Get completely naked and wet with Lanie and lose your mind

From Create Your Own Story

Revision as of 18:10, 23 January 2011

There is one thing you need to do first, before giving in to the lust stirringlike soup in your gut. You take your hand out of Lanie, her cunt slurping after it. "Just a second." You stand, turn, go to one of the supply tables, grab the chair there. You take it to the copyroom door and jam it under the knob. You wedge it in good and tight. You promise yourself that you will wedge Lanie even tighter. You give the knob a good tug to make sure it stays put. You promise Lanie that you will not stay put when she gives you a good tug, the best of tugs, but gape over her with come.

You turn back to Lanie. She's propped herself up on her elbow against the copier, sodden, sapped, but with a lurking gaze. The fingers of the hand she's propped up on are grasping unconsciously on the floor. She smiles at you, a swampy leer. She's fucking beautiful.

Behind you, the knob rattles. You hear a faint exclamation through the door. Not a moment too soon.

Lanie runs a hand across her comed-over chest and licks her palm obnoxiously, eyes shut.

You say, "You seem to like that stuff."

She looks back at you. "What if I do?"

"What if you do is I have more if what if you do. Gallons. Fucking galleons full."

You whip your shirt off. You fling off your shoes. You shove your trousers down to your ankles, stomp your feet out, and kick them aside. Lanie's eyes widen and narrow. "Well..!"

Stepping over to her, you say, "I'm going to plow through you like the Spanish Armada on the way to England and no fucking Francis Drake to stop me."

Your hard-on bobs like the gulf stream. Lanie's enervated gaze stares as though enthralled by a siren. "He must be off making copies," she says distantly.

"Just like us," you say.

You bend and take Lanie's hand, damp with come and saliva, and pull her up. Her other hand grazes your cock, stiffening it. As she stands beside you, a prickling waves through the nerves in your spine, breaching across your arms and thighs. As though your whole body has become a sense, a sixth sense to detect another nearby body.

Lanie lightly lays those damp hands on your chest. She traces her fingers around your nipples. Her face, her eyes on yours, lose focus. You take the hand that Lanie licked and cover your face with it, press your tongue deeply against the palm and draw it roughly up to her fingertips. Then you put your mouth on hers. The tastes are salt and sour and bitter. Lanie's mouth and tongue move viscously with yours, your breathing mixing like oil. You put a hand behind her neck and press the kiss deeper; then suddenly thrust her hips back against the copier with a bang, and grind your naked cock. Lanie's crotch gyrates in beat with yours, slow and dirty, and she moans around your lips.

You break off with a gasp. "Naked," you whisper, undoing the bottom buttons of her shirt. As you pull Lanie's shirt off her arms, you kiss the skin of her shoulders and collarbone. The shirt goes somewhere over your shoulder. Down goes the loose bra, plopping at your feet. You pull her chest against yours, squeeze her clammy tits against you, imagining the wetness warm and slippery. You reach down to her skirt and find Lanie's hand already there, tugging the zipper down.

Her hand stops. "Oh! Someone's pushing on the door!"

You realize you've been ignoring it. Muffled yelling is coming from outside the copy room. The knob turns and the door presses in and is stopped by the chair.

What do you do?

• "They're pirates!" you tell Lanie.
• Ignore them and stalactite with Lanie like you intended.