The Pursuit of Happiness

The Pursuit of Happiness

© 2005 Mike Kimera. All rights reserved. Do not reproduce without written permission from

They say that, when you press a conch to your ear, you can hear the sea. When I press my lips against Beth’s cunt, and the sea-salt taste of her floods my mouth, and her thighs press against my ears, I hear happiness.

This is a here-and-now, grab it, savor it, look for it again, kind of happiness that roars in my blood like laughter in a storm. I grin and push my tongue into her.

When I can press no deeper, my hands slide, palms flat and smooth, up the warm flesh that stretches from the depths of her buttocks to the narrow shallows of her knees. I grip hard, pulling Beth’s legs apart, lifting her hips, letting my mouth slip slowly south towards the darker, earthier opening.

Beth squirms as my tongue spirals inwards insistently and my nose presses into the slick-but-sticky folds of her cunt.

If her hands were free, her fingers would be in my hair, grabbing and pushing, torn between removal and insertion. But, Beth is bound tight from wrist to elbow, hands stretched far above her head.

If she could speak, there would be curses and growls and pleas and thank yous, but all Beth can do is bite down on the black leather bit that fits across her mouth like a fat, armor-plated cock.

When I am so drenched in her that I have lost awareness of everything except the pounding of my blood in my now stiff cock, I stand, move hands from knees to ankles, spread her wider and enter her in her tightest hole.

Making it tighter still, I grasp both ankles in one fist and hold them firm against my shoulder.

Beth shudders as I adjust my stance, pushing home until there is no gap between her and me all along the length of her sweat-glazed legs.

Her eyes scream at me, then widen when they see, held high about my head in my free hand, the short, soft, suede, strips of the hand flogger.

Happiness grows like a blush with each stroke across Beth’s belly. I can feel her trying to bounce with joy.

When my arm is tired, and the tears have come, and my cock has spurted its appreciation, I slump to the floor, Beth’s legs limp over my shoulders.

A poet once said, “Man cannot take too much happiness.” Or did he say “truth“? Is there a difference? In my sated state, I cannot tell.

But, I am not a poet and I seek happiness whenever I can.

They say that, when you press a conch to your ear, you can hear the sea. When I press my ear against Beth’s sweat-slick breast and listen to her heart, I hear happiness.

In cyberspace no one can see you blush

Infidelity – when does it start? At the first fuck? At the first kiss? At the first covert glance?  I was taught that it starts with the first thought. These days that first thought is often expressed in an internet chat room.

Perhaps you’re telling yourself that what’s on the internet stays on the internet; it’s not really infidelity?

Well it does stay on the internet, forever in many cases, where clever people can find it if they are motivated enough, and it may be virtual infidelity but that doesn’t necessarily make it less real.

Take a look at this little tale and see what you think about the reality of cyber-sex.

In cyberspace no one can see you blush

© 2005 Mike Kimera. All rights reserved. Do not reproduce without written permission from


It didn’t start out as infidelity. It was just a game. Just another form of masturbation. Nothing real. Certainly nothing dangerous. At least, that’s how it seemed to me then.

Now I know better.

Now I know myself better.

I was stalking a sleazy chatroom, looking for someone with an imagination as ferocious as mine. I didn’t want to “meet” anyone. I just wanted to get off as hard and as fast as possible.

I’d already had sex with my husband that night. Nice sex. Gentle sex. The kind that used to satisfy me but doesn’t anymore. He’d rolled over and fallen asleep almost immediately, leaving me to lie in the wet spot. I declined the honour and crept into the office. I went on line with his cum still drizzling down my thigh on to the black leather chair he’s so proud of.

I logged into the “barely-legal” room and called myself “wifewantsitrough”. There were the usual “Well-Hung” and “Hard4U” and “Bad-Daddy” names adopted by the desperately needy. It was that kind of site.

I’d expected to have to sit through the predictable “age, sex, location” crap, followed by “what are you wearing” and “how big are your tits” as if any of it mattered. Then someone called “Rapeplay” broke etiquette and sent me a private message. No introduction, no descriptions, no questions, just a statement that made my nipples hard:

RAPEPLAY: You want to be fucked hard in front of your husband.

I stayed silent. I wasn’t playing hard to get. I was just shocked that he’d hit on one of my favourite fantasies.

RAPEPLAY: He’s tied and gagged but not blindfolded. He can see everything that is done to you, everything you do, every orgasm you have. You want him to see how you should be used, to know who you really are.

This guy was good. Well actually, he was bad. Very, very bad. Exactly what I was in the mood for.

WIFEWANTSITROUGH: What will you make me do?

RAPEPLAY: Look him in the eyes the first time I enter your arse.


RAPEPLAY: you’re bent over him, tits hanging, body covered in sweat.


RAPEPLAY: No. I’ve taken the time to find your wedding dress. The one you hang in the back of the closet.

WIFEWANTSITROUGH: Shit. How did you know that was there?

RAPEPLAY: The same way I know that you’re typing this with sticky fingers.

WIFEWANTSITROUGH: So you want to butt fuck me in front of my husband?



RAPEPLAY: What I want is to unlock all those desires that you keep caged. The ones that claw at you from the inside. The things you tell yourself you’d never do but that you can’t stop thinking about


RAPEPLAY: Let’s find out


We’d stopped playing but I was hotter than ever. It was if he knew me. As if he could see me. It was a game of course. Just cybering. Not real infidelity. But it felt wicked. Deliciously wicked.

RAPEPLAY: When I’m all the way in you, I tell you to pull your husband’s cock out his pants.


RAPEPLAY: SLAP – I hit your arse and feel you wriggle against my cock




RAPEPLAY: I pull out of your gaping arse.

WIFEWANTSITROUGH: NO. I want you in me

RAPEPLAY: Then grab Hubby’s cock


RAPEPLAY: Is it hard


RAPEPLAY: Harder than usual?


RAPEPLAY: Do you think it’s the sight of you that makes him stiff or is it my erection that’s turning him on


RAPEPLAY: But he’s not normally this hard either

How the hell did he know this? Gary’s erections weren’t what they used to be. He points West rather than North, if you know what I mean. Rapeplay’s smugness irked me. I decided to hit back at him

WIFEWANTSITROUGH: are you gay you bastard rapist? Would you rather be up his arse than mine?

RAPEPLAY: One arse is much like another, I’ve found.

Unbidden, a picture flashed across my mind: me tied to the chair, Gary being fucked in the arse in front of me. The first orgasm hit me then. I let the tremor earth itself and realized that RAPEPLAY: had stopped typing

WIFEWANTSITROUGH: You still there?

RAPEPLAY: You just came didn’t you? Were you imagining me moving from your arse to your husbands and back with my eyes closed, trying to guess which one is female?

WIFEWANTSITROUGH: I wasn’t but I am now.

RAPEPLAY: Perverted little slut, aren’t we?


RAPEPLAY: Then let’s raise the stakes


RAPEPLAY: Put your hands on your husband’s wrists. Hold tight.


RAPEPLAY: Bend forward, arse in the air, and push your mouth down over his cock until your nose is at his belly


RAPEPLAY: Yes, but can you feel how excited he is? How his arms tense. How his hips want to push up and into you.

WIFEWANTSITROUGH: unnnnnnnnnnnngh

RAPEPLAY: Keep your head there. Do you hear my belt pulled quickly from my jeans?

WIFEWANTSITROUGH: I want to turn and see what you’re doing but I can’t move.

RAPEPLAY: But your husband can see, and his cock just twitched in your mouth


RAPEPLAY: I flip up your dress, kick your legs wider apart so more of your weight is on your arms and then…


RAPEPLAY: THWACK! The belt catches you at the soft skin where your legs meet your butt


RAPEPLAY: DON’T fucking move. Get your head back on his belly and suck that cock.



WIFEWANTSITROUGH: It hurts so bad.

RAPEPLAY: But hubby is still hard. Hubby likes it and he hates himself for liking it.

That made me shiver. I loved my husband. But all the same, just for once, I wanted him to be the one with the guilty desires

RAPEPLAY: (What’s his name?)

WIFEWANTSITROUGH: (I’d tell you, but it’s rude to speak with my mouthful)

RAPEPLAY: (Wit, no less. Tell me his name – his real name)


Why did I tell him that? Why didn’t I say George or Bill or something? And why did he want to know?

RAPEPLAY: You’ve always wanted to gag fuck your wife, haven’t you, Gary? To make her eat all that sexual arrogance she shows. Except it’s not nice. And you’re a nice man, aren’t you, Gary?

This was getting scary. It was like he’d met Gary.

RAPEPLAY: So here’s the thing, Gary. I’m going to beat your wife’s arse with this belt until you come down her throat. So unless you want her bleeding and torn, you’d better come to her aid real soon.

WIFEWANTSITROUGH: (You wicked, evil, twisted, man)

RAPEPLAY: (Thank you)

WIFEWANTSITROUGH: (Would you really do that?)


WIFEWANTSITROUGH: (Have you done it – in real life?)

RAPEPLAY: (You think this isn’t real? Check the stain on the chair you’re sitting in)


RAPEPLAY: (Touching sounds like an excellent idea. I want you to listen for a while and finger fuck while you do. When you come, I want you to say your husband’s name out loud.)

My heart was beating faster. This felt like cheating. It was demeaning – to me – to Gary –to our marriage. Yet excitement was twisting in my gut like a knife blade. I slid my fingers into my cunt and waited for Rapeplay’s words

RAPEPLAY: After the fifth stroke of the belt, the pain gets to you. You want it to be over. You suck as hard as you can, working your tongue forward. Trying to make him come.

RAPEPLAY: But it’s hard to get a rhythm or to lift your head. Gary is pushing up into you now, little hip thrusts that rip at your throat.

RAPEPLAY: You wonder if he’s looking at you or me. You wonder if I’m erect and if I’m as hard as Gary.

RAPEPLAY: You’ve lost count of the strokes of the belt now. There is just pain in your arse and the force of his cock in your mouth.

RAPEPLAY: Then the belt moves its attention to between your legs. Your scream into Gary’s belly. On the third scream, you feel it, the stiffening of his whole body, the gag-muffled cry from his mouth, then his cum pulsing into you.

I was almost there but not quite. I pushed an extra finger in and played with my clit with the other hand

RAPEPLAY: You are too filled with pain and cum to move. I pull your head off Gary’s softening cock.

RAPEPLAY: I force you up into his lap, still facing him, knees apart. “Lick his face, Slut. Lick hubby with your cum covered tongue”. You are too dazed to do anything but obey.

Oh fuck, I was going to…

RAPEPLAY: then, with your tongue on his cheek, you feel my cock enter your wet cunt


I said it out loud.

Too loud. I could have woken him. But I didn’t care; his name released an orgasm that made my toes curl.

I realized Rapeplay was still typing about how he’s banging me. But his words had lost their impact now. All I wanted was to sleep.

WIFEWANTSITROUGH: Thank you. That was great.

RAPEPLAY: Did you say his name.


RAPEPLAY: How did it feel?

I hesitated a moment. How had it felt?






RAPEPLAY: Goodnight, Stephanie


It was only after I logged off that I realized that I’d never told him my name.

Questions raced through my head: Did he really know my name. Had he traced me back to my email while I was logged in? Would he find our family website with the pictures of me and Gary and the kids?

I felt a prickle of fear. But behind it was thought that surprised me: “Maybe he’ll send me mail. Maybe we’ll get to play again”.

I decided not to let myself think about that. I was cold and a little sore, and very tired. I headed for the bathroom to wash the smell of sex off me before I made my way back to my sleeping husband.

I slept surprisingly well and woke refreshed. Before Gary left to take the kids to school on his way to work, he kissed me and said quietly. “You’re looking good this morning. I guess you had a good time last night, huh?”

For one alarming moment I thought he knew about Rapeplay and me (Except, I told myself, there was nothing to know – yeah right) but his smug grin told me he was giving his own tumble credit for my morning glow.

Mischief, powered perhaps by relief at not being caught (Caught doing what? It was just cyber) took charge of me then. I pressed up against Gary, pushing my hip up against where his erection should have been and said. “I’m going to spend the day remembering it.”

I felt him stiffen, just a little. “Shame you can’t stay home,” I murmured in his ear. Then I stepped away from him and called out to the kids to get their stuff cos daddy was leaving.

Gary mouthed the word “Later” at me, grinned, and swept the kids out the door.

I took my coffee into the office and opened up my email. Even though part of me was looking for it (hoping for it), the sight of Rapeplay’s name in my inbox made my heart beat faster.

I opened the mail. There were no lurid close ups of his erection as I’d feared (hoped?) just civilised text that wound itself around my desire.

You have a great deal of potential, Stephanie. I’d like to help you develop it. On-line. And in ‘real life’.”

I wouldn’t let myself think about the “in real life” part (he wants to fuck you, really fuck you – you haven’t been touched by another man for… – Shut up, I’m not interested.) but I loved the idea of having potential.

I liked the pictures of you and hubby hiking.”

So, he’d found my Facebook page. I felt like he’d seen me naked: I was embarrassed and excited.

Gary, (how nice that you used his real name) looks like a nice man. I think you need something more than nice in your life.

I’ll be in the chatroom at midnight.”

That was it.

I should have been furious or afraid or both. I should have called Gary, or the police. Instead, I opened my legs, closed my eyes, and soaked myself in the memory of something that had never happened but which was so much more real than my day-to-day life.

Afterwards, I showered, trying to wash away the slut who’d surfaced that morning. I felt clean and refreshed. And I knew that I would be back on line at midnight.










Naughty But Nice?

This started life as a 500 word add on to a post on Oh Get A Grip. I’ve developed it a little with the help of the folks in the Erotic Readers and Writers Association.

It is a dark little thing that is not at all nice and goes way beyond naughty.


“Naughty But Nice”

© Mike Kimera 2010

I shouldn’t have been hard but I was. After the Valentine’s night I’d had, any normal man would’ve wanted to be deeply asleep. I’ve never thought of myself as a normal man and what I wanted was to be deeply inside Christine.

Darkness greeted me as I pushed into Christine’s apartment. The blinds
were down, blocking out even the moonlight.

Before I could reach the switch, Christine had me pushed back against
the front door. I could feel her nakedness as she pressed into me, clamping her thighs around one of my legs.

“Well,” she said, “did she let you do it?”

There was so much hunger and malice in her voice that for a moment I
pictured huge fangs ripping at my throat.

“No. She didn’t let me.”

The hand that had been stroking the length of my erection through my
trousers suddenly grasped me hard enough to hurt.


I laughed.

“She didn’t let me. She begged me.”

“Sally begged you to fuck her arse?”

“On all fours, arse in the air, looking back at me over her shoulder.”

“Good boy,” she said, unzipping me and roughly yanking my erection out
where she could get at it. “You followed my instructions?”

“No condom. No shower afterwards. Left as soon as she fell asleep. Yes ma’am.”

Christine nodded her head slightly, acknowledging my obedience while failing to detect the mild mockery in my voice.

“I can smell her stink on you.”

She bit my neck and worked my cock with her hand.

“I have to taste it.”

Christine slid down my body, took me into her mouth and sucked hard.

Getting a blow job from Christine always feels risky, not just because of the semi-public places that she often chooses to deliver them in, but because she worries at my cock like a dog with a bone, owning it so completely that it seems possible that she might never give it back.

Usually, Christine would take me deep in her mouth. She was proud of her ability to swallow me whole. She knew the symbolism wasn’t lost on either of us. This time she was focused on tracking down any hint of Sally’s scent on my sex, so she worked me with her tongue, glazing me with tremendous skill.

Sally gave blow jobs like she’d only just discovered they existed. She
delighted in how hard they made me. She would ask me if I preferred it like this or like this and how did it feel when she flicked the tip of her tongue just like that?. She’s the only woman I’d ever met who could laugh and fellate at the same time.

Sally was nice.

I of course am not.

“The Valentine’s gift worked a charm,” I said.

I’d been working my way into Sally’s affections for months. Valentine’s day was the deadline I’d set myself for getting her to give me her arse.

I’d brought Sally the perfect Valentine’s gift, something that was literally ‘Naughty But Nice’.

The image of it blossomed in my mind: a camisole and panties in
a truly dreadful red silk with white lettering.

I’d shown it to Christine before I left for the date.

“Little Sally’s nipples pushed through ‘Naughty’,” I said.

“Her clit was a prominent ridge beneath the ‘I’ in ‘Nice’. I’ve seldom
seen anyone who wanted it that badly. Other than you, of course.”

Christine stood, wrapped one ballet-trained leg around my hip and fed
my cock into her wet cunt.

“And did you fuck her badly?” she said, grinding against me.

“I bound her wrists with my tie, pulled her to the floor, ripped off her ‘Nice’ panties, pushed them into her mouth and set to work giving her the rimming of her life.”

“Poor little Sally. You must have driven the frigid little bitch wild.”

So much hate for sweet little Sally. If I were inclined to commit psychology, I would speculate that hate like that has its roots in envy.

But I hadn’t come here to swap deep thoughts. I’d come to collect on a debt. It was time to get on with it.

I took hold of Christine’s chin and made her look me in the eye.

“I told you I could,” I said.

Christine stopped grinding.

“Yes, you did,” she said.

For the first time since I’d pushed through her unlocked door that evening, it seemed to occur to her that she might not be the one in charge of the situation.

I smiled at her. I let go of her chin and cupped her firm little arse cheeks in my hands.

“So I won my bet. I drilled your too-nice-to-be-true little sister’s arse. Do I get my reward?”

“Do you want it?”

I pressed my thumb against her anus. She grimaced and twisted away. Inside her my cock hardened just a little.

“It’s Valentine’s night. What could be better that having anal sex with two sisters on the one night?”

I’d done just about everything imaginable to Christine but she wouldn’t let me sodomise her. She said it wasn’t something that she wanted to do.

That of course, just made me want it more.

I’d used Christine’s hatred of Sally to create the opportunity for a wager: I’d get Christine’s arse if I could take Sally’s first.

Christine pushed my hands away from her arse, pulled my cock out of her but but kept hold of it.

“You know I don’t want to do this, don’t you?”


“But you want me to do it anyway.”

“A bet’s a bet,” I said.

There was a pause, then Christine squeezed my cock and said, “You are
not a nice man,”

“No,” I said, “I’m not.”

Pressing her breasts against my chest and rubbing my sex against her belly, Christine said, “You can have me until dawn. You have to leave
before my husband gets back tomorrow. You have to use a condom and if
you call me Sally I will castrate you.”

Grinning, I let Christine lead me by the cock to her husband’s bed.

Amy Goes To College: Chapter 1 Amy’s college life gets off to a spanking start

This story messes around with the college bad girl idea.

No deep meanings here, just a sex romp focused around a narcissitic young woman with a high sex drive and a college administration that seems to be up to no good.

Enjoy and let me know if you like it.

Amy goes to college

Chapter 1 Amy’s college life gets off to a spanking start

© Mike Kimera 2004



Subject: Confidential encrypted mail: Our new slut is primed.

Ok, so you did it again, Naomi. I’m talking about Amy Farmer of course. You really know how to pick them don’t you, my dear?

I wonder how many university admissions offices have a slut-spotter as good as you?

Of course, your preference for young girls is a strong incentive to hone your skills. You must have been creaming your panties when you interviewed Amy. Did you cross your legs and squeeze your thighs together? Were you able to concentrate on her banal answers to your questions or where you distracted by thoughts of working on her until she would accept your fist up her arse and still try to smile?

I’d read her profile of course: promiscuous delinquent, poor discipline record, big tits, heart shaped arse, and a pysch score that puts her libido in the upper decile: but it wasn’t until I met her in the flesh, and very nice flesh it is too, that I understood the low cunning, the spite and the arrogance that power her. She’s perfect for what we have in mind. We’ll run the little bitch through our mazes and she’ll think it’s all her own doing.

God, I love my job.

Who’d have thought that leaving Oxford behind (albeit not entirely voluntarily) and taking up the job of college Dean is this excuse for a university would have so many fringe benefits?

Are you sitting comfortably, my dear? Lock your office door, spread your luscious legs and find your toy of choice. I’m going to tell you all about my afternoon with Amy.

You’ve seen that “fuck me if you can” strut that she uses when she prowls around campus: all tossed hair, jutting tits, and swaying butt? It makes me want to hogtie her, tape one of your big “massage” Hitachi wands across her cunt and leave it there until the battery runs out.

But I digress.

Today, Ms Sluttorial Elegance excelled herself. She was wearing a tiny “catholic schoolgirl” plaid skirt, a thin white blouse a size too small and black bra and panties. I think she’s been watching Tatu videos. The look was so appropriate for what I had in mind that I decided that today should be the start of Amy’s extracurricular tuition.

As you know, the bitch is a pot-head, and I knew she wouldn’t make it through the morning without a hit. I had Mendez track her. I’m sure he enjoyed making the cameras zoom in on her over-displayed flesh, although the phallic symbolism of the extending camera would have been lost on his Neanderthal mind.

Do you think he ran his thumb down his erection as he watched her? Did he perchance, imagine ways to use her as our plans unfold? For one of such mediocre intellectual ability, our Head of Security can be surprisingly inventive. Do you remember the creative use he made of his nightstick with our last slut? Of course you do, you were sitting on her face at the time, as I recall.

Dearest Amy is not entirely stupid; she picked a deserted spot to get high; which was very convenient for us of course.

Mendez gave her time to get a buzz on and then he arrested her.

Poor little Amy, the nasty chief of campus security cuffed her hands behind her back, put her in his car and drove her to the Dean’s office. You know, that eccentric British Dean who has such a fearsome reputation for discipline and a well publicised policy of zero tolerance for substance abuse. How I enjoy the impression that I make, especially when most of it is false.

My new secretary, (another miraculous find of yours by the way. Mrs Almeda dresses like a Sunday school teacher, is almost old enough to be my mother, wears a wedding ring on her finger and a cross at her neck, won’t look me in the eye, even when she has my cock in her mouth; but she’ll do things most whores would blush at and do them promptly and obediently. She doesn’t enjoy them much it seems, but that just adds a spice to the dish. I wonder what hold you have over her? I have a nasty suspicion that somehow I am her punishment – your personal equivalent of a community service sentence perhaps– but I digress yet again – back to little Amy’s awful afternoon.) let them into my office as if the sight of a handcuffed co-ed dressed up as jailbait and smelling of marijuana was an everyday part of our office routine. If only it were so.

“You have visitors, sir,” she said and closed the door behind her on her way out.

Mendez pushed Amy further into my office. I had a splendid view of her tits bouncing as she struggled keep her balance.

“She was doing drugs, Mr Shaw. Shall I call the police?”

Sometimes that’s all the threat we need to get them in tears, but it didn’t work with Amy.

“Yeah, call the police.” Amy said, turning to face Mendez and flashing her panties at me in her haste, “and I’ll tell them about the perverted college rent-a-cop who cuffed me and then felt me up.

Mendez reached for his nightstick but I stopped him with a glance.

Standing behind Amy, I said, “Is this true, Mendez?”

I placed my hand on Amy’s shoulder, my fingers apparently accidentally brushing her bra strap. The heat of her made me instantly hard.

Mendez grinned. Amy looked confused. Then she noticed that my hand was still on her shoulder. Her little pot-fuddled brain was slowly working out that something was wrong.

“You can leave us now, Mendez. Ms Farmer and I have things to discuss.”

Mendez gave Amy a leer that would have curdled milk and then left.

I let go of Amy and leant back against my desk.

“Hey, wait,” Amy shouted as Mendez closed the door behind him. She turned to face me “He’s got the keys to these cuffs,” she said.

I stayed silent and studied her.

As you know I like to keep my office at a cool, nipple-stiffening temperature. A Dean has to give advice to so many young women and in our wonderful desert location, so few of them dress for the cold. I find it heart-warming to have such a responsive student body. Or do I mean bodies?

I watched with interest as Amy adjusted to the temperature. Her nipples are short but unusually wide. Better suited to a stud piercing than nipple rings I think. Two of those nice fat silver studs that look like little dog-bones. They keep the nipple lifted and provide convenient places for attaching weights and chains. Sigh… the expertise a man acquires in the course of his career.

Amy followed my gaze and ended up staring stupidly at her own tits. A perfect look for her I thought.

“You are in trouble, Ms. Farmer. Your academic record is mediocre at best; you’ve already been expelled from two schools. On the last occasion I believe you should count yourself lucky not to have been charged with arson.”

Poor little handcuffed Amy looked more disturbed by the threatening tone of my official persona than she had been at being mauled by Mendez. That speaks volumes as to the nature of the girl, don’t you think.

Just when it is dawning on her that this might be a disciplinary hearing and that she might be sent home, I let our precious sluttling off the hook.

I looked her up and down, taking in every curve and every hollow. With my eyes still lingering on those stubby little nipples, I said, “You have been a very bad girl, Amy.”

Amy smiled then; she thought she had it all figured out. She was back on familiar territory and snapped into role immediately.

“I didn’t mean to be bad, sir”, she pouted. “Mostly, I’m very, very, good. Or so they tell me.”

She walked towards me as she said this, head down, looking up at me from under her fringe, breasts jutting out because her hands were so tightly bound behind her; wanting me to think that she was a submissive little miss.

When she reached me, Amy rested her cunt against my thigh, her breasts against my chest, looked up at me and said, “If you take these handcuffs off, I’ll try to show you how good I can be, sir.”

I gave her a second or two to register my erection, long enough for her to think she was going to fuck her way out of trouble, then I pushed myself off the edge of the desk, letting her fall past me and onto the desk.

Amy struggled to stand. I put the palm of my hand between her shoulders and pushed until her fat tits where squashed against my desk.

“Ms Farmer, I do believe that you have compounded your original offence by offering sexual services in order to avoid being disciplined.”

Amy tried to push up off the desk, but with my hand on her back and her hands cuffed behind all she succeeded in doing was spreading her legs a little.

“LET. ME. UP!” she spat.

So much for submissive little Miss.

“If I let you up Ms Farmer, it will be to expel you. Is that what you want?

Amy stopped struggling.

“You didn’t answer my question, Ms Farmer. Do you want me to let you up off my desk?”


“I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you. Please don’t mumble.”


“’No’ what?”

There was a pause. This was where I would know if I had her.

She worked it out.

“No I don’t want to get up off your desk… sir.”

I let go of her then. Staying behind her, I said, “I am the Dean of this College and it is my job to instil discipline. Discipline is very important don’t you think?”

I waited. She didn’t need further prompting.

“Yes, sir. Discipline is important, sir.”

“I think,” I said, flipping Amy’s parody of a skirt up over her back, “that if we handle this privately…” I slid the flat of my hand over her right buttock. “We can put the whole matter behind us.”

My fingers hooked the top of Amy’s provocative black panties. “Do you agree, Ms. Farmer?”

I swear I could smell her cunt. The little bitch was angry but she was horny angry, my favourite kind.

“Yes. I agree. Sir.”

I was so tempted to rip those panties off, rub them across her drizzling cunt, stuff them in her mouth and ream her arse but I resisted. I didn’t want to land that fish yet, I just wanted to plant the hook in its mouth and let it run until it was tired. Very sporting of me don’t you think?

I did rip off the panties of course. I had to gag the bitch with something.

She pretended surprise but she spread her legs a little wider, waiting for me to fuck her, daring me to really.

I made her wait.

When she started to turn her head to see why nothing had happened, I hit her hard across the right buttock.

Her gasp of surprise was gratifying, even through the gag.

I hit her again, five or six rapid blows delivered with all the strength I could muster. I stopped because my hand stung and I needed to catch my breath.

Little Amy was having difficulty breathing. I doubt she’d ever felt real pain before, not the kind of pain the savages your consciousness like a dog shaking a rabbit, not the kind that leaves you aware of nothing but its presence and your overwhelming desire for it to leave.

Gently I slid my hand over the warmth of her spanked skin. She was pink rather than purple but we had only just started. I am an atheist as you know, but I am still willing to learn from Christianity, I decided to turn to her other cheek. This one was slightly further away, so I pulled her hip up against my erection, held her down with one hand and bent to my task.

These blows were hard but slow, each one producing a mighty slapping sound, the sound of one hand clapping, followed by a low grunt from Amy. She sounded like a woman tennis player delivering a strenuous serve. I wondered if she grunted like that with every fuck stroke when she is taken from behind.

After the first dozen slaps, I picked up the pace, until the sound was more like rapid applause and Amy’s grunts had stretched out into one long moan of protest.

I stopped. Amy’s legs were trembling. One side of her arse was the shade of ripe plum. She was still moaning although the blows had ceased. It seemed to me that she was trying to find an angle to rub her clit against the desk. The slut was trying to get off.

I pulled on the handcuffs and yanked her to her feet. Her eyes were filled with tears and snot was running from her nose, but the flush on her neck and the lust in her eyes declared her arousal.

I had stopped just in time.

“Let that be a lesson to you, Ms Farmer,” I said, pulling the panties from her mouth and using them to wipe her eyes and nose.

Anger replaced lust in her eyes then. I could see she wanted to swear at me just as soon as she had the moisture in her mouth to do so.

“Now, Ms. Farmer. Be polite or all this will have been for nothing and I will have to expel you after all.”

She glared at me but she said nothing.

“Turn around, Ms. Farmer.”

She wanted to ask a question but thought better of it.

When she obeyed, I asked her to bend over. Then I stood so close to her that the back of her thighs pressed against the front of mine.

“You’ve had your punishment now, Amy. It’s time for your reward. Do you know what I’m going to do now, Amy?”

There was a pause. She leant back against me a little and said, “Yes, sir.”

“Do I have your consent?”

“Yes, sir”. Her voice was husky. She wanted so much to get off that she was willing to be fucked by the man who’d just turned her arse into tenderised steak.

“Good.” I said. I leant forward, pushing up against her sore arse, and unlocked the handcuffs.

“You can go now, Ms. Farmer.” I said stepping away from her and moving towards the door.

When I looked back, Amy was only just starting to stand upright. She’d stayed bend over, waiting for my cock, and she couldn’t believe that her cunt was still empty.

I smiled at her and Amy finally figured out that she wasn’t going to get off.

Before she could express her rage, I opened the door and said, “I need you in my office please, Mrs. Almeda”

Mrs Almeda entered, eyes downcast as usual.

“Ms. Farmer is just leaving,” I said, more to Amy than to my secretary.

Amy started to flounce out of the room, then seemed to notice that she wasn’t wearing any panties under her alleged skirt and slowed down a little as she passed Mrs Almeda, then she broke into a run.

I must prompt Mendez to find the surveillance tape of her exit; it should be good to look at in slo mo.

With Amy gone I was left with nothing but Mrs. Almeda and my erection.

What a happy coincidence.

“Strip, Mrs. Almeda, then bend over and grasp your ankles,”

She undressed with quiet efficiency and then assumed the position. She really is a remarkably supple woman.

I knew she wouldn’t be able to hold the position for long but she wouldn’t need to.

When I unzipped, my cock virtually reared with excitement.

I reached down and pushed Amy’s panties into Mrs Almeda’s mouth, then I spread her arse cheeks.

The anal beads I’d slid in earlier were only detectable by the little pullring sticking out of my secretary’s arse. I pulled on it like it was a ripcord on a parachute and all six beads came out in rapid succession. Mrs Almeda said something in Spanish that sounded colourful but not polite.

I pressed down on her hips to make her bend her knees a little and then I pushed into her arse, holding onto her hips so that she wouldn’t fall and leave my cock in mid air.

The beads had left her arsehole tight but welcoming. It took no more than dozen strokes and all the tension of the afternoon flowed into Mrs Almeda’s bowels.

When I was done, Mrs Almeda fell to her knees and waited for me to remove Amy’s panties so she could suck my cock clean.

Did you teach her that, Naomi dear? If you did, it was very thoughtful of you.

While Mrs Almeda’s mouth did what it does best, I mentally reviewed the session with Amy. I decided it had gone well. The girl has potential. And what an arse. Just the memory of it under my hand was enough to get me hard again.

Mrs. Almeda took that in her stride of course. Well actually she took it down her throat but you know what I mean.

I’m a generous man by nature, so I gave Mrs. Almeda the rest of the day off and set about writing you this email.

I’m certain we’ve found our candidate for this year. The next move is up to her but I’m sure come up with something interesting.

Best Regards


Till Death Do Us Part

I’m one of those old fashioned folks who prefers crime fiction that isn’t focused on helping me share the mind of a serial killer or experience the heat of an arterial gush. I like Raymond Chandler, Carol O’Connell, Harlan Coben, Barbara Nadel and Carl Hiaasen. They introduce me to people who hold my interest and places that seem real even though I’ve never been there.

Recently I’ve been thinking about writing the kind of crime story that I enjoy reading. I posted my latest effort,

Box 127” a little while back and it was well received, so I thought I’d share my first attempt at the genre.

“Till Death Do Us Part” is set in New York City and features Detective Claire Jardin. Claire stayed in my head. She wants me to tell the story of boy who confessed to murdering a woman he ought not to have had any involvement with so I hope to have something further from her soon.

Till death do us part

© Mike Kimera 2002. All rights reserved. Do not reproduce without written permission from


It was an upscale apartment that still managed to look elegant and spacious despite the clutter that a bunch of cops working a crime scene brought with them.  Murphy, the uniform first on the scene met us at the elevator. She’s a good cop, young but keen.

“What you got Murph?” Martinez, my partner, asked.

“Two fatal shootings in the study, Detective, but neither of them are as cold as the guy on the balcony: David Reynolds. His wife’s lying dead in there, shot with his gun and all he says is, ‘Tell me when someone with rank arrives, officer,’ and goes out to look at the view.”

I walked past Murphy into the study. I’d get to the bodies later; first I wanted to get the flavor of the place. It was less of a study, more of a media room: Bang and Olufsen sound system, plasma TV, DVD player, commercial quality VCR and two computers, one with webcam. Very cool, very minimalist, very tidy. The only personal touch was the ego-wall, set behind the desk so visitors got a good view: photographic evidence of the success of Mr. David Reynolds, award winning maker of TV commercials and friend to the rich and famous.

I moved from photograph to photograph. Reynolds had a smile that never reached his eyes. There was only one “family” photograph, Mr. and Mrs. Reynolds on their wedding day. She was pretty and looked younger than him. The body language screamed trophy-wife. That’s why she was on the ego-wall for others to look at and not on the desk for him to see.

I turned to what was left of Mrs. Reynolds. The body was slumped against the wall. What used to be her face was splashed in arc of color behind her, like a satanic halo. I squatted to take a closer look.  ‘If those breasts are real there is no God’, I thought.

“The gun must have been right up against her chin,” Martinez said.

I hate the way he creeps up behind me like that and he knows it.

“Yeah, seems almost malicious doesn’t it?”

“Not as malicious as what was done to Mr. Young-and-Handsome over there. Hey, Claire, you think it’s true that you can’t get into heaven if you’ve had your genitals shot off?”

“That’s what killed him?” I asked.

“Nope, I reckon the two shots through the heart at close range have to take the blame for that.”

“OK, Murphy take us to see the grieving husband,” I said. I’d had enough of dead bodies for one evening.

“There’s something else you should see first, Detective,” Murphy said. “There’s a tape in the VCR. I checked on it because the player was still warm when we arrived.”

She looked like she wanted my approval. I smiled at her and she pressed PLAY on the remote.

The first shot was a close up of a very aroused man forcing his way into an asshole that looked way too small to take him. I glanced at Martinez and we both looked at Murphy who was actually blushing.

“It gets better,” Murphy said, “I mean it gets relevant.”

It sounded like the way the New York Times might review porn flicks but I soon saw what Murphy meant. The next shot was Mrs. Reynolds sucking Young-and-Handsome. I learnt that Mrs. Reynolds was a swallower, not a spitter and that the shot to Young-and-Handsome’s groin had blown away a substantial endowment. The film continued as a series of fast cuts of Mrs. Reynolds and her lover in an imaginative variety of different positions.

“Switch it off Murphy, we’ve seen enough,” Martinez said.

“Well done for finding this, Murphy.” I said. “What do you think it tells us?”

“Apart from the fact Mrs. Reynolds dyed her hair?” Martinez asked sarcastically.

Murphy and I both glared at him.

“Well, the picture quality is strictly amateur, all the shots are fixed camera, the lighting is poor, but the editing is very professional.”

“You watched this tape with these bodies in the room and that’s what you noticed?” Martinez said.

“That and the fact that the tape started from the beginning, so if someone watched it tonight they rewound it afterwards,” Murphy replied.

“Maybe you should be doing my job,” Martinez said, with just an edge of irritation.

“Maybe she already is.” I said and he laughed. Martinez never manages to be in asshole-mode for long.


When we got to the balcony, Reynolds was on his feet, taking in his expensive view over Manhattan. I doubt that he was pleased by what he saw; it was probably just another kind of ego-wall.

He turned to face us and said, “I take it that the absence of uniform means that you are the ranking officers?”

His accent was very Brit and his question seemed more like a put down.

“I’m Detective Claire Jardin, this is Detective Raul Martinez.” I said, flashing my shield.

He ignored Martinez but offered me his hand with such confidence that I found myself shaking it. His grip was light and dry. No macho squeezing. No smile either.

He made sure that I saw him checking me out from toe to head, then he smiled and said, “So you are a Detective, Ms. Jardin? How sad to have one’s illusion’s punctured. It would have been nice to believe that in real life homicide detectives are as young and as pretty as the ones on ‘NYPD Blue’.”

Martinez bristled with hurt macho pride on my behalf. Absurdly, I was struck by how sexy my name sounded when he pronounced it the French way. Clearly he knew how to be charming and had chosen to be insulting. I wondered what he wanted to gain by making me mad at him. I decided to give him some space to see if I could find out.

“You’re certain you want to talk about this now, Mr. Reynolds?” I said, “You’ve been through a significant trauma. You could talk to us later, with your lawyer present if you want.”

“A significant trauma, Detective? Is there another kind?”

I could see Martinez making a fist. He hates being patronized.

Reynolds smiled and said, “I’m sorry, that was rude of me. I appreciate that in this demonstrative, litigious society my restrained emotional reaction and my aversion to lawyers are regarded as deviant. Let’s just attribute that to me being an inscrutable Brit and get on with it shall we? I don’t want this to take all night. I have an important meeting in the morning.”

The Brit thing was clever, it made it much harder for me to read him and being nasty is so much easier to sustain than being fake nice. The evening was getting interesting.

“Why don’t you tell me what happened here, Mr.Reynolds?” I said, trying to sound as dumb as he thought I looked.

“Please, take a seat. Would you like a coffee? I’m afraid I don’t have any donuts but I could send out for some?”

I let the jibe slip by and took a seat. If Reynolds was in the mood to talk I didn’t want to distract him.

“I didn’t kill my wife, Detectives but to substantiate that I need to take you through some rather tiresome details. You see, although I am a very successful man, I am not a very nice one. People pretend to like me because I am successful. I think I am successful because I don’t waste time being nice. I am not without emotions but I’m selective about who I let see them.

“My wife, Heather, was one of the few people I let inside the circle as it were. She knew what I needed and she gave it to me. Frankly, she was never a very adventurous lover but she was beautiful, obedient and faithful and for me, that was enough.

“We had our fourth wedding anniversary last April. Things had settled down very well. I was pleased with her and I had told her so. I even increased her allowance. Then one day I forgot my wedding ring. I returned home to retrieve it and found Heather sweating under some toyboy she’d picked up. I watched for a while, unseen. The boy wasn’t particularly talented and Heather seemed a little desperate to me. I could almost have felt sorry for her but you see, she wasn’t inside the circle anymore. She had betrayed me. For me, she had ceased to be real at that point.”

“Did your wife know that you had seen her that day?” I asked.

“Good question, Detective. It must be all that training you received at the taxpayers’ expense. I assure you that we will get through this much faster if you just shut your mouth and listen.”

“Are you always this aggressive to women Mr. Reynolds?” Martinez asked. “Did you have to teach your wife to shut her mouth?”

“Ah, you must be the bad cop then. So Ms. Jardin here must be the one I’m supposed to want to please. Perhaps that technique works on the American MTV generation, I just find it irritating. If you will both be quiet, I will give you my statement and you can be on your way to whatever bar it is that you wash away the memories in.”

He was good. I wondered if he’d ever been an actor. He was certainly being one now.

“Your partner is almost right, Ms. Jardin. I did indeed set out to teach my wife a lesson. One that she learnt tonight in fact.  The dead young man littering my study works under the name Lance Strong. Apparently he felt the name would get him into soaps. Unfortunately his coke habit made it hard for him to remember his lines and even soaps demand that of their actors these days. He auditioned for one of my commercials. Instead I hired him to have sex with my wife. Actually, his brief was two-fold: to broaden her sexual horizons to the point where she needed his particular kind of action and to make her fall in love with him.”

“You hired a man to have sex with your wife?”

“Oh, do keep up, Detective Martinez. I hired him to turn her into an emotionally vulnerable slut. There was of course one further condition of his employment. He had to do all of this on film. It was the best role of his young life. I’d fed him the material he needed to seduce her: her favourite films, the music she liked, the things she thought were romantic. I baited the hook and she swallowed it live on film. Lance turned out to be a better name for him than I had thought. He had enormous stamina as a lover and he got poor Heather to want things that I knew she would be embarrassed to ask future lovers for. There’s a tape in my study if you need the details. I’m sure it will be a success at Precinct parties.”

“So how do we end up with the dead bodies in your study, Mr. Reynolds?” I asked, wanting see what happened if I pushed.

“Ah, that was most unfortunate actually. Not at all how things were meant to resolve themselves. In this case, real-life deviated from my script.”

There was something different in the way he made that comment. I got the impression it was the first completely honest thing I’d heard him say.

“You see, at my suggestion, Lance proposed to Heather last week. The poor girl was so grateful. And she had such creative ways of showing her gratitude by then. It produced some remarkable footage.”

He licked his lips. I’m sure he wasn’t conscious of it. I knew then that he had watched every moment of his wife’s betrayal many times, savouring it. Getting off on it. He was right; he wasn’t a very nice man.

“So this evening they came into my study together so that Heather could ask me for a divorce. It was a poor choice of venue as it turned out. It is the only room in which I keep a gun. It is licensed of course. I just wish I’d kept the desk drawer locked. Still, guns don’t kill people, people kill people, don’t you agree?”

Not a nice man at all.

“After Heather told me of her new-found love, I showed her the tape. I thanked Lance for a job well done and told him that I intended to give him a bonus. I should have been paying attention to Heather, not Lance. The tape affected her more profoundly than I had expected. It was too much of a shock for her. While I was shaking Lance’s hand, Heather took my gun from the drawer and shot him between the legs. Before I could react, she shot him twice more in the chest. Poor Lance.

“I know I should have been afraid for my own life but at the time I didn’t think about that, I just wanted to get the gun away from Heather. Then I realised she was about to shoot herself. We struggled. The gun went off. I was unable to stop her. She literally lost her head.

“I’m afraid that means that I will test positive for gunpowder residue and you may even find my prints on the gun. I realise it puts me in a bad light, Detectives but I like to be honest. I can supply tapes covering every encounter between my wife and her paid-for-lover, plus a copy of Lance Stone’s contract. I’m sure that a competent lawyer would have no difficulty convincing a jury to see this for the murder/suicide that it was.”

We asked him questions for another thirty minutes but his story didn’t change. He even wrote it down for us. I was certain Reynolds was lying but there was so much truth in what he said that I couldn’t find my way to the lie.

Reynolds stayed on his balcony when we finished with him. He asked to be informed when the bodies had been removed. He made it sound like a request to get rid of the leftovers from a room service meal, but I wasn’t completely buying the calm and in control act. I figured he was in no hurry to go back into his bloodstained study. I told Murphy to keep an eye on him. It would have been embarrassing if we had had to scrape him off the pavement because I’d misread how stiff his Brit upper lip really was.

In the elevator, on the way down to the lobby, Martinez said, “He’ll get away with it you know. The jury will watch that tape and condemn her not him. I bet they ask for a copy to watch over night. I bet they won’t want to miss a moment.”

I saw the lie and the truth then. We didn’t get out of the elevator when it reached the lobby, we went straight back to Reynolds’ apartment.


The camera was in the ceiling of the study. We played the tape on his plasma TV. Things went just as Reynolds described them until he switched on the tape of his wife and her lover. Heather Reynolds laughed.

“God, Lance, you were so big and so hard I thought you were going to split me wide open.”

The camera was fixed on Heather so I couldn’t see Reynolds’ face, but I suspected this was were reality parted company with his script.

Heather was rubbing herself up against Lance now, both of them watching the screen. “Mmm, I do love the taste of fresh meat in the morning,” Heather said, her hand stroking Lance’s crotch. Lance kissed her.

Heather broke the embrace and turned towards Reynolds. “What’s the matter, David? Things not going as you planned? Lance told me about your pathetic little plan on the first night we met.”

Heather leant forward, her hands on Reynolds desk. The tape played on, unregarded behind her.

“You were right, David, after four years of lying under a dried-up emotional cripple, I wanted to be taken by a real man. But do you know what the best part was? Do you know what used to make me scream with pleasure? It wasn’t that you’d chosen such a stud, or that you were paying for me to get properly serviced for a change, it was the thought of you watching Lance taking me and getting off on it because you love the size of him, because you wanted it to be you he was in, not me.”

Reynolds was only just on camera but I could see him reaching for the desk drawer.

“I don’t want a divorce, David. You and I are going to stay married and if you ever try to change that I’ll expose this twisted little plot and take you for every penny you have.”

Heather turned to Lance.

“Why don’t we give him one last thrill Lance? Let’s do it on his anally-tidy desk.”

Lance stepped towards the desk. He was reaching for his fly when the first shot hit him. Reynolds moved into camera-shot, placed the gun against Lance’s chest and fired twice. The camera was on his face as he turned towards Heather. There was nothing in his eyes except hate.

Heather backed against the wall. She didn’t shout or struggle. She seemed mesmerised by Reynolds’s eyes. He placed the gun under her chin and fired.

For a few moments he stood over the body. Then he put the gun in her hands. His movements were calm. He switched off the tape and rewound it. Slowly he moved to the phone. He dialled 911. He gave his name and his address and reported two deaths by gunshot. Then he sat on the desk, looking up at the camera until Murphy arrived at the scene.


“So how did you know the camera was there?” Murphy asked.

We were at Raj O’Rielly’s, home to Irish booze and Indian food and beloved of every cop in the Precinct.

“It was what Raul said about not missing a moment. Reynolds photographed everything. He wasn’t going to miss the last chapter in his wife’s humiliation.”

“But why leave the tape there for us to find?”

“Maybe he thought we’d need a search warrant to search a crime scene,” Martinez said.

“Or maybe he was thought we were too stupid to figure it out.”

I was remembering Reynolds’s behaviour on the balcony. The way he had provoked me. The performance he had given.

“I think,” I said, “that he wanted to get caught”.

“Claire,” Martinez said “to almost quote the great Ozzy Osbourne ‘I love you to bits but you’re completely nuts’.”

I laughed it off and went to get some more Guinness to go with the Rogan Josh, but even in the middle of all that noise and life, I was haunted by Reynolds looking up at the camera as he sat on his desk. There had been nothing at all behind his eyes. Not even hate.

© Mike Kimera 2002 All rights reserved. Do not reproduce without written permission from

A story without a reader is incomplete. Please let me know what you think of this story by leaving a comment below.

Fucking Forever

Fucking Forever

© Mike Kimera


Eternal life. That’s what I wanted. That’s what we all wanted. And the aliens gave it to us. They didn’t have to of course. They were powerful enough that they could have taken anything they wanted. We couldn’t have stopped them. Everyone argues about why they made the offer, especially those of us who took it. Some think it was a sort of religious observance, others say it was their sense of honour. I think they did it because it amused them. I think it amuses them still.

Earth’s first contact with alien life didn’t involve shiny hardware landing on the White House lawn or benign beings beaming their smiling face into every home and telling us that they came in peace. I don’t think it occurred to them to announce their presence to us. Would you announce your presence to the bugs in the jungle? Or to the trees? They didn’t go in for the “take me to your leader” stuff. They wanted earth as a theme park, not a colony. “Take me to your leader” – like they cared.

I met my first alien in a chatroom. It’s not that I was a geek or anything. I was just trying to get laid. I was forty-two years old and death’s winged chariot was threatening to cut me off at the knees. I was going to die. Not soon maybe, but it was definitely going to happen. I could see it in the way my body took longer to recover from drinking and my cock took longer to reload. I’d decided that when it reached the point where I had to get up in the middle of the night to take a piss I was going to shoot myself. When I woke in the morning I could smell the stink of my own putrefaction. Yeah I know, trite mid-life crisis. Yawn. Except that this was my mid-life crisis and it wasn’t fucking funny.

She said her name was Trinity. I thought she was probably one of those folks who know every line of “The Matrix”, and keep saying things like, “Guns. Lots of guns.”, but I hoped that it meant she was into three-ways. I’d never had one but I meant to try it before I died.

I was calling myself “Thriller” in the chatroom. Yeah, well this was a hundred years ago, I was young and had no imagination. I still have our chat stored. Let me bring it up for you.

Thriller: what you wearing babe?

Trinity: I never wear anything

Thriller: Whoa, my kind of girl

Trinity: You don’t like clothes?

Thriller: Well, maybe some leather and lace and some fuck me pumps. EG*

There’s a lot more like that. It never sounds quite that lame when you’re typing it. Let’s scroll forward a bit.

Trinity: Is there anyone you love?

Thriller: You mean like, am I fucking someone?

Trinity: I mean love: being emotionally engaged with someone to the point where you would automatically place his or her interests before your own.

Thriller: This is getting heavy, Trin. You wanna fuck or what?

Trinity: I want you to answer my questions. If I like your answers I will arrange to meet with you tomorrow. I promise you it will be memorable.

Thriller: So what kind of answers do you want?

Trinity: Honest ones.

We talked for an hour or more. After a while I stopped being Thriller and started being me. It had been a long time since anyone had really listened to me; it felt good. I told her about my (ex) wife, my (ex) mistress, my (estranged) sister, the girl next door who did aerobics in her bedroom with the lights on and the windows open; about the painful way my mother died; and about my own fear of death. I slipped rapidly from glib and cocky to tearful and self-pitying. It was like getting drunk only faster, and Trinity was like the best bartender in the world, abetting my intoxication while sympathizing with the results.

Trinity: Thank you for answering my questions. Be at this address tomorrow at 10pm.

I was so far gone in self-pity that I’d actually forgotten that this was supposed to be about getting laid. After I logged off I suddenly thought, “Wow, I’m really gonna fuck someone I met on line.”

Maybe if I hadn’t been so juiced, it might have struck me as odd that a woman I didn’t know and whom I’d just cried all over, wanted to have sex with me.

Trinity lived in a very upscale apartment block in Midtown, the sort of place the doorman would normally have thrown me out of unless I was delivering flowers.

The elevator opened into a reception area half the size of my apartment. I’d have been impressed but I was too busy looking at the naked woman in front of me. She looked just like Trinity in “The Matrix”: short jet-black hair, muscled body, and fighter’s stance. Of course, in the movie I never got to find out whether Trinity shaved her pubes into a narrow little strip that looked like a down arrow.

“Wow,” I said.

I was always good at compliments.

Trinity didn’t smile, she didn’t speak, she just pushed me back against the wall with one hand on my throat, and ripped open – and I mean ripped – my Dockers. This girl was strong.

The pressure on my neck increased and I started to feel dizzy. Her hand on my cock was cool but completely relentless. I started to panic. I was being choked to death by a naked psycho, just when I was getting the most impressive hard-on of my life.

My vision was starting to fade and Trinity’s face showed nothing but curiosity. She tilted her head to one side and looked at me just the way Michael does after he’s gutted some teen with his knife in the “Halloween” movies.

Trinity let go of my neck and I slid to the floor gasping. She straddled my cock and slipped it inside of her. Her whole demeanour changed. Suddenly she was straight out of a porn flick: pulling at her breasts and tossing her head back and going, “Yeah, Baby. Oh Yeah. Harder Baby. Oh do it to me Baby!” It was corny but it worked. I came inside her like someone had turned on a tap. When the flow stopped – look I hadn’t been laid in a month so it went on a while Ok? – Trinity just stood up. My cum was seeping down her thigh and she was looking at me like she was seeing me for the first time.

“Did you enjoy that?”

The porn star was gone. This question was asked in the same tone I’d imagined from the chatroom – a clever but dispassionate woman who studied men like insect specimens. For a brief moment I wondered if I’d walked into her killing jar, then male ego took over.

“That was great Trin. Did you come?”

“I always come.”

She didn’t sound pleased about it – more like bored, maybe even sad.

“What is your name?”

I’d always wanted to be asked that after I’d fucked a beautiful woman.

I grinned and said “Jim, Jim O’Hara.”

“Get out of those ripped clothes Mr. O’Hara. There are some people I want you to meet.”

People? Hey, maybe we were gonna do the group sex thing after all. Hurray for me and my sexual charisma.

I followed Trinity down the hall, enjoying the view of her from behind. She led me into a kind of library/multimedia room: big flatscreen TV, fancy audio system, computer rig, books by the wall full, but no people.

“Sit please,” she said, pointing to a leather armchair.

“Where is everybody?”

Trinity leant forward and placed a pair of headphones over my ears. That brought her breasts pleasantly close. I was about to lick them when the aliens arrived inside my head.

I couldn’t see them but I knew they were there. It was as if they were at the top of my skull, out of sight. It was hard to tell how many of them there were because they moved around a lot. Their arrival lasted about a heartbeat and then a screenshow went on behind my eyes – colours forming and reforming into random shapes. I couldn’t see Trinity any more. I know I should have been alarmed but the colours filled me with a sense of well being.

“Hi Jimbo, how’s it goin’?”

The voice belonged to Kieran, my best friend from school. Problem was, he’d been killed on his motorcycle two years earlier – the day before my 40th birthday – that had been a real bummer.

“You’re dead.”

“Yeah, I know. But they’ve kinda borrowed me from your memory so they can talk to you.”

“Who’s ‘They'”

“The aliens of course. Didn’t Trinity tell you… no that’s right we got distracted didn’t we. It’s been a while since we met someone who needed a fuck as badly as you did.”

“What fucking aliens?”

“The aliens who just used Trinity’s body to fuck you. Look, we’ll prove it. Think about what you’d like Trinity to do for you. Get a real clear image in your head. Then we’ll use her to do it.”

I knew exactly what I wanted.

“We knew you had a good imagination Jimbo. Great image man.”

The aliens restored my sight just in time for me to see Trinity’s lips touch my balls. My whole cock was in her mouth. She pulled back until only the head was in her mouth, sucked hard and then pushed forward to my balls again. She did it slowly, just the way I’d always imagined.

“Oh God,” I said.

“Not God, Jimbo – but close.”

“Look, Kieran, no offence man but do I have to talk to them through you. I mean you’re dead and it freaks me out a bit, you know?”

Kieran morphed and suddenly I was speaking to Jean-Luc Picard. Holy shit, these aliens knew what I liked. He was my all time hero. I had this fantasy where I was in a three-way with him and Deanna Troi. We’d take an end each, all ready for action and he’d grin and say “engage” and we’d fuck the shit out of her.

“Death frightens you, Mr O’Hara,”

“Hey, we all die,” I said. Well, I had to try and sound cool in front of Picard.

“Actually,” he said, “in your case that no longer has to be true. How would you like to live forever, Mr. O’Hara?”

Then Picard explained the aliens in that clear calm way he always used on the TV. The aliens travelled the universe as a kind transmission. All that static we’d been listening to for years, hoping to get a message from alien life – well some of it was alien life. They travelled to earth and then beamed down through our own coms satellites.

Of course it seems obvious to us now that the best way to travel through space is as data. All that effort we spent on overcoming gravity wells and keeping bodies from decaying in zero gravity and dreaming about finding hyperspace, when the clue had been right there in the early Star Trek stuff – ‘Beam me up Scotty’. Turn me into data. Fax me across the universe. E-mail me to kingdom come. And when I get there I’ll look for somewhere to live.

“And I’m the somewhere to live, right?”

“Actually you’re more like an SUV, used by lots of different people for short periods of time to go and have some fun. We are thrill seekers Mr. O’Hara. You understand thrills don’t you?”

Trinity started to suck harder and push deeper, making little choking sounds. I understood thrills all right.

“Think of us as body hitchhikers. We won’t steal your body; we just want a ride in it. You’ll still be inside, just the way Trinity is still in her own head, it’s just that she isn’t at the steering wheel anymore.”

“And what do I get?”

Picard morphed into Keanu in that long black leather coat I lusted after every time I watched “The Matrix”.

“Sex. Lots of sex, ” he said. “Oh and you get to live forever.”


“Cool isn’t it? We get rid of all the things that make you age and die.”

“How long do you ride?”

The alien morphed back into Picard. “We understand that a year and a day is the traditional period for indentured service in your culture. We will improve your body of course, just as we improved Trinity’s. Trinity was originally Carol Parks.”

Holy shit. Carol Parks was a media figure. Reclusive heiress. Interested in science because she wanted something that would…

“…cure her spinal injury? Yes,” Picard said. “She was close to success with the nanotech work she’d sponsored. We just gave her a few additional pieces of data.”

“But Carol Parks is…”

“A fifty-five year old paraplegic recluse. As we said, some improvements where made.”

I stroked the raven hair of the woman who was sucking my cock well enough to keep me on edge without letting me get bored. She sure didn’t look fifty-five.

“Carol wanted a more physical life. We gave it to her. She is, unfortunately agoraphobic to the point where her body shuts down if we ride her outside. But she has a wide network of contacts on the web so we decided to go with the home delivery approach.”

Hell, one minute I’m a SUV, now I’m fucking pizza. These guys weren’t exactly great on the flattery.

“One last thing, like Trinity, you will be responsible for some recruitment. Think of it as a kind of pyramid selling.”

I was losing my concentration. An heiress was blowing my cock while aliens where blowing my mind. My breathing was becoming ragged.

“Why me?” I gasped

“We like your personality: self absorbed, distant, emotionally immature but capable of sustaining a strong fantasy life. So do you want to sign up, Mr. O’Hara? Say yes and we’ll start improving you immediately. Trinity will keep you amused until the work is done.”

Trinity was bobbing her head now. Less deep throat and a lot more suction. I was going to do it, I was gonna…

“YES!” I said and came in Trinity’s mouth.

“Good decision, O’Hara. Welcome aboard,”

Picard disappeared and I was left alone with Trinity. The alien’s must have started work on my body immediately because I was already getting hard again.

Trinity was sucking dutifully but there were tears in her eyes. I should have paid attention to those tears. Instead, I pushed her back onto her heels, popped myself out of her mouth, looked into her eyes, smiled and said, “Do you like anal?”

I spent three days with Trinity. It was a long three days. One of the things the aliens forgot to mention was that they wanted to be able to ride 24/7, so no sleep for the SUV. I spent the time fucking, eating and watching DVDs. I never really got to speak to Carol Parks. There was always an alien behind Trinity’s eyes, but you could tell that it wasn’t always the same one.

By the end of the third day, I looked about thirty and very fit with it. I was still me but I was the me I’d always wanted to see in the mirror: muscled, good skin, bigger cock, and above all, cool.

On the fourth day I got my first rider. This time there was no picture for me to talk to, no conversation in fact. I was up and moving, but I had no control, I couldn’t even change the direction of my gaze.

When I realized where we were going I tried to turn away. My rider laughed. “Just enjoy the ride, Jimbo. I’m going to have some fun.”

I recognised the voice. My rider had decided to be Jack Nicholson, my all-time favourite actor. I tried to say I didn’t want this but I couldn’t speak.

The alien heard me anyway. “Giddy-up hos,” it said and steered me into a gay-bar.

This wasn’t a discrete place for the gently gay and the quietly curious. It was called “The Cactus Cowboy” and the neon sign showed a happy cowboy squatting over a bright green cactus that was shaped like a cock and balls.

Inside, things got worse, they were line dancing and all of them knew the words to “My achy breaky heart”.

I’d like to say that I don’t remember what happened next but the aliens gifted me with total recall. That’s one of the things that convinces me that they had a sense of humour.

I was steered towards the bar, an inane grin on my face. I stepped up close to a young cowboy, ran my finger through the hair on his muscled forearm, leant up against him and heard myself say, “I can never resist strong forearms; makes me pucker up all over.”

My would-be lover walked off in disgust. Seemed like I was no more successful getting laid gay than I was straight.

“This your first time?” The voice came from behind me. It was deep and smooth, like chocolate for the ear. My rider turned me towards the voice. A tall man, older, maybe fifty and wearing shitkicker shoes, a shirt with pearl buttons and a large black hat – yea hah!

“I’m a virgin,” I said. “But you could change that.”

“Son, I hope you have no ambitions as a writer – you have some of the corniest lines I ever heard.”

I felt myself smile, then I touched his cheek and said “But I’m cute with it, right?”

He kissed me. My tongue pushed into his mouth. I’d never really thought about kissing a guy, but if I had thought about it I’d have imagined myself heaving at this point. Actually it didn’t feel any different from kissing a woman. That was almost enough to put me off kissing any more women.

“Jimbo,” the alien in my head said, “you are such a bigot. It’s a good job I know that you’ve always liked oral sex. Now let’s get you ready.”

My erection surprised me more than it surprised my kissing partner. I held his hand against it and pushed my hips forward.

He stopped kissing me. His hand tightened around my genitals. “I think that you lack romance.” He said, lifting me onto my toes by the balls and making me lean against him. “I think that you’re in a hurry to get back to your wife” He let go of me and I almost fell. “I think you’ll be at your best on your knees with my cock in your mouth”.

He grabbed me by the elbow and pulled me towards the toilets. With an attention to detail that I could have lived without, I noticed that the line dancers had been replaced by couples twirling to the strains of “Yellow Rose Of Texas”.

There were no doors on the crappers. They weren’t being used to crap in. I tried not to look as I was pulled past.

He sat me on the crapper, unzipped, held his cock in front of me (smaller than my new improved version but better than what I used to have) and said “Put that smart mouth to use, boy.” Then he handed me a fucking condom. Did he think I had aids or something?

The alien knew what to do. I just watched from behind my eyes as I ripped open the wrapper, put the condom between my lips, and pushed it over the head of his cock. It was cherry flavoured. Who the hell buys cherry flavoured condoms?

I’d never realised cock sucking took so long. And I was really trying. Or at least the alien was. I hollowed out my cheeks, I sucked so hard. I hummed. The alien even widened my throat so I could take all of him at the one time. Just like Trinity had taken me. The guy took forever. Who’d have thought you could get bored with a cock in your mouth.

“Can’t have you getting bored, Jimbo” the alien said.

I took the guys cock out of mouth. “I want it up me.” I said.

I worked him with my hand, squeezing the base. “Right up me.”

“Be quick boy,” was all he said.

I turned around, dropped my jeans and held on to the cistern.

Anal sex hurts. A lot. But the aliens had altered me there too because things suddenly got easier.

“Damn me but you were all lubed up, weren’t ya boy.”

His cock felt much bigger in my arse than it had in my mouth. And he was pushing harder. I knew why I liked anal sex, it was fucking tight. Now I knew why it was so hard to get without paying for it.

I was focused on the pain right up to point were he grabbed my cock. He was all the way in me, moving back and forth less than half an inch. With every push he would stroke my cock.

“Timing is everything Jimbo,” my Jack Nicholson rider said “Let’s put on a show for the guy.”

I started to groan and then moan and then shout. It was ascene from “When Harry met Sally in the crapper and found she had a cock”.

By the time he came up my arse I was shouting “YES! YES! YES!” Then I sprayed the wall with my cum.

“Sweet Jesus, boy – you learn fast.” my fuckmate said. He pulled out of me and I felt like my arsehole was gaping a foot or so across.

I waited for Jack Nicholson to say something smart or maybe even offer seconds. Then I realised that he was gone. I was bent over the crapper with my newly fucked arse in the air and cum dripping from my dick and my rider had left.

I turned around and found that my partner had left too. Not even an “I’ll call you”. And after all I’d done for him.

I pulled up my jeans. I ought to have been mad at the aliens, disgusted with myself, angry with the world but all I could think was “My arse hurts”

When I stepped out of the trap people applauded. My little show had attracted an audience. I ran out of there as fast as I could.

When I got back to the apartment I met Carol Parks for the first time. She still had the Trinity body of course but I could see something different behind her eyes.

“The first ride is always rough” she said.

“I don’t want to talk about it. You wouldn’t believe me anyway.”

“My guess would be a gay bar”

“How did you know that?”

“Because, for my first time they made me fuck you.”


“I have a strong preference for girls, Jim”

“But we’ve… I’ve… You’ve”

“Yes. Like I said, the first time is always rough.”

Then I surprised myself. “I’m sorry, Carol.” I said.

It was as if a switch had been flicked.

“C’mere lover,” she said and reached for me.

She was being ridden. I ran for my room and closed the door. Behind me I heard Trinity laugh. I wondered what Carol Parks was doing.


They left me alone for a while. At least I thought they did. I started to wonder how I’d know if the aliens were there. What if they thought it was fun to watch me trying to figure them out? A sort of reality TV with full surround-sound and vision.

I’d signed up for a year and a day of service and I was wigging out after only five days. The idea of a year of fucking had seemed like a win-win deal. Now I realised I’d turned myself into a walking dildo.

“It could be worse, Jimbo”, Kieran, my dead best friend was back as the aliens’ mouthpiece, except this time he looked the way I’d seen him in the coffin at his funeral, waxy and too well groomed. “We could let you find out what it feels like to slice open your own belly, or pop an eyeball. We’d repair it later of course but it would be a hell of a ride while it lasted.”

The fear was instant. My balls shrank, there was a coppery taste in my mouth, I wanted to curl into a ball.

Suddenly Kieran became Hannibal, complete with face mask. He titled his head back, sniffed the air and said, “Nothing refreshes the senses like the scent of raw terror, Claris”

All the slice and dice movies I’d watched flashed across my memory. All those sharp blades and power tools. All that screaming. How had I ever thought that they were fun?

I stood up. Or rather, the aliens stood me up. I picked up the beer bottle that I’d left beside the bed and smashed it against the wall. Then I stood in front of the mirror, smiled, and raised the jagged glass towards my face. They were going to cut me. And they were going to make me watch. Then they would repair me and make me do it again. I wanted to scream but all I could do was smile at myself.

At the edge of my hearing, Hannibal made that wine-taster slurping sound and said, “Delicious”. Then they let go of me.

I’d never puked and pissed myself at the same time before. I lay there able to move but needing stillness. What the hell had I got myself into?

Carol came in. There was something in her look, some basic human empathy, that told me it was Carol and not Trinity.

She wrinkled her nose at the smell but her tone was sympathetic, “I see our friends gave you the ‘every silver lining has a cloud’ demo.”

She took hold of my wrist and said, “Come on, lets get you into the shower.”

Carol was naked as usual. As I undressed I realised that I was embarrassed to be naked in front of her now. It wasn’t just that I’d soiled myself, it seemed more personal than before. Maybe she picked up on my discomfort, because, once she herded me into the shower and turned on the water, she stepped back outside.

I’d fucked Trinity/Carol in this shower. Images of my cock between her soap-covered breasts surfaced in my mind. It took no effort at all to recall the slippery slide of her finger into my ass, or the rasping of her tongue on my balls.

“Did they make you hurt yourself?” I asked, trying not to let the Trinity memories arouse me.

Carol gave a humourless laugh. “They showed me that I could be paraplegic again in an instant: incontinent, immobile, helpless. But this time I might find my vocabulary restricted to the words shit and fuck and piss.”

Even under the hot water I shivered at the thought of that. My wannabe erection faded in sympathy.

“I don’t get it,” I said. “They can make us do whatever they want. Why the threats?”

“They are aliens, Jim. They aren’t from around here. Who knows what they want? But if I had to guess I’d say that want us… stimulated. It’s not enough to use our bodies. They want to feed off real emotions.”

“Yeah, my rider got pissed at me when I got bored sucking that cowboy’s cock.”

This time Carol’s laughter was heartfelt. It was a sound I could grow to like.

Carol, still smiling, offered me a towel as I stepped out of the shower. Before I could take it from her I saw the change in her eyes.

She tilted her head to one side, just like she’d done on the first day, then she looked down between my legs.

“No ewection for Twinity?”

It was a little girl voice that I might once have found naughty but that now just seemed wrong.

She reached out for my cock but I stepped back.

“Aw, doesn’t Jimmy want to play with lickle Twinity?” she said, dropping to her knees in front of me. The alien kept Carol’s eyes on me as she slid one finger down her belly and between her legs.

“Mmmmm, Twinity’s all wet” she said, biting her lip.

God help me but my cock began to thicken and I had no alien to blame that on.

The doorbell chimed. Trinity bounced to her feet. “Never mind, Twinty has a new fwend to play with now”.

I followed Trinity to the door, forgetting my own nakedness until I saw the wide-eyed stare of the immensely fat middle-aged woman who stood in the doorway.

“Come in, Heather. I’ve been waiting for you,” Trinity said, all trace of her child parody gone.

Heather waddled into the room.

“Heeeeere’s Johnny,” the Nicholson Alien said in my head. “So Trinity landed the big one. Christ, having her would be like fucking a whale: humping a Humpback, harpooning the Great White.”

I was beginning to go off Jack Nicholson.

“Aw now, why’d ya have to think a thing like that, Jimbo? That’s not a nice thing to think. Now I gotta do something about it. It’s all about respect, kid.”

I’m not sure who was most alarmed by my cock slapping up against my belly, me or Heather. She took a step back and bumped into the wall. The plaster cracked.

“Don’t worry about Jimmy,” Trinity said, “He’s going out to play. You’re all mine, Heather.”

Trinity’s’ head was level with Heather’s avalanche of a bosom. She pushed her face into the soft slopes and let one hand try to find a gap between heather’s massive thighs. Heather looked uncomfortable with me watching, but I could see her nipples rise beneath the T-shirt tent she was wearing.

“Open wider, Heather. I promised you my whole fist,” Trinity said.

Heather sagged against the wall. Her eyes widened as Trinity pushed home, then Heather moaned. I remembered moaning like that. The mating call of the terminally frustrated.

“There she blows!” Jack quipped in my ear.

My hand slapped Trinity on the rump and then I returned to the bedroom to get dressed.

“You’re gonna like this Jimbo, you’re gonna like it a lot,” Jack said. “We’re gonna see a young neighbour of yours. I always had a hard spot for the girl next door, if ya know what I mean?

Jack took a detour to Trinity’s bedroom on the way out. Heather was naked apart from the leather straps tying her to the bed and the ballgag in her mouth. Trinity was lubing the largest strap-on I’d ever seen.

“Glad to see your getting her used to a man my size, Trin,” I heard myself say. “We’ll come back after the remodelling.”

Trinity gave us the finger then buried the strap-on between Heather’s legs. We stayed long enough for me to know that Heather literally rippled when she struggled in her bonds. Even without the alien’s gift of total recall that was a sight it would have been impossible to forget.

Before Sonia had become my neighbour, my apartment hadn’t had much of view – who wants to look across a junk-filled courtyard at the other side of your own building? Once she started doing her exercise routine with her windows open, I found the view much more compelling.

According to the concierge, Sonia was twenty-three and recently divorced. My guess was that she was used to a whole lot more sex than single life was bringing her and she was using her aerobics either to sweat off her lust or attract someone-else to enjoy it with.

If I’d been younger and fitter I might even have believed that her displays were intended for my consumption. She’d smiled at me a couple of times in the lobby, and once I’d carried her groceries up for her, she’d offered me coffee but I was late for a chatroom meeting so I made my excuses. OK, so sometimes I did Homer Simpson impersonations.

I liked Sonia, she smiled a lot and seemed full of life. Of course that hadn’t stopped me from whacking off while I watched her aerobics routine from my darkened room but that didn’t make me a bad person did it?

Now the aliens had brought me back to my old building, intent on helping me fuck Sonia and my main response wasn’t excitement but fear. I knew the aliens liked my fear. I wondered if they wanted to enjoy Sonia’s fear as well

In my minds eye, the aliens had transformed my sagging fourty-two year old body beyond recognition but the concierge just nodded at me as the aliens herded me through the lobby. “You had a self-image problem, Jimbo,” Jack said, “Plus you were a whining spineless excuse for a man. Now we’ll show you how a real man gets some pussy.”

Pussy. How often had I whispered that word to myself as I flicked through porn? Maybe I’d even said it to myself while I watched Sonia do her pelvic floor exercises – “look at the pussy on that”. It’s one of those things you say to get yourself excited but I’d never said it the way Jack said it in my head. Jack’s version was a sort of verbal leer that said “been there, had that, let’s make it bleed next time.”

Sonia was wearing a shot dress and a big smile when she opened the door.

“Jim, what a surprise. Wow have you been working out – you’re looking buff.”

“See Jimbo, she likes ya.” Jack said in my head. My hand ran through my hair and I leant against Sonia’s door frame with a grin on my face.

“Wanna feel my muscles, Babe?”

Sonia’s smile faded. She took a step back, unable to close the door without slamming it against me.

“What do you want, Jim?” She sounded a little nervous. With more insight than I would once have been capable of, I wondered if her husband had ever hit her.

“Me?” I said, stepping into the room and closing the door. Sonia, who was stepping backwards, bumped into the hallway wall. “What do I want?” I put one hand on the wall and leant in close, blocking her escape. “I want you.”

Tears appeared in Sonia’s eyes. She was looking at me like I was a walking nightmare.

“I want this,” I said cupping her left breast, “And this,” licking the flat of my tongue up her cheek.

I stepped back and she turned to move. My hand grasped her throat and held her in place against the wall.

“But mostly,” I said unzipping my jeans and tugging out my erection, “I want to fuck every hole you’ve got and maybe drill some new ones.”

Sonia’s kick caught me in the balls. The pain screamed through me but the alien ignored it and punched Sonia in the belly. Then he squeezed her throat until she lost consciousness.

“You guys are so easy to break,” Jack said. “No wonder you reproduce so much.”

My body was my prison now. There was no escape. Helpless, I picked Sonia up and carried her into the bathroom. I ripped her dress off and used strips of it to tie her wrists to the towel rail. She was crumpled unconscious against the wall. I kicked her legs open, then ripped off the thong. Somehow leaving the bra on just made her look more helpless.

“Your not with the program Jim.” Jack said in my head. “What about all those rape stories you used to read, ‘Miss Cocktease gets hers.’ or ‘The taming of the bitch’. They used to make you come. Now’s your chance to do it for real.”

My hand was working the shaft of my erection just in front of Sonia’s face.

“Feels good, doesn’t it Jim?”

And it did feel good. Since the aliens altered me, stroking my cock always felt amazingly good. Soon I would come on Sonia’s face.

“Tell you what Jimbo, I’m gonna give you back control here. If you whack off into little Sonia’s eyes we’ll let you go home and no harm done. If you don’t, we’ll take control back and fuck her so hard she’ll bleed for a month.”

Suddenly the alien was gone. My cock was still begging for release but I was free. Sonia was starting to come round, any second now she would be looking up at me. I had to make a decision: come on her face and save her or hold back and blame the aliens for the hours of abuse she would suffer.

Sonia’s eyes opened. She looked at me not with terror but with hate.

I ran.

I made it as far as the door before the aliens stopped me.

“Mr O’Hara.”

It was Picard only in his Borg incarnation, Locutus.

“You should know by now that resistance is futile. You have been assimilated.”

I turned back towards the bathroom, my cock quivering in front of me. That’s when I started to cry. Tears streamed down my face. I was going to fuck Sonia. I was going to do all the things that I’d ever dreamed of doing to her. I was going to remember it all forever. I wanted to die.

“Delicious,* Hannibal said, then I was alone.

I waited a second, sure they would come back.

Sonia struggled out of the bathroom, the towel rail in her hands. Her rage when she saw me standing there was so violent and ugly, I wondered if the aliens had occupied her. She let out a howl and ran at me, wielding the towel rail like a club.

Maybe I should have tried to tell her that it wasn’t me, it was the voices in my head that made me do it. Maybe a braver man would have let himself be clubbed to death. I ran. I ran down the stairs. I ran out of the building. I ran until I had to stop in an alley and puke my guts up.

I sat in the alley staring up at the clouded sky, glad of the cold indifference of the rain.

I could never go home now, Sonia would have me arrested.

I could leave town and hope the aliens wouldn’t follow me.

I could throw myself in front of a subway train.

Or, I could go back to Trinity’s and live forever.

When I reached the apartment, Carol opened the door. She didn’t say anything, she just wrapped her arms around me. It wasn’t much but it was all we had, small moments of humanity. Maybe it was all we had ever had.

© Mike Kimera 2003 All rights reserved. Do not reproduce without written permission from

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The Way of the Courtesan : Chapter 5 : Ravier and Jenna

Ravier needed to fuck. He had spent the whole morning struggling to control his arousal. Being locked in a small Transport with Rachel had been almost unbearable. He could hear his own blood roaring in his ears, calling on him to leap on Rachel and devour her. Even his men had been visibly affected. The pressure had eased when Sabine lead Rachel away to prepare her for the ritual but his cock was still thick against his thigh.

He turned his gaze to Jenna and a grin spread across his face. It was a requirement that the Sponsor of a Courtesan should have rigorous sex before the blessing; it demonstrated his trust that the Founder would give him the strength to carry out his role in the ritual. Sabine had given him Jenna to carry out this tradition.

Jenna was dressed as a handmaiden, available for Ravier’s pleasure, but it was clear to him that Jenna was more than that. The Brotherhood did not publicise the existence of female assassins but Ravier’s father had sometimes used them and Ravier recognised the signs; Jenna’s gait, the development of her muscles, the lack of fear in her eyes, were all warning signs to him.  He doubted that Sabine would harm him in her own House, but it was possible that Jenna was working for someone-else.

“Strip,” he said to Jenna.

“Here, my Lord?”

He was sure that Jenna meant to look coy, pretending to be shocked at the idea of being naked in a public place, but she didn’t quite manage to hide her amusement.

Ravier slapped her across the face with the flat of his hand. He saw the fighter’s reflex start and then be subdued. Jenna could have avoided the blow. She had let him hit her.

“Of course, my Lord,” Jenna said. She kept eye contact with him as she undid the fastenings at her shoulders and let the robe drop to her feet.

Ravier’s cock pulsed. Her body was all hard curves and smooth flesh. It was a canvas he wanted to paint with pain.

“Put your hands on your head and turn around in a circle.”

Jenna moved slowly, displaying herself to him and his men. She knew she was being searched for weapons. They both knew that she was lethal even without a blade.

“Tie her hands behind her back.”

Two of Ravier’s men held Jenna’s arms. They pressed themselves against her while their comrade worked cruel knots to bind her wrists.

“Bring her,” Ravier said and strode towards the tent Sabine had prepared for him.

Jenna was forced to her knees in front of Ravier. His men stayed at the perimeter of the tent. They should have been guarding him but that seemed pointless when the main threat was already amongst them.

Ravier released himself from his trousers. His cock felt hot in his hand. His balls hung heavily. He pressed against Jenna’s mouth and pushed his cock inside. She grinned around his flesh and pushed herself forward, forcing her head further down his shaft. Ravier lost himself to it then, holding her head, ploughing her mouth. No subtly, just haste. Even as he came he was thinking of Rachel: Rachel spread on the horse, Rachel with his sperm on her face and hair, Rachel being carried naked and exhausted in his arms. It was all he could do not to cry out her name.

He came inside Jenna and then pushed her roughly away. His three Security looked at her as if they would tear her apart. Ravier didn’t want that. He wasn’t completely certain they would all survive it.

“Get women and wine for my men”, he shouted. Invisible listeners met his needs. Sabine knew how to keep men happy; within minutes there were six women in the tent. Ravier sat in a field-chair and watched his men take their pleasure.  At first they dived in like starving men. Like him they were still riding the erotic wake Rachel seemed to leave behind her. A few minutes later, after the first come, they slowed down and started swapping the women, commenting on this one’s tightness or that one’s nipples.

Ravier’s mind returned to Rachel, playing with images of her being painted in preparation for the ritual. He wondered what Sabine was saying to her, hoping that it was enough to keep her safe and not so much as to corrupt her entirely.

He ignored Jenna, waiting to see what her next move would be. She had stayed on her knees, watching him watch his men fuck. Now she crawled back to him on her knees, her hands still bound behind her. He didn’t remember giving her the bruise on her face but he smiled to see it there.

Jenna kissed his feet and then slid her breasts up his shin and rubbed her face along his thigh. It was an impressive display of muscle control. With her lips pressed against his balls and his wet cock lolling on her forehead, she looked up and said, “If you will risk untying me, my Lord, I will show you how skilled my hands are.”

For the first time in days, Ravier laughed. He pulled a knife from his boot and sliced through her bonds, leaving a rope bracelet around each wrist because he liked the look.

Jenna sucked one of Ravier’s balls into her mouth and moved her head backwards, pulling him just hard enough to give him a little pain. Before Ravier could place his knife at her throat, she released him, smiled and said, “Thank you, my Lord.”

Ravier kept the knife level with her face but raised his hips enough to let Jenna pull his leather trousers down to his knees. Part of his mind was clammering for his attention, saying “she’s hobbled you and you’ve cut her free. Your men are busy. This is when you die.”  Ravier’s cock stirred at the thought.

Jenna shook her shoulders and rotated her wrists, still on her knees. Ravier watched the movement of her breasts and only saw her arm flick forward a second before her left hand gripped the base of his ball sack.

She squeezed, hard enough to make him breathe in but not hard enough to hurt. She had his full attention now. She smiled, no longer demure, and slid the fingers of her right hand into her cunt. Still frigging herself, she leant forward and rubbed her face against Ravier’s stiffening cock.

Ravier ran the edge of his blade along Jenna’s shoulder, not breaking the skin; just reminding her of how quickly she could die. She turned her face toward the blade and ran her tongue along the sharp edge. Blood flowed from the shallow cut, dripping over her chin and down on to her breasts. Ravier’s cock twitched to full attention.

Jenna released Ravier’s balls, turned away from him and with deliberate slowness, placed her cheek on the floor, her arse in the air and pulled herself open for him. She licked her lips, sucking in the blood, slid her hands across the smooth curve of her arse and pushed one finger all the way into her ring.

“My Lady thought it wise to make sure I was oiled for you, my Lord. She says that the pain is more than worth it. Is she right?

Ravier slid to the floor, kneeling behind Jenna. The blow he delivered to her was so hard it made his men look up from their fucking. The women servicing them flinched as a second, harder blow landed on Jenna’s arse.

“Lady Sabine is always right. Her handmaiden should know this.”

“I do, my Lord I do,” Jenna said wiggling her reddening arse from side to side. “Let me please you, my Lord. I can make it memorable if you will let me.”

Ravier had had many, many women. Few of them had proved memorable.  But then, he’d never taken an assassin before. Ravier’s cock didn’t care about what would be remembered, only about what would happen right now. As brutally as he could, Ravier forced himself into Jenna’s arse. She was tight and smooth. Then she surprised him. She pushed her hand into her cunt and stroked his cock, pressing it, pushing it, teasing it. There was no question of him withdrawing. Every moved she made was to take him deeper and keep him there. When he was pressed up against her arse with her fingers strumming the head of his cock, she tightened her ring.

If Ravier had believed in sorcery, he would have taken this as evidence of it. Her muscle gripped him like a bite and then let go. Then gripped. Then let go. He was being milked into her bowels. He tried to pull out but she would not release him. He was like a dog locked into a bitch. So he treated her like a bitch. He bent over her back, dug his fingers into her breasts and bit her neck. He came at the first taste of blood. She released him only after she had sucked out the last drop of his sperm.

When he rolled off her, breathless, dizzy, he realised that his men and the women they were using were looking at him. They all had the same look in their eyes, lust spiced with envy.

Jenna was the only person in the tent who was still calm and composed. She knelt in front of Ravier, naked, stained with blood and cum, hair wet with sweat, smiled at him demurely, bowed her head and said, “Thank you my Lord. It was a pleasure to serve. May I prepare you for the ritual now?”

Ravier decided that Jenna was memorable. She had even managed to make him forget Rachel for a while. The mention of the ritual brought her back into his mind. He was spent. His cock hung limp and useless between his legs. It was time to display himself to the public. He stripped off his clothes and headed out into the courtyard, Jenna following politely two steps behind him.

Ravier stood at the centre of the dais and let Jenna begin her work. A crowd had formed to witness the blessing. A path had been kept clear from the gateway at the far side of the courtyard to the dais. Rachel would enter along that path. Ravier focused his vision on the gateway while Jenna chanted and worked on his flesh. He wanted to see Rachel the moment she entered the courtyard.

A tingling warmth spread up Ravier’s spine. He felt his cock unfurl like a fern in the morning sun. The crowd murmured their appreciation.

“You are ready, my Lord,” Jenna said, “The young Lady will be truly blessed.”

The edge of amusement to her voice told Ravier that, even though she was kneeling naked before him, with his sperm leaking from her, and her face coloured by the bruises he had given her, she still proud almost to the point of defiance.

Ravier controlled the impulse to hit Jenna again. He wanted to look imposing and powerful; the embodiment of the Founder; hitting Jenna might make him look petulant. He reminded himself that the crowd had not heard Jenna’s tone. All they could see was a naked servant carrying out her role in the ceremony, staring devoutly at his erection.

The erection was substantial. His cock was so hard it slapped up against his belly, belying the fact that he had come twice within the past half hour. The tip was swollen and had a purple hue to it, every vein along his shaft was sharply defined, but what caught the eye was the calligraphy. Jenna had painted the Founder’s blessing in gold luminescent ink in a spiral around his cock: “Blessed is he who stands firm in the service of the Founder”.

According to tradition, the strength of Ravier’s erection was a measure of his favour with the Founder, a blessing that he would pass on to the Supplicant Courtesan on the Founder’s behalf.

Ravier did not believe in that kind of magic. He knew that the real source of this blessing was the ink that Jenna had used. It contained a chemical, absorbed through the skin, which altered the flow of his blood, engorging him almost to the point of pain. He would stay hard for a long time now and, because of his recent activity, he would only come under severe provocation. He returned his gaze to the gateway and waited for provocation to arrive.

© Mike Kimera 2001 All rights reserved. Do not reproduce without written permission from

A story without a reader is incomplete. Please let me know what you think of this story by leaving a comment below.


“Those who study revenge keep their own wounds green.” Francis Bacon

This was written as a companion piece to “Happy Anniversary”. It seems to me that women always know, on some level, when a man betrays them. I wondered what the wife of “Happy Anniversary”‘s main character might allow herself to do after learning to live with long term betrayal. This story was the result.
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Happy Anniversary

“All a man can betray is his conscience.” Joseph Conrad

This is one of those stories I keep coming back to as a warning to myself. This is the man I never want to become. It is not in the least autobiographical but I am left wondering if it is possible to conceive of such a man without having at least some small similarity to him. I’d love to know what you think of this one.
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Have A Nice Day

“Have A Nice Day” is a very early story of mine. It is pure porn. I’ve resisted the temptation to edit it into something smoother because I’ve had so many people tell me that, when they need some finger fun, this is the story that they reach for.

If you are looking for inner spiritual meaning, you won’t find it here. You will find a fast sequence of hardcore set pieces. Please enjoy this story in the spirit in which it was written.


Have A Nice Day

The message I sent you on the beeper said, “Open the box in private – but open it at once”. Five minutes later, at 11.30, UPS deliver a parcel marked “PERSONAL” to your desk at work. Everyone notices, but you go to the bathroom immediately to open it.

It contains: a note, a condom, and a large black dildo; one of those anatomically correct but way out of scale dildos, all veins and ridges, made out of silicone so that they bend and feel warm to the touch. It looks huge in your hand. It must be ten inches long and three inches around. You find yourself playing with it; feeling the weight in the palm of your hand. Without thinking you rub the head against you cheek. Then you remember the note. It says, “Take off your panties. Fold them and put them in your purse. Slide the condom over the dildo and push the dildo all the way into your cunt. DO NOT fuck yourself with it. Go to our table at Starbucks at 12:15”

Your cunt is very wet. Surely you think; this huge dildo will never fit. Then you realise you will have to go back to the office with it inside you and wait until it’s time to walk to the coffee shop round the corner. You think of how this monster will feel in your cunt as you walk. You notice that you are squeezing the rubber cock in your hand. With sudden determination you take off your panties – red silk today – fold them and put them in your purse.

You have just ripped the foil on the condom when you hear people enter the toilet. You don’t have time to wait. You roll the condom down over the black cock in your hands – shit this feels so real you half expect it to spit cum at you – hoping no one will recognise that condom smell. You put one foot up on the toilet bowl, open yourself as wide as you can, and start to push the monster in.

Someone enters the stall next to yours. You are struggling to take it all inside you. Trying not to be heard. Trying not to just fuck yourself crazy with this invader. You get most of it inside you. Two inches protrude. You sit on the toilet seat, and, balancing on the base of the dildo. You push hard. It slides in slowly, making you groan.

The black dildo is now deep in your cunt. The pressure is so great you have to pee right there and then. Just peeing makes your clit ache. Your pussy lips don’t quite close over the end of the dildo. You wipe yourself, pull down your skirt and step out of the cubicle. In the mirror you see that your nipples are very prominent and that your legs are slightly parted causing your skirt to rise up a little. They are bound to notice something in the office

You return to your desk. The beeper goes. You read “How does it feel?”. The beeper goes again. “Cross your legs”. You obey and feel the rubber cock move inside you. Three minutes ’til you leave for Starbucks. A colleague comes to your desk and asks you if you’d like to go to lunch. You think he’s looking at your hard nipples. Can he smell you? You want to look at his cock to see if it’s hard but you daren’t risk it. You smile and decline his offer.

Walking has never been so difficult. Although you know how tightly held the cock is you worry it will slip out. You feel as though your legs are spread wide as you walk. Your hips sway slightly more than normal. This attracts attention. You try to hurry and have to stand still suddenly. The pressure is too much. You walk slowly to our table at Starbucks. The beeper goes “Don’t turn around. I’m watching you. Fits snugly doesn’t it?” You reach Starbucks as you finish reading the message.

Our table is taken. A beautiful black woman in a stylish business suit of a yellow so bright only her dark skin could carry it off, is sitting at it. You turn to look for me when the woman smiles, stands and embraces you.

“Jenny” she cries hugging you to her.

She is six foot, slim, long black hair, wide mouth, bright teeth, high cheekbones. There is no blouse under the business jacket.

As she hugs you she whispers “It’s a very BIG dildo isn’t it Jenny. Sit very close to me, raise your skirt so your bare ass is on the chair and keep your legs a little apart. Michael sent me”.

She kisses you on both cheeks and sits down.

You are shocked. I’ve never done this to you before.

Your beeper goes “DO AS SHE SAYS”.

When you look up you see that her eyes are focussed on your nipples. Seeing your look she smiles and licks her lips. You sit. The shiny aluminium chair is cold against your flesh. She moves her chair closer to yours and, as she passes you a latte with her left hand, her right hand slides up your thigh to your cunt.

“Don’t spill the coffee on this nice skirt” she says and looks you in the eyes as her fingers trace your swollen cunt lips and feel the butt of the dildo at the entrance to your pussy.

You sit absolutely still. She pushes gently on the dildo but it doesn’t move. Her fingers stroke back down your thigh in slow circles.

She brings her fingers to her lips and licks them. “I love a tight wet cunt” she says. “I was told you would be good”.

You look down at your coffee.

“Nice nipples too – glad to see there’s no bra… I’m going to use you Jenny – with your permission – I do have your permission don’t I?” she pauses.

You look up. “Yes you have my permission to use me… I would like that”.

She makes a call on her cellphone and a white stretch limo pulls up. She leads you to the limo by the hand. You worry about getting in without flashing your dildo filled cunt at the world. People know you here. She solves the problem for you. Once the door is open she pushes you hard on the back of the head and you fall into the limo face first, ass in the air. As you scramble for balance you hear the sound of yourself coming. The video in the limo shows you being fucked by me and coming hard.

“Don’t just lie there Jenny, take a seat and watch the show – I’ve seen it twice. My names Lily, by the way.”

You look up and then past her and finally you see me sitting in the centre of a bench seat. I look at you but say nothing.

Lily lifts you easily and places you in the centre of the bench seat opposite. She ties each of your ankles to a car door, spreading your legs so wide the muscles on the inside of your thighs tremble. Lily pushes back your skirt so that your whole ass is visible. She lifts both of your hands above your head and ties them to a headrest. Your back is arched. Only your ass is on the seat. You sway slightly as the car moves.

Lily sits beside me and we both watch you. The video is on loop and starts with you on the floor, tied, with my cock in your mouth. Lily kisses me and unzips my cock. I push her head down on it while keeping my eyes on you. The black dildo is visible in your swollen cunt. Already I can smell your juices. Your eyes plead with me for attention.

I pull Lily’s head off my cock and push her towards you.

“You’re getting the seat damp Jenny” Lily says.

Her fingers trace the outline of your wet cunt lips around the dildo butt. You moan and look away. She kneels between your legs and licks your clit. Your ass bounces on the seat.

“Show her” I say.

Lily takes off the yellow jacket. Her breasts are very round. They both have large gold nipple-rings. She hefts one breast in her hand and licks the nipple with her long tongue. Shimmying out of her skirt she exposes a shaved pussy and a tight muscled ass. She is wearing a harness round her hips and between her legs. Seeing you look at it, she points to a ring on the harness just above her clit. “This is what the butt of that dildo slots into Jenny. I’m going to have such fun fucking you with it. Maybe we should see how well it fits your ass”

You look at Lily, licking your lips. “Come fuck me with your big cock bitch” you moan, your hips swaying and your pussy gripping the dildo.

I grin at your response. “I told you she was good, Lily. Enjoy her”.

Lily licks her way up your thighs. Her tongue penetrates you ass. She pushes deeply into you. Her strong tongue passes through your rose. She sucks hard. Her large lips move up. She takes the dildo in her teeth and pulls it back by an inch. She slots it into the belt.

“Fuck me,” you say and push yourself forward, pressing the dildo against her mound.

You feel the huge dildo slide deep in you as Lily rams it in and out of you. Bouncing your hips off the car seat to meet each thrust, you push back on the dildo so she feels it against her clit. Both of you moan as she fucks you. Your bodies are covered with sweat as she pushes faster and deeper into your hot cunt.

I reach over and pull on her nipple rings as I tweak your tit. I push two fingers up your ass as Lily pushes hard, burying the dildo deep in your cunt. You pull on the ropes as you feel the dildo stretch your tight pussy, then push back on it, making Lily moan. Faster and faster she fucks into you, your body squirming as I ram my fingers up your hot moist ass.

Lily pushes deep into you, grinding her hips against you as she comes. I shove my fingers further into your ass and pinch your clit making you scream as you cum.

I release your hands and legs, sit on the seat you have made damp and then retie your hands behind your back, leaving your legs free as you kneel in front of me. Grabbing your head, I force my cock into your wet mouth. You feel Lily’s hands stroking your back as your lips slide up and down my hard cock. Knowing that you love it, I push your head down onto my cock. It lodges with comfortable familiarity deep in your throat.

A shiver runs through your body as you groan against my cock, Lily pushes her fingers into your ass. Looking into my eyes you suck me hard and deep, with your tongue twirling around my cock. Lily fingers your ass as I fuck my cock in and out of your mouth. I hear you moan and feel you jerk as Lily pushes the big dildo up your tight ass. I watch as the big black dildo disappears, spreading your ass hole as inch by inch sinks into your tight tunnel. Your ass squirms prettily as Lily impales you on the huge rod. Reflexively your ass ring tightens, fighting to keep out the dildo splitting you.

I keep your mouth on my cock as you arch your back trying to lift your head up and scream in pain. Lily smiles to herself and then grins at me as she twists the dildo in your ass making your body jerk. I watch as she pulls it out until just the crown is surrounded by your ass ring. I nod my head at her and with one forceful stroke she buries the dildo deep into your ass as I push down on your head and flex my hips forcing my cock fully into your throat. You feel my cock pulse as I cum down your throat, filling you with my hot cum. I spit the command “Drink it” at you and feel your throat tighten as you swallow my sperm.

I untie your hands and hug you to me. I kiss you on your cum filled mouth. Lily has detached the dildo from her harness leaving it buried in your ass. She is licking carefully at the small smears of blood around your ring.

“Help me tie Lily” I say.

Lily lies back in the seat, taking up more of it than you did. We spread her legs so wide the pink inside her slit is visible. With clever knots you tie her outstretched legs making her lean forward slightly. You kneel back to look at her.

I raise your hands above your head and slip off your top. It is the first time Lily has seen your breasts. From behind you I cup them, kissing your neck, working on the hard nipples, while you smile at Lily.

The elegant gold nipple clamps close brutally over each of your nipples in turn. You bite your lip as I connect each of your clamps to one of Lily’s nipple rings by five inches of gold chain. You are very close to one another now but not touching.

I pull you backwards on your heels and then further, until your breasts and hers are both stretched and the little gold chains are taut.

Lily’s eyes go wide as she thinks of the nipple rings being ripped from her. I know she is a screamer. I reach into your purse and find the panties you placed there earlier.

“Use these to gag her” I say and let go of you.

You climb between Lily’s legs pressing against her. You kiss her large lips, pushing your tongue in her mouth and sucking her thick lower lip. You place the gusset of your panties against her tongue and fill her mouth with them. Then you kiss her throat, hands resting on her breasts.

“Lily likes to be fisted,” I say “but she’s never been fisted in her little brown hole. I think you could put one of your small hands in each hole at the same time, don’t you, Jenny?”

Lily’s starts to struggle, shaking her head and jiggling the chains that bind you together.

You make eye contact with her, smile wickedly and say, “I would enjoy that.”

You kiss Lily on lips and whisper in her ear “I do have your permission to use you don’t I, Lily, to use you harder than you’ve ever been used before?”

Lily pauses, feeling your tongue trace its way down her neck. She nods briefly but will not look at you.

I smear KY over your hands and wrists. You place your right hand against her anus and push. Nothing happens. I hold your forearm and push your tiny fist with all my strength. Lily thrashes like a dying fish as you slide into her past your wrist. You pull back a little and watch her asshole start to turn inside out. Then you thrust your hand all the way in.

You place your left hand on her cunt. The lips are swollen. Pink is clearly visible. Juices are running from her cunt to where your arm is buried in her ass. You laugh and slide you fist easily into her pussy.

I watch your delight as you discover that you can rub your hands together. Even muffled by the gag Lily’s screams are loud.

I turn on the stereo. “Wanna lover with a slow hand” drowns out Lily’s moans.

My cock is hard again. I slip it into your cunt from behind, feeling how the dildo in your ass squeezes me. You fuck Lily to the rhythm of my cock in your cunt. Lily’s body is now covered in sweat. Her asshole is stretched as wide as her mouth.

I know I won’t last long inside you. Your whole cunt is massaging my cock. On the outward pull of your arms you lean back so you can pull Lily’s breasts with your own. On the inward stroke you push deep into her and lean your breasts against her. With each stroke your cunt massages my cock. You are close to orgasm now. My hand finds your bud and coaxes it. As you cum you push deeper yet into Lily and lie gasping against her breasts.

I pull out of you and wank over Lily’s face. She hardly notices, she is coming in both holes at once trapping your hands in her flesh. She passes out.

Still with your hands in her you lick my cum from her face and neck. For a few moments you are lost only to the sensations of licking and tasting. I know that you are completely focused now.

“Time to go back to work, Jenny.”

You look at me confused. I kiss your forehead and pull your hands from Lily. I pass you wet-ones to clean yourself with.

You reach to remove the dildo from your ass.

“Leave it there. I’ll beep you to say when you can remove it.”

I take your panties from Lily’s mouth.

“Put these on and straighten your skirt.” I say as I gently remove the nipple clamps.

“You have done well Jenny, I’m pleased with you.”

The limo halts as you slide the top back on over your sensitive nipples. I step out of the car and pull you to your feet on the kerb.

“You’ll want to freshen up” I say and you become aware of your smudged lipstick and dishevelled hair. You are outside the main entrance to your office.

I kiss your forehead, whisper “Have a nice day” in your ear and get into the limo and leave.


© Mike Kimera 2000 All rights reserved. Do not reproduce without written permission from


A story without a reader is incomplete. Please let me know what you think of this story by leaving a comment below.

Toying with Lily

In my experience, women who seek a sexually submissive role are often people who are dominant and forceful in their daily lives. They do not slide meekly into a submissive role. There has to be dominance before there is submission. This story gets you inside the head of a Dom with a fiesty Sub and shows what it takes to be in charge.

“Toying with Lily” appeared in “Hurts So Good” Alison Tyler (ed.), Unrestrained Erotica (Cleis).

It was a finalist for the 2009 John Preston Short Fiction Award. The John Preston award is given by the US-based  National Leather Association: International (NLA-I), a leading organization for activists in the pansexual SM/leather/fetish community

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Playing With Barney

This story was meant to be a slightly dark, slightly sleazy piece about voyeurism, sexual exploitation and the use of sex toys.

The problem was that the main character turned out to be irrepressibly optimistic and completely refused to be degraded and exploited.

Which, in its way, turned out to be a smile.

I’m back in the room again, facing the mirror that he watches me through. It’s important that I pretend not to know that he’s there. If he wanted eye contact there’d be no need for the mirror.

I smile at myself. I look good today. It’s summer in the world outside and my simple print dress and bare feet have carried the season in with me. I make a show of pulling down one strap of the dress and looking over my shoulder into the mirror so that I can check my tan. I stand on tiptoe to do this. It looks cute and it shows off my naked legs. I pout at some imagined sunburn, pull the strap back into place and adjust my hair. Only then do I turn towards the room.

I know this room means something to him. It more a shrine for him to worship at than it is a stage for me to perform on. It’s a teenage girl’s room, decorated with a regrettable nod towards Malibu Barbie that is not quite rescued by the rock posters on the wall. They date back to the nineties, when Jon Bon Jovi still had chest hair. I think it’s supposed to be my room. The question is, who am I supposed to be?  First love? Lost love? Sister? No, let’s not go there. I won’t be able to do this right if I keep those thoughts in my head. Besides, his assistant made it clear that he just wants me to be myself.

I sit on the edge of the huge (pukey-pink) bed, side on to the mirror, and let my feet dangle. Then I spot the box on the dressing table. There is always a present somewhere. I bound off the bed to inspect it. A small box wrapped in shiny silver paper with a pink ribbon. I shake it; something too solid to rattle and quite light.  I don’t have to feign my curiosity as I rip off the paper. His presents tell me his mood and his mood tells me what to do.

The first present was a silver hairbrush. I spent most of the hour sitting naked before the mirror, bending my head to one side and brushing my long blonde hair. I love doing that. I feel like a cat licking itself. Sitting there, knowing I was being watched, putting myself into a trance with the rhythm of the brush, it seemed natural, towards the end, to part my legs and slide the smooth silver handle between my labia. It was warm from my hand. Not the ideal shape, but I liked the idea of it. The handle had initials engraved on it, his initials probably. I thought about them inside me, a token of his presence. I pictured the curves of the letters slowly being flooded with my juices. I came imagining him holding the brush afterwards, sniffing it, maybe even tasting it.

At the end of the session, his assistant told me that her employer, that’s how she always refers to him, “my employer”, had been very pleased with me. I got a bonus in recognition of my natural talent. And, of course, I got invited back.

Inside the box is a butt plug. We are not going for subtlety today. Hands up those who can think of 101 uses for a butt plug? I pick it up. It’s purple, six inches long, curved, fat, flanged and made of warm-to-the-touch latex. It reminds me absurdly of Barney the dinosaur.  What do you call a Dino butt plug? A fuckedtilsaurus. Good job I lubed in advance, like a good girl scout.

I hold Barney by the flange and waggle him about. I can’t help but giggle, he looks so ridiculously male: potent and ungainly. It will take a while to come with just Barney in my arse.

I never fake my orgasms. I’m sure he knows that. I think it’s one of the reasons that he keeps inviting me back. I suspect the other reason is that I look like whomever this room used to belong to.

His assistant approached me after my first performance in the University Drama Society. I was playing Lulu in a very realistic production, performed in the round, in a space so small I could smell the audience. I spent most of the play wearing nothing but underwear and at one point I rode a rather fat student around the floor, making him crawl on all fours while I hit him with a riding crop. Ah, the things we do for art.

I’d seen her in the audience for every performance in our four-night run. She didn’t speak to me until the party after the last performance.  I’d assumed (well perhaps hoped is a more accurate word) that she was some kind of talent scout. I wasn’t wrong, but I wasn’t quite right either.

“Would you describe yourself as broadminded, Angela?” she asked.

This wasn’t what I had expected. I wondered if she was chatting me up. As it happens, I am broadminded enough to be flattered by attention from an attractive woman. I let my eyes flick across her figure to show my interest.

“I’m always open to new experiences,” I said, “actually this was my first time playing horsy in public.”

She didn’t laugh, but she did smile. The kind of smile that says, “High spirits are a wonderful thing in the young, but can we please get on.”

“What do you want me to be broadminded about?”

“My employer would find you interesting. He would like you to perform for him, privately.”

I raised an eyebrow.

“You don’t look like a pimp.”

“And you don’t look like a whore, Angela, despite your recent performance. That is what makes you interesting.”

She handed me her card: plain, white, with “Emma Smithson” and a telephone number in embossed black Times New Roman lettering. I’d admired its sparseness.

“Please contact me Angela. I think you would find it most rewarding.”

Ten days later I was coming hard with a hairbrush sticking out of me. Who would have thought it?  Four sessions later and my only reaction to Barney is amusement. Actually, that’s not quite true. There is also anticipation. I enjoy these sessions. They… stretch me. Although frankly I don’t think Barney will stretch me much.

Time to get a move on. Or at least, time to get my clothes off. Holding Barney in my mouth, I turn towards the mirror and strip, slowly. My nipples look good: long, eager, young, ready.

The Ottoman at the foot of the bed is the obvious place for today’s session, which I have mentally christened “Angela a la grecque”, although the tabloids would call it, “Angie gets her A Levels.”

I want him to see everything, my face, my poor abused arse, my pointy nipples, my wet sex. I want him to be spoiled for choice as to where to look. Mirrorman is about to find out how a butt should be plugged.

I sit on the floor with my back against the Ottoman. O.K., here’s where all those bloody ballet lessons pay off.  Slowly, never taking my eyes off my image in the mirror, I place my left leg behind my head. How’s that for a crowd pleaser? There was a risk that I would look ridiculous, but I don’t, I look spectacular. In this position I am completely exposed. No, exposed makes me sound too vulnerable. I don’t feel vulnerable. I am Super Slut, ready to take on the man of steel, or, in this case, latex. I decide I am displayed, not exposed.

I won’t be able to hold this for long so I’m going to make it good.  I take Barney out of my mouth and reach below my raised leg. Pressing up against my arse, he feels a lot bigger than when he was in my mouth. Maybe that’s why men like anal sex, it makes them all feel like big boys. I close my eyes and allow myself a short, unfaked, grimace as I push him home. I close behind him like I’m never going to let him go. Now he does feel like a Dinosaur. I wouldn’t want to be any fuller than that.

I open my eyes again and look down at myself. All that is visible of Barney is a purple flange with a little dimple in it. I look as though I have a corkscrew up my arse. I press against the dimple. It’s nice. It would be nicer if there was a vibrator to rest there. I repeat this a few times. Much better than I expected but not enough to get me off.

Well, I’d been told to be myself and I circumstances like these my natural reaction is to cheat.  I keep one hand on Barney and push two fingers from the other hand into my mouth. I suck them down and get them nice and shiny. They slide into my sex and are embraced like long lost friends. But I’m not taking them their normal route. They are on their way to meet Barney. There he is, just the other side of this thin wall of flesh. Actually, that feels good.

Time for my mental movie. Today’s feature stars Mirrorman, his assistant and me. He’s behind me of course, in the Barney position, so I can’t seem him. The lovely Emma is in front of me, pushing her fingers into me, stroking her employer from inside of me, still working for him even when she’s servicing me. I force her head onto my breast, trying to smother her as a punishment for wanting him more than she wants me. She likes it, the slut. She sucks on me and ignores him. Take that Mirrorman. He pushes deeper into me but she has found my happy button and matters are becoming very pressing.

The movie is making me laugh as well as making me hot. For the first time in a long time, I’m grinning when the come finally hits me.


I lower my leg. I’m going to be sore there for a couple of days. I stand up and Barney reminds me of his presence. The extraction, performed with me standing, bent at the waist, back to the mirror, leaves me breathless and with a sense of being empty and gaping. Thank God it was only Barney and not Godzilla, that’s all I can say.

In that moment of semi-blindness while my dress slips over my head, it becomes clear to me that I am happy. Very, very happy.

Clothed and almost demure again, I give way to an impulse that may mean I’m not invited here again. I run forward to the mirror and give it a big “thank you” kiss. Then I grin. On my way out, I wave. Happiness should always be celebrated.


© Mike Kimera 2000 All rights reserved. Do not reproduce without written permission from


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