This is a short scene I wrote for a group swap on swap-bot as part of the group Totally Inappropriate Trashy Swaps. The theme for the swap is Awful Erotica… hope you (don’t) like it!
Watermelon Jello shooters… not only had they been what lead up to their current situation, but that was also the color and consistency of her ass as he gave it another good smack; he did love watching it jiggle after a good swat. She was on all fours, her pink ass in the air like a bitch in heat ready to be mounted by the first stud who happened by. He leaned back and admired his handy work as he opened the lube they’d grabbed at the CVS as they’d stumbled home in their boozy Jello inebriation.
“Don’t call me Mr Grey, babe” he said as he eyed her puckering starfish “tonight I’m gonna be 50 shades of Mr Brown,” he said while lubing up his half hard whisky dick. Her slit was moist and glistened with anticipation even though he had no intentions of giving it any attention.
“Feed me Daddy, the kitty’s hungry” she moaned.
He gave her another good slap and she rawred like a tiger cub. His cock was hot and hard in his grip, a tighter grip than her worn out baby oven would be able to provide him.
He leaned in to her with full intentions of taking the on ramp to the Hershey Highway, but in his drunken state ended up in her cum dumpster instead. She moaned and slammed her hips back into him… it was too late to change course now. He let his head drop back and sighed hoping he could get his nut before she became religious.
Dang… I should really paint over that water spot on the ceiling.
He grabbed her hips so he wouldn’t fall out which just turned her volume to 12. Do we need more lube? He pondered as he reached down and slid his calloused fingers between her beef curtains. Nope, slick as goose poop.
“Oh Papi, it’s hot.”
“Yeah baby, it’s so good” he said with a flat affect.
“No Papi… it’s really hot!”
She pulled away from him and rubbed at her cunt with the sheets. “What the hell!? I feel like I’m on fire!” He was noticing more of a burn now too. He grabbed the tube of lube from the bed – “it’s warming gel.”
“Gel, or lube?” she shouted.
“What’s the difference?”
“EXTERNAL VERSUS INTERNAL USE!”, she shouted over her shoulder as she ran for the shower.
He rolled over and faced the wall, not even interested in finishing the job. Well, blue balls will at least mean I feel something for the next few days. And with that thought, he drifted off to sleep, the artificial fire in his loin still burning.