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Subject: {DirtyDawg}JDR"Brandy B"( MF )[2/2]
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JOHN DARK REPOST
The following story is posted for the entertainment of adults. If you are
below the age of eighteen or are otherwise forbidden to read electronic
erotic fiction in your locality, please delete this message now. The story
codes in the subject line are intended to inform readers of possible areas
that some might find distasteful, but neither the poster nor the author
make any guarantee. You should be aware that the story might raise other
matters that you find distasteful. Caveat lector; you read at your own
risk.
The enjoyment of these reposts can be increased by reading the "Coming
Attractions," which includes some of the thinking behind the pattern of the
reposts, as well as the titles to be reposted in the next week.
These stories have not been written by the person posting them. Many of
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=====================
Copyright Notice : This and all of the Dirty Dawg stories are
Copyright (c) 1992 by Dirty Dawg. These stories may be distributed freely,
as long as this and all other copyright notices are included. It is the
responsibility of anyone handling these stories in any format or medium,
including electronic, printed, or otherwise, to ensure that no one under
the age of 18 views, reads, or has access to the materials contained herin.
================================================
==========
Brandy
Dirty Dawg
Section B:
The ringing phone brought me awake instantly. The TV was showing snow
and the small digital clock over the set read 5:45. I let the machine get
the phone.
"You have reached Stone Security. At the tone, please dial your
identification number." The answering machine was interfaced with a PC that
held the account numbers of every one of my clients. When they dialed their
number, everything I needed to know was instantly displayed on the screen.
In addition to that, the caller ID function had already traced the call,
identified the number, and was running it through the Cole's directory I
have on CD-ROM. (A Cole's directory is a reverse-phonebook. It goes in
order of number first, and then the location. If the caller was calling
from a pay phone or a phone that had been installed for more than a year at
one location, then I'd know where they were calling from. A handy little
feature.)
The answering machine-cum-computer beeped, and I heard the goddess'
voice. "It's Brandy. Are you there?"
I snatched the phone. "Hold on a sec." I disconnected the computer.
"Where are you?"
"Home. Can I come over? I want to see you." I thought about it for
perhaps a microsecond.
"How long have you been home?" I asked.
"I just walked in."
"Have you showered yet?"
"'No...why?"
"Don't. Come over here as you are, covered in sweat and smelling like
smoke and sex."
The shocked silence from the other end of the phone didn't faze me in
the least. "You...like that?"
"It turns me on to see you dance for other men, to watch you showing
them your body. I want to feel that when you get here, get a sense of what
it's like from the smell and taste of your body."
"Give me twenty minutes." She disconnected, and I got up, dressed,
made coffee and breakfast, and waited for Brandy to appear. More often than
not, when I used the 'I want to see your eyes, not your breasts' line, I
got a phony number or never got called back. Every once in a while, though,
it worked.
I was sipping coffee and reading the morning paper when the doorbell
rang. I answered it to find Brandy standing there, dressed in an outregous
outfit: White tank top stretched tightly across her braless tits, the
nipples poking through the material, a red leather microskirt that barely
covered her ass, black seamed stockings and high heels; the same heels
she'd been wearing at the club.
"Come on in," I said. "Breakfast is on the table." She attacked the
meal eagerly, and I watched her wolf the eggs, toast, bacon and coffee
down.
"God that was good," she said after she was done. She backed away from
the table and came over to where I was sitting. She straddled my lap and
draped her arms around my neck, wiggling her ass on my growing cock.
"Did you mean what you said on the phone?+"
"I meant every word."
"You like watching me dance?"
"No. I love watching you dance...showing your body, touching yourself,
that expression on your face that says, 'tough luck, jerk. You can't have
any of this!"
"Every one of my other boyfriends liked watching me dance, but when
they asked me out, they only wanted me to dance for them. They all tried to
make me quit. Are you going to make me quit?"
"No," I breathed in her ear. My mouth finally tasted her skin, that
soft patch just behind and beneath her ear.
"Mmmmm," she moaned. "Why do you like watching?"
"Why do you like showing off?"
We kissed then, for the first time, her little pink tongue wiggling
into my mouth, dancing with mine. We traded saliva for a few moments as my
hands found their way to her tight little ass and began squeezing.
She was slowly, sensously thrusting her crotch at me, rubbing against
me, getting off on the friction through our clothes.
She was swaying for me, bringing her breats into contact with my chest,
and then moving away from me, looking into my eyes. "Play some music," she
said. "Watch me dance for you. Just for you."
The remote control for my Sony sound system was in my right hand
before she finished the sentence. I pushed a few buttons, and 'Pour Some
Sugar On Me' began blasting from the speakers.
Brandy stepped to the center of the living room and began to move to
the music. Our gazes were locked again as she practically tore the front of
her tanktop to let her breasts out into the early morning air. Her nipples
hardened instantly under her touch, and she looked directly into my soul as
she lifted one heavy, full breast to her mouth and stretched her tongue to
her nipple. I started rubbing my cock through my pants as I watched Brandy
turn herself on.
When the lyrics arrived at 'Hot and sticky sweet/from my head to my
feet' Brandy had raised her red leather skirt the fraction required for me
to see that she wasn't wearing any panties. Her pussy hair was mostly
shaved, except for a small patch on the top of her vulva that pointed down
towards the lips like an arrow. She ran her finger along her seam, groaning
at the self- pleasure.
Brandy dipped a finger inside and then raised it to her mouth. Before
it vanished inside her sucking mouth, I could see that it was slick and
shining with the juices of her arousal. She slid her hands around her
crotch, then turned her back to me and lifted the skirt so that I could see
the well-shaped ass hidden beneath. My always-facination with female asses
reared its ugly head again, and I felt my cock lurch inside my pants.
"Touch yourself," she said. "While you watch me, touch yourself." I
nodded, dry-mouthed, and unzipped my jeans to reveal my throbbing erection.
Six inches of pink beef dart followed Brandy's movement like a cobra being
entranced by the flute-playing charmer. That's about as apt a description I
can give for her actions that early Saturday morning; Brandy was a cock
charmer.
I began to slowly jerk off as Brandy dropped down to the carpet. She
spread her legs and began to frig herself off in earnest, watching me watch
her watch me and so on.
She forced two, then three fingers into her overheated trench and
began to softly frig herself off, the other hand doing laps on her
clitoris. "God, I wish I could do this at the club. I get so hot on stage,
watching the men get excited looking at me. They all want the fantasy, they
all want to know what I look like, what I taste like, what I smell like."
"You look like sex," I said, my voice hoarse with passion. "You sound
and taste and smell like sex, like hot sweat and leather and jizz. You are
the incarnation of sex. Of what it means to be a female. You know the power
you have over them, Brandy-"
"Trish," she gasped, flicking her clit. "My name is Trish!"
"You know the power you hold over them, Trish. The power you held over
me, when you were digging your heels into my legs..." I moaned as a little
drop of cum seeped out of my dicktip.
Hearing my mention of the shoes gave Brandy/Trish an idea. She took one
of the shoes off and promptly stuffed the heel into her slot and began to
frig herself with it.
"I'm getting close," she said. "I want you to cum with me. I want you
to come on me!" I stood up and walked, stiff-legged, constrained by the
jeans around my ankles to Brandy/Trish, jerking my cock the entire time.
From my height, looking down at her frig herself with the shoe, I knew
that I was going to blow any second. I tried to wait as long as I could, so
that we could explode together. Just as I thought I couldn't wait another
single microsecond, Trish exploded into a violent climax.
My testicles contracted, and I was suddenely raining semen down on
Trish, on her face and throat and tits and thighs. Seven or eight strong
shots of jizz painted her from head to toe, covering her body with my
sweet, creamy essence.
Trish licked at the cum on her face, wanting to taste me. She rubbed
the cum on her tits into the skin, and then the jizz on her thighs. She
gleamed in the early morning light, covered with my spoo.
I dropped to my knees and kissed her cummy face, licking some of my
own seed from her cheek and feeding it to Trish in a sloppy tongue kiss.
She moaned when she tasted and felt my own jizz being passed into her mouth
and sucked on my tongue eagerly.
"Let me taste you," she moaned. "All of you."
I stood and discarded the remainder of my clothes and then dropped to
my knees, placing one thigh on either side of her head. I was just getting
ready to lower my cock into her mouth when I felt her tongue lightly tickle
my balls.
I groaned and began to stroke my cock as her slavering, licking tongue
bathed my nutsack with warm, moist saliva. Her hands were gripping my
asscheek tightly as she hummed around my nuts and tried to suck my entire
scrotum into her mouth. She was lightly chewing my nuts, her jaws
masticating and giving me a thrill.
Then her tongue was licking the small patch of erotically charged skin
between my testicles and asshole. I hadn't showered, so I knew the
masculine aroma of sweaty crotch was filling her nose and mouth. The fact
that Trish licked my little trench with even more gusto than she had
attacked my balls with made my newly-rejuvinated cock throb even harder.
And then lovely Trish did it. Her hands pulled my ass foward, and her
mouth and slippery, moist tongue glided between the cheeks of my ass. She
began licking softly at my tight little browneye, and I bagan to slowly
lower my ass onto her head, wanting to bury her face between the cheeks of
my sweaty butt.
The last time I'd had this done to me, I'd had to pay a working girl
almost $500 for that single act alone, and here was Brandy/Trish eagerly
thrusting her tongue into a place where most women would gag at the thought
of kissing.
Trish gurgled happily in my ass for a few minutes before pulling back
and licking my balls again. Her eyes were closed in either pleasure or
concentration; I couldn't tell. She seemed to be in her own world, lost
somewhere between this world and the next. I knew then that I wanted to
give her as much pleasure as she had given me.
I popped my dick and nuts out of her mouth and hands and scooted over
her body, covering her with me. Our chests crashed together, and I felt her
tits crush flat against my chest. Her legs went around my waist, clutching
the lower halves of our bodies together. We kissed, softly at first, and
then as the passion and heat grew between us, we kissed hungrily.
Everywhere I touched was hot, sweaty female flesh. The body-to-body contact
was almost too much. She was warm and sweaty and moist for me, eagerly
wriggling against me, getting off on the contact and friction.
My cock found her opening seemingly of its own volition, and I began
to slowly penetrate her, inch by inch. I'd seen more than a few porno
movies in my time, and always wondered where they found those horse-cocked
mutants to fuck those poor chicks. I knew that I wasn't hung half as large
as most men claimed to be, but I always made up for length with enthusiasm.
Trish groaned and arched her back. She had the smallest waist and hips
I had ever seen. She splayed her legs as widely as possible to help accept
my thrusting dick. Our bodies were slick with the effort.
"God, I love the feeling of your dick in me, thrusting into me,
splitting me wide open. Go slow, lover. Go slooow." I grunted and tried to
resist the temptation to spear into her very center, to join our bodies as
one at that instant.
When I was training in the martial arts, we were given complete
lectures regarding anatomy and physiology of the human body, both male and
female. Nerve endings were discussed, killpoints indicated. I knew that the
most sensitive nerve endings in the female vagina were in the first four
inches; after that there were still nerves, but just not as many, not as
concentrated to detect and transmit pleasure to the sexual centers of the
brain.
As I hit bottom inside Trish and began to slowly withdraw, my mind
split into two distinct thought patterns. In the frontal lobe, where the
pleasure centers were, my mind was screaming about the buttery smooth
warmth of Trish's cunt, how it clung to my thrusting cock like a silk,
velvet glove and made me never want to leave her tightly clutching vagina.
The other half of my brain, the so-called 'intellectual' side, began a
rather lengthy discourse on the nature of sexual arousal and satisfaction.
I had known many a male friend in my life that claimed to be an
awesome lover, a true stallion between the sheets. I never made that claim,
and left it to the after-sex critique. After the first time with a new
lover, while we were holding each other in the afterglow, I always asked
questions. Many women were afraid to answer, afraid to bruise my fragile
male ego. Ego is only as fragile as a man's security. If he's secure in his
masculinity, he won't care. You can't be expected to read minds, and many
women are still held back by puritanical ethics of sexuality; good girls
don't like sex, don't want to admit that they like things that might be
called 'dirty.'
Always ask. For two reasons. The first being that if you find out
something about your lover, something that you're not doing that she'd like
you to do, or something you are doing that she'd like you not to do, even
something you are doing that she'd like faster, slower, higher or lower, or
just...different, you will bring that person closer to you, closer inside
that magical shell that captures two people sharing the most intimate
moment two people can. And secondly, intelligence, tactical intelligence,
can always be used again. There may be a technique or a style that you
havn't heard or read about that she can teach you. The more arrows you have
in your quiver, the better chance you have of hitting your target.
And I have always felt that nothing is dirty between two consenting
adults. I have had women that have wanted me to do things to them that I
considered a little weird, but the operative phrase here is 'consenting.'
If she tells me that she likes to bay at the moon while being butt-fucked
by a llama, and I agree that yeah, that'd be pretty hot, then we were both
consenting to the idea, the actuality of her sexuality. But if I find the
llama trick a little out of my bag, it's up to me as a man to tell her two
things: Firstly, that her own sexuality is her own business, and I am no
one to judge what makes someone wet between the legs, and secondly, sorry,
but that's just not my scene.
This attitude, this way of dealing with all the sensitive issues of
adult sexuality has garnered something that many men don't think about. All
the women that have shared my bed on a regular basis are still my friends.
Even today, I still talk to the woman I terminated my virginity with at the
tender age of 14 on her kitchen floor with her parents in the living room.
She's married now, with a wonderful husband and three great kids.
But she and I are still close, still talk at least twice a month. And
every time we've been together, we've made love again. I don't, and she
certainly doesn't see it as cheating on her husband. Some might argue that
it is, but there is no romantic attachment, no emotional involvement. Her
husband was brought up to believe that women in general, and mothers in
specific, were sexless, 'Modanna' type creatures, who couldn't or shouldn't
enjoy sex. Especially not being tied to the bed and being 'forced' to suck
cock for hours on end, which was what my friend liked more than anything.
I can't count the number of times I've encouraged her to tell her
husband about her particular 'kink.' She has told me that she's tried, and
every time she even brings the subject up that her husband hushes her,
tells her that 'nice girls don't do that."
We finally solved the problem. The last time we were together, I
videotaped our entire session and then sent the tape to her husband. The
call I got the day after he viewed the tape was quite hilarious. Apparantly
the husband had come home, flipped her over his knee and spanked her bare
ass (something else she likes but was afraid to ask for,) and then tied her
to the bed for the night, feeding her his hard cock for hours on end. When
he finally blew his load over her face, she had the biggest orgasm of her
entire life.
The point of all this, I guess, is to talk to each other. If you admit
to yourself that you don't know every damn thng about making another person
happy, you will finally be able to find out what does make that person
truly happy.
These thoughts were forced from my mind in an instant as Trish
clutched her pussy around my cock and groaned, thrusting her little colt's
hips up against mine. I rolled over onto my back, pulling Trish with me.
She started jamming herself up and down on my cock, biting her bottom
lip in that sexy way that made my nuts throb. Her eyes were still closed.
"Open your eyes," I gasped. "Let me see your eyes!" Her eyelids
snapped open and we locked gazes. Trish slowed down, letting my cock fill
her completely, rotating her tight little ass, and then starting the slow
steady rise until only the tip of my cock remained inside her.
Her chest was flushed and sweaty, the tips of her hair sticking to her
skin. I watched as a droplet of sweat started in her hairline and began
sliding down her face, down her neck, down her chest until it dangled off
one erect nipple. It hung for an instant in time, gathering mass and weight
until it finally fell and splashed against my chest.
Suddenely Trish rolled off me and got down on the carpet on all fours.
She reached behind her and started frigging herself.
"From behind," she gasped. "Fuck me from behind!" I walked on my knees
until I was behind her wildly undulating ass. Lining myself up with her
slot, I thrust my entire length inside her with one quick snap of my hips.
Trish groaned and ground her ass against my thighs, pulling on her
nipples as we rode each other. Her cunt was so buttery smooth and hot and
wet and tight, I never wanted to leave. Watching her long blonde hair whip
around as we rode each other was turning me on. I felt the first rumblings
in my balls signalling my impending climax.
"Gonna blow!" I moaned. Quick as a whistle Trish popped my dick out of
her quim and turned until her mouth was sliding up and down on my cock.
'Mmmm, she said, popping me out, "I love the way I taste on you." She slid
my cock back into her mouth and started bobbing her head.
I clapped my hands around her head and began fucking her face,
slamming my cock down her throat again and again. My left hand found its
way to her right tit and began hefting its weight, feeling her silky,
sweaty skin.
Trish popped my cock out of her mouth for the last time and began
rapidly jerking me off. "On me," she whispered urgently. "Come on me..."
Well, never one to dissapoint the lass, I blew my load all over her
face. She began using her fingers to spoon my slime into her mouth. She
licked me clean, suckling on my cock until it grew soft in her mouth.
We fell together to the carpet, clutching our sweaty bodies together.
When our breathing returned to normal, we laughed and talked quietly for a
few moments, and then I began to ask her the questions.
"Was there anything else you'd like me to do...next time?"
She was playing with the hair on my chest, and she didn't answer for a
long time.
"Dirty talk," she finally said. "I really like it when the guy talks
dirty, uses a lot of smutty words and stuff. I don't know why. You probably
think I'm a pervert."
"Not at all. If that's what you want...."
See how easy life can be?
==============================================================================
If you liked this story, tell the SYSOP of the BBS you got it from,
and look for other exciting adult erotic stories from Dirty Dawg. If your
favorite adult BBS doesn't carry Dirty Dawg, ask them WHY?! Dirty Dawg
stories are available from Big Joe's BBS in Las Vegas, Nevada, and from the
MotherBoard BBS in Pelham Manor, NY. Check your local BBS listing for node
numbers and modem speeds supported.
If you have a favorite sexual fantasy that you'd like turned into an
adult erotic fiction story, leave a message for the Dawg on either Big
Joe's BBS or on the MotherBoard BBS. Leave the following information: 1)
Basic story category (ie, straight, bisexual, cheating, group sex, etc.) 2)
Character names, if you want it truly customized. If you do leave character
names, please leave a brief physical description you would like used. 3) A
plot outline, or just a starting point. If you trust the Dawg to take you
places you've never been before, indicate that in your message. And
finally, the most important part: 4) Lewdness Level. There are four basic
levels of Lewdness: a) Clinical and Puritanical, which uses phrases like
"He thrust into her depths, cutting a swath into her core like a hot knife
through butter." Not much 'dirty' language, and it gets the imaginative
juices flowing. b) Slightly Lewd, which uses, using the same example as
above, "He thrust his manhood into her very center, feeling the sugar walls
of her vagina contract around his penis like a vise." Etc. Level C) Medium
Lewd, is more of the Penthouse Forum or Penthouse Letters level of graphic
description. Lots of euphamisms for female and male genetila, like "He
jammed his pink beef stallion into the waiting warmth of her quim." Level
D) Maximum Lewd, is for the hard-core reader that likes words like "Cunt"
and "Cock", like "He thrust his throbbing cock into the welcoming walls of
her overheated cunt, feeling her tighten her muscles around his invading
meat."
Because of other literary (haha) demands made on the Dawg,
personalized stories may take up to a month to be created. There is NO
monetary consideration REQUIRED, but any contributions to the Dawg's Dish
will be appreciated, and just might 'speed things up.' If you wish to make
a contribution to hasten the creation of your story, leave that information
also with the message addressed to the Dawg. NOTE: Any readers giving a
contribution to the Dawg will also be given a diskette (3.5" or 5.25") in
IBM Text file format containing up to 25 other adult erotic stories. Some
of these stories are NOT available on the BBS, and have been written from
the Dawg's own experiences. Again, please understand that monetary
contributions are >>>NOT<<< required to get a personal story written. All I
want to do is hear your ideas for a hot, erotic story, and then turn it
into literary reality.
Copyright Notice : This and all of the Dirty Dawg stories are
Copyright (c) 1992 by Dirty Dawg. These stories may be distributed freely,
as long as this and all other copyright notices are included. It is the
responsibility of anyone handling these stories in any format or medium,
including electronic, printed, or otherwise, to ensure that no one under
the age of 18 views, reads, or has access to the materials contained herin.
Dirty Dawg and the BBSs that carry the Dirty Dawg stories hereby ABSOLVE
themselves of all responsibility as to the suitability of these files for a
particular purpose. Dirty Dawg will retain ALL copyrights to this and any
other materials created under the 'Dirty Dawg' trademark name. Personalized
stories remain the property of Dirty Dawg for distribution as he alone sees
fit. For stories that are personalized, all names will be CHANGED after the
person or persons comissioning said story have recieved their copy. Unless
otherwise noted, this is a work of ficton, and all characters are creations
of the author's imagination, and any similarity to any persons, places or
situations are purely coincidental.
Copyright (c) 1992 Dirty Dawg Productions
All Rights Reserved
"Woof Woof."
==========
Brandy
Dirty Dawg
-30-
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