Something vanilla-flavored for the weekend before the holiday. I don’t know yet whether I’ll attempt something with a Thanksgiving theme – we’ll see. –X

The party was wrapping up and he was still alone. He pouted into his plastic cup. It was abysmally empty, but the keg was all tapped out.

“Why so glum, chum?” The sudden smiling made his cheeks ache. She looked a vision in tight jeans and a low-cut plum sweater. Her full lips were glossy and her chestnut hair was pulled into a chignon.

A lynx disguised as a librarian.

“Bibi….” He drew the last syllable out like he always did when he said her name. He did the same with his friend Connie, Bibi’s younger sister.

“My name is Beatriz, boy,” she said, concealing a smile. “Bibi means baby bottle where I’m from.” He sidled over to her and nodded, entranced.

“Does Connie mean anything?” He leaned into her face. She cocked an eyebrow.

“Cunt, if you misspell it a bit.” His belly tightened at her language. She noticed.

“So, why are you here, Beatriz?” He focused on her lips, waiting on them to part and move as she answered. She gave him a long up and down look. He was tall and toned by years of playing soccer, with pale brown eyes and a strong jaw. His ears weren’t pierced and his teeth were slightly bucked, something she found inexplicably hot. Her frank perusal made him squirm.

Good – he had potential.

“I live here, Charles. Where’s Constance?” Her feline eyes had already undressed him. Her tone made him feel like damn fool, but the lines of her body were soft. She totally wanted him.

“Connie went to buy reinforcements with her boyfriend. And I figured the person you were with would keep you real busy with you looking like that.” She leaned into him close enough for him to feel the heat of her face. Her pupils were dilated. He had her.

“Looking like what, Charles?” He loved the way she refused to call him Charlie. He ran his A-game – licked his lips slowly and put his fingertips on her hips.

“Fine as fuck.” he was about to move in for a kiss, but she moved deftly out of his arms. He grabbed her. She looked down in surprise. It didn’t hurt, but it had been a long while since any man had dared to grab her like that.

“Don’t go,” he said. His face was hilariously despondent. His 22 years weighed heavily on him, and his jeans were tented. It was her own desire and not his entreaty that kept her there. When he reached out to touch her, she took his hand in hers.

“What did I do wrong?” His skin was hot. She was pleasantly surprised at his frankness.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, Charles. I’m sure you do quite well with your lissome coevals,” she said. Whenever they saw each other, he had a different tight young thing on his arm. It would be admirable if it wasn’t so revolting.

“What?” He was lost, but that just stoked his flame. Beatriz was no sorority chick, rough and ready for a tumble. She was classy. She pointedly looked down  at his erection.

“What I’m saying, my priapismic friend, is I’m certain you have quite an impressive list of willing young women to help you with your… pressing problem.”

Jesus, she speaks like a book. “I don’t want them. They’re pop to your heady wine.” She trembled with laughter. She had underestimated him.

“Ass kissing should remain the bedroom, caro. ”

His lower lip wobbled enticingly as he looked down at himself.

“You really want to know why I’m not jumping your bones?” He nodded. She wanted to lift his t-shirt and lick his flat belly, but instead she put her hand on his chest. His heart beat faster with her touch. The dark, glossy fringe of his lashes made his caramel eyes look young and vulnerable. Ah, he was getting warm.

“The truth is you’re too easy, Charles.” His face worked with confusion. He’d only ever head the term used on women, so she couldn’t mean what he though she meant.

“Too easy? Are you saying I’m dumb?” He was still too aroused to be insulted, but he was getting there. She was beautiful, but she had no right.

“No, not dumb. Easy. You know. A pretty girl gives you a smile and you’re instantly flat on your back.” He was still confused. What was so wrong with that? He was young. That’s how it was supposed to go in college… or so he’d been told ad nauseum.

“Well, I’m hard right now. Really hard.” He rolled his hips into hers.

“You’re such a fucking slut, Charlie.”

“Hey, you didn’t call me Charles.” His smile was disarmingly goofy.

“Big fuckin’ whoop, Charlie.” She grabbed a couple of ice cubes from a bowl on the table and crunched them. He tried to grab her waist, but she wiggled out of his grasp.

“You’re a trollop, Chollie. A hoochie. A ho.”

He pressed her against the walk-in pantry door.

“And what’s wrong with that? I love sex. By the stories Connie’s told me about your college days, so do you.” She tried to squirm out of his grip, but he just slid a thickly muscled leg between hers and held on tight.

“It’s not about *liking* sex – everyone likes pleasure. Loving something denotes respect, instilling in it value-” His leg rubbed against her and the feel of his hard heat made her dizzy.

“Are you going to give me a lecture? Hot.” He rubbed his lips against the apple of her cheek. Her hard nipples rubbed unpleasantly against the fabric of her bra. His body was pressed so close to hers she couldn’t really push him away.

“-But you’ve cheapened yourself. You’re a sure thing, Charlie-” She tugged on his shirt to no avail. Her hands clutched at the smoothness at the small of his back. He was as beautifully molded as a Greek statue.

“-and I can see the sticky, dirty fingerprints of all the women who have taken advantage of that.” She exhaled deeply, relieved to get the words out. For a couple of seconds he continued to rub against her, seemingly oblivious of her words. She knew she was wet and hot enough for him to feel it through his pants, and her whole body was tense. When he finally looked into her eyes, she let out a little moan. He opened the pantry door and pulled her into the spice-scented darkness.

“Why do you care, Beatriz?” He whispered as he unbuttoned her jeans. “Were you counting?” She tried to slap him, but her hand fell to his shoulder as his fingers found her pussy. She was so wet she had soaked through panties and jeans. He tried to kiss her, but she turned her face away.

“Are you upset at all the other lips I’ve kissed?” He pulled her jeans and panties down slowly.

“Pfft. Cheap skanks.” She struggled feebly, but her arms tightened around him. He moved one of her hands between his legs and rubbed it over his cock. Her hand trembled, but she didn’t fight him.

“I wasn’t always like this,” he said as he guided her in unbuttoning his jeans. He didn’t have to make her pull down his underwear and wrap her hand around him. Her hand squeezed once, and he groaned and bucked into her. “It started around the time I first met Connie.” She stiffened.

“What?” He thrust slowly into her still hand and licked her earlobe.

“All those pretty, pretty girls…” he trembled as he slid two fingers inside her. She wanted to open her legs to him but she couldn’t. She dug her nails into the skin at the small of his back. “…I’m ashamed to say it, but they were just a palliative.”

“Palliative? Big word-“ he shut her mouth with a kiss. Her mouth opened to him, and he sucked the sticky lip gloss from her lips. She began to stroke him, but he pulled away.

“They weren’t enough though, Beatriz. Not nearly enough.” He turned her around and got on his knees. Her beautiful ass glowed in the semi-darkness. His cock twitched.

She arched her back until her cunt smiled wetly at him. She seemed to pulse in his gaze, hairless and swollen. His cock pulsed once, spitting a pearly shot of precum to the linoleum. He closed his eyes and tried to relax, but her musk was a spike of pleasure straight to his brain. He pulsed again, and this time a fat bead of cum gathered on the head of his cock.

Damn it! Why didn’t this happen with some of those other girls?

She wiggled her ass in front of him. “What’s the matter?”

His lips slid on her as he kissed her nether lips tenderly. She parted on his tongue and her musky saltiness made his legs quiver. He found her swollen clit easily. He sucked and licked in earnest, and she stifled a moan with her arm. He slid two fingers inside her and pressed into her. He tried to concentrate. This had worked many times on the others and they usually became liquid on his cheek in seconds…he licked slowly around her pulsing bud and groaned.

She tightened around his fingers and squirted into his face. He could tell that she hadn’t fully come yet, but she was as ready to blow as he was. He licked her juices off his lips and stood up. His cock slid between her slick lips.

She arched for him. His balls tightened.

“So I’m cheap?” He asked as he rubbed against her. The sharp smell of sweat cut through the spices and her perfume. She moaned as the head of his cock nudged against her clit. She shook her head. He licked the sweat from the hollow of her neck and reached into her sweater. She tensed as he squeezed her nipple.

“A whore, ” she whispered. Her heart beat riotously underneath his hand. His cock stopped at her tight opening. She squeezed around him. “Dirty…”

He pulled her sweater and bra down roughly, and her breasts popped out. He’s jerked off so many times thinking about them he stared, slack-jawed. Her little areolas were as caramel colored as he’d imagined them, but there was a surprise: a delicate gold bar on one of her nipples.

“Get to it, slut,” Her voice had acquired a timbre that made his bones vibrate. She rolled her hips into him and her opening sucked at him.

“Who’s the whore?” he said as he slid slowly inside her. In his mind her tight silky hollow pulsed, dripping and glowing a hot vulval pink – the primeval pleasure cave he’d imagined a cunt to be when he was still a virgin. He clenched his eyes shut against the image of a roaring white river washing its smug pinkness off the walls. He crumbled against her, inside her to the hilt but completely still and silent.

She wondered whether what she had said had finally sunk in. Now that the real meaning behind her words was evident, his reticence was frightening.

“Charlie…” The muscles in his thighs were tight as overpulled cello strings. She made a slow circle with her hips and sighed as he stirred in her belly. “I’m…sorry.” He put a hand on her belly. His middle finger pressed deep into her belly button, as if he wanted to feel himself inside her. He nuzzled against her temple.

“No, Beatriz. I’m sorry.” He thrust into her until her insides resisted. When he looked into her eyes, they were glassy with sensation. The whole length of her pussy pulsed and sucked at him. He knew that she ached with his girth so deeply inside of her and unmoving. She tightened and loosened rhythmically, taking from him what he seemed so reluctant to give. He drank it in. When she tried to move, he held her hips fast. She was so frustrated she groaned.

“I wanted you. So much,” she said, hiccupping meaningfully at the ‘so’. Her berry-scented breath hit his face and he bucked inside her. He was suddenly pounding into her, grunting softly into the back of her neck. Sweaty tendrils of her hair tickled his face and she was tighter with every thrust. His thigh and hip muscles burned at the effort of thrusting, and she grasped at him so eagerly he was losing strength. He imagined her sleepy with arousal, his come dripping wetly from her slit but her ass raised for more-

She gripped his hips and grinded forcefully on him, panting roughly.

“Already?” he whispered. She was in agony. He took a mental picture of her lovely, lust-twisted expression.

“All ready.” He pressed her to the wall and thrust hard into her softness until she pulsed around him. She screamed soundlessly into her arm and her come bathed his hips. He pulled out of her, wanting to see the wetness on his thighs, and his cock pulsed and painted her ass with  come.

“No…” she said, and guided him back into her. He saw bright white flashes behind his eyelids as he rode the crest of her orgasm into his own. His hands moved absently on her hips and belly as he finished deep inside her, imagining her pink walls now painted with sticky white in an obscene graffiti.

Charlie was here.

No other girl had let him come inside her, and it was just as well. Bibi’s the one he’d wanted to fill.

Well, not Bibi. Beatriz.

He got down on his knees. She arched again, opening her legs until he dripped out of her. He hoped this wasn’t anywhere near the last time he’d see her come-stained and swollen for him now that he’d marked her for himself. With a contented grunt he licked her clean, oblivious of the sound of voices and clinking bottles 20 feet away.

Categories: Consensual, Copulation, Cum, Erotica, Insemination, Oral Sex, Public Sex, Pursuit, Short Story, XimenaTags: , , , , , , , , , , ,


I undulate in your vision
A strange beauty
in a world of plastic, collagen and steel
The endearing oddball
the living, breathing Picasso that you want to figure out
but too afraid to venture into my penumbra
you cower at the gate, fingering the knob on the door to my most secret place
wishing you could find the courage to walk with me
love me, just as I am


  1. Marie

    Wow. This story brings back memories. I remember when I first started dating my bf, I wanted him badly, but never told him because I knew he slept around and I didn’t want to be one of his numbers. Eventually, he showed me that he only wanted me and we’re still together after 6 years. Thanks for the sweet reminder with your lovely story.

  2. If this is vanilla, spicy would burn a hole in the blog. What makes this story so good are the personalities of the characters. The sex is all about who they are. That’s the best kind.

    Have you been reading Romeo & Juliet?

    Ximena: “Jesus, she speaks like a book.”



    [To JULIET] If I profane with my unworthiest hand
    This holy shrine, the gentle fine is this:
    My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand
    To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss.


    Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much,
    Which mannerly devotion shows in this;
    For saints have hands that pilgrims’ hands do touch,
    And palm to palm is holy palmers’ kiss.


    Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?


    Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer.


    O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do;
    They pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair.


    Saints do not move, though grant for prayers’ sake.


    Then move not, while my prayer’s effect I take.
    Thus from my lips, by yours, my sin is purged.


    Then have my lips the sin that they have took.


    Sin from thy lips? O trespass sweetly urged!
    Give me my sin again.


    You kiss by the book.

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