Current mood:

hungry

j roc's response to my smut story
so lacey wrote a response to my erotica. and now I'm theiving it and posting it to livejournal for all of you horny kids to enjoy :) (and why don't I live in buffalo again....?)

her response

I can't believe I spent two hours getting ready for this.  My date, in hys infinite wisdom, brought me to a sports bar for what was supposed to be a date.  This is not a date, I think, stirring my drink, hys friends showed up, how ironic.  They were talking about football.  Something about innings or yard lines or fouls.  I'll give you a foul, strike two buddy.  And as I sat in the booth, frothing with idiotic banter that is not intelligible to me, a butch walks to the bar.  Hys cigarettes are rolled into hys sleeve and hy carries that kind of alluring nonchalant attitude akin to James Dean.  As hy sat, hys eyes caught mine.  I was transfixed momentarily but our gaze was broken when the barkeep handed you your drink.  I returned to dully stirring my drink. 

 

A week later, I find myself sitting in the same seat, swirling the same poorly mixed drink and again, listening to the same ridiculous banter about football.  This is supposed to be a romantic date!  I seethe.  I turn to hym and glaringly pose the question, "Did you or did not tell me that tonight was going to be just about us?"  Hy responds, "Babe, we're in the middle of a game here."  I stand up to leave, outraged, and hy pulls me back, in soft tones, "Don't go, hun, I need you here.  You're my good luck charm."  I resituate myself but refuse to back down from the conversation.  "You told me that tonight was for us to spend time together.  This was not supposed to be boys' night out.  And, for the record- this is not my idea of a romantic restaurant!"  My date turned to hys friends, snickering, and with a hand to hys face I heard hym mutter "Must be that time of the month, guys."  Strike three, asshole.  I stood up, gathering the last of my pride, and counter "You should know- you bought the last box of tampons.  I expect you to get your shit out of my apartment before I get home tonight.  You can stay with your new boyfriends."  Hy tried to pull me towards hym again, tried to pull me down and I waltzed directly away and towards the bar, my heels clicking distinctly with each step.  

            I reach the bar and set my things down, calling the bartender, "Alabama slammer, please."  He set the drink down before me and I draw it to my lips, realizing you are beside me.  Still filled with displaced rage, I faced you.  "What is it about football?!" I demanded somewhat rhetorically, assuming you would know- they all know.  You mumble some response, but with the furry pounding in my ears I didn't actually hear you.  I carried on, "What the hell is it with people in Buffalo?"  I finally catch your soft answer, "...Hockey, myself."  Hockey is my favorite sport.  I relaxed and exhaled; washed more anger down with liquor- it made it easier to swallow.  I felt guilty immediately for behaving so vilely towards you and felt an apology fall from between my lipstick stained lips.  "I'm sorry.  I shouldn't be laying this on you.  It's not football, really.  I just hate that I'm getting less attention than a bunch of sweaty men running around on TV, grabbing each other's balls, you know?"  You nodded, calmly, and something in your green eyes told me to continue.  I explained, in great detail, and probably to your boredom, the problems with attempting to find an elusive, perfect butch.  You listened, taking it all in, letting me meander through all of the stories I had to share about fake butches, androgynous dykes and mishaps with femmes.  

 

Last call came and my soon to be ex had left.  You picked up your cigarettes, Marlboro red, which brought a smile to my face.  A real butch, I think.  I hope.  I feign a slightly more intoxicated appearance, hoping that you would offer to drive me home so that I could both enjoy you for longer and avoid leering taxi drivers and cab fare.  You oblige.  And as we drive, I pray you ask for my number, which you do, but not without promising to call the next day to check up on me. 

Just as you promised, you called.  I was setting my hair and doing my makeup as we spoke.  We were on the phone for so long that I suggested we get coffee.  We sat at the coffee house so long we grew hungry and we later found ourselves spending the entire day together.  You reveal your interest in computers and while at the local greasy spoon you sketch a little anime caricature of me; you tolerate my somewhat neurotic behaviors, poking fun at how neatly I fold my food wrappers before disposing of them.  It's never been this easy to talk to someone.  I turned to you first when my ex and I broke up finally.  I was a relief to find myself in your arms, your gentle touch removing my tears.  I lost the hope that you were interested in me at all; you were always so stoic.  I wished you would have simply put your lips to mine. 

 

I arranged a night out, but I told Nikki, Christina and Cyn not to show up.  They conspired with me at one last ditch attempt to stir something out of you.  You wore your best button up and a tie- enough to send me over the edge with desire for you.  I wore a little summery dress whose neckline swept across my bust and showcased my figure; a vintage inspiration I designed myself.  I implored you to dance with me, but you claimed you needed to finish your drink and that maybe you'd come over.  I felt your eyes on me and smiled to myself, knowing that you were watching.  I danced alone momentarily, swaying my hips to the beat of the song, until a younger androdyke came up to me, placing her hands on my hips.  She was a terrible dancer, but watching the mirrored wall, I saw the jealousy in your face as you slammed your glass against the bar and strutted directly to the DJ booth.  I wasn't sure what you were up to, but I knew it was going to be good.       

The DJ fades the song playing out and the new on begins.  I watch the dance floor clear, except for me, the androdyke and you.  You trained your eyes on mine, cut in on the androdyke and took my hand in yours, placing the other on my waist.  You began leading me in a salsa dance.  I was bemused and shocked; you were a skilled dancer.  I kept my eyes on yours, knowing everyone in the room was looking on.  I was daring you to kiss me. 

 
As the song ended, you spun me out and stepped behind me placing our layered hands upon my neck and your free hand ran the length of my thigh.  I felt my breath catch in my throat; I wanted to be yours, I wanted you to take me.  I felt your rigid passion pressed into my lower back.  You stepped away and turned me to face you.  Your lips collided with mine and I wanted nothing more than to finish the kiss.  But you pulled away and left the club.  I stood there dumbfounded momentarily; I was dismayed, but I wasn't going to let you go.  I found you on the stairs to the club, a cigarette to your lips.  I rip it away, leashing my fingers around your neck and completed what you started.  The kiss was exhilaratingly perfect.  I retracted slowly, my fingers still toying with the hair at the back of your neck.  I whisper, "Your place or mine?" into your lips, which mine are almost touching.  You took me by the hand and we half-ran to your car; you opened the passenger's side door for me.

 

* * *

I teased you while you drove; my fingers in your hair, on your thigh, running up and down the crotch of your jeans.  I kissed, bit and sucked on your neck, listening for your hungry growl and watching the passion mount behind your eyes.  I took your right hand in mine, holding it at the wrist and extended your longest finger.  My serpentine tongue lapped at the crest of your finger, circling around its prey and down all the way to your knuckle.  You watched, attempting to resist and focus on the drive; I looked up into your languished gaze and held it until you looked back to the road. 

At your door, you fumbled with the key and dropped it.  I wanted to be sure I had sufficently attained your attention so I reached my hands underneath your dress shirt and a-shirt and I ran my fingers down your back, lightly pressing my nails into your flesh.  Your key penetrated the lock and you pulled me inside, plastering me to the door with a ferocious kiss.  I felt your hands on my bare thighs and felt as though I could cream right there.  You slid your hands to the backs of my thighs and raised me off the ground, my legs twisting around your torso as you carried me to the bedroom.  I loosened your tie and unbuttoned some of your shirt buttons.  You grew impatient, set me on the bed and tore through them rapidly.  You were about to take off your tie, but I stopped you, saying "No. leave it."  You shrugged our shirt off and I watched the material graze your now nude shoulders; you pulled your a-shirt and sports bra over your head with one hand.  

 
Your eyes were upon me like a wolf's.  You said, "You're overdressed."  I smiled coyly, turned my back towards you and raised my hair exposing both my neck and my zipper.  You pull it slowly, kissing each freshly exposed inch of my back.  How do you know that this is my favorite?  I could scarcely breathe properly; I was pining for you to take me.  I stepped out of the dress and turned to face you, smiling.  "Now who is over dressed?" I ask.  You smile and shake your head at me as I walk towards you in my matching bra and panties.  I kept my eyes in line with yours while I unzipped your jeans and pulled your boxers down with them.  I bite my lower lip, my eyes still searching yours, and put my hand on your butch cock.  I could see it in your eye, the bed in the background.  I quickly knelt before you, running my tongue down the core of your body as I fell.  Looking up, I encompass the crown of your cock with my tongue, running it over, around and beneath.  I leisurely ingested your cock to its base; there was a sudden shift and you were thrusting your pelvis towards me, fucking my mouth.  I watched your eyes roll back and knew I had pleased you.  You wrapped my hair into your hand, directing me further by your actions, and let out a low growl.  You jerked uncontrollably and I felt your body relax; you were panting into my neck as I ran my nails across your back, kissing your neck.

You pulled away and I'm sure you can see my pleasure and my lust in my eyes.  Yours grow fierce; you tense and lift me to the bed.  I smile and tangle your tie in my fingers, reeling you in and award us both with a satisfying kiss.  I release you from your tie and toss it on the floor.  Your fingers grope my bra as your mouth leaves a hot, glistening path from my ear to my collar bone; I arch my back and push my pelvis into you as your teeth sink in at the junction of my shoulder and neck.  You toss my bra aside, your mouth returned to that spot while your hands were molded to my breasts; you rolled my nipples roughly causing me to gasp and sigh into your ear.  Your hand slides between my skin and panties and through my sodden slit.  You pull my panties down and off, casting them aside.  

You found your vindication for my forays earlier in the evening by taunting me with the tip of your cock, skimming it slightly until I whimpered "please."  You pierce me to my core and we both moan at the sensation.  You stagnate momentarily and I can't take it.  I rush my hips upward and you fuck me deep and hard, burying yourself in my body.  I'm rocking into you with your every stroke, my eyes rolling backwards and fluttering between closed and open.  I am overwhelmed with the sight of your body, radiant and straining, your muscles contracted and tight.  I can feel the tension mounting under your skin as I claw your back in my own surrender.  I orgasm relentlessly, my eyes fastened on yours and my mouth open, unable to breathe or create a sound.  My legs pressed to your body and my back bridged, tipping my head back.  You cum, my name falling from your mouth.   
You subside by me, drawing a blanket over us and holding me against your body, your breath still falling heavy upon my neck.  We slumber, spooning peacefully and easy smile upon my lips.