Tag Archives: Happy Come Lucky

Erotic Fiction: An Intense, Slightly Porny Blowjob

Vintage illustration of a couple at a soda fountain

Yesterday, the wonderful Honey over at Happy Come Lucky wrote a post called Addiction about her love of blowjobs. It’s a lovely, sexy piece of writing, so when Exhibit A shared some inspiring thoughts on a (slightly less educational) sequel to his excellent cock ring video, I got an idea that drew from both – Honey’s post and Exhibit A’s cinematic presence.

I wrote this little love note to giving head in roughly 40 minutes. It’s quick, hot and filthy. What you see if what you get, so hopefully what you get is good, clean (*wink*) fun.

Plug #1 – If you haven’t done so already, check out Honey’s post. It’s incredibly hot. And lovely. And incredibly hot.

Plug #2 – If you’re at all interested in cock rings but aren’t sure how to go about using one, check out Exhibit A’s Cock Rings 101 post and video. They’re really good stuff.

And now….

An Intense, Slightly Porny Blowjob

It’s probably not a good idea. We’re in a restaurant full of happy, not-quite-drunk people and our waiter, Carl, is beyond attentive. I don’t care though. My leg is pressed against yours in the booth and I’m stroking your cock through your jeans. You’re so hard it makes my mouth water. I catch your eye and kiss you. I suspect you know what I’m thinking, but you’re not sure if I’ll actually do it.

I kiss you again, a bit theatrically this time, as Carl pours the wine. Then he’s off and I slide down under the table. There’s no tablecloth to hide what I’m doing but I honestly don’t care. Apparently you don’t either because you slouch down in the booth enough to help me unbutton your fly. Then you lean back as I lick my lips and nuzzle your cock. Teasing. Maybe I’m teasing. I kiss the tip. I can feel you getting frustrated and self-conscious. People can see you. They might see me in the darkness under the table if they look hard enough. You touch my head—maybe a warning. I’m not sure. It doesn’t matter because I tuck myself in between your spread legs and slide your cock into my mouth.

Your body stiffens and I hear you try, unsuccessfully, to hold back a small moan.

“Is the wine all right, sir?”

“Yes. Fine. Thanks.”

I smile as I suck you, encouraging you—your job is much harder than mine. My job is a fucking pleasure, so much so that my thighs are wet and sticky beneath my skirt. I suck up the length of you, swirling my tongue over your head, loving the way you’re trying not to move. I can feel your pulse in my mouth. I can taste your salt and my own tang from when we fucked earlier, before we left for dinner. I lap it up, working you with my tongue in a way that indulges my pleasure as much as yours.

You get harder in my mouth, the way you do right before you come. Your fists clench at your sides, flexing, knuckles flushed. I reach out and put one of my hands over yours, while the other cradles your balls. Everything about you is wound up tight. I keep sucking and suckling, feeding off your tension and how good the sucking feels. Thick veins under my tongue, hard, hot dick…. If I keep doing this, I’m going to come. But you inhale sharply and come first.

I moan around your cock as your cum hits my throat, hot and salty and so fucking good. I keep sucking and lapping. I want every drop. I only stop my gentle, pulsing pulls when you start to go soft in my mouth. You tuck yourself in and button your jeans. Then you touch my head again, to tell me it’s okay. I slide back up into the seat.

I smell like sex and I taste like cum. I smile as Carl drops off our food.

“Can I get you anything else?”

“No. Thank you. We’re good.”

Erotic Fiction: Drive

Tilly loved hands.

Strong hands, slender hands, hands with bony knuckles and a sprinkling of hair, hands with thick fingers that could break her in two. It was a man’s hands she noticed first. Not his ring finger, (that was a secondary concern), but his hands.

Steering wheel and plack thigh high

“Drive” by Happy Come Lucky

Would those hands satisfy her if she ended up in bed with the bank teller, the grocery clerk, the guy sipping scotch at the bar? Would they stroke up her spine and hold her hips tight, fingertips digging in hard enough to bruise? Would his fingers slide between her legs, not probing but suggesting, coaxing, so that she spread her thighs without meaning to?

That’s what she wanted. Hands that mapped her skin and made her feel alive. A man could have the face of an angel with a pretty mouth to match, but if looking at his hands didn’t make her wet, there was just no fucking point.

Adam had very good hands.

They were clever and quick – strong but not coarse, with long, square-tipped fingers and knuckles that were slightly too broad, but oh god, the way they filled her….

She was thinking about his hands when she dressed that night – short little scrap of a skirt, and black thigh highs with a wide, decorative band instead of plain elastic. She could almost feel his fingertips brushing over the pretty, latticed tops as she slid them up her legs and settled them in place. She skipped the panties altogether. She loved being bare. She felt plump and slick. She felt like an invitation.

Tilly got in her tiny car, the one Adam had deemed reliable when she’d bought it the previous year. She was short on time. His flight wouldn’t arrive for  an hour, but the drive always took longer than it should. Besides, if she stayed home, she’d end up touching herself and Adam had told her, expressly, that he wanted to make her come as soon as he got back. She knew what that meant. She thought of his hands. She pulled out of the driveway as if her presence at the airport would bring him home sooner.

She knew how it would go. There would be sweet kisses at the baggage claim that made old people smile, and tons of I missed you‘s and I love you‘s, which were words she didn’t take for granted. Not ever. Not one bit. But they weren’t the words she needed to hear. They weren’t the words that made her ache.

Tilly, baby…can you drive while you come?

Yes, Adam. You know I can.

Tilly flushed and shifted in her seat. They’d been doing this for so long that her body had a conditioned response. Slowly, she parted her legs, heart hammering as she evaluated the road. Nearly empty. Safe.  She imagined him reaching over from the passenger seat with his long, wide-knuckled hand as she drew her finger shyly up her leg, toying with the tops of her stockings as she did.

Adam’s fingers would curl over the edge of her hem and draw her skirt up before they slid slid between her thighs, not probing but coaxing, just the way she liked. She would part her legs without meaning to, careful to keep her foot steady on the gas, while he dipped his fingers into her sticky heat.

Tilly’s legs parted and she tilted her hips, inviting her own fingers in. She hesitated. Then she dragged a finger over her labia, rubbing lightly as she did, before gently circling her clit. She sighed, watching the road carefully as her hand went to work in place of his.

Her skirt slid up further, pooling in her lap as she arched her hips again, trying to press against anything – the steering wheel, the safety belt – anything that might resist and press back.

Tilly’s breathing quickened as the car sped forward. Automatically, she tapped the brakes as her finger traced circles over her frustrated clit. She made a little sound, an unhappy little groan, as the orgasm began to simmer just beneath her skin. If she wasn’t careful, she was going to come. But she couldn’t. That wouldn’t be fair, and even if it were she wanted his fingers to finish the job. She wanted to suck them clean when he was done.

Tilly moaned again, testing, edging, pushing herself. She was pushing herself hard. The little car shot forward as she danced along the edge. She was on the verge of coming when she snatched her hand away, slamming on the brakes as a deer leapt into the empty road.

“Fuck me,” she murmured. “That was close.”

The orgasm receded, but only just as the animal bounded away. Gingerly, Tilly shifted gears and edged back into the lane. The seat beneath her was sticky and she ached – the climax was still there, patiently waiting, coating her thighs. Waiting for Adam to come. She rolled down the window, relieved when the cold winter air hit her too hot skin. It really had been close.

For a moment, her fingers traced over her stocking tops, soothing herself as she did.  Then she double-checked the road before easing back into the lane. She was anxious to get to the airport. The sooner she got to the airport, the sooner they could come home.

Want to hear me read it? Click on HERE for the audio version.

And lastly, thank you to Happy Come Lucky, whose image inspired this story.