Another typical Friday afternoon, I was dozing at work wondering what I was going to do that night when I got an SMS from my friend Joe. One of my closer friends, Joe and I often hung out on the weekends. We were both pretty nerdy, computer games and movies featured highly on our list of things to do. Unlike most friendships, ours also included a sexual side. We’d stumbled upon our shared interest in certain genres of porn during a drunken night of debauchery and since then we had occasionally indulged ourselves by watching it together and even jerking each other off. We never discussed our sexuality at any point, it was just something that felt nice to do and since we were both single there was nothing to stop us but ourselves. Continue reading “First Time on the Couch”
This is Part 2 of a Series called Fleshy Femme Fatale. Originally written as a stand-alone story, Fleshy Femme Fatale had potential for growth and what you see below is that growth. I suggest you read Part 1 first but Part 2 could also be read as its own stand-alone tale.
It had been a few weeks since she had first discovered her fondness for his fleshlight, she played with it as often as she could. The supple feeling of the fake labia against her own inflamed lips drove her to some of the most intense orgasms she could remember having. Her legs were often weak and wobbly from the frequency of her masturbation. During this time she had stopped having sex with her boyfriend and was solely masturbating and he was starting to complain. She had considered buying herself her own fleshlight so she wouldn’t have to keep borrowing his until an idea dawned on her that would solve her problem and his.
She hated it.
She admitted to it freely. She hated his fleshlight. That disgusting “toy”. That thing he put his penis in to feel good. Was she not enough? Why did he feel he needed it, that replacement for her vagina?
It was just sitting there on his side of the bed, he’d used it last night and just left it sitting on the bed side table. It was all she could do to look at it, and yet she couldn’t look away. How could something so dirty make him so happy?