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So here's my first entry for exotic stories. I'll be the first one to admit that I don't have a natural gift for writing exotic stories, but figured why not? I like to write, and it helps to kill time. Provide any constructive critism if you wish. Only thing I have to say is to bear with the lackluster sex scenes. Sorta have a story in mind. More is to come. 

She said something.

11:58 pm

It’s cracking I think.

I strain my eyes as I try to verify.  Above my head, I notice how the cracks push along the gray dulled ceiling, snaking along like a river  across some dry barren wasteland until slowly disappearing along the dark corners of the dimly lit room. I begin to lose clarity as the ceiling becomes this fogged up blurred mess; constantly shifting in and out of focus. I close my eyes, and try to settle down. I try to remember that self help tutorial on how to relax your body I saw earlier this week on youtube, and repeat to myself the tips given by instructor.

“Picture the one thing that makes you happy and run towards that..” are typed forcefully within my head again and again. I clutch onto the bed sheets, as I try. I mean I really try to relax.

Soon I begin to feel this awful penetrating headache. I lose track and can only hear the instructors nasal, patronizing tone.  I picture him in some upscale loft in Northern California, wearing clothing bought from Abercrombie, his sweater neatly wrapped around his neck. I picture in his hands a glass of wine likely imported from some French sounding town I have no idea on how to pronounce, gingerly swirling it about as he talks to brainless, air-headed zombies who latch on to his every word. My pounding headache slowly begins to abate as I fantasize what it would be like to have my knuckles bash against his self-bloated, smug face. Beating this man into a pulp, until his face resembles a red slab of bloodied meat.

Breathing in deep, I feel myself slowly slipping away into my own world. I see my oasis. My happy little private place, where my mind feels at ease. Whatever problems that had existed has, for this single small moment, melted away. For the first time all day I crack a smile.

“MMMM…what a naughty boy! How do you like it baby?” is screeched out. Just like that, my moment of peace is fucking ruined. I open my eyes and look straight ahead to see my girlfriend feebly trying to grind her body atop my dick. Her back is turned towards me as she gyrates, her ass wrinkling with every movement as both my hands jostle against her lightly moistened buttocks.

The piercing headache returns as my reality comes crashing back along side with it. I shut my eyes once more, wishing she would climax already.

“I saw that smile Josh! Do you like it when I FUCK you like an animal?” she belts, whipping around and looking at me with enlarged, elated eyes. I say something back, but she doesn’t seem to notice. I make sure to provide some squeezes along her ass, just to show I am still there. She continues to stir along my penis, her arms wrapping around her tiny body like a shawl, as if trying to contain the mounting orgasm building from within.

“I’m close..” is the only thing that she keeps repeating,  her breathing growing shallower and shallower with each passing second.

What follows is silence. Judging from her manic, uncontrollable shaking, I assume she just came. She seems to linger atop of me for what seems eternity not saying a word. I figure she’s savoring her orgasm or  perhaps preoccupied in some mindless thought that has suddenly farted inside her brain. Whatever the reason, I couldn’t care less. I politely shove her off,  watching her body crumble to my side.

I pull out my still erect dick, and use a portion of the bed sheets to wipe it clean.

“That was good baby. Did you enjoy yourself?” she asks as she sprawls herself across the bed, satisfied. I provide her the usual compliments,  my smile orchestrated per usual, making it seem like I enjoyed every waking minute. I’ve become pretty good at bull shitting I think. I observe the way her hair is matted and glued to her sweaty blushing face. How she slowly brushes the tips of her fingers against my chest while not saying anything else. How her small petite, pink colored lips look so delicious like cotton candy.

God, she looks hot right now. 

I have a profound moment, and begin to speak. Saying something about desire and love. She nods with each word, her eyes fluttering as she breathes lightly atop my face. Suddenly, a loud irritating ring echoes in the room.

“Hold that thought.” she chirps in, as she pushes herself off the bed, reaching down toward her crumpled pants that lay to the side of the bed. She settles back down next to me, her eyes concentrating on her phone as her fingers fidget about the screen.

“Oh wow. Look at this instagram pic, Chrissy just posted.” she says, as a cackling laugh escapes her mouth.

I feel sick.

I observe her phone for one second and then turn my attention towards the window. I notice how small droplets of water, slide down the glass. It’s been raining like this all week: the sky a leaky, faucet that slowly trickles down water down to our shitty apartment.

I begin to pick myself up, stumbling off the bed like some defeated, used up boxer, as I slump my way toward the bathroom. I close the door behind me and jerk off in the toilet.

I wonder if Late Night with Jimmy Fallon has started, or not.

..........

WARNING ~ No sexual material to be found with this piece. If you're in the mood for some sexual arousal look somewhere else.


7:24 am

It’s still raining. Not torrential rain. Just a continuous drizzle of rain. At this point, I wouldn’t mind a down pour. At least that would wake me up. 

The Amtrak trains comes to a halt, as droves of people come pouring out. We all scurry about like busy little ants, following the same monotonous routine we’ve done over and over again for God knows how long.

Enter star bucks. Wait patiently in line. Listen to dry, humorless chatter from those waiting in line. Buy my Mocha frappachino, and walk towards work.

Reaching my office, I take my place within our little cubical farm, and rest. I can feel my phone vibrating against the pocket of my pants, as I recline against my chair. Pulling out my phone, I read the following text:

“Got Pacific Rim. Fun, fun, fun.  ”

Looks like my girlfriend picked our next movie to watch tonight. She probably forgot that I had commented about hating that movie. I text something back, before attempting to tuck away my phone back inside my pocket. I say attempt because a co-worker of mines spots me texting away.

“Talking to your girl?” is blurted out loudly by Matt, another employee here. At least I think it’s Matt. Either Matt or Joseph. I get their names confused. In either case, the guy is a dick. He leans against the outer edges of my small cubicle wall, while sipping on his generic cup of coffee acquired from the break room.

I give him a short reply, hoping that would stifle his attempts at trying to drag me into his coma inducing conversations. It doesn’t work.

“Movies? Bro, you gotta’ watch Looper. I can’t believe you haven’t seen it. Fucking Bruce Willis,” he says, motioning with his free hand, as if to add flare to his description of the movie, I’ve already watched. 

“Bro, watch the trailer for Crave. It’s craaazy.” He whips out his phone, searching for the movie trailer. I look straight ahead at my computer monitor to check for the time.

8:01 a.m.

All around me, the office is engulfed with rings, clicking, and footsteps. We go about performing whatever designated job we are all hired to do, while trying to maintain a polite, cordial relationship with one another. We smile a little more then we should, and laugh a little harder then need be, as we keep up with this believable charade.

“Here it is dude. I can’t wait for this movie.” Matt says, as he shoves his phone directly onto my face.

I can’t wait for my first break.

I'm intrigued and want to read more,  reminds me of the film  " Wanted" with James Mcavoy and Angelino Jolie 

And Tango is right, consider yourself campaigned  for the Erotic Story Contest,   

Forum Home Page > Announcements > Forum News > EROTIC STORY CONTEST 6 - MEDIEVAL.  http://www.funnyadultgamesplay.com/forum/index.php/topic,2816.0.html    and 
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I 'd love you to enter.

10:22 am

“Tellin’ you…huge.”

Two of my employees erupt into a frenzied display of childish pubescent giggling.  They’re talking about one of our interns here, Christina. We all stand near the copier, me attempting to do my shitty job, and they, ogling at the poor girl. She stands across from us, behind a receptionist counter dutifully performing her job.

 “Too young. Girls like that will latch onto you. They want love.” Kevin says, another residential turd here. The man looks like he’s spent one too many hours at the gym. The stereotypical guido iron bound meat-head, who I imagine exercises in front of a mirror as he is being egged on by another fellow gym rat who spurs him to do just one more set. He’s the archetype for pricks who berate about and obnoxiously yell out “Do you even lift?”

“What do you think Josh?” Kevin asks, while drinking his bottle of water. I give him a shrug, saying something about how she looks cute.

“Just cute? Rosa from HR is cute, but that girl over there is ridiculous. Look at em’.” Kevin says, concentrating on Christina’s cleavage in a not so subtle way. I pretend to be nonchalant about the whole thing, peering briefly before returning my attention back to the copier. But the asshole was right.     

She couldn’t have been more then twenty but her tits -which I guessed were GG- were already bigger then most of the other older females employees here. She wore a simple blue, buttoned long sleeved dress shirt, the sleeves themselves rolled up to the elbows, and shirt tucked away inside her charcoal skirt that ran down just past her knees.  Her sandy brown hair was neatly pulled back, pinned around the nape of her neck.

“Ah!” exclaims Kevin. We all react and watch as she tilts forward trying to reach for the phone. Silence descends upon our little troupe. The girls shirt, not quite buttoned near the top, was a Godsend for men here back on earth. Her caramel chocolate cleavage pushed forward; barely contained and ready to spill out for our pleasure.  I swear, we must have looked like a group of stupefied children; eying at a toy that was just out of our reach.

“Fuck. Dominican Girls.” is all Kevin could muster.

I tap my fingers anxiously on the copier wondering what it would be like. I wonder how it would feel to have my hands swim across those mountainous chocolate breasts of hers. I wonder how it would feel to clutch tightly onto them; having her breast skin squeeze in between my fingers, and watch as it oozes out like honey.

That’s all I can do right now. Just wonder.

WARNING ~ No sexual material to be found with this piece. If you're in the mood for some sexual arousal look somewhere else.

4:14 pm

“I’ll be their around 7:30”

That’s what the text my girlfriend just sent reads. I along with my other co-workers, wait to take the elevator down to the lobby floor. I shuffle my umbrella underneath my right arm, while attempting to text my girlfriend back with both hands.

“Hey, look at this picture. A friend of mines just posted this up.” Kevin says. What follows is a loud wail from the other co-workers surrounding him. “Tony Romo chokes again..” Kevin reads aloud. He takes a few steps forward and shows me the picture that caused such an uproar with the others.

I see the Dallas Cowboy’s quarterback Tony Romo being administrated the Heimlich maneuver as he chokes; a reference to his consistent floundering when under pressure.
I feel drained. At this point, my mind is on auto-pilot. Floating along the white washed walls, and blue tiled floors of my workplace. My head bobs up in down in acknowledgement of the picture without even thinking. My lips move as I spew out some words. Whatever I said, I can only assume they found it funny.

The elevator doors finally creak open. We file inside, squeezing against one another like packed cattle. I stare straight ahead, watching the elevator doors slowly close.

“Hold it for me!” is suddenly screeched. My eyes focus on a woman who hastily walks along the hallway, motioning with her right hand in order to catch our attention. I don’t seem to react at first. I simply stare, watching her inch closer and closer to the slowly closing elevator doors.

“Hey. HOLD.” she repeats. I feel the lights within my head flickering on and off before finally being fully restored. My hands shoot out and press against the ’hold’ button. She slides her body in between the nearly shut doors and positions herself within the group.

“Christ, are you people hearing impaired?” she says with an irritated tone. Releasing the hold button, the elevator begins to rumble and shift. We finally begin our descent down towards the lobby.
“Alright, calm down Marie. We got ya’ didn’t we?” Kevin says, nudging her playfully with his arm.

She doesn’t seem all that amused, leering over her shoulder to peak back at Kevin’s flamboyant grin.

She returns her gaze forward.

“A couple of hero’s.” she says with barely a restrained sarcasm. I’ve seen her before. She was introduced a while back in one of our morning huddles. I never really pay any mind during the huddles. We all mostly just clap on cue whenever someone concludes their bullshit speech on things like office etiquette or efficiency. I figure it must’ve been easy to overlook her then. Now however, it’s a whole different story.

When I say she appeared shot up, I mean she appeared shot up. Her eyes looked stabbed and bloodied, like she hadn’t gotten a good nights sleep in ages. She had a short blond pixie haircut, that looked somewhat unkempt with certain strands of her hair veering off in differing directions. Her body was nothing amazing to look at. Slender, and petite, she stood just over  5’7 while wearing her red and white polka dot flat casual shoes. They looked tacky, yet quirky. It seemed to match with her maroon striped skirt and black bow sweater she had on.

“In a hurry to meet a boyfriend?” asks Mark, one of the other guys in the elevator.

There is a notable moment of silence that lingers in the air before Marie finally answers.

“I just want to get home.” she replies with an exhausted halfhearted smile. I didn’t know whether it was the work that had drained her or the people here, but I couldn’t help but feel some level of camaraderie.

Kevin suddenly taps me against the shoulder, pointing down at his phone.

“Murray was beastin’ for the first half. And then the Cowboys stopped the run game for the second half. No logic.” he concludes. I breath in deep, annoyed at having been bothered from my observation of Marie.

“You look like a sports girl Marie. I bet you’re a Pats fan.” Kevin says with a cackling, debilitating laugh.

Marie looks over her shoulders, eying him with increasing contempt.

Kevin, sensing the growing enmity between them adds “Hey, I’m teasing ya’. Like I always do.”

“Yes.” Marie suddenly cuts in. “Like you always do.”

“Charming, right?” Kevin asks, with a cocky smirk.

“Charming?” she says with a pause. “Oh I get it, like adorable and pleasant but different….” she concludes snidely.

I snort loudly, trying to hold back the lump of laughter that had arisen from her snarky remark. I pretend to cough, as she looks over at me before returning her eyes back to the front.

The expression on Kevin’s face is priceless. He seems flustered, unable to think of anything else to say other then respond with an embarrassed
“ What?”

The elevator doors suddenly fly open, as another person attempts to hop on. Without a moments hesitation, Marie wiggles herself out from the Elevator.

“I’ll just get out here, and take the stairs to get down…” she says looking back. “A girls gotta exercise.” she says chirpily before walking away.

The elevator once more shifts and sways, carrying us down to the lobby.

“What a fucking bitch. It’s no wonder hardly anyone speaks to her. Next time, let the doors close.” Kevin says, with flaring nostrils.

Hell, next time I owe her a cup of coffee.

11:13 pm

“Faster” she squeals.

The still dank air I feel breeze against my back has shifted. The low rumblings of thunder bounce from wall to wall before sinking into the tattered sails of my spirit. The approaching storm is coming and yet I remain listless and anchored. Blame it on my work. Blame it on poor life planning . Blame it on the economy. Blame it on 24 hour news coverage of yet another celebrity divorce that clogs up our morning conversations with wasteful talking points like “Who gets custody of the kids” and “Why do men cheat?”

Whatever is that I care to blame, it doesn’t help me right now. Right now, my deflated, limp cock slinks out from my girlfriends unsatisfied crotch. I lay next to her, apologizing for the dead performance. I make up some shitty excuse. 

“We have tomorrow to look forward to. Don’t worry. You are forgiven.” she jokes, nudging her head underneath my arms, while holding onto my hands. She talks about our future together. Her moving in with me, and how nice it would be to wake up in each others arms. The word marriage is thrown around a couple of times. You can feel my heart skip.

“We can make it. We both have steady jobs. I love you.” she whispers. Rolling to my side, facing her I ask how certain she was about love. If she really found it in me. She laughs at how she can read my thoughts. How she knows what I’m going to do even before I know what I’m going to do. How our taste in music is the same. And how both our shared knowledge of “It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia” is more then enough to prove we were compatible.

I look into her hopeful eyes and feel my stomach turn. I want to say ‘I don‘t love you.’ That I find her taste in music horrible and poor - at best. That she always confuses the character Charlie for Mac from ’It’s always Sunny.’ How marrying her would be a mistake. Instead, like a fucking pussy I smile and agree. I say whatever it is I need to say to make her feel happy.   

Somewhere along in life we all become convincing con artists: knowing just what to say in order to get your way. A well placed word here, or well planned action there. Do it enough times, and you become used to it. You find yourself believing your own lies after awhile even - conning yourself. Immersed into your created fantasy world that you’ve draped over your own eyes. We refuse to pull ourselves away because we prefer to see what we want to see. At times, staring at the cold hard truth can be too cruel. And so we bury any resentments for our deception down deep. In doing so, you sink down along with it until you’ve become totally consumed. 

Loving your writing but your character needs a serious dose of a wonderful life  and Clarence the Angel before he does something silly.

Please cheer him up soon.   

7:06 am

Silently I stand watching the T.V while eating my rye toast with eggs. In the background you can hear the weather man discussing today’s forecast along with traffic.

“Showers, with scattered thunder storms is expected today. Traffic report…there are delays on the New Jersey Turnpike 1-95 express lanes northbound from exit 71..”

 I debate whether I should take the car or train. For most people, the thought of slogging through traffic is comparable to being filleted alive. The honking, the slow inch by inch progression, and assholes cutting you off are enough to make most humans wonder whether they’ve inadvertently entered a new ring of hell. Yet for me, driving along in traffic has a sort of calm, blissful mind numbing feel to it. I more or less accept the situation as is. Nothing can be done. Instead of fighting it, I simply allow myself to be sedated; to ride the turnpike, along with the other souls who drift nowhere inside Dante’s inferno.

I pray traffic is as bad as they say it is.

7:25 am

Reaching a corner along some street, I notice the same man who usually tries to sell passer byers the morning news paper. I search my pockets for loose change. It’s beginning to rain pretty bad, and I simply feel guilty he’s out there and I’m in my car driving.

“Paper?” the man asks. He tightly secures a collection of news papers, that shuffles underneath his raincoat. I look up and I’m immediately struck by how particularly haggard his face looks today. New wrinkles cut across his face like etched markings atop an old used desk.

“The light is about to change.” he alerts, looking straight ahead.  I blink my eyes, and apologize for the delay. I can’t find a single spare cent anywhere. Finally, I give up and simply hand him five dollars. He looks at me, and turns away the cash.

“Here, take it. It’s not like these things are worth a damn now, what with those fancy phones.” he coughs, handing me the paper. I reach over and take my free issue, my face cracking an uncertain smile.
“Yea. Way of the future now. Out with the old, in with the new, right?” he says leering down. I didn’t say anything back. I just kept staring into his hallow, black eyes.

“Light is green.” he informs me. The car behind me beeps, and I finally feel myself return back to earth. I shake my head in agreement and toss the paper onto the passengers seat. Giving my thanks, I promise him I’ll pay him back.

The guy just smiles, and waves as I drive away.

8:11 am

Sitting inside my car, within the parking deck I look down at my phone. It flashes me an alert about another text from my girlfriend who questions me about the traffic. I begin to type something back before stopping. Seconds pass until I decide on leaving my telephone behind in the glove compartment. I could use a break from all the constant messaging. I look over at the passengers seat and see the lightly dampened newspaper given to me by the old man. It’s been awhile since reading a newspaper. The dry, dirty feel of the newspaper has an odd alien sensation to it, as it rubs against my fingertips. I turn through the pages, reading certain headlines, while noting some of the typos within the rag: likely a product of reduced staff and diminished pay. I really didn’t have any intention of reading the damn thing when waving down the guy. Hell, I was gonna just chuck it in the garbage. Whatever my intentions were initially, something inside me felt obligated now to take it with me. Suddenly from the corner of my eye, I see a familiar face. It’s that woman Marie from yesterday. She’s making her way towards the parking deck’s stairs with a coffee in hand. My eyes slowly trail her, before she finally disappears behind a line of parked cars.

8:18 am

Looking up, the sky flashes white behind a blanket sheet of dark clouds. You can hear the crackle and pop of lightning in the distance, as the foreboding storm begins to consume the little corner of the world I occupy. I trail Marie a few feet back, watching her push past the doors to the office building we both work in. Finally inside the building myself, I’m welcomed by Taylor the front desk security guard.
“They got you to work today huh?” he asks, peering over his issue of today’s newspaper, glancing me over before returning back to read. I mumble a reply, while my eyes stay locked on Marie.

Freeze for a quick second.

Rewind the clock a few minutes back, and you’ll find me once more inside the car, thinking about this girl I barely knew. A voice tells me to not move. To remain still, and let her walk by. Let this be a fleeting moment, that you allow to escape. To be an after thought for you to stew over in your little cubicle. Gives you something to think about all day at least. I begin to feel it. The urgency of the situation. I feel it dying as the somber voice of reason silences the reckless impulse that bangs against the jail cell contained within me.

*Buzz. Buzz. Buzz*

I turn to the glove compartment, and hear my phone clawing and gnawing trying to escape. Trying to alert me about another text from my girlfriend perhaps. Maybe a sports alert. Or maybe it’s just a stupid Face Book status update from someone I meet at some random dinner party who I couldn’t give a shit about.

I begin to have a moment. It’s an introspective one.

It’s funny. In movies they always seem to show these moments occurring to the main character when something completely awe inspiring or deeply profound happens. A friend dying. Saving a person from a burning building. A superhero struggling with his identity. A divorce. In reality moments like these can occur from just the smallest of triggers; little things that push you just over the edge. It doesn’t have to be anything earth shattering. It can be a simple slight from a person from work. Waiting in line one minute too long for a pack of gum. Or just a telemarketer calling you at the wrong time.

In my case, it happens to be a phone buzzing inside a glove compartment. The face of youthful abandonment flashes a shark toothed smile, while laughing mockingly at my resistance. Enough with safe and boring it says. It was time for dumb and stupid. Fuck it. 

“Hey. Josh? You okay?” asks Taylor who now looks me over with a worried look. He motions with his hands, seeing if my mind was still all there.
“Josh. Hey. Everything okay with you?” I don’t respond back. I simply move forward. In the background I can hear his voice yelling out my name. My eyes focus on Marie as I move. Each step I take I walk a little faster, quickening my pace to catch up. She stops for the elevator, pushing a button for it to come barreling down. My footsteps echo inside the lobby, clicking loudly with each mad lunge towards the elevator. She begins to step inside. She notices me frantically dashing to catch up. A moment of hesitation twinkles in her eyes, before she sticks her arm out in between the closing elevator doors to cease it from shutting.

I stop, trying to catch my breath. She blinks a few times, before finally speaking. “This is the part where you step inside so we can go up.”

I flash a faint smile, and step inside. The elevator doors closes and we proceed up. I shuffle around uncomfortably, while wondering on what to do next. I didn’t really think things through. I assumed I would know what to do when I finally caught up. But being here now, all I could draw was a blank. My mouth felt wired shut, my throat dry and coarse, as I reach for something in my head to say. She notices my unease. I can sense her eying me with my peripheral vision but I keep staring straight ahead. She sips her coffee with one hand before suddenly reacting with a irritated moan. “Ow. Hot.” she mutters to herself in discomfort.

I finally glance her over. She looked to be in the same exact state from yesterday. Her hair a jumbled up mess, her eyes bloody with red streaks. She even seemed to be wearing the same exact clothing as before, with the exception of now sporting a red trench coat. Viewing her, I now understood the appeal. It was the way she carried herself. She displayed a sort of cool, indifferent aura that seemed to pulse out. It seemed like nothing could dislodge her from her Zen like blissful state. It was because of that, I both admired and envied her. I feel a lump growing in my throat. Finally, I stop thinking and decide to just throw a hail marry.

Words begin to form as I finally speak.

“You look the way I feel.”

I'm enjoying these characters and their story. Can't wait to read more.
Good job, Hukk!