The Erotic Writer

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Two in the Dark

Two in the Dark
A spin on Ximena’s Erotica by Redbud
  • Don’t read this until you’ve read Ximena’s In the Dark. Hers came first and mine is based on it, almost word for word. I thought it might be fun to write her story from his perspective.

I fucking loved Christmas.

I couldn’t care less for religion, but I loved the smell of pine, glitter, the tasty food, an excuse to go to mall and watch girls come and go. I heard her stir, my roommate’s sister, for what must have been the thousandth time. Her parents had offered her the queen sofa bed in the den. All I could think about was that she was alone, my roommate’s sister, a girl, that she was alone and of her pussy. I stopped pumping my cock, body taut, back lifted off the mattress. One quick spurt shot up my chest and spilled into my hands. I sighed and only narrowly stopped the flood.

She stirred again. Christ, the sound of her was like a shard in my groin. All I could think about is getting up, finding her in the dark, opening her thighs and sinking inside her. In a strange house, so close to an almost naked girl, her brother in one room and her parents in another. Desire washed over me in waves, inexplicable, drowning me.

‘I’m going to fuck her.’ I said it to myself. ‘I’m going to fuck her.’ I said it again as much to convince myself as to make it happen.

She got up. I did too. She walked down the stairs. I followed her.

She plodded into the kitchen. By the time I got to the bottom of the stairs, she was already rooting through a cabinet. She swore to herself, wearing only panties and a camisole. I caught a glimpse of panties, her ass. Fuck! Her ass! My cock was sticking above the waist-band of my boxers. I rubbed it and when she bent to drink straight from the sink, when I saw the raised and round heart of her ass facing me, her parted thighs, another slick spurt spilled into my hand. I could almost see her pussy. I needed to see more. I crossed into the dining room door as she drank. I crouched. I saw the gleam of water running down her cleavage, her camisole, and the dark silhouette of her nipples, thick and distended.

I want to go to her. Now. I wanted to tell her. I wanted her to know. This is what I want to do to you.

She turned off the faucet and sighed. I could just see the underside of her feet as she stood on tiptoe, belly pressed against the lip of the sink. The way her back arched. Christ, I groaned. Did she hear me? She looked out the kitchen window and into the relative dark of the backyard, thoughtful, for just a minute.

She smiled.

She crouched and whispered. “Where’s my beautiful boy? Where is he?”

She must’ve been looking for the dog. When she stood she reached behind her, back between her legs and tugged at her panties as though they stuck to her. Her breasts lifted in the faint light and the contours of her muscles were subtle and feminine. I imagined them, curved to the contours of pornography: stretched, taut and straining on and against my cock. Christ, I couldn’t help exhaling.

“You’re not clever,” she whispered. She walked right at me. Saw me. Kicked me. “Asshole.” She smiled but that isn’t how I planned it. I was supposed to walk into the kitchen. She was supposed to see me and want what I wanted. From there, who knows? Maybe I would take her hair and turn her around. I would bend her over the counter and with one, quick thrust take her from behind, hold her there, let her feel my cock, let her feel what she does to me. Maybe I would push her to her knees, let her see, taste and take me in her mouth. But this? This isn’t what I planned. She panicked. So did I. I stood, without thinking, and slapped my palm over her mouth just before she screamed. I pressed her up against the wall. “Relax. I’m here with your brother.”

Her breasts rose and fell. She was scared. She was close enough to kiss and Christ I wanted to. Her eyes had that look of fear. I wanted to taste it. I wanted to confuse and change it. “I’m his roommate,” I said, not at all what I’d imagined saying. “I’m spending the holidays with your family.”

She went limp and I removed my hand from her mouth. She pulled at her camisole like she wanted to cover herself. It only made me want to push my cock, and it’s slickness, against her belly.

“Sorry for kicking you.”

“I practice martial arts.” I lied, sort of. “I’m fine.”

She licked her lips, still wet from my palm, wet from my cock. She blinked and I knew everything I needed to know. She looked at me. She looked at my hips, abdomen, and arms. Then she studied my face and eyes again, like she was deciding whether I was old enough for her.

“What were you doing crouched by the doorway like that?”

“I came down for a drink, like you,” I lied. Why the hell couldn’t I tell the truth?

She looked at my stomach again and this time saw what I couldn’t hide. Her eyes widened but I didn’t buy the surprise. I didn’t want to. “Liar. You’re disgusting.” She tried to walk away.

I stopped her, but I felt like the stupid kid I am. None of this was what I imagined. “I’m telling the truth. When I saw how you were dressed… I didn’t want to intrude. Don’t be angry. I can’t help it. I didn’t want to meet you like this… don’t tell your brother.”

Then she changed — her posture, eyes, everything. “How did you want to meet me?”

I spurted in the shower this morning. I was imagining your body. I almost came to your bed tonight. I wanted to open your legs and own you. When you bent over the sink, I wanted to fuck you from behind. I wanted to hold you there, just hold you, bend you over, pierce you until I was flooding your pussy. But I didn’t say anything like that. I looked away, embarrassed.

“Well?”

The desire for girls comes to boys with a grown man’s desire. Our thoughts change almost overnight. The day before they’re just girls. The next day we want to drive their faces into the pillows of our beds. We want to kick their knees and legs apart and drive our cocks into them until we hear their cries, their grunts. We want them to take our cocks. We want them to be what they suddenly are – girls, thighs spread, pussies lifted. And we’re ashamed of ourselves, but not tonight. Tonight I want to fuck her. I just want to be what I am. “I saw your photograph. I saw it on your brother’s laptop. I thought you were pretty –”

“Were?” She smiled.

“No, of course not – I mean, are…you’re pretty. Hot.” Her stance changed, softened, grew more liquid.
“How long have you been here?” She glanced toward the sink.
I moved my cock closer to her belly, just letting her feel the boxers, shy but I wanted her to know. “I saw you drinking from the sink. Not a fan of glasses, are you?”

“Why use one? I’ve got two perfectly good hands.” She wiggled her fingers near my face. I pressed my face into them, letting her feel my cheeks. Her touch made my belly ache for more. She let go but didn’t move. Her lips parted.

“I saw you calling for the dog,” I said, but now I was just filling the silence. “–and when you got up.” I could smell her. The pungent scent of a women readied for a cock – still a new smell to me. She ran her fingernails down my belly and scratched at the silky hair beneath my belly button. I exhaled again.

“And what?” Her voice sounded thick and heavy.

“You…your…I saw you. Your breasts. I’m sorry.” Her skin burned against mine. She guided my hand underneath her camisole, to her breast. My head was spinning – I couldn’t believe she was doing it. She wanted me as much as I wanted her. She pressed my fingers with her own, pinching her nipple and squeezing her breast. I pressed my cock against her mound – finally, a declaration.

“How are you at keeping secrets?” She asked. She pulled me into a corner of the dining room. She put her hands on my hips and pressed her mound against my cock – an answer.

“Pretty good,” I whispered, my cheek brushing hers.

She caressed my ass and spread her legs. I touched her mound. It was time. I traced her slit and stopped at the top, where her clit was hot and hard. She’d soaked through the flimsy panties. I could smell it. They were stuck to her.

I kissed her and pulled her panties down – wetness, nothing but wetness. I slid my middle finger into her as she ground her hips against mine. I could feel the ribbed softness inside her pussy – the warmth and darkness. I rubbed her clit — the first time I had ever done it. Crazy. One girlfriend before I hadn’t known better. Now I knew. I tasted her. I pressed against the roof of her mouth with the tip of my tongue. I wanted more. I wanted to hear her. I wanted control, and maybe she wanted me to take control. I pinched her clit and rubbed rhythmically. She groaned and pressed her pussy into my hand. My hand slid easy between her thighs. When she tried to pull her panties down I stopped her. Didn’t she know? She was sexier wearing them; and she was sexier if it was me, not her, taking them off. I fell to my knees in front of her and pulled her panties back up. I kept pulling until the crotch was swallowed up by her swollen pussy.

“Silly, what are you doing?” She sounded drunk.

I tugged at her panties until I could see the crease between her thighs – the crease I would be parting with my cock. The cloth was slippery and hot with her juices. But I wanted control. I wanted to be the lead. I set a rhythm. She spread her legs. She moved her hips in time with my hand. “It looks so fucking delicious.” I couldn’t help it. I pressed my lips against the lips of her pussy, tight underneath the slickened panties. I tasted her. I licked the cloth wedged between them. “A perfect tease.”

I felt her fingers in my hair. “Try me. Give it a lick.”

I pulled the cloth aside and slid my tongue in a woman’s slit for the first time. I pressed her clit against my lips as I tongue opened. She cursed. She tugged at my shoulders. She was ready. I stood. “Come with me.” She guided me back into the dark kitchen, by the sink. She pulled off my boxers, her fingers just missing my cock, but she gazed at it. What was she thinking? I almost reached for her to put my cock in her mouth, but she stood. I moved to lift her onto the rim of the sink, but she shook her head. She turned. She leaned with her flat belly against the sink and arched. “I want you like this.”

Fuck.

Her heart-shaped ass in the dark, just like I saw it; but now I could see her pussy, the dark glistening line between the soft rounds of her ass. I took her hips and entered her. Don’t hurry. Fuck, don’t hurry. I slid inside her inch by inch. I wanted to feel every inch of her, parting, slowly parting. The warm, dark moisture of her womb seemed endless. I felt her softly arch as I pressed ever more deeply inside her. I drew back, then pushed deeper, then back, then deeper until I was all the way inside her, inside my roommate’s sister. A spaghetti strap drooped and her breasts popped out. She was shivering, but not with cold.

I pressed her against the edge of the counter. I felt powerful. I wanted her to be trapped there, to feel every thrust. I felt possessive. She didn’t turn. Yes. That’s what I wanted. The muscles of her back sinuously moved and shifted in the moonlight. I felt like animal. No, I felt like a man. I didn’t want her to turn and she didn’t. I just wanted to fuck her. I wanted her open, completely open.

“Touch me…my-” I lifted her leg on the counter. I thrust up and into her, wanting to drive more and more of myself inside her. I couldn’t help it. I wanted her to know what she was doing to me – her perfection. I pressed my teeth into her shoulder and grunted softly with each thrust. She laughed out loud.

What the hell?
I put my hand over her mouth. She sucked at fingers. She must have known, this time, what she was tasting. I thrust upward, harder. I felt her stiffen. Her sucking lost focus. She came. I pushed my fingers deeper into her mouth to shut up her groans. I felt like the king of the world. I held still, cock embedded, feeling the fluttering twitches of her orgasm around my cock. Then I turned her round and lifted her onto the counter. I thrust up into her, deep and hard. It was my turn. She dug her fingernails into my shoulders and her cries intensified. She sucked the skin of my neck as I pressed my lips to her ears so she could listen to my pleasure.

“I want you to come…” she whispered.

I was thrusting into wetness, nothing but wetness. It made my hands slippery. Her thighs tightened around my hips. “Fuck me. Fill me up.” I couldn’t have stopped. Semen was already burning its heat into the length of my cock. “That’s right. Show me how good my pussy feels.” I groaned. I licked her earlobe. She was getting tighter with her eagerness. “I want to feel that fat cockhead throb on my tongue, I want to taste you.”

Christ, I had almost orgasmed!

I pulled out and she fell to her knees. She smirked as she rubbed the wetness of my cock on her lips. Then she took the base of my cock in her fist and pumped while she looked up at me. She sucked me. She licked feverishly at the head of my cock. The linoleum under her pussy glistened as she fondled my balls. Her nipples were swollen. She wanted me. Me. I couldn’t help it. She was the most beautiful women I had ever seen. I caressed her face.

I only prayed my roommate never found out what I had done to his sister.

That’s it. I’m going to come. I pushed deeper into her mouth. Oh fuck! I could say nothing, do nothing. She took from me what she wanted. I pulsed in her mouth. I spurted. She cradled my balls, sucked lightly and swallowed until the last spasm stopped.

<<<{{[[O]]}}>>>

I woke with a hard on.

I heard her in the shower. I rolled onto my side. I stretched and thrust my cock forward. I pumped hard, a dozen times, imagining myself in the shower, with her, thrusting into her from behind. I spurted into the sheets. I replayed it all. I replayed the whole night. As the last spurt dribbled through my fingers I smelled her scent on my crotch, as though awakened by my own.

<<<{{[[O]]}}>>>

I was already in the dining room when she walked downstairs. There were butterflies in my stomach. I didn’t want to be obvious. I glanced. I wanted to do more. I wanted to get up. I wanted to kiss her and feel her slight feminine body against my own. Pots and pans rattled in the kitchen, where her mother worked on Christmas Eve brunch with her father.
“Finally! La Bella Durmiente* decided to join us for breakfast,” her father yelled from the kitchen. How could he not know that I’d fucked his daughter, that my cock had been in her womb and that she had swallowed my come?

My roommate nudged me in the ribcage. “My sister, Rosalia.”

I stood up. “Hello…Cillian.” I extended my hand. She glanced at the band-aid on my index finger. She remembered — the mark of her orgasm, and proof. We touched. She was covered in a fine sheen of sweat. I hoped her brother wouldn’t notice, or my own breathlessness. Her hair was a wavy, dark brown, and her eyes were green. There was a reddish blush to the slight, inward curve of her nose. Her lips were full and glistening.

“Nice to finally meet you.” I made sure she spotted the slight lump of her soiled panties in my jean pocket. I wanted more.

“Rosey, honey?” Her mother yelled from the kitchen. “Could you get me a couple quarts of heavy cream and a dozen eggs from the market? I’ve run out and I have to make the eggnog for the Christmas party. Take your father’s SUV, it’s icy this morning.”

“Okay, mami,” she yelled back. Our eyes remained locked. She hadn’t let go of my hand.

Her brother stood and laughed at her. “Ba ha. You’ll be out for at least a couple of hours.” He turned to me. “Let’s go downstairs, man. I brought the Xbox.” He headed down the basement stairs without looking back.

“I’ll be down…” I said, then closed the door quietly. I walked out after her.

December 23 2011 ∞ Ximena & Will Crimson

21 comments on “Two in the Dark

  1. paul1510
    December 23, 2011

    Will,
    great to have the other point of view, you two complement each other, great stuff.
    Paul.

    • willcrimson
      December 23, 2011

      Thanks Paul. It was fun to write. As I wrote Ximena, it was like re-arranging somebody else’s living room. I had to imagine what Ximena was thinking when she wrote his lines, but also wanted to surprise her a little — I wanted it to be like having one of her own characters tell her their story.

  2. Liz
    December 23, 2011

    If you two start tag teaming, we’ll all be in trouble! loved the alt pov!

    • willcrimson
      December 23, 2011

      We have once before — White Icing Duet. Have you read it?

    • Liz
      December 23, 2011

      i will now! thanks for the link!

  3. Rock_117
    December 23, 2011

    Haha just when you thought it couldn’t get any better… Way to play it from the other side, Will. I didn’t think simply changing teams would be so different but they compliment each other prefectly. You and Ximena really rock together. This reminds me of M’s story ‘Spooning’ from way back when adding the two views together.

    Merry Christmas everybody, Stay frosty!

  4. Marie
    December 24, 2011

    This complemented Ximena’s story perfectly. The male perspective was intense and felt so raw. Do men really think that way?

    • willcrimson
      December 24, 2011

      //Do men really think that way?//

      When a man is nineteen? Oh Jayzus-uh, but YES. :-) This is exactly what it’s like. A lot of teenage boys masturbate every day, if not two times a day (just so they can temporarily think about something else for god’s sake). If they don’t, they have wet dreams and ever-longer and harder erections. Teen-aged boys and men are programmed by nature to fuck you deep — to fill you to your pretty little ears with semen. We just don’t have the maturity. We’re like kids in a Ferrari and a limitless supply of gas. The only speed limits are the libidos of girls. It’s something that many, many women just don’t get. Thankfully, early in a man’s twenties the feverish haze begins to lift. Sheer rut-lust still washes over us, but it’s not like the incessant fever of teenagers. By our thirties arousal becomes more like a shifting and warm breeze than gale force winds – though if the right woman walks into view. By our forties, arousal is more like a pleasant guest who knocks before entering. Once invited, though, look out girls! Go to This American Life, click HERE, and listen to ACT TWO. INFINITE GENT. This is an interview with a young woman who began taking Testosterone as part of a sex change procedure. You’ll love it. Be sure and let me know what you think, once you’ve listened to it.

    • Marie
      December 24, 2011

      When I read your response, you had me blushing, but oh so informative. I appreciate the honest POV!

      The interview was fascinating and insightful. I never realized how much testosterone can affect a person’s perception and feelings. My favorite bit was when he described how he felt towards women before and after the testosterone. After listening to the interview, it helped me understand my boyfriend back when we were dating in highschool. Why he acted the way he did and his focus about having sex.

      You have me wanting sex now. Time to go find my boyfriend.

    • willcrimson
      December 24, 2011

      //When I read your response, you had me blushing, but oh so informative. I appreciate the honest POV!//

      You know, I’m glad to hear you say that. :-) Not because I want to make you blush (though that’s kinda’ fun), but because I want you (and readers) to feel like there’s a place where they can “peek behind the curtain”. The best erotica let’s us see into hearts and minds, don’t you think?

      //My favorite bit was when he described how he felt towards women before and after the testosterone. //

      My favorite parts were when he was talking about the copying machine, how he just had to turn and look at the woman’s ass, how he got interested in math and science, and how, before the T, his idea of a date was discussing an interesting book. Can you tell I’ve listened to this more than once?

  5. Marie
    December 24, 2011

    Oh, I wanted to add that your ability to articulate how men think and feel is appreciated. I have asked my friends in the past, but they were either too shy to tell me or couldn’t explain as well as you did about their need to have sex.

    • willcrimson
      December 24, 2011

      //…they were either too shy to tell me or couldn’t explain as well as you did about their need to have sex.//

      It’s embarrassing to admit. If a friend asked me, even now, I would play it cool. There are certainly teen-aged men who aren’t embarrassed by their sex drive, but most are – even a little taken aback. “Am I really like that?” – we ask ourselves. Well… yes. We really do want to do all that to women. You know… fuck them from behind, hard and fast. None of us can hide from millions of years of evolution. It’s why we’re all here. :-)

    • Rock_117
      December 25, 2011

      Will, as a man I must say your replies are all poetry in themselves. Did I ever mention you’re my internet superhero?

    • willcrimson
      December 25, 2011

      Geez Rock! Are you trying to kill me? I can’t survive compliments like that. Merry Christmas!

    • Rock_117
      December 26, 2011

      Haha thanks, hope yours was good as well! What I meant was you wrote it in a way that accurately conveys our feelings without making us sound like total pigs xD That takes skill with words because we’re generally misunderstood creatures.

    • willcrimson
      December 26, 2011

      Ah… well, thanks Rock. :-) That’s something I actually think about. As you get older, it doesn’t take long before you realize that women’s experience of sex and sexuality can be completely different from men. There’s this thing we all do when somebody doesn’t understand what we’re saying — we talk louder and louder until we decide they’re complete idiots. Sex is like that. It often doesn’t occur to either sex that we’re speaking a completely different language from completely different cultures – we just decide that women are stuck up, cock teases or frigid while men are disgusting, porn-driven pigs who can only think with their dicks.

      I think of myself as writing for women and so, in stories like Pornography and Key, maybe I’m trying to explain us a little bit. When it comes down to it, we love who we love for the same reasons that women love us. But I think many men, unlike many women, consider themselves at their best when they express their love through sex — lovemaking. When a partner, a woman, makes the mistake of using sex as a bargaining chip to get what she wants out of a relationship, she’s unwittingly using, from the man’s perspective, his love as a bargaining chip. Anyway, your comment tells me I might be doing a little something right.

  6. Paul Weimer (@princejvstin)
    December 26, 2011

    I do like getting both points of view on a very hot encounter, between the two stories.

    Did you have any collaboration in the writing of this version, or did you spin this solely upon reading Ximena’s?

    • willcrimson
      December 26, 2011

      //Did you have any collaboration in the writing of this version, or did you spin this solely upon reading Ximena’s?//

      No, I spun this solely upon reading Ximena’s. When reading her stories, off and on, I’ve been tempted to do this.

      But I’ve always loved tweaking stories. It’s why I enjoy rewriting fairy tales. The idea of getting into a character’s head, from another’s story (and doing it convincingly) is a kind of crossword puzzle to me.

  7. ChristineW
    December 27, 2011

    Holy Jeez, you’re writing for me, a woman going through her own Indian summer. And this story just makes me want to go out and cruise college boys… I love how the 2 stories are identical, yet different.

    I love this site! :)

    • willcrimson
      December 27, 2011

      Thanks Christine. :-) And welcome to our site. I think I go through an Indian Summer, like yours, every couple of weeks…

    • ChristineW
      December 28, 2011

      ” I think I go through an Indian Summer, like yours, every couple of weeks…”

      Mine’s been consistant for over a year now and it’s awesome!! And it’s sites like yours that keep fueling the fire.

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