Two Girls Under Covers

Chloe Gibson yawned and stretched in her warm bed. It was Sunday, sometime in the afternoon, she had been lounging under her thick blankets all morning and now she was getting restless. It was days like this that she felt like a cat, laying around purring softly as she baths in the sunlight streaming through her window. Only getting up lazily and getting some milk. But now she felt the world pulling on her, she felt another pulling as well, as if the cat she felt like was going into heat.

Absently, Chloe let her hands move under the thick comforter. The sun was shining in through the window even though it was nearly 30 degrees outside, and combined with the mass of pillows and blankets on her she was overheated and slightly sweaty. The heat hissed through the vents in her room adding even more heat. She thought about pushing off the dense coverings and opening a window, but the feeling of being aroused and so hot was making her feel dizzy and languid.

Warmth was growing between her legs and she bit her lower lip. She pulled her sheet hard letting it slide between here legs and rub against her panty cover sex. The slight friction made moan. She was really starting to get wet. read more

Little Bird

Sometimes after a really good first date, you walk around in a daze. A stupid grin plastered on your face, a drunken wobble in your gate, and a fog over your eyes.

That’s where Jason was as he made his way through the east Village and up to the apartment of his best friend Ray.

Ray opened the door and immediately rolled his eyes at his friend’s swooning smile. read more


Sometimes she can’t do it. She can push past her nervousness and shyness. Luckily we have figured out a language of looks and lips and whispered prompts.

Sometimes she asks me to take it. She likes it that way. Sometimes there are rules. “Take it, but ask before you fuck me,” she whispers. It’s confusing, but she is worth it.

Then the game we play in bed is tied up and combined with the game in my head. Teasing her as I tease myself.

Storm Warning

As buildings went, this was certainly the best place Caitlin had ever lived. Just out of college and new to New York, she was still amazed every time she walked out of the subway and saw the brownstone that was now her home.

It was three stories of beautiful red brick, with large bay windows, and ornate wrought iron fences out front. She lived on the second floor, above a lovely older lesbian couple, with their two dogs and their fancy dinner parties. Upstairs there was a nice, if a bit mysterious, business man in his thirties named Gerard.

The one thing she did know about the man upstairs is that he certainly had a lot of lady friends. There was nothing wrong with that, Caitlin supposed, but she didn’t really understand it. He was fairly good looking, but nothing special. Plus, what kind of woman would go out with someone so promiscuous? It seemed like he had a new one every week. read more

Star Trek Discovery – Self Discovery

Between waking and dreams there is a middle state. The Vulcans had many words and uses for this state and Michael Burnham always found the “waking dream state” one of her few solaces in life.

That inbetween time was often when Vulcans organize their thoughts and remind themselves of their responsibilities. It was also when further repression of emotions took place.

Like so many of her teachings, Burnham took much of the wisdom Vulcan provided, but did away with that which was no longer valuable. read more


Bee’s whimpers of need were, frankly, pretty pathetic. As was the way she raised her hips in the air, trying in vain to reach something to rub against. Her greedy cunt was glistening wet, shaved bare, and swollen from hunger and torment.

She was tied to a table. The ropes were thick tan hemp, coiled neatly around her wrists and ankles, in complex webs across her chest, and binding her tightly to the broad wooden surface. Her arms and legs were spread, her light brown skin had a patina of sweat. She radiated need.

The guests of the party stood around the table and examined her. They held sweating glasses of white wine and laughed as she squirmed. read more


She’s all woman, my girl. Curved hips and soft breasts and hungry lips and all. She’s well read and well spoken and full of such wonderful surprises. She’s experienced. She’s experienced in the way that can scare boys off, but men know better.

She’s all woman, but with a little sigh and a forlorn look, with a turn of her foot and a bite of her lip she is a little girl. When she looks up with those doe eyes and bats those lashes my hands ball into fists and I feel myself harden.

She doesn’t say anything, she just looks down. Her quivering lip makes me lose my faculties. It’s such a sweet and simple little turn. Not even a role, just a look, just a bit of feigned innocence, some little spice that makes everything hotter, dirtier and more forbidden. read more

Slow Summer Heat

It was a hot sticky days full of barbecues and running around followed by one of those long summer nights where no one wants to go home and everyone just drink and drinks.

Jack brought Molly back to his apartment. It was a little after two and the both of them were exhausted. He watched her peel off her t-shirt and drop it on the floor, then unsnap her bra which left delicious little red marks around her back and under her arms. For some reason Jack liked these marks. He liked to touch them and even run his tongue over them. Molly would have none of that in the heat though. She was sweaty and smelled like smoke and dirt and beer. She pulled off her shorts and underwear and slunk off to the bathroom.

Jack turned the air conditioning in his little apartment on high. It was hot and moist, but it wouldn’t take long to cool the place down. read more



She couldn’t help it. It just slipped out.

It was on the tip of her tongue the minute someone’s hand slipped down her pants. Sometimes she forgot about it completely until she dreamily found herself whispering it. It was always there though, uncontrollable, finding its way to her lips. read more

Slip of a Girl

She is a slip of a girl. Deceptively tiny. She crawls into my arms and twists her arms and legs around me in a most particular way. She seems to be everywhere, all around me and yet she fits in my arms so neatly.

When she is kissed her eyes close. When she kisses she steals peeks. When her neck is kissed and bitten she is mine and I revel in that. When she gives her body to me, it is fully. Every curve and expanse.

I lay down in the now empty rumpled bed and swoon and swim in the memories. read more