Masturbation Monday: Pickled in the Middle

Aha! Here it is you smut lovers – Part Three of Live Action Mannequin. Enjoy how well Ronnie and Lawrence work together to get Betsy blissed out. Oh, apologies to those coming from Masturbation Monday – I forgot to post the link to Juicy Bits, so if you missed it – read that first. 


Opening my eyes, I realize Ronnie is gone and slipping out of the door. Lawrence doesn’t stop what he’s doing and it feels so amazing. I can’t help myself and grab him by the hair to shove his face deeper into my snatch. “Oh yeah, tongue-fuck me, Lawrence.”

Ronnie bounces back onto the bed and sucks one of my tits into her hot mouth. I shake and shimmy against the super soft sheets, moaning, eyes rolling in bliss, but still not getting to that happy place I desperately want to be.

“Betsy, my sweet, I want you to experience something glorious tonight.” Ronnie has a glint in her eyes that I know all too well. She’s about to push my boundaries. At this point, I’ll do anything she wants to get off. She switches to my other tit and this time nibbles on the sensitive skin. Nerves flare to life and sizzle through my body.

“Yes, please, oh fuck yes. Anything!” I’m begging and screaming now. Lawrence backs off at the same time as Ronnie and the devious grins on their face almost put me off. They’ve been plotting something in their time alone.

“I want you double-stuffed.” Ronnie pulls out one of our favorite strap-on dildos and attaches it to the thong she’s wearing. She must have put it on while out of the room.

“Double-stuffed?” The blissful edge goes away and Lawrence reaches out to pinch my nipples with a gentle touch. Pinch, release, pinch, release. I’m squirming again and press my chest into his fingers. “Oooh, that’s so good. Don’t stop.”

Ronnie leans down and pets my hair. “Baby, will you do this for me? I want you to feel how amazing Lawrence fucks. I want you to feel what I feel when he fucks me. And I want to get you stuffed so full of him and our favorite toy that you work off all this stress.” She has that look in her eye, the one that pleads with me to do this one thing for her. I love her, I’d do anything for her. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had a real cock inside me. I didn’t really need it, I had Ronnie.

“Yes, Ronnie, for you, yes.” She squeals and pulls out the big bottle of lube. I didn’t know she’d wanted to do this and I couldn’t understand why she hadn’t told me before. Seeing her happy and the way she stroked the dildo excited me all over again.

“Good lord, you taste so good. Your skin, it’s like a delicacy.” Lawrence kept nibbling here and there along my body. Along my ribs, down my belly and back between my thighs. “Your pussy is going to feel incredible on my cock.

“Here’s the lube.” Ronnie hands it over the Lawrence. He slides off the bed with a flourish and gives us a teasing dance while taking his pants off. By the time he’s done, we’re giggling with tears in our eyes. When he crawls back into the bed, cock in one hand, lube in the other, Ronnie and I squeal in delight.

“Open up and say ahh, Betsy.” Ronnie helped Lawrence lift and open my legs nice and wide. “I’ll get you back to that edge you were enjoying so well earlier, sweetness. And then Ronnie will fill your ass with that dildo she can’t stop stroking.”

I can’t help but watch as Lawrence presses the head of his cock against me. His big head. Ronnie helps me relax by running her fingers along my forehead, then down my jaw, to my neck, and across my collarbone. She continues the path, purposefully circling my nipple, then heading down my torso. Lawrence continues bobbing his cock, just the tip, in and out of me.

“Please, give it to me, Lawrence, give me your cock.” The look that appears on his face is mischievous and I wiggle my hips against him, hoping to get another inch of cock inside me when he pushes forward. He grunts and grips my hips with his hands. Fingers spread wide for better control.

“You want it bad, don’t you? I’ll give it to you.” Lawrence sank himself into me, balls deep, but took his damn time doing it. His cock spread my pussy wider than any dildo Ronnie and I used on a regular basis. I held on to his forearms, nails digging into his skin. It felt amazing, the heat and skin of his cock. I could feel his pulse as he held me to him, both of us gasping and biting back moans of pleasure.

“Mm, Lawrence, you have such a nice ass back here. Sure you don’t want to be pickled in the middle?” Ronnie giggles and smacks his ass a few times. The jolts ride through him and into me. Both of us are sweating now, trying to hold back.

“Maybe next time, Ronnie. But remember, we promised Betsy she could be filled to bursting.” His arms snake around me and we roll over so I’m on top. Lawrence grinds us together a few times. Instead of holding back, I ride his cock and cream all over him.

“Good girl, Betsy. That’ll relax you.” Hearing Lawrence’s voice in my ear is a new experience, the way his chest rumbles against mine when he speaks is exquisite. His hands are on my ass, spreading my cheeks open.

“There you go, Ronnie. Get in there and give it to her good.” I feel the tips of his fingers tease me. Lube gets drizzled over my ass and then two sets of fingers are rubbing and teasing my backdoor. I squirm against him, getting closer to coming all over again.

They take turns prodding me open with their fingers until I’m ready to take the dildo. When I feel the head of it pressed against me, I can’t help it and rock back and forth on Lawrence’s cock. I want to be filled by both of them, I want to know what Ronnie feels when she’s stuffed to the gills.

As she works her way inside, I hear her moans and mewls of pleasure. It’s then that I realize she’s got our super special toy, the one that pleasures her when she fucks me. Hearing her and having Lawrence’s grunts in my ear as they work in and out of me is too much to handle.

Grabbing onto Lawrence, embedding my nails into his muscles, I scream out as the hardest orgasm I’ve ever experienced takes hold of me and doesn’t let me go until I’m wrung completely out. When I open my eyes, I’m still being held by Lawrence, but further up his body. His cock is no longer embedded inside me. Ronnie’s moans behind me tell me exactly what’s going on. She’s finishing him off when I couldn’t. Lawrence pets me like a beloved creature and Ronnie rides him like a champion.

Music to my ears the way Ronnie squeaks when she comes, my quiet girl, naughty to the core. Kisses and strokes and we curl up for the night.


If you’ve enjoyed this post, please visit next week for more Masturbation Monday!

You can find more delicious naughty stories over at Masturbation Monday hosted by the lovely Kayla Lords. If you haven’t submitted your own story as well, and write romance, erotica, or some combination of the genres and sub-genres, please consider doing so.

Link: Masturbation Monday

Link: Kayla Lords

Adventures in Writing: Late Night Retweet Group

Dear Erotica Authors on Radish,

I’d like to introduce you to a new and exciting retweet group. I know, another set of letters you have to hashtag. It’s a chore. But, I promise, worth your time.

Due to various reasons (beyond our control), very few Late Night (Erotica) stories make it to the home page of the Radish App. I mentioned starting a twitter group for the authors and stories in that section to Dr. J and Oleander. They told me to run with it and hopped on board my crazy train.

After starting graphics and making a gmail.com address for Twitter, I stopped and said “Oh, do you think I should ask Radish before I do this?” Obviously, the answer was “Uh, yeah you might want to.”

So, I emailed my contact to say “Hey, had this idea for a Twitter Retweet Group for Late Night. Thoughts?”

Not only was I given the green light, I was also asked for a link once everything was up and running! This excited me and so I dove in head first. I wasn’t sure what kind of graphic detail I wanted for the header, so I did some research. I didn’t want anything truly explicit. So, I went with flirty reflection text saying ‘late night’ and naughty phrases. Still, nothing truly explicit. I think the naughtiest is ‘cuddle me naked’. It gets the point across.

I went with naughty phrases because if Radish wants to promote our Twitter profile on their public profiles, they wouldn’t have to worry about the content of the graphics that would be attached to the link. I’m hoping the touch of naughty will be enough to tempt the authors to peek in, follow, use the hashtag to get promoted (and to promote to their readers to check it out because they might find other authors here).

Please take a moment and check out the profile, follow and let us know if you’re an author writing for Late Night on Radish. We will follow you back and add you to the list, and also retweet you when you use #LNRTG.

XoXo,

Mischa, Oleander, and Dr. J.

Masturbation Monday: Juicy Bits

Technically, this is Live Action Mannequin Part Two, but I couldn’t resist the title that popped into my head this afternoon. No idea where it came from. Yes, I could’ve used it for something else, but it’s perfect for this story.


I didn’t get to see much of the neighborhood Lawrence lived in. He zipped us into the driveway and garage so fast, I felt a little worried for about ten seconds. Then we were out of the car and into the house lickety-split. Once inside, Lawrence stripped off his jacket and tie, which he hung up as soon as we were inside, then started unbuttoning his shirt.

“Come on in ladies, make yourselves at home.” Once his shirt was off, Lawrence stopped stripping long enough to pour us shots from his collection of whiskey. “Let’s have some fun, yeah?”

We tapped our glasses together, slugged them down. Heat saturated me, bubbling up from my belly and throughout my limbs. I started burning, but not in a bad way. Desire flooded my synapses and exploded between my thighs. I run my hand down the front of Ronnie’s body.

“I think we’re overdressed compared to him.” I bit my lip and started stripping her from her clothing. Lucky for Ronnie, her work attire was good enough to be worn to the show. I pulled her close and unclasped the front of her work pants. “Sexy woman.”

As I pulled out her blouse, Lawrence slipped up behind me and brushed my hair back over my shoulder. “Can I kiss your neck?” The warmth of his breath tickled against my sensitive skin. I tilt my head to the side and give him all the access he needs. Ronnie leans forward and runs her tongue along my jaw, to my ear, and then nibbles on the lobe. Being sandwiched in between the two of them brings a huge rush of need.

I stand there, four hands, two sets of lips, and two warm bodies rubbing and touching me. Within moments I’m naked and they’ve changed places. Lawrence is now in front of me, kissing me in a way I’d never been kissed. If I were to ask to rank the best kisses I’ve experienced in my life, Ronnie would cover the top five. But the way Lawrence kissed me felt as though he were drinking my soul, my desire, inflaming my need for him.

“Can I taste you, Betsy?” The whispered words against my lips were lost on me for a few moments. I wondered what it would feel like to have Lawrence use his mouth on my pussy. Unable to speak, and hardly capable of breathing, I nod.

“Let’s move this somewhere more comfortable, Lawrence.” Ronnie’s voice sounded commanding to my ears and I pressed myself against her. Before I knew it, Lawrence swept me up into his arms and carried me down the hall. He laid me down on the biggest bed I’d ever seen.

Before I could settle into a comfortable position, their hands and mouths were back on my body, tasting and teasing me into a moaning, squirming mass of sensitized flesh. Ronnie took control of my breasts and mouth while Lawrence was taking his time tasting the sticky mess that covered my inner thighs.

Two mouths. Four hands. I couldn’t get over being in the middle. Is this how Ronnie felt when Lawrence and I worked her over until she forgot anything other than orgasmic bliss existed in the world? My nipples ached. Ronnie kept switching from one to the other, never giving enough attention to either. My hips couldn’t go any wider, yet I kept trying to spread myself open so that Lawrence would get the hint that I wanted him to tongue-fuck me into oblivion.

“Baby, do you want Lawrence to taste you? He’s been asking?” Ronnie’s voice pierced my mind and I moaned, hoping she would understand that I wanted him. I wanted a man. Yes, I wanted his mouth on my clit, I wanted his lips teasing my labia. I wanted his tongue buried inside me.

“Say yes, baby. Say yes if you want Lawrence to tongue-fuck you.” I nodded, but that wasn’t enough for her. She asked again and again. “You gotta say the words, baby.”

“Yes, oh fuck please, yes.” Before I got out the second yes, Lawrence descended to feast upon my soaked pussy. Strong hands held me in place so well I could barely wiggle my hips. Ronnie grabbed my wrists and held them above my head.

“Do you want to taste me, baby?” She knew the answer was always yes to that, but I opened my mouth and lifted my head. After shifting herself, she teased me, pussy just out of reach of my tongue. “How bad do you want to taste me Betsy?”

I had taunted her in just such a way while she was being eaten out by Lawrence. “Please, Ronnie, let me taste you. I’ll do anything.” I gave her my best pout and sex eyes. Ronnie had a calculating look on her face, though. She’d completely forgotten about teasing me as the gears turned in her head.

Lawrence distracted me as he slid two fingers inside and tickled my happy spot. Arching my back, pressing my head against the pillows, I begged and pleaded for release. I was so close, just a little more, one more twitch or him sucking on my clit was all I needed.

“Anything, Betsy?” Ronnie rocked her hips back and forth in my face. I wanted to taste her so bad, regardless of the crazy amount of pleasure I was receiving from Lawrence. He was teasing and keeping me on the edge of a blade so sharp I thought I might split open from the anticipating of orgasm.

“Oh yes, baby, anything for you. Anything taste you.” I gasped out and sucked in a deep breath only to have it leave me in a whoosh as another wave of need assaulted my senses. Ronnie lowered her snatch to my face and I moaned my need into her wet pussy, tasting her salty sweetness on my tongue.

I licked and sucked and nibbled on her as though she were a feast and I was starving. Lawrence wiggled his fingers again and I moaned into her snatch. Ronnie let my wrists go and grabbed onto the headboard. Her panting turned into moans. Every time Lawrence stroked my g-spot, I moaned into Ronnie’s pussy and she would grind into me. My chin was covered in her juices and my saliva. I couldn’t get enough of her slick snatch.

Head on over to Pickled in the Middle for more juicy goodness!


If you’ve enjoyed this post, please visit next week for more Masturbation Monday!

You can find more delicious naughty stories over at Masturbation Monday hosted by the lovely Kayla Lords. If you haven’t submitted your own story as well, and write romance, erotica, or some combination of the genres and sub-genres, please consider doing so.

Link: Masturbation Monday

Link: Kayla Lords

Sharing is Caring: Kitty Katz & Her Pink Cadillac by Amber Skye

I feel that since the title is Kitty Katz that Caturday would be an appropriate day to share such an awesome story with all of you (or as Amber would say “y’all”).


Mary Kate Watkins Serves a Customer

Sitting at the breakfast-room table, I sipped coffee and surveyed the local paper. The autumn morning was beautiful, but I kept having to shift because the sunshine breaching the bay window on the east side of the kitchen was causing my head to ache from the glare. Finally, I got up and moved to the other side of the table, the sun now at my back. But after five or ten minutes, I was roasting from its powerful rays. Frustrated, I tossed the paper down and got up to pour myself another cup of coffee. Leaning against the counter, my thoughts drifted back to the previous night. Sybil had been a lot of fun, and I certainly considered keeping my options open for a repeat performance in the coming months—she was quite the tasty tart. But I surely wasn’t looking for love, so the dreamy looks Sybil had given me after our rendezvous gave me pause. I was a busy woman, after all—albeit a very horny one. I didn’t, however, need a love-crazed young woman beating down my doors—even if I did find a touch of guilty pleasure in making certain girls fall for me. Deep down, I didn’t want to hurt anyone, but I just couldn’t deny the cheap thrill it gave me to make a girl like Sybil squirm.

I sighed and rinsed out my coffee cup. As I turned away from the sink, my cook and housekeeper, Ellie, scurried into the room. I smiled. Gray-haired and grandmotherly, Ellie was quite a character. A woman in constant motion despite her advancing years, she combined hard work with a compassionate yet saucy personality. She plucked the paper from the kitchen table, showering me with a disapproving glance as she did. When she approached the counter where I stood, she coiled the paper and gave me a gentle swat on the arm with it before tossing it into the waste bin.

“Girl! If you didn’t have me to look after you, you’d have to clear a path just to walk through this house!”

It was gross hyperbole. I was fairly neat, but Ellie was downright nitpicky when it came to a clean house. I smiled again, taking in the tiny creature who’d worked in my home for nearly a decade. Barely five feet tall, Ellie likely weighed under 100 pounds soaking wet. Flat as an ironing board, she had thin arms tapering to bony hands covered in liver spots. Tiny feet, always encased in sensible black shoes, squeaked as she hustled through the kitchen. I found the sound comforting, maybe because I was so fond of her.

“Now, Miss Kitty, you never told me what you want for dinner tonight. You do remember that Reverend Olson and his wife are coming for supper, right?” she asked. “I believe their daughter is coming too.”

“Yes, Ellie, I remember.”

Our new reverend at the Episcopal Church was coming by to get better acquainted, and I had offered to serve them supper. I had yet to meet his daughter and had only been briefly introduced to his wife.

“Well?” she asked.

She had stopped prancing around the kitchen but still couldn’t keep still. With hands on her hips and one leg slightly bent, Ellie tapped her foot impatiently.

“I’m going to have Amos carry me out to the Watkins’ place, Ellie. I think a nice baked ham would be perfect for our little gathering.”

She nodded. “Okay, Miss Kitty. Ham will do. I’ll make some of my mac’n’cheese along with yams and biscuits. Perhaps a blackberry cobbler for dessert.”

“That sounds yummy, Ellie!”

She twisted her lips and scrutinized me.

“I haven’t been out to the Watkins’ place in several years—not since the missus passed. How’s old Joe Watkins doing?”

“I expect he’s getting along just fine, Ellie, considering the circumstances.”

She nodded. “I reckon that girl of his is nineteen or twenty by now, huh?”

“I reckon so, Ellie.”

“Pretty little thing she was, but I fear that child ain’t got a lick of sense…dumb as a doorknob, that girl.”

“Well, Ellie, I’m not so sure. She’s just simple country folk. I know she’s a heap of help to her Daddy.”

Ellie held up a hand, indicating she didn’t want to dispute my assessment of the Watkins girl, an unusual occurrence for her.

“Well, child, I better get busy sprucing up the place and polishing the silver. I expect you’ll want to use the good China tonight?”

I smiled and she nodded before hustling from the kitchen to start her chores. As she pranced from the room, she called over her shoulder.

“Try not to make a mess of the house, young lady. I don’t favor having to clean it twice before our guests arrive.”

“Oh, Ellie,” I laughed. “You’ll clean it twice anyway, whether I make the slightest mess or not. Go on with yourself, old girl!”

I shook my head and headed outside to the carriage house where Amos had made a nice little home for himself. My pink Cadillac sat in the turnaround, gleaming in the sunlight, as shiny as a brand-new penny.

I smiled as I approached the doorway to Amos’s neat little home. A pleasant tune wafted through open windows, serenading me with an impromptu performance courtesy of my unsuspecting driver. Amos sat on a scarred wooden chair, strumming a ukulele and singing an old bluesy song. He didn’t see me right away, so I stood in the doorway and listened. A baritone voice that flowed like molasses echoed in his chambers. His singing was sad and sweet and of excellent quality, his playing of the little musical instrument flawless. I got lost momentarily as he sang and played, a feeling of nostalgia and loss I couldn’t quite place nipping at my senses. Leaning against the doorframe, I closed my eyes and listened until he finished the tune. When I opened my eyes, Amos was turning in the chair, startled and visibly embarrassed at the encroachment to what he thought was a solitary rendering of his noteworthy talents.

He opened his mouth to speak, but I was already clapping my hands, applauding his performance.

“Why, Amos! That was simply beautiful. Bravo, my friend.”

“Miss Kitty,” he started. “I had no idea you was there.”

“I’m sorry, Amos. I didn’t mean to intrude on your solitude, but I didn’t want to interrupt your song by announcing my presence. I enjoyed it thoroughly,” I added.

“That’s quite all right, Miss Kitty.” He gently set the ukulele down and rubbed his hands together. “Was there something you needed?”

“There is, Amos. We need to make a run over to the Watkins’ place and fetch a ham for supper. The reverend and his family will come calling tonight.”

“Old Joe Watkins?”

“Yes, Amos, that’s the one.”

“I never been up to his place before, Miss Kitty. Do you know how to get there?”

I nodded. “I do! We run out south of town, past Cooter Monroe’s, and hook a left on the old country road. There’s a cow pasture that goes on forever it seems, and where the fencing ends, we’ll turn right. Might take us a half hour—forty-five minutes tops.”

“Give me five minutes, Miss Kitty, and I’ll have the car ready.”

I nodded and headed back to the house.

The drive out to the pig farm was pleasant. Abundant sun with temperatures in the low 70s made for a lovely ride. A long gravel road ran adjacent to the cow pasture that led to our destination, ending near a neat, two-story farmhouse. Amos brought the Cadillac to rest on the grass between the house and a freshly painted barn. A large area in front of the barn was home to numerous hogs, slogging about in the muddy terrain inside a fence. I looked around and frowned.

“Dang!” I said. “I hope we didn’t make this trip for nothing, Amos! I don’t see hide nor hair of Joe’s truck. It’s usually parked next to the barn.”

Amos peered at me in the rearview mirror and twisted his mouth into a thoughtful expression. Then my eye caught movement to the right; it was a sight to behold.

Mary Kate Watkins, dressed in denim overalls and a clean white tank top, strolled across the grassy area between the barn and the house. She carried a big steel pail in each hand, apparently heading for the well situated between the two structures. I licked my lips. It had been two years since I’d last seen her, and she had been quite stunning back then. If possible, she was even more stunning now. She stopped in mid-stride, cocked her head at us, and then proceeded to set the pails on the ground.

Amos climbed from the car and opened my door. I slid out and faced the young woman who was now skipping down a little slope toward us. When she got close enough to recognize me, a big smile spread across her face as she waved in a most animated fashion.

“Well, Miss Kitty,” she drawled. “I ain’t seen you in a month of Sundays.”

She stopped a few feet from me and I took her in.

“Well, well, Mary Kate,” I said. “You’ve gotten prettier than a store-bought doll!”

She held her hands up and waved them excitedly before squinting and turning her head to the side in an exaggerated display of appreciation for the flattery I’d served up.

“Oh, Miss Kitty, hush now,” she squealed, now hugging herself with nicely toned arms, a sprinkling of light freckles covering her sinewy and sun-kissed limbs.

“So, Mary Kate, where’s your daddy?”

She made a little wave of her hands. “He’s gone for most of the day, Miss Kitty. He had to help Uncle Bubba build a few deer stands in the woods over Warner Robbins way. I ‘spect he won’t be back ‘til sundown. What brings you to our neck of the woods?”

The news of her being left all alone on the farm along with her piercing blue eyes gazing into mine had temporarily put my mission to procure a ham for dinner on hold. I took her in. Thin but shapely, with small perky tits poking against the material of her tank top, Mary Kate had rendered me momentarily flummoxed. And while overalls may not have been considered the sexiest apparel in the world, she made it a close call. The somewhat baggy attire didn’t completely obscure what lay within. Long, coltish legs, extending from a cute little bottom, had instantly gotten me more than a little hot-in-the-bother. She even managed to make the dusty work boots, partially covered with the hem of her overalls, look sexy as all get-out!

“We came to purchase a ham, Mary Kate,” I finally managed. “Do you think you can handle that transaction in your daddy’s absence?”

“I expect I can, Miss Kitty. Come on in the house and I’ll get one ready for ya.”

She smiled prettily and then ran a pink tongue over her perfectly puffy lips before waving me along. I glanced at Amos who smiled and nodded. My driver gave me a little wink before I turned from his gaze and followed Mary Kate into the house.

She led me up wooden steps to a porch with two rockers positioned to the left of the front door. I followed her into the house, watching her cute pigtails bounce and flop as she danced down the hallway, past the front room, and into a large kitchen. The spacious area smelled of hickory and fresh country air. I breathed in the pleasant aroma and smiled. A sturdy butcher-block table sat in the middle of the kitchen, pitted and scarred from use.

“I got a nice seven-pound half ham in the cooler, Miss Kitty. You make yourself at home while I round it up.”

I leaned against the cutting table and waited for Mary Kate to fetch my order. She returned presently, hefting a delicious looking ham wrapped in a clear bag.

“Here, Miss Kitty, let’s have a look.”

She opened the bag, allowing me to inspect the ham. As I moved next to her, she subtly inched toward me, so our bodies brushed each other’s.

Although I didn’t visit the Watkins place often, I had encountered Mary Kate a half dozen times over the years, our first meeting when she had barely reached her teens. I had sensed even then an advanced sexuality about her, and the way she’d looked at me had told me with almost undeniable clarity that she was up for mischief—likely Sapphic mischief. It had been an unspoken vibe between us during the past six or seven years. But two things had prevented anything coming of it. First, and most importantly, she had been a minor every time I’d seen her in the past. And secondly, her father had always been present when I’d come to purchase their meats. But Mary Kate Watkins and her nubile young body had been a gnawing and haunting fantasy for me over the past several years. And now she was an adult and her daddy was off building deer stands, not due to return until evening.

I reached up and stroked one of her pigtails. “You have such pretty red hair, Mary Kate,” I said. “It’s smooth and silky. I like that.”

She turned toward me, leaving the ham unattended on the big table. Her eyes were half-lidded and her lips slightly parted. She reached up and rubbed the hand I had on her hair, gently moving it to her cheek. Her smooth skin was as creamy as whipped butter and just as soft, unblemished and warm. Mary Kate caressed her cheek with my hand a few times before moving my paw to her mouth. A shiver shot down my spine when her warm and moist mouth with those full pouty lips kissed my hand.

“Miss Kitty, can I tell you a secret?” she breathed.

“What’s that, sugar?” I whispered.

“I’ve always fancied you, ya know. You ain’t so highfalutin like them other debutantes who come around.”

I pulled my hand down and stepped in, kissing her full on the mouth. Mary Kate Watkins kissed me back with hunger, a passionate urgency that could wait no longer. Her mouth on mine felt divine, causing the juices to flow in my eager pussy. As I continued kissing her, I reached up and removed the straps from her shoulders, dropping the denim garment to the floor in a heap. I had her out of her tank top in a flash, revealing small breasts with long pink nipples, now standing at full attention. Bending down, I took a stiffened bud into my mouth, sucking her while swirling my tongue over her engorged flesh.

“Oh, Miss Kitty! What you do to me!” she moaned.

I grinned as I released her and brought my mouth to her peach of an ear. I nibbled her lobe as I breathed hot breath down her neck. She moaned again and I whispered into her ear.

“I’m going to kiss your pussy now, country girl, and when I do, you’re gonna squeal louder’n a pig at slaughter.”

She stepped out of her crumpled overalls, leaving her in her work boots and a pair of white, boy’s boxers. I yanked the boxers down and left them piled with the overalls. A fiery bush of red pubic hair greeted my gaze, glistening pink, protuberant lips peeking through her thatch. I licked my lips again.

“You can leave the boots on,” I said.

“Whatever you say, Miss Kitty,” she breathed. “Make me your little plaything.”

I turned the girl and popped her fanny lightly, causing her to giggle.

“Up on that table, young lady!” I commanded. “I’ll have you on all fours.”

She pushed the ham to the side and climbed onto the butcher-block table, placing her ripe, sweet ass in my face. Her pussy, with those curly red hairs flanking rosy lips, looked as delicious as a freshly baked peach cobbler. I dove in, nestling my face between her mouth-watering cheeks. She was clean and fresh, likely having just bathed, but her feminine aroma was thick and heady—just the way I liked it. I devoured the girl, briskly licking through the delicate folds of her labia and the crack of her ass. I nibbled and licked her flesh like a kitten lapping from a saucer of milk. My hands found her taut little fanny, kneading her butt cheeks as I tongued her slick cunt. I continued with bold strokes, licking my way up her wet slit and swirling her puckered rosette aggressively. Mary Kate turned her pretty face over her shoulder, grinning like a Cheshire Cat.

“Oh, Miss Kitty! Jiminy Crickets! You make me feel so good! OH, GAWD!” she bellowed, her loud cries ricocheting off the kitchen walls.

I rolled her pink pearl between my thumb and index finger as I used my coiled tongue to explore her depths. She emitted a shrill squeal when I did, bouncing and bucking like a girl gone wild. When I got my other thumb inside her butthole, she screamed bloody murder.

I stayed the course, pounding her hole with my tongue as my fingers continued their assault on her bud. I probed deeper into her asshole, pushing her over the edge. Luckily, the nearest neighbors were miles away because Mary Kate’s screams nearly brought the walls down. The country girl, dressed only in her work boots, soaked me with frothy fluid as she orgasmed—shaking and shouting, pounding the sturdy table with her fists. I didn’t relent, bringing several more waves of bliss through her tortured quim before I took mercy.

Mary Kate Watkins slumped on the table, whimpering like a child lost in the woods, but her fine ass remained in the air. I’m not sure what got into me, but I reached over to a basket of kitchen utensils on the table and snatched a metal spatula. Her butt was practically begging to be smacked. I brought the business end down on her ass, hitting her flush on her right cheek. Her yelp was followed by a giggle, confirming my suspicions about what a freak this girl truly was.

“I’ve been a bad girl, Miss Kitty. I need a whoopin’,” she chortled.

I brought the spatula down again, and then a third time. Smiling, I stepped back and admired my handiwork. The grids from the utensil had left parallel crimson marks across her sweet ass. Then something else caught my eye. Reaching out again, I plucked a whisk with a seven-inch grip from the basket. The handle was made of smooth varnished wood, the perfect implement for my devious plan. Her giggles ceased and were replaced by a gasping intake of air when I inserted the whisk inside her pussy.

“OH! Aaahhh,” screeched Mary Kate as I plunged inside her delicate kitty.

Only a small portion of the handle was visible as the tool stretched her pretty pussy. The tangled metal wires extending from her twat looked deliciously obscene. I left the whisk in place and swatted her again with the spatula.

“Yeeeeeeee!” she cried, but I didn’t give her a chance to say much more.

I started working the whisk in and out of her cunt, pounding her roughly with the makeshift dildo. We found a rhythm; she began pushing back, meeting every thrust from me with one of her own. Intermittently, I would smack her hard with the spatula, producing cries of lust from the crazed country girl. Then she stiffened, followed by a manic and uncontrollable shaking fit. Another shrill cry flew from her lips as she submitted to the powerful orgasm rattling her core. Her juices poured down her inner thighs until they dripped on the scarred and pitted table. I smacked her over and over as she came, further reddening her already crimson bottom. When I finally ceased my assault, I removed the whisk and pushed her over.

Mary Kate Watkins lay on her back, starry-eyed and dazed from the exertion. While she recovered, I slipped out of my jeans and blouse, piling my clothes alongside hers until I was completely naked. Climbing onto the table, I gave her a devilish grin.

“Have you ever eaten a pussy, Mary Kate?” I asked.

“No, ma’am, Miss Kitty,” she whispered, eyes still glazed.

I straddled her, the golden hairs around my sex only inches above her face. I could feel the dewy production from my overheated cunt coating my labia.

“Stick that sexy little tongue out, country girl! You’re fixin’ to taste Miss Kitty’s delicious pussy.”

She did as instructed, and I settled upon her, my blonde pubic hair caressing her nose.

“Kiss my pussy, hon. Lick it like it’s cookie dough on a spoon!”

She needed no further directions. Her tongue found my slit, working its way through my dripping cunt, collecting my frothy desire. Her eyes became half-lidded, telling me she adored the forbidden first taste of another woman.

“Yes, girl,” I screeched. “Fuck my sweet pussy! Lick it, Mary Kate!”

She reached up with both hands and grabbed my ass, greedily running her hands over my backside. Her tongue exploring my sex felt amazing; it was as if she was born to eat pussy. I reached under her head and pushed my aching twat onto her mouth, grinding against her pretty young face. I rode her like a bucking bronco as she zeroed in on my clit. With the flat of her tongue, she began lapping my bud with long strokes, igniting fireworks in my belly. The flame spread outward, fiery flashes intensifying with each bold stroke. My thighs began shaking uncontrollably, and I threw my head back in sheer bliss as the first wave of orgasm took hold. I screamed like a banshee as Mary Kate Watkins laid siege to my tortured quim. I looked down and tried to scream again, but my voice caught in my throat. As my hips rotated, her head weaved and bobbed beneath me, a bizarre and erotic sight that triggered a second wave of heaven through my loins. I creamed my dreamy lover with my juice, soaking her face with cum. Quivering with delight, I hit the pinnacle of bliss. I wasn’t clear if I came a third time or if it was one long continuation of the second orgasm.

Breathless and dizzy, I could take no more. I rolled off of her and lay on the table alongside my little redheaded doll. As I recovered from the mind-blowing climax, I glanced over at her. Dreamy-eyed and smiling, Mary Kate’s face was coated with my girly jizz, reigniting my lust for the kooky country girl.

Sliding off the table, I lifted her long, thin legs into the air and dove between them. Her sex was hot and gooey, her aroma even thicker and earthier than before. I breathed in her luscious scent and went to work. Her clit, slick and salty, was practically throbbing, and I took aim to torture her clamoring cunt. With rapid-fire strokes, I attacked her, wickedly lashing at her pink pearl until she was begging for release. Mary Kate’s cries filled the kitchen, echoing off the walls once again. Her body writhed and bucked with such force that I feared she might suffer whiplash, her thrashing nearly demonic. She released a high-pitched feral cry that likely was heard in the next county as she gushed a deluge of hot pussy nectar into my mouth. I consumed her feminine flavor, lapping at her steaming flesh with renewed vigor. Then she came again, gripping my hair and bouncing her hips wildly.

She lay panting, a hand over her brow as she attempted recovery from my attack. But I wasn’t finished with her. Climbing back onto the table, I pulled her left leg into the air, pressing my hot blonde bush against her red one. Mary Kate’s eyes sprang open as she removed her hand from her face, a confused look of horny desperation covering her countenance. She had no time to protest; I was already fucking her. Our swollen and slick lips rubbed together in delicious union. Wet slurping noises squeaked and squished from our melded pussies. Reaching down with my free hand, I pulled at an erect nipple, eliciting a breathy moan from my captive. Soon, our grinding became more animated, faster and frantic. I felt the familiar sensation brewing once again in my hot box and Mary Kate’s wide eyes and open mouth indicated she was right there with me. Then it happened; we erupted simultaneously, two sex-crazed women screaming in the pig farmer’s kitchen as our collective climaxes sent us to the moon. We were both soaked from navel to thigh as we came together, cries of passion filling the balmy autumn air.

I collapsed on my lover, spent and sated. We lay together for a spell, kissing and nibbling, touching and giggling. Mary Kate had likely lost close to two hours of work, but it didn’t seem to faze her. But I began to be concerned about Amos. He was probably bored out of his mind; I’d need to make it up to him. I gave Mary Kate a final kiss and tried to slide from the table. She held me in her grasp, surprising me with her strength.

“Hon,” I said. “I need to get going. This ham isn’t going to get cooked sitting on this table.”

Mary Kate wrapped her arms and legs around me tightly, squeezing me with all her might.

“Miss Kitty! That was magic! I love you! I want to do this every day! You are so pretty and sexy! I love you! I love you! OH, GAWD!” she prattled on, running her hands all over my backside.

I giggled despite the discomfort her vice-like embrace and loved-crazed endearments had caused me.

“Now, now, Mary Kate. I have to get going. I have folks coming to eat that ham for supper tonight.”

She squeezed me tighter yet and a sinister grin worked the corners of her pretty mouth.

“Daddy is going to Athens next Saturday, Miss Kitty. Maybe you’ll be needing a side of bacon!”

I laughed and gave her a gentle push. She relented and allowed me to untangle from her grasp.

“A side of bacon sounds wonderful, Mary Kate.” I winked and my smile widened. “I expect I can return next weekend for more tasty treats!”

She squealed with delight before we slid off the table and dressed.

I laid a few bills on the table and collected my ham. I gave Mary Kate’s fine little fanny a pinch, and found my way to the front door. A snoozing Amos sat in the driver’s seat of my pink Cadillac, so I tapped him gently on the chest to awaken him. Then I jumped in the car as my driver fired the engine. As we pulled away, I looked back to the house. Mary Kate Watkins stood on the porch, smiling and waving, dressed in her overalls and white tank top. She still had her boots on!


Amber Skye is an Amazon international bestselling erotica author from Atlanta, Georgia. Her steamy girl-on-girl novellas and novelettes range from soft erotic romance to hardcore BDSM.

Wife and mother of two teenagers, the former third-grade teacher at a private Christian School also has modeled six of her twelve covers. She enjoys practicing martial arts, reading multiple genres, and watching football on Sundays with her family. Please follow Amber on Twitter @Amber69Skye.

LINKS

Amazon | Smashwords | Scriggler

PLAYING CUPID, Ch 37 of Consequences by M. Jane Colette #audiobook #steamylisten #hotread ConAudioTour

Welcome to Stop 37 & Chapter 37 of the Consequences AudioBook BlogTour
PLAYING CUPID
from CONSEQUENCES (of defensive adultery)
an EROTIC tragedy with a HAPPY ending
by M. Jane Colette
performed by Elisa Kae

18+ ADVISORY: Consequences is intended for an adult (18+) audience. It deals with mature subject matter, and contains explicit language and sexual content. Listener and reader discretion is advised.

The tour is bringing romance readers and listeners the opportunity to listen to all 48 full, unabridged chapters of Consequences well in advance of the audiobook’s Christmas release.

Plus, there are fabulous prizes at every stop–including a raffle for $50 Amazon Gift Card–and 48 chances throughout the tour to enter to win a COMPLETE set of M. Jane Colette’s paperbacks–so read through to the end so you don’t miss out!

★★★

WHAT’S THIS BOOK ABOUT?

An affair. HEARTBREAK. Consequences.  ABSOLUTION, redemption, and LOVE… in the most unexpected places–a steamy second chance romance unlike any you’ve ever experienced… featuring an ALPHA lover-confessor you haven’t DARED dream about.

Elizabeth did not plan to break up his marriage when she had an affair with her law school professor. But she did. Fifteen years later, she’s still coming to terms with the consequences of her youthful infatuation: a stepdaughter who hates her, an ex-wife who will never forgive the betrayal,  a sister-in-law who’s determined to make Elizabeth her confidante. Compelled to reveal the “tragedy of her life” to a nameless lover, Elizabeth finds herself forced to reconsider her definition of love, commitment, and responsibility—a process that finally releases her from the shackles of her past mistakes and shows her the way to her own happily-ever-after.

A NOTE ABOUT STRUCTURE: The story unfolds over the course of one night, as the narrator Elizabeth relates the “tragedy of her life” to her current lover as they, to quote a reviewer “do lover things.” The story Elizabeth tells spans 15 years. The scenes between Elizabeth and her lover are pure dialogue, and interrupt the “story proper.” There is no “he said/I said” in the dialogue between Elizabeth and her lover… a challenge the narrator solved masterfully, but which may give the first-time listener pause. To increase your enjoyment of the story, an opportunity to read, as well as listen to, the chapter, is provided.

★★★

Today, listen to Chapter 37: PLAYING CUPID:

If the audio link won’t work for you, click here:

 ❤ https://mjanecolette.files.wordpress.com/2017/10/36-suffering-for-art.mp3 ❤

PREFER TO READ? We’re on it. Here is a password-protected link to the written version of this chapter for tour participants’ eyes only:

❤ ❤ ❤

★★★ ❤ CHAPTER 37: PLAYING CUPID (password: erotictragedy37 ) ❤ ★★★

❤ ❤ ❤

Enjoyed what you heard/read? The tour continues on Wed Nov 8 with Chapter 38 // EMASCULATION
hosted by Phoebe Alexander.

FIRST STOP: If this blog is your first stop on the tour, you might want to head back to stop number one, hosted by Tome Tender Blog: The Photograph, or to the Tour Home Page, and start from the beginning. There are chances to win prizes at every stop!

SPEAKING OF PRIZES: For a chance to win a copy of Consequences (of defensive adultery), M. Jane Colette’s other books, and an Amazon Gift card, enter here:

*******************************

★★★WIN $50 AMAZON GIFT CARD + MORE!
ENTER ON RAFFLECOPTER
★★★

ENTER UNTIL 12:00 am Nov 29, 2017

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PLUS: GRAND PRIZE TREASURE HUNT ENTRY, PART 37: For a chance to win a COMPLETE HARD COPY SET of M. Jane Colette’s novels, send an email to TellMe@mjanecolette.com, and:

  1. put  #ConAudioTour Day 37 in the subject heading,
  2. ask to be added to her Rough Draft Confessions newsletter (or tell Jane you’re already on her mailing list, and it’s awesome, when’s the next love letter coming?) and,
  3. answer the question: “Elizabeth, Elizabeth what have you done? And WHY?”

(The small print: Each tour stop offers you one opportunity to enter the GRAND PRIZE TREASURE HUNT DRAW, for a total of 48 entries if you complete the tour. The books that comprise the GRAND PRIZE are the novels Tell Me, Cherry Pie Cure, and Consequences, and the non-fiction collection of essays Rough Draft Confessions, including its controversially titled, available-only-in-Canada, beta reader / limited edition predecessor.) 

CAN’T WAIT? BUY THE E-BOOK NOW:

in ALL FORMATS for any DEVICE at ALL RETAILERS

including  iBooks  Kobo  Amazon  Barnes & Noble  Google Play  Inside Romance

Softcovers at all the usual places, including Chapters ❤ Amazon ❤ Barnes & Noble ❤ Book Depository ❤ Powell’s Books and your favourite retailer

AUDIOBOOK COMING CHRISTMAS 2017

sign up for M. Jane Colette’s Rough Draft Confessions to get advance notice of its release

REMEMBER: The story continues on Wed Nov 8 with Chapter 38 // EMASCULATION
hosted by Phoebe Alexander.

★★★
M. Jane Colette writes tragedy for people who like to laugh, comedy for the melancholy, and erotica for women and men who like their fantasies real. She believes rules and hearts were made to be broken; ditto the constraints of genres.

Connect with her on Twitter / GoodReads / FaceBook / Instagram and subscribe to her newsletter, Rough Draft Confessions, to stay in the loop on her WIPs, new releases, and fab multi-media, multi-author projects. You can also email her at TellMe@mjanecolette.com.

For more information about the tour & its other hosts, visit mjanecolette.com/ConAudioTour or check out the schedule below.

CONSEQUENCES AUDIOBOOK BLOG TOUR
#ConAudioTour #SteamyListen #ListenToThis
visit mjanecolette.com/ConAudioTour for daily link updates