Sunday, April 21, 2013

A Brief Blast of Jared

Time to level with you. The weekend was here before I scarcely knew it and there simply isn't time right now to bring you the final 'Work and Fucking' scenario I promised. Hopefully next weekend. In the interim here's an extract from the title I'm pushing most strongly on Twitter right now - 'The Jared Effect'. God I'd like to write some more stories about this guy and his adventures. May time permit that I do so.


In this scene Libby, wearing a Halloween Vampira costume, has an unexpected house-party encounter with our seducer-hero.


Libby made her unsteady high-heeled way through the house. She was delirious from all the male interest, including that of the band’s lead singer.

Nice guy, maybe I should angle for a date with him. If that didn’t get under Jared’s skin, nothing would. She revelled in the thought.

In the guest room, an artist’s pad lay open on the bed. She stopped to peer at the image half-sketched on the top sheet. A bounteous-breasted woman, stripped to her jeans, was providing an exotic dance for an as yet unfinished figure in a chair; in the background a girl watched with saucer eyes, her hand stuffed down her panties. Despite its comic style and lurid subject matter, the artwork impressed Libby. She snickered at its naughtiness.

She was tempted to see if the pad contained further interesting art, but this was someone else’s house. Instead she made for the en suite to splash and adjust her face. In retrospect the sketchbook and other belongings might have served as warning that the bathroom could be occupied. But alcohol had erased good sense. She was well inside when she realized her mistake.

 “Libby, what a nice surprise.” Jared stepped from the shower, naked and dripping.

Libby gasped.

“If I’d thought you wanted to shower, I’d have waited there.” Jared towelled his hair,  demonstrating no inclination to cover his six feet of lean, hard body or the thick cock that idled between his legs.

“I’m sorry, Jared,” Libby stammered, diverting her eyes from his groin. “I’d no idea you were …” She backed off, stumbling in her heels.

Jared steadied her and in doing so managed to interpose himself between her and the door. “Easy there, Lib. It’s okay. I’ve got myself a crash-pad here for the night, but feel free to use the bathroom.”

As Libby stared at his nude form, she was more aware than ever of her own flesh, revealed as it was by her costume and its likely effect on the man before her. The same man who had most likely sketched the scene on the pad.

Embarrassment turned to anger. “Well, do you want to give me some privacy then?”

He made no move. “What, and drip all over the carpet? I’m a guest here, gotta have some respect. Look, do what you have to. Unless you want to help dry me off.”

“Jared!”

“If you wanna go potty, I’ll turn away.”

“That’s it, get out of my way.” She made to move past him, but he side-stepped to block.

“Sure you wanna go, Lib?” She darted the other direction, but he persisted in his game. “You want past, you’re gonna have to wrestle me.”

“No, I bloody won’t.” Libby was furious now, at herself as much as at him. She stood, thwarted and panting, at a loss for her next move. “Jared, stop this!”

“Did I say how fucking hot you look in that outfit? And what a fucking horn I had on stage knowing you’d worn it for me?”

She didn’t dare flick her eyes to his cock; she knew it would be thickening and elevating as she spoke. “I didn’t wear it for you.”

“Dancing in your sexy little vampire dress, with those delicious titties half on show…”

“Jared, stop. Don’t say those things.”

“ … Wondering what you were wearing under that fouffy little skirt and how wet you were beneath it. And now here we are alone so I can find out.”

“You’re not going to find out.” It was tantamount to a confession. Desperate, she tried to lunge past him, but he blocked the move, dropping his towel and gathering her to him with a smirk. His arms, muscled like oak, locked around her waist and she pressed protesting hands against his chest. Below she could feel his extending length nestling into the gauzy flounces of her skirt.

“Come on, vampire girl, you want me to know. That I make you as wet as you make me hard.”

Libby wished she hadn’t drunk so much. She couldn’t think straight, couldn’t concentrate her way past burgeoning desire. Couldn’t actively want him to let her go. He pulled her tight to him with one hand, the fingers of the other touching her sternum and tracing downwards between her satin-clad breasts.

“Tell me you don’t want me to put my hand down those panties.”

“I … I …” The words were there, but she couldn’t voice them. The fingers with which she had tried to ward him off now rested against his pectorals, while his hand searched underneath the folds of her skirt, plucking at her thong. The amusement remained on his lips, his eyes locked on hers, as his hand plunged beneath and found the pussy she had waxed that day. She gasped as one finger slipped inside her and wriggled. A nasty, delicious intrusion.

“See, Libby? You’re all ready for me. Now whaddaya say I take you into the bedroom and fuck you on that bed right now?”

Her mind scrabbled for one of the put-downs she’d had lined up but “Sasha …” was all she could come up with. “You’re with Sasha.”

“Like you care.” Then without removing the finger which probed her melting cunt, he spun her one-eighty and backed her into the bedroom.

She stumbled and clutched his arms for support, brain scouting for a way out. She couldn’t simply let him fuck her, could she? 

Here's a clue...

1 comment:

  1. Well that just makes me want to get my copy out and read it all over again!

    ReplyDelete