being different based on the way I looked until I had run-ins with racists acts face to face. I had a boy in the 2nd grade tell me he didn’t like me back because I was black. It confused me so much. What’s wrong with being black? I’d ask myself, hardly understanding the meaning behind the word black . I’d have more accounts like this throughout my life from being taken to white only country clubs to having to cancel photo-shoots with prejudice photographers. I could make a whole grocery list of things that have happened to me in my life just because of the color of my skin. Then to add the accounts because of my gender or age, the list only grows. You know what I find just as laughable as racism, gender rules and sexism. Woman acting loud or aggressive and then being labeled as bitches or unattractive, especially black women who get this reputation before speaking a single word. Yet men acting loud and aggressive in the same fashion being labeled masculine or sexy. The gender rules for how a person should and shouldn’t act or what makes a man a man and a women a women is a load of crap! All we are teaching future generations is that it’s NOT okay for a person to do and act in ways that make them feel like themselves. Saying a boy can’t pick flowers and put them in his hair because its girly is stupid. What if he wants to grow up to be a botanist and this is his stepping stone to realizing his dream? Well guess what, a whole society of marginalized robots just told him he can’t because it’s a “woman’s job”. Give me a break. I never truly saw the line of treatment between being male and female until I entered the work force and got into a serious relationship with a white man (an ex of mine). Customer service jobs are the worst at revealing the true colors of people. Anytime I would be working alongside other women I would notice how we would run into more angry guests than if I were working with male counterparts. I’d also notice a change in demeanor in most guests if I would grab a male co-worker or manager vs. a female co-worker or manager in problem situations. It would only make me think… What if I were the manager? Would they still treat me with this same level of disrespect? Or worse because I’m even younger than they are? Unfortunately the answer is yes. People don’t take women as serious as they do men. Why this is, is beyond me. Do we seem like push-overs? Do our words not hold the same gumption as men? Is it our looks? I’ve always have a million questions running through my head when I run into instances where my words hold no grounds to be listened to or followed. Even other women are this way, it’s not just men who act as if I have no authority when I speak. Its everyone and it baffles me. I was a manager at a convenient store at 18 years old. While I was there I had customers ask for the manager ALL-THE-TIME. It felt so good and empowering to look those people dead in their eyes and say, “You’re speaking with the manager.” It was like YES! I will finally earn the respect of this customer because they have no other option but to deal with me, the manager. This did nothing to change the way customers would treat me though. They would continue their rambling or shouting and I would tell them the exact same thing I had literally just said two seconds before they knew I was the manager and I would end up with an angry customer storming out of my store. Why? Because they just couldn’t take me seriously. Funny isn’t it? There is no aspect of my life that isn’t pre-judged or affected by what people see me as, a young, African American, female. I find this in no way disempowering to be a woman or to be multiracial. All I care about is being respected as much as anyone else of any other race or sexual orientation! It’s as simple as that. I noticed the difference in treatment between me and an ex of mine who was a white male. When we would have to deal with customer service agents for say, moving into a new home, calling a customer service agent, etc. anytime I would speak with these people I would get the run around. “We’re sorry for the inconvenience, but there’s just nothing we can do. Sorry, not sorry.” Then I put the white male on the phone and BOOM! Problem resolved and oh, they'll even throw in a free $20 off the next order. Give me a freaking break. Not only have I dealt with these experiences personally, but recently since currently being in a relationship with a black male and rekindling my relationship with my father I can see the other side of the disrespect I and other people of color face when in just about all situations. It is crazy to me how some of the simplest situations can be turned sour just because of the color of my skin. My boyfriend and I were discussing something recently that you wouldn’t think to be a racial issue, but most definitely is. I had to go renew my license at the BMV and while I was there filling out the new papers he asked me why I put “other” as my race instead of “African American” (I don’t believe this is a question you get asked at a BMV, it was just a question that came up randomly). I never really thought of it to be something to talk about, but later in the day his family, himself, and I had an entire discussion about it. I told him that I choose the “other” box because they don’t have a multiracial box to choose from … yet. Then thinking about it more I asked myself, “ Why do they need to know what race I am in order for me to do the job properly? ” The answer is, they don’t. They only want to know so that they can pre-judge me and decide if they need another one of my kind at their establishment. Same goes for my sexual orientation. Not a necessary thing to need to know in order for a person to do a job unless it involved extreme manual labor. Now, asking me if I can lift more than 50 pounds, type 50 wpm (words per minute), or anything relevant to the job itself is perfectly understandable. Asking if I’m a male or female to see if they think a woman can do that job or a black woman can do that job is not needed. I can think of so many instances and things in this world built to hold me back or make me feel insecure and less than a person because of my race, sexual orientation, and my youth. There have been plenty of times that my spirit has been broken and the stigma that I am not capable of doing certain things because of … have beaten me down to feel worthless, but every time that happens I find a way to remind myself that I am a bad ass, multiracial, female that is capable of doing anything and everything I put my mind to. I have to move past the fact that most people in this world won’t take me seriously or will choose to count me out before giving me a chance just because of those minuscule things. I choose to not shrink back, not to let the systemic oppression win and to succeed at all the things people believed I couldn’t achieve. I want all the other women who read this and are saying, “Isn’t that the truth.” To do the exact same thing and always remember that a life that’s challenging is only that way because the universe obviously favors us and thinks we are capable of handling that all extra challenging stuff. So what I am basically saying is GIRLS RULE! Everyone else is just cool. 😎 Things to check out: 10 Excellent Sites on Women’s Rights Black Girl in Om (Apple Podcast)
Ever since High School, maybe even before, I have always been a lover of art. Any kind of art spanning from writing to sculpting, singing and dancing, crafting or designing. I love expressing myself in a fun and unique way that can be perceived in so many different lights. A big part of my life when I graduated from High School was my poetry and lyrics. I was going through a rough patch in life and my means of escaping, venting, or lifting myself up were written down or recorded. I spent awhile debating whether I wanted to share this delicate part of myself with the world because criticism from your peers and mentors can be devastating. I’m no poet, rapper, or singer song writer type, but writing has always been my number one anti-anxiety medication. Everyone has their own method of stress relief and mine usually is done with writing. I do have my occasional, maybe more frequent, venting sessions with my friends where I blow their heads off with my obnoxious amount of pent up frustrations that come spewing out of my mouth hole. Luckily they still love me and continue to be there for me, no matter the word vomit they must endure. I’d like to start off with a few of my favorite pieces. Keep in mind when reading these that I was not in a good place in my life. I had big ups and even bigger downs. Some content may be sensitive or triggering to some and/or may be directed towards people in my life. I never mention anyone by name in my work and I will not be posting anything that would cause emotional pain to any individual person. Also, a lot of my work is unfinished. I would tend to start scribbling something down and then never come back to it. I didn’t want to add to any of my work because it represents who I was in those moments of my life and I admire that in a way. Please enjoy. Sirens When they look at you what do you think they see? Translucence as bright as the sea. Trying to be set free, then you look at me. Writing’s Alright All I want to do anymore is write. Everyone’s got my feelings taking flight. Am I going to be alright? Words can’t describe the feeling, but its as close as it gets. Sometimes I feel like if I just hold my breath, close my eyes, and count to three. Just to figure out who I’m supposed to be, then its back to reality. The grass isn’t always greener on the other side, you’ll see. Careful What You Wish For While you’re over here wishin’ you could be small and fit. Some girls out here wish to be curvy and thick. STOP! Don’t define yourself, let it affect your health. Trying to reach your peak of wealth with cards you’ll never be dealt. Sunrays - Madlib *Click Title for Instrumental My sun rays seem to be turning gray, why does it feel like you’re so far away. Please, just explain to me this one thing. Where’s your heart and who are you trying to be? All I see are clouds so hazy, at some point you should at least try and amaze me. I want your full potential, just flowin’ through all those instrumentals. Be my sunshine, the reason that’s made me go blind. Like its the end of our lives. I’ve always loved the color of your eyes, open up to me and be who you wanna be while no one else can see. I want you to be free. You’re locked up so far away, the path of light you have gone astray. But I will be your sunshine to guide you. Please don’t make me your prey and I shall stay. Doodle Bug Doodle bug. Vanilla scented lil’ hugs. Where’s all the time go? Slowly the work becomes worth its slow burns and incense. Find the new sense of innocence. When I Was A Kid Playin’ on jungle gyms and learning how to swim. Back when everyone wanted to be my friend. It’s a little bit funny, cause now all I do is try to make little money. I remember how back in my day everyone use to say, “Never grow up, stay a kid.” But growin’ up’s exactly what I did. A Midsummer Nights Dream Worship me, make me feel more important than thee, A midsummer nights dream. Feels like things are unfolding at their seams. Relish in the time that we’ve spent caressed in each others flesh. “Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind, and therefore is winged cupid painted blind.” ( MND 1.1. 234-235 ) I can feel this deep inside, without a clear thought you’ll start to lose your mind is what a life of love feels like this moment in time. Thought U Wuz Nice - J Dilla *Click Title for Instrumental Thought you was nice, but I’m just tryna turn blind men into Mr. Rights. Come on, thought we was compatible, thought our love was adaptable, could be I’m just crazy. I can tell my visions turned a little hazy, got too much self doubting and pouting need someone that’s a little grounding. Crazy to think it could be you, but your on all that if, when, and who. Just get a clue. Thinkin’ everyone’s nice, your gonna pay the price, but I thought you was nice. I mean you got my attention, got me feelin’ this way again, playin’ with my head again. Shit, I always fall for that dumbass trick. Just stop the record. CLICK! Thank you all for taking the time to read some of my work. I’ve changed in so many ways since this time in my life when I wrote all of these pieces. This was just a tidbit of what I wrote in those few years. During that time I was in a relationship that was terrible for my mental health, I felt at odds with my family, and I had distanced myself from all my friends. My only means of escape were through writing. This was a double edge sword for me at the time though. The person I was with enjoyed writing and rapping and so this would cause a lot of turmoil between us. I had always loved writing, but it turned into a chore for me, in all honesty I haven’t written a single poem or verse since that time, but when I found all my work a few months ago it truly inspired me to start writing again. If you would like to read more of my old work please reach out and let me know. I will be posting some new poems and writings that I have been working on since finding my old work. I will also be sharing more of my old work including short stories and other projects I pursued when I was younger. Please keep in mind that this is my personal work and should not be copied or duplicated in anyway for anyone else’s self gain without my permission first. Thank you!
He lay next to me like a freshly glazed honey bun, sun glistening against his wet sandy skin. The perfect man. Not only did he have the looks, but he had the charm and personality to match. Rubbing my feet as we lay talking about weird hypotheticals. He always knew how to make me smile and feel like I’m the only person here on earth alongside him. “Baby, what would you do if I had two noses for the rest of my life? And the other one was where my belly button is?” he asked, so nonchalantly because these are questions we ask each other on a daily basis. “Baby, you know I would love you no matter how many noses, or belly buttons, or other multiple body parts you have. I love you for you, no matter what that may be.” I said as I caressed his face. He slowly closed his eyes and lay his face deeper into my palm. I’ve also loved this soft, sensual side of him. He craves my love and I crave his. The natural attraction I feel for this man is astounding. “You better, because your stuck with me regardless. Pshh! If you had 4 toes and 11 teeth I’d still love you girl. You got me fucked up if you think I’d stop loving you just cause you look like a whole circus.” he said in his most sarcastic tone. Trying to keep a straight face, but that devilish side smile can’t be hidden from me. He was always the one. I’ve know this since the first time I met him. The way we talk, the way I feel when I’m close to him. He feels like home, so familiar and natural. As if we’ve lived another life together. “I need you to do me a favor baby.” he said, his voice shifting into a deeper and more sensual tone. “I need you to come sit on daddies dick in front of all these people.” he insisted as he started to rub up my leg and into my crotch. He started putting his other hand in his pants and asked, “Can you do that for me baby?” I bite my lip as I felt his soft warm hand work its may up my body and around my clit. Closing my eyes I laid my head back taking him in. Letting him tease my wet pussy until I had no other choice than to take him up on his offer. “Yes daddy.” I breath as I let him work my wet suit bottoms off me. “ Anything for you daddy.” I said. I love calling him daddy and letting him bossing me around like the little slut I am. Being called names and spanked like a bad girl has always been a turn on for me. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy being the boss and doing my fair share of tying him up myself, but I want to be ruled like a fucking planet. I want my entire body explored before I take charge. Excited from the public display of naughtiness I got right on top of daddy, so that he and I were face to face and I started shoving that dick inside me like it was my favorite toy. So wet from him teasing me, rubbing my clit like it was a guitar. I couldn’t help myself, I let out a load moan and a few eyes glanced our way. This is so fucking hot! I thought to myself. I’ve never done something so risky and yet so fun and exhilarating. “Looks like we’ve got a few fans baby. Bounce up and down on daddies dick faster.” daddy said as he took a handful of both my ass cheeks and gripped them tight. I continued fucking the shit out of daddy. I knew everyone was loving it just as much as we were. He bite his lip and started to moan loader, just as I started to cum all over daddies dick. I yelled, “I’m cumming!” So loud that I know everyone within a mile radius heard me. Everyone that had been standing around watching started to clap as daddy pulled his dick out and came all over my face. I tasted his sweet, warm cum and smiled for the audience, “Thank you, daddy.” “No, thank you girl.” daddy said as he kissed my cum covered lips.
I couldn't resist stealing a glance at him, my heart pounding as I admired his striking features, sharp wit, and charming nerdiness. Unfortunately, we were not alone in his cramped office, but the thought of getting caught only heightened my desire for him. The way he moved and spoke ignited a flame within me, making me yearn to rip off his clothes right then and there. "Could you possibly find somewhere else to be during lunch?" I silently pleaded with the unwanted visitor. He had every right to use the space, but all I wanted was some alone time with him. Please let him have plans, even if it's just for 5 minutes. Whoever is out there controlling fate, please make it happen now. I couldn't stop myself from letting out a low whistle as I took in the sight of his messy desk. It was cluttered with documents and books, but my eyes kept drifting towards the corner where his collection of funko pops and action figures from comics and manga proudly stood. He chuckled softly, trying to downplay the mess, but all I could think about was how adorable and nerdy he was. Yet, there was also an air of confidence about him that only added to his allure. I took a deep breath, basking in his intoxicating cologne. He was so close, radiating warmth like a magnet, making it difficult for me to concentrate. All I wanted was to confess my overwhelming attraction towards him, but I had to remain patient until we were alone. If only the opportunity would arise. "That doesn't look too messy to me. Do you watch Mashle?" I quickly inquire, frantically trying to recall anything about the anime I just mentioned. It's a common problem for me - bringing up topics I know little about - which usually results in awkward silences and my retreat back into my introverted shell. I could tell he was a die-hard admirer, and I couldn't resist the urge to indulge in his passionate ramblings. His words were like rich, decadent chocolate melting on my tongue, leaving me craving for more. More of him, in every way possible. Imagination taking over. I create illusory of everything I want to happen. Reality being that I fall short in every way. Exit the uninvited office guest. Watching the guest leave, a primal desire overtook me. Our eyes locked and we both knew what would happen when that door clicked shut. I nibbled on my lip, playing with the idea in my mind. Our gazes spoke volumes as our bodies danced with tantalizing desires. He pulled me close, our lips meeting eagerly as our hands explored each other's bodies. My breath quickened as his touch sent shivers down my spine. "Will anyone catch us?" I moaned, hoping for a negative answer. He said nothing, but lifted me onto his desk effortlessly. My jeans were gone in an instant, replaced by intense arousal. I wrapped my legs around him, eagerly anticipating his next move. There was something about him that made me feel wild and uninhibited. A familiar heat surged through me and I couldn't help but laugh with delight. I couldn't resist the urge to undo his flannel shirt, my fingers eagerly working their way through each button. The fabric was so soft and inviting, and it only heightened my excitement as I exposed his chiseled frame. He was like a Greek god in the flesh, with shoulder-length dark locks and sharp features that drove me wild. And those full, soft lips were just the cherry on top of this already perfect package. As his lips explored my neck, I couldn't help but moan uncontrollably. He dropped to his knees and I wrapped my legs around his head, lost in the sensation of his hands gripping my behind like a ripe peach. My body yearned for him, craving to feel him inside me. Pulling at his hair, I brought him up for air before diving back into ecstasy. This man was everything I desired and more, and I wanted to taste and experience every level of pleasure with him. Overcome with longing, I exhaled the words "I need you inside me right now." His muscular frame towered over me and without hesitation, I reached for his pants. My hands shook with anticipation as I undressed him down to his naked form. With primal instincts guiding us, I tugged on his member as if he was on a leash, eager to have him fill me up. Pressing the head against my throbbing core, I teased both of us with the promise of what was to come. The sensation of him against me, the nearness of finally being joined, sent shivers through my body. A soft moan escaped his lips and that's when I couldn't wait any longer. Letting go of my grip, he slid deep inside me, eliciting a loud moan that reverberated in the secluded space. In an instant, he muffled my cries, reminding me of our vulnerability to being caught at any moment. The thrill only heightened the intense pleasure coursing through my body. With each deliberate thrust, my body responded eagerly to his touch, craving more. As he slowly moved in and out, my moans grew louder and my fingers clutched at the desk in ecstasy. Finally giving into my pleading, he took me hard and fast. Wrapping one hand around his neck and the other on the desk for support, I arched my back as he pounded into me with increasing intensity. The sounds of our bodies colliding and the desk shaking created a symphony of pleasure that echoed throughout the room. But soon, he turned me over and took me from behind, pulling on my hair and leaving tantalizing kisses and nibbles on my neck. I was completely consumed by him, wanting more and more. He effortlessly switched between my two favorite positions, driving me wild with lust. It was as if he could sense my every desire without a single word. As his rhythm quickened, I knew I was on the verge of climaxing. Waves of ecstasy crashed over me with each powerful thrust, building up until it hit me like a tidal wave. My moans of pleasure were stifled by his hand over my mouth, but it only heightened the intensity. And just when I thought it couldn't get any better, he released himself inside me with one final surge. I lay there, gasping for air, feeling utterly satisfied and intoxicated by the intense pleasure he had given me. It was one of the most incredible org*sms I had ever experienced, made even more special by the deep connection we shared. As we both caught our breaths, a contented smile spread across my face, knowing that we had just shared an unforgettable experience together.
Writers Note: Keep the following in mind while reading this story. I created this for my family Christmas because every year someone writes a story and incorporates everyone’s name. We play a game while reading and pass around hand woven ornaments when a persons name is said in the story. Whoever the ornaments stop on by the end of the game get a scratch off lotto ticket. This has become a fun new family tradition and is the reason the story is written the way it is. I hope you enjoy and may even end up incorporating a similar fun little tradition into your family get together’s as well. The next chapter will be available at Christmas time this year. … “Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house, not a creature was stirring not even a mouse. The stocking were hung by the chimney with care. And Zombie moans and groans filled the crisp morning air.” DAY 1 : Merry Z-Mas Erbaugh Family Christmas is a time to spend with family and show your gratitude, love, and appreciation for one another. We all look forward to the delicious home cooked family dinners, opening heartfelt gifts, and creating memories that last a life time. But…what if those lasting memories; all the joy, laughter, and savory smells were exactly that…The Last. A rain cloud hovering over Port Jefferson, Ohio comes into contact with a deadly radioactive substance lingering in the atmosphere. Only 30 minutes north of Troy in the small town of Port Jefferson a family is having horrible family Christmas. Turmoil has sprang up and ruined their day. Relatives are bickering and people are starting to leave. That’s when little Susie looks up at the sky and notices an ominous, almost sickly looking green cloud floating only inches above her Dad’s car. She looks around and no one else seems to notice anything, so among all the chaos Susie hops up onto the hood of her dad’s car to see if she can touch the low hanging cloud. It pops! Just like a bubble, right into little Susie’s face, and she falls to the ground in tears. “SUSIE!” Her father shouts as he rushes to her side kneeling down to get her up off the cold wet pavement. Susie starts to cough and blood starts pouring from her nose. Her father rushes her off to the emergency room leaving the bad blood in the dust. Doctors and nurses at the hospital are baffled by the side effects little Susie is starting to express. She’s turning pale. Her heart is slowing rapidly, and she’s becoming more and more aggressive as the doctors try to find out what happened. The doctors soon notice that Susie’s father who has been sitting next to Susie the entire time is becoming a little green around the gills as well. He ends up in the bed next to her only minutes later. * *This is just the beginning of the end and the Erbaugh family only has but a few hours left to savor those last holiday treats before their whole world changes forever.** Karen ushers Kathy toward the kitchen door to start sending some of the younger kids in to grab their plates. She turns to head towards the other room where sounds of chaos have sprung free. She grabs Amara, Caleb, Brandon, and Eris to head into the kitchen and grab their food. “Hey! Uhmmm what about me? Hunter’s the youngest, so don’t I get to grab our plates too?” Jasmine shouts to Kathy over the roar of family mingle. Kathy furrows her brow at Jasmine and closes her eyes for a second. She sighs and nods her head toward the kitchen giving Jasmine the go ahead to grab food for Hunter and her. “That’s not even fair! Layne stands up and crosses his arms. “She should have to wait and get her plate with all the other adults.” He gives Kathy a dead serious look and then starts giggling as he sees both Jasmine and Kathy’s faces flair up with rage. “I-I’m just playin, she can do whatever she wants. Hunter is the youngest after all...Ha ha…” He stumbles over his words as he retreats back to his seat realizing the joke just wasn’t as funny out loud as it sounded in his head. “Shup up Layne! You’re not even funny.” Alexis rolls her eyes over at Layne and then smiles back up at Kathy and Jasmine who are making their way into the kitchen. “She shouldn’t have to wait to feed Hunter just cause SHE’S an adult. It probably worked the same way when we were all babies.” She continues to lecture Layne in a joking manner about him giving Kathy and Jasmine a hard time. Others start to chime in. “Yeah Layne, what were you even thinking. Asking a mother to starve her child on Christmas! Wow man, that’s just low.” Jayden says as he tries to keep a straight face, but can’t contain his laughter as he keeps hounding Layne with more low blows. They all start bursting out laughing and shortly after change the subject to something about farts. I think… Meanwhile, Dave and Dave are relaxing in the living room sunken into whatever seat they’ve reserved for themselves. They watch sports as they wait for everyone else to finish grabbing there plates before they head to the kitchen to sift through the scraps. **Who are we kidding, there’s enough food at these get-together’s to serve a whole military convoy** “Who do you thinks gonna win this one Dave? My money’d be on the Patriots.” **Before we go any further let’s clarify the Dave’s we have here in this story. Shall we. We have Dave and David that we will refer to them as throughout the rest of the story. Dave being Dee’s husband and David being Kathy’s husband. ** “Yeah, Patriots got this one for sure. May even make it to the Super Bowl again this year.” David chuckles and starts to get up to head into the kitchen. “I think we’re up.” He looks over at Dave and then walks out of the room. Later on that evening after everyone’s finished eating Skyla goes over to Karen to ask if they’ll be starting games and opening presents soon. Karen looks up at Skyla and smiles. “I was just about to get started on games. I want to wait till later to open presents after we’ve played a few games.” “Do I get to be Santa this year?” Jostlyne asks as she walks into the room behind Skyla. “I feel like it’s been forever since I’ve been Santa or elf. I’m definitely dressed the part.” She continues as she glides her hands down her very Christmas spirited wardrobe. “I’ll be Santa and Jayden is elf this year. You’ll get your turn, just be patient.” Karen giggles and starts to her bedroom to grab the materials needed to get started on the games she’s prepared for the evening. Outside the living room window underneath the stairs going to the upstairs apartment is a small rapping on the glass. Dee turns around to peak out the blinds to find out where the noise is coming from. A look of complete disbelief crosses her face as she turns around and starts to stand up away from the window manically laughing. “Haha… Uhmm guys, I think… I can’t believe I’m even saying this right now, but I think there’s an uhmm zombie outside the window.” Dee says as she goes back to the window to look again just to be sure she hasn’t lost her marbles. She thinks to herself, “There’s no way that it’s ACTUALLY a zombie, it’s gotta be Jayden or Layne or one of their friends playing a prank on us.” She looks through the blinds again as Heather and Eris come up beside her to take a peak themselves. “HOLY SHIT BALLS! No way! That’s not a real zombie is it?” Heather shouts as she turns to waive Brad to the window to take a look and confirm if she’s right or not. “Brad come here and look at this guy. His make-up is unreal!” Everyone else starts to make their way towards the window trying to get a look at the zombie man outside the house. Dee turns around to see if Layne and Jayden are in the room, she sees them standing right behind her. “Did one of you guys put someone up to this?” Heather looks over at Layne and Jayden to gauge their reaction and see if she’s figured them out. Just as she’s about to call them out on pranking the family the man at the window notices the movement of everyone inside and goes crazy. He starts beating relentlessly at the window and it slowly starts to crack as he hits harder and harder. Layne and Jayden look at one another and then back at the family. “We definitely didn’t do this. I have no idea who that guy is Mom.” Layne points at both him and Jayden and starts to back away from the window slowly. Everyone else follows suit as the glass starts to give. “What the fuck? Is this guy seriously breaking Grandma’s window?” Jayden says angrily clenching his teeth trying to keep from going outside and giving this guy a piece of his mind. Just as Jayden’s about to head out the door the window shatters and the blinds fall to the floor. Growling and moaning noises grow louder and louder as the man with only half a face starts to climb over the broken window frame. Sounds of tearing flesh can be heard as blood spurts out all over the back of Karen’s futon and hand woven blanket as he struggles to make his way into the Erbaugh family home. That’s when all the girls and younger ones start to panic letting out death curdling screams as they run towards the kitchen to get away from the faceless man. Dave and David start to pick up the folding tables to barricade the gaping hole that’s now in the side of the house. Jayden and Layne are standing there completely motionless in the living room in shock as to what is going on, trying to think of ways to help protect their family. Brad lunges forward and grabs ahold of the concaved hole in the man’s head as puss seeps out all over his hands he shoves the grotesque beast of a man out of the window. They all work together to finally get the window blocked off, but they know it won’t hold for very long. Jayden starts to crack open the front door to get a look outside and Jostlyne flips on the TV in the other room to find out what the hell is going on in town. News Reporter: “It’s been a grueling 6 hours since the outbreak at the Wilson Health Emergency Room near Port Jefferson, Ohio and doctors have yet to figure out what highly contagious virus they could be dealing with. An estimated 60,000 people have already been reported as showing symptoms of infection with this new mystery virus and most of Miami County is in shambles…” The news reporter goes on to explain the dire situation the Erbaugh family has found themselves dead center of. Everyone looks at one another worryingly as Jayden swings open the front door. “Uhhh guys…” Jayden shakily says as he takes a step back away from the door. Everyone’s eyes are drawn in his direction towards the door. Peering out of the front door to the Erbaugh family household is a splendid view of dozens of lifeless people walking the streets aimlessly. Sounds of growling and moaning grow louder. “Well, merry fucking Christmas guys. Looks like we got ourselves a case of the zombies.” Dave says as he whips out his pocket knife readying himself for battle. Next time on Erbaugh Zombie Christmas. . . Time to fight to the death for a Happy New Year! Some learn that life is about to get much harder and others find that their lives may be at their end. Who makes it through the year and who finds themselves as zombie food?
