It's been an eternity! So "...set'em up Joe, I've got a little story I think you should know."

PORNOGRAPHIE

An essaie into two things I never usually do.  01/ Write something that, for a change, is not in some way autobiographical or personal.  02/ Write something that speed's and zip's along, covering as much gound as fast as esthetically possible. Not so dense, not so verbose, not so unforgiving, not so 'deep' for a change. A vast departure from M'normal scrivings.  So here it is then, a beginning to a story. Pure fiction. Just testin' the amniotic's as it were. It's simple filth, blunt, honest, sweaty dirt. But with a touch o'class Methinks. I've geared it predominately towards les 'demoiselles, (but I won't insult you who do love dirty sex with toning-down or romanticising anything, words not the least) slowly adding fantasy after fantasy I'm aware many of you have (let me know how many you spot so far, and if I touch on any ;), so...  Enjoy, as you can and may. IF any of you wish this to have life still, let Me know and I'll continue it. Oh, and I'm not American, so don't expect lashing of the word 'ass'. D'accord?

C'est une Fille assez vicieuse.

I met her outside of work, and we ambled off to get a drink. Had only known her a few weeks, so sin-levels set to 11 and as yet, still nothing forbidden. Sitting there, slightly tipsy and with our flirtation slowly rising in strength and passion; our thoughts and words turned to fantasy, to impossible desires and wickedness. Naturally we touched on the subject of him, that fantasy lover she thought about in quiet moments at work, and we relived moments stolen; when lost in lustful dreams and imaginings, where that ever-so fertile mind of her’s would actually take her ‘there’, feel as if it really were happening, really make her believe it was ‘him’; how her body would be warped and shuddering with powerful, spectacular climax, how she would shudder and how those eyes of her’s would fill up with a lust I rarely saw, when that sweet cunt would gush for her fantasy lover, where she would open and crave his prick, hot and rigid and fat and wet, plunging into her, making her scream, making her grab his arse and pull his cock deeper, always deeper inside. How when on the point of cumming she would slowly start to whisper, whimper his name, begging him to fuck her, then slightly louder, telling him that *I* don't matter, that only he would ever know; then louder still, shouting her wicked lust at this imagined infidelity, the very fact that it was infidelity was what made her so wet and desperate, craving it's wrongness and badness; then SCREAMING his name as she climaxed madly, begging, gushing almost, lost in the beautiful, shared lust of what she was imagining, our trust, and the fact that it aroused Me so much. What else to do then, than "More drinks".

I stood at the bar and ordered, a patented double and a half for her, a simple double for Me. Upstairs, in the toilet, she dutifully did as I had told her. she sat and opened her creamy white thighs, and slowly let her finger-tips trace the bald and plump slit that swelled so proudly. her fingers came away with a thick stream of cunt-juice, so arousing had our talking been, and she slowly raised it to her mouth and tasted. Then she parted those fat lips and showed her cunt-hole to the door; blowing down onto it, seeing the hard, proud and strident clit' swell perceptibly as she blew. Then Piss. A long, sweetly hot and pungent stream that splashed over her things and ran 'twixt the folds and curves of her stinging cunt and legs. As she finished she let the final drops, tiny dribbles, anoint and wet her fingers and hand. One finger in her mouth now, tasting her pee and cunt mingled, and then straight to arse-hole; four fingers roughly and unceremoniously plunged deep inside, opening, stretching, probing, questing and touching all. Then fingers out, and with other hand pull up knickers and lower dress, not wiping her cunt, thighs or hand, leaving them wet and flavoured for Me. As she left, she noticed the lock on the cubicle was broken, and that anyone, ANYONE could have walked in on her fingerings and wetness. A smile, then a shudder as her pussy showed its pleasure at this wicked thought, and of how My prick would cause her to shudder with intense and wicked pleasures later. "

she came back and sat at My side. "Well?" I said; and now little-girl like, she lowered her face slightly and gently placed those piss and cunt and shit-wet fingers onto My hungry lips and pushed them into My mouth. How sweet those deeply personal and feminine flavours seemed to me then, as they would now. I noticed that someone was watching Me suck her fingers, and so I moved My Left hand onto her thigh, and slowly hitched her dress up a fraction, so that its hem sat one inch behind her knees; and gently, imperceptible opened her legs a fraction. She resisted, muttering under her breath, but I 'Shhh'd' her and slowly the tension eased, and the thighs parted. Now just over a foot apart, fat cunt-lips almost on show, not quite, but almost, perceptibly there, but shadowed. I removed her fingers from My mouth and told her to describe everything she had done and thought of as she obeyed My wishes upstairs, leaving nothing out, painting every detail. Giggle and she starts to speak low and passionately. As I listened I saw that the person watching was now a couple. A guy and a pretty, slightly plumpish office-type girl, shoulder-length blondish hair, about size 12/14 but ‘hard-bodied’ looking. Him? Plain to My eyes, short-haired insurance type, anyhow. I 'shhh'd' her again and told her not to move as I said what I was about to say, and then spoke of the couple, and how, from where they were standing, they would just about be able to see her sticky little cunt. To My surprise, as I told her this, she opened her legs a little wider and I watched, with somehow uncomfortable yet deeply aroused eyes, as her slow fingers cautiously raised the hem even higher. NOT so far as to be cheap and wanton, but far enough that they WOULD see if they continued to watch.

I knew full well that they could see everything now, for they looked Me in the eyes and nervously looked away far too quickly. But the female held My look just long enough for Me to smile, gently shake My head as if  to say "It's OK, don't worry, don’t look away", and placed My hand on My girl's leg, gently curling her fingers under the hem of the dress, briefly lifting it and flashing that throbbing wet hole and sticky, pink’n’purple-pouting colleague that lurked there. The girl quickly whispered to her partner and he looked at us, but looked slightly uncomfortable. Her though, well now I could see that My girl had met her gaze, and that she was playfully smiling, eyes a-twinkle and mouth saying urgently to Me in the most strained of whispers "Yes? Oh Gods, are You sure? Yes, yes yes?". I showed My agreement and playful yet nervous willingness by once again placing her hand on her thigh, and whispered, My eyes always on the couple "Spread her now. Open those lips for them to see. Pout so fucking hard on your tight little cunt that she'll be visible across the room, turn her inside-out. Do it now or we will NEVER EVER play again in this way". her eye’s briefly left the girl’s and pleaded with Mine, mouth mumbling confusedly at the conflicting emotions she was feeling. So little-girl, embarrassed, but so desperate to please her Man. "Yes My girl, do it now, now, do what I tell you", and she moaned and slowly allowed that hand to probe beneath the fabric of her light summer dress and let the fingers find her dripping slit and straining arse-hole.

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QUOTATION

POÉSIE

She lies there, My daughter.

She lies there, My daughter, she lies there.
Body small and weak; tender child who set's This heart to fluttering with but an exhalation from her soft, sweet lips.
She lies there, My daughter, she lies there.
Flesh pale and taut; with gentle flush of a wandering hand's exploration slowly spreading across her innocent cheek.
She lies there, My daughter, she lies there.
Weak-limbed and fatigued; lazy smile playing across her heavy lip, sweet perfume of childhood musk rolling across her narrow hip.
She lies there, My daughter, she lies there.
Rising breasts' pink crowned and hard; wet-tipped from the soft embrace of a Father's mouth.
She lie’s there, My daughter, she lies there.
Supine and langourous, lost; gentle remnants of innocent love pooling 'twixt her satin thighs.
She lies there, My daughter, she lies there.
Glazed eyes shining, softly murmuring; pulsing, wet-lips parting for a Father's kiss.
She lies there, My daughter, she lies there.
Salt-thumb in mouth, turns; plump cheek to pillow, sweet back arching to 'bud so small, yielding its narrow-depth's to the mouth of her Maker.
She lies there, My daughter, she lies there.
Sweet and abandoned; open in hunger, every portal glistening, drawing Me down into her fathomless warmth.
She lies there, My daughter, she lies there.
Eyelids a-tremble and drooping; taken by the hand as good king Morpheus leads her to rest, head safe on Father's bosom as she slumbers.
She lies there, My daughter, she lies there.
Cradled and tended; watched and prtotected, free from fear or worldly responsability, shallow-breath sweet on This tear-stained face.
She lies there, My daughter, she lies there.
One day to  share; one day to lie there, our daughter within, held in These arms, free, all three, from what is called sin.
She lies there, My daughter, she lies there.

(If any see these words as suggestion of incest, look again. If any see these words as suggestion of abuse, look again. If any see these words as anything but poetic metaphor for the love of this older Man for His delicate, younger lover, look again. Or look away.)

EMOTING

He'd buried both parents, lost more than He'd ever owned; but He'd always had Himself. He'd always been His own man; strong & upright, a warrior & a lover, a fool & a child, a father & a teacher, a friend & an enemy; a saint, a sinner, salvation & damnation, everything & nothing, Alpha & Omega... But always His *own* man. And... Well, when a soul is willingly given, when it becomes but a part of a whole; & when that *whole* is broken, left, abandoned, cast-aside, halved...

He shrugged & pulled His collar up against the rains that sought to remove Him from the face of the Earth, like some misbegotten stain to be washed away, some unwelcome reminder of times that were...