Orgasms

Orgasms
Erotica by William Crimson

  • I’ve had much time to just live since my last post. I’ve discovered some things about myself. First, I’m an erotic writer. For some reason, this is the niche I agreed to before coming into this world.  So, if this is my gift, then I need to share it. In truth, I really love the mystery and beauty of our eroticism. And here’s the second thing. I think what really got to me is that I felt like my writing was about the sex rather than the people. Hopefully, this new story will start a new way of thinking about the stories I tell — a new reason to write. I don’t necessarily want to solve the mystery of sex, but maybe explore it in a new chapter of writing. I hope you enjoy it.

She was on the back of the pickup track. To be precise, she was on the lowered tailgate, leaning back on her elbows and her skinny legs were spread wide open. Her head was bent forward, backed up as she was against a crate, a table saw and some boxes. The thrusting between her legs made her knobby elbows slip, made her fingers spread and or try to grip the corrugated truck bed. She couldn’t get any purchase.

She looked up at Jake, her eyes staring with shock. Each thrust shook her. Each thrust curled her youthful voice upward like a confused question mark. She worse a tumblr_mhrj3jWcQa1qz8guyo1_1280purple sleeveless top. Her nipples poked underneath it. Her jean mini-skirt hadn’t needed to be moved or rucked up. Her white underwear hung from her left ankle, lifted like the other one, with red tennis shoes. She bit her lips but the next powerful thrust parted them.

She acted like she wanted to escape, like she was fighting him. But she didn’t try to close her legs. The heel of her hands slipped on the corrugated truck bed when she tried to push away. Every now and then she grunted as she tried to scoot back, tried to sit up, glancing at the cock going in and out of her, then at his eyes, his expression, before her own eyes began glaze, before her cries, in time with the thrusts, rose until she’d slip back down to the edge of the tailgate, the V of her abdomen falling against his flat pelvis. She’d arch, eyes rolling, fists beating the tail gate. She’d bite her lip. She’d gaze upward at the sky, blue with a smattering of clouds, as if she were losing herself somewhere in them and above herself.

Jake was a big man and a big cock. He was ten years older. He liked Jessy, liked that she looked younger than she was, liked that she was skinny as a rail, that she looked illegal. He was wearing tanned carpenter pants and a jacket. He was sweating, His large hands, calloused, held the girl tight. His thumbs pressed pressed into her at either side of her belly button.

They were off the side of a state route, almost like they’d stop for a flat tire. Whatever had happened, had happened quick. There was only one car that passed by while he was fucking the girl, slowed, watched what was being done, then shot by them with a squeal of tires. The powerful thrusts didn’t stop. Neither did her cries.

She stiffened. She shouted with frustration. She was staring straight up at the sky, twisting, trying to grab at anything, beating the truck bed, a tear dampening the dark brown wisps at her temple. Her eyes suddenly widened with surprise, she inhaled like she’d been prodded with a live wire, she rose up, arching, off the truck bed once. Twice. Then hiccupped and bowed like dying animal, head thrown back, eyes white, fingers spread, stiffly and helplessly jolting on the cock hooked upward inside her

Jake lost his balance. He half leaned, half fell forward, one arm curling under the small of her back, the sharp coil of her small spine, the other over her shoulder.

“Look at me!” he shouted. “God damn it, look at me!”

She made the effort, shuddering, shaking, her breath come to a stop, looking at him, his gaze inches from hers. She looked like she was in pain as she quivered on the cock in her center. Another jolt, and then another shook her before her gaze faded into a kind of beaten exhaustion. He thrust hard, purposefully, quickening.

“Look at me,” he snarled again. “Don’t turn away. I want you looking right in eyes when I dod this.”

She did, expectantly, maybe even submissively he would have said, before he violently shook, and she along with him, a second time.

He held her like that, dead still, riding the pleasure until it was through and done.

When he straightened and pulled out, a gush of semen slipped out of her, matting the short, shaved fur of her pussy. He tucked his cock in his pants and zipped. “Get up,” he said.

She did, slowly, warily, never taking his eyes from him. She lifted her left ankle and pulled off her underwear, then squatted. Semen dampened the dirt under her.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Pissing.”

“No you don’t!”

A dribble of semen and piss streaked her thigh before she could stop it. “Jesus, Jake!” She shouted. He grabbed her by the elbow and half threw her into the pickup’s cab. “What about my underwear.”

“You don’t need it. What the fuck do you need it for now?”

He slammed shut the driver side door, cranked the engine, and pulled into the road.

“Don’t prove a fucking thing,” she muttered, voice shaking, like she was afraid to talk.

“You liked it.”

“Doesn’t mean I fucking liked it, Jake.”

“You fucking liked it, girl. You fucking liked filled with a big cock.”

“It’s not like that.”

Jake slapped the steering wheel with his fist. “Yeah!” he shouted. “It is fucking like that.”

“No!” she screamed. “I hated it. I hate you. I fucking hate you!”

He knuckles turned white on the steering wheel. His eyes bulged. He swiped at the corner of one eye before violently gripping the steering wheel again, glaring at the road ahead as if she didn’t exist.

“You came in me,” she almost whispered.

“Yeah, guess that’s gonna’ be a little awkward with you hatin’ me now. Maybe you should’ve decided that before there was a piece of me inside you.”

“Doesn’t mean you fucking own me now.”

“Well, it kinda’ does, actually.”

“No!” she snarled. “It doesn’t!”

“You could’ve stopped it. Me.”

“Really? No, you fucking ra‒”

“Don’t you say it, Jessy!” he roared. “Don’t you fucking say it.”

66217056991212912_0tT7wTLG_cJessy bit her lip, glared at the road and pressed her thighs together.

“You didn’t say no. Not once. You looked me right in the eye. I told you: look me right in the eye! You’re no fucking better than me, Jessy.” His voice heaved with emotion. “You’re no better than me. You wanted it just like I did. Is it so bad I want to own you? I get so fucking tired of the bullshit. I’m done with the bullshit, Jessy.”

The girl shook, but her posture had changed. She pressed her thighs together and shuddered. “I’m fucking soaked,” she half laughed, half cried. She swiped at her eyes with the back of her wrist. “I hope you got some armor all.” She opened her thighs. The faded blue vinyl of the seat was glistening and slick with the flood of moisture spilling from between her thighs.

“You smell better than the fucking armor all.”

She slid across the bench seat, half on the side of her hip, bare knees pressed and sliding together. She forced his gaze away from the road, forced his lips against hers, forced him to hit the breaks and drive onto gravelly berm. She kissed him hard, fingers pressing into his cheeks. Their lips parted. She licked hers. “Keep driving,” she said. She sucked at her lower lip before kissing his neck, the space between his collar bones, then lower, then the head of his cock. Jake pulled back into the road. His lips parted.

Latest Comments

  1. paul1510 says:

    Will,
    perhaps a little too graphic?
    Never the less, it is good to have you writing again.
    Paul.

    • willcrimson says:

      Possibly. There’s a struggle there, and I wanted to portray it without spelling it out. I’ll be interested to see what others think.

  2. cammiesonthefloor says:

    I liked the complication of the characters

  3. Anonymous says:

    The quality of the writing isn’t there, there’s no depth…you seem lost. Or perhaps the story is too shallow for me. One day you say no more but now you’re back? Writing erotica again? I guess the other genre didn’t work out. Good luck.

    • willcrimson says:

      Hey Anon, thank you so much for your comment. You’re right in every respect. If I’ve written a story without depth, then it certainly isn’t the first time. And yes, I am most definitely lost. I wrote over a hundred stories and was left wondering what I had accomplished? As to the other genres: It’s not that they didn’t work out, it’s that I just like the genre of erotica. I just do. I like writing about people and the interaction of sex. But what I really liked about your comment may sound strange. I liked it’s honesty and negativity — not to say that positive comments aren’t honest, it’s that your comment strangely makes me think I might have done something right, for a change. Please don’t hesitate to criticize. :)

  4. Cheongsam says:

    Very glad you’re back – although, for me, your writing has always been about the people. I’ve always thought the difference between erotica and simply writing about sex is that erotica is stories about people who happen to be caught in the instant of sex, about their thoughts/motivations in that moment. Writing about sex is merely about the mechanics. If this makes sense.

    This was… interesting. Very graphic. Good writing, but I was definitely slightly uncomfortable reading it.

    • willcrimson says:

      It was an experiment, which is not to excuse the story. I’m mystified, sometimes, by why some couples stay together — but often there’s something they give and need from each other. I don’t entirely understand such relationships, and so I didn’t try to explain it in the story.

  5. StoryofWoe says:

    I really enjoyed this. Sometimes I want my erotica carefully polished and wrapped up in a pretty pink bow. Other times, I want it scuffed, tarnished, and caked with dirt. Gritty details and complex character interactions are what make it interesting–for me, at least. Consent is a tricky tightrope for erotica writers who like to play with power dynamics but the events in your story don’t read as gratuitous. We don’t have to like a character’s actions or justifications to appreciate the story. Well done.

  6. Cara Thereon says:

    My knee jerk reaction is to disagree with Anon, but it could be I add my own depth to the story. History or personal experience giving a layer to things maybe? I admit to wanting a better understanding of the situation, but the emotions (the important part) was all there. You could easily go back and fill this in, giving more of the why. Besides, a story that makes the reader uncomfortable and aroused in equal parts is a good story.

  7. ximenawrites says:

    I’m so glad you decided to start writing [erotica] again!

    When I read your story, I got the sense that it was an unfinished vignette, a throwaway jerkoff fantasy. There is nothing wrong with those – I am a firm fan – but the images that work so well in the moment of climax rarely translate well into writing. Because of its personal nature, this kind of writing also does not read as fanservice, to use an anime term. It was not written with the audience in mind, per se, but still…if the reader is into what you are into, it works.

    This is a bit of a tangent, but sometimes it gets boring to constantly write erotica with someone else’s desires in mind.

    Even if we become too ’emotionally invested’ in the work – use the story to release some poisons – it’s liberating to do and share, even if we don’t have the patience to write down the backstory that we briefly imagined before getting to the hardcore fucking parts. It’s a bit like voyeurism. If someone really connects with it, you know for sure that the person is on the same heart radio frequency as you are, which is a big turn-on.

    PS – Road head is amazing.

    (Or so I’ve heard.)

  8. thehistorymistress says:

    The first photograph is wonderful; sucking fingertips would be my immediate choice for an image accompanying a piece entitled ‘orgasm’ for sure.

    As for the content of the story, I’m not sure I agree that it’s too graphic, in fact I find it incredibly honest and acute. You do, and have always done with your writing, impress me with your ability to describe a woman coming; it’s never clichéd, or corny and oftentimes I feel as though I am reading words that I have always known, always felt, but never exactly been able to put my finger on them. ‘She acted like she wanted to escape, like she was fighting. But she didn’t try to close her legs.’ is a perfect observation, and portrays brilliantly the conflict within the character.

    The only part of this piece that disappointed me slightly was the old ‘big man, big cock’ description that seemed, if I’m allowed to be brutally honest, lazy and easy. It’s an unfortunate inconsitency, as I said your description of your female characters is always original and thoughtful, but falling back on the ‘big man, big cock’ depiction seems a little ‘porny’ and overdone. A man with a big cock is always going to dominate a woman, to pull her under. I’m not saying I disagree or that it’s an unwelcome image, but on a purely physical level it’s a no-brainer. Women have been satisfied, overpowered even, by thousands of men over thousands of years, presumably without the help of a big cock each time. It would be interesting to see the more subtle and unexpected explored in your writing, don’t sell short your male characters; they deserve the same respect as your fascinating and beautifully erotic females.

    • willcrimson says:

      What you say about the male character and big cocks is absolutely true. It’s a staple of much erotica. As far as I know, I’ve never made it a point to mention the size of a man’s cock unless it was to deliberately play up the stereotype (or if it was tentacle).

      I thought about your very criticism before I mentioned his size. My actual thought, at the time, was this: Should I write this? Well, in fact, some men are big and do have big cocks. It seemed like the right thing for the character and the story. And it played into some of the stereotypes already present — the seemingly underaged girl overpowered by the older and dominant male (or did she seduce him and test him?).

      But there are people who are really like this.

      So, I guess I just wanted to say that I was aware of the criticism while I was writing the description, and that I’m also aware that it’s not for me to say whether that was a good decision. That you noticed and commented very much pleases me though.

      Your comment gives me more to think about. Thank you. :)

    • Fifi says:

      If you change the word “big” to any other cock-relevant adjective, the emotional intensity of the moment is still the same. I guess every man’s cock feels big when it’s rampant.

      (There’s some damn funny stuff on the internet — trying to write a caption on my Tumblr I googled two words — “engorged” & “turgid.” Results include: “Play with turgid milky joy bags” and “he porks her mature engorged cunt with his turgid man-meat.” The winner is “OMG MY TURGID BATTERY IS SO ENGORGED WITH ENERGY!”)

      So any cock-relevent adjective other than “turgid” or “engorged”

    • willcrimson says:

      Okay, I’ll change it. :-) Soon as I do, I’ll post another comment and if it’s an improvement, let me know.

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