A454-C

A rather short short story.


He's driving the motorcycle way too fast and has to lie into the curve until the footrest almost scratches the tarmac is carried dangerously close to the other side of the narrow road. Just when he's sure that he won't crash into the undergrowth on the shoulder and straightens the bike up again, he glimpses something out of the corner of his eye. No, wrong, it's not something, it's someone. A person walking in the direction he is heading, on the other side of the narrow road. He slows down, already a good 50 yards past, and takes a look in the mirror. If he's not completely mistaken, it's a woman, tall, slender, with lots of blonde hair. He breaks and turns around. Now he takes a close look at her when he drives past her, slower this time.

'Wow!' is all he can think. He blinks his eyes and shakes his head, but she's no apparition and doesn't vanish. That's not just a woman, that's the hottest chick he's ever laid his eyes on, and he has met some beautiful girls, back in the day when he still hung out with his biker friends. She's got all the right curves on the right places, long blonde hair, her hips sway the way they should, the high heels clicking on the asphalt and ahh... those tits... he shakes his head again.

He breaks and brings the bike around another time, slowly driving up to her. So far she didn't even as much as glance in his direction.

"Hello, honey."

Now she looks at him, with eyes full of promises, her pink tongue wetting her lips. But she still doesn't say a word.

'I can play it cool too', the guy thinks and motions to the bitch seat of the bike with a slight movement of his head. She doesn't hesitate for a second and brings her leg up, revealing even more of her tanned skin when the short skirt hikes up her thigh.

As soon as she's seated he opens the throttle and they race along the road. Her hands are around his waist and he feels her breasts through the leather jacket. Then one of her hands wanders down and starts fumbling with his zipper. She gets a grip on him and does her magic.

He cannot believe his luck.

He spots a small resting area ahead and slows down. He kills the engine, pries her hand off his dick and gets off the bike. Grabbing her arm he pulls her off too, pushing her roughly to the ground where she immediately spreads her legs, looking up at him with that look full of promises. Two seconds later his already buried deep inside her hot and wet pussy, pounding into her as hard as he can. She moans and gasps, her nails digging into his shoulder, but something is wrong. He doesn't notice, though, he's too busy having his first orgasm. When he's finished, he gets up again, zipping his pants.

"That was a good fuck, honey. What's your name?"

"A454-C" she replies.

"Huh? What?" he asks again, thinking 'I found myself a psychopathic bombshell. But who cares as long as the fucking's that good.'

"My name is A454-C. Prototype."

He looks at her as if she's just lost the last of her marbles. Which she surely has.

"You mean... you're some... kind of... robot?"

"Android, yes. Half human, half machine. I'm the newest prototype of plsrdrd.com."

"Yes, of course." He smiles mildly at her. "And what are you doing here?"

"I walk along the street."

"Yeah, but why?"

"I don't know. I guess I'm programmed to do it. Just like I'm programmed to please you. Wanna fuck again?"

He doesn't need to be asked twice. He fucks her another time, and this time he realizes that something is wrong. Her moans and gasps are lifeless, devoid of emotion. But he doesn't care too much, her cunt is hot and wet and tight and that's all he's asking for. This time it takes longer for him to climax. He rolls off of her and lies on his back when she straddles him. He has the feeling as if she's sucking him in, and in fact she is. Her strong pussy muscles suck blood into his penis. He soon cums again. And then another time. He can't believe this. The last couple of times he had sex he was glad when he managed to cum two times in a night. Eventually he doesn't think anything anymore, he sort of slips away, numbed and dazed.

She relentlessly keeps on fucking him. She fucks him when the sun sets and she still fucks him when the sun rises. She doesn't even stop when he's dead.

Somewhen in the afternoon, a car appears around a bend in the road and stops behind the motorcycle. It's a white van with plsrdrd.com written in pink letters along it's side. Two men get out and walk over to the blonde.

"Damn, she's done it again" says one of them, bends down a bit and flicks a switch behind her left ear. She immediately becomes immobile.

"Yeah, fucked the poor guy to death." They grab one of her arms each, lift her off the cold man on the ground and load her into the back of the van. Then they get into the car and drive off.

"Damn, we need to find out what's wrong with her. That was the fourth in a month," the driver says after a while, lighting a cigarette.

It's a splotch of dark color, for f***'s sake!

Every once in a while I think the world is going nuts. It maybe is, but who I am to judge. Usually it's when reading something extra stupid in the newspaper, or hearing the news in the radio. But sometimes, the world's craziness hits me square in the face. Like, some weeks ago, with this cover for one of my books:

Help! She's got nipples!!!

It was rejected by Smashwords.com, due to the girl having nipples. The person who rejected it apparently thought this rejection was funny, too, and made a remark to the effect that yeah, it was quite crazy but, well, no nipspussycocks is their policy. 

They're not real nipples, though. I mean, yeah, of course they're not real nipples, but they're not even a picture of real nipples. They're just two splotches of dark brown on a skin-colored background. I just can't imagine that someone would be offended by two dark brown splotches on a skin-colored background.

But again: Who am I to judge?

Censorship was called for, and being the greedy book-selling whore I am, I had of course no problem with censoring Drew's non-nipples.

This time, Smashwords was happy. And so am I, although still shaking my head. 

By the way: The book can be found here. It's a good one. Inside it, it's got lots of uncensored nipples. And pussies and cocks, too.

Whew! The imminent danger of shocking
large parts of the world's 
population by showing them two 
dark brown non-nipples has been
narrowly avoided.
Someone should pat me on the back.

Are You Experienced?

Every now and then I come across a personal ad of a Dom/me claiming to be experienced seeking a sub. Now, of course, experienced totally tells me nothing. Nada. Zilch. Nütelinüt, to paraphrase an old Swiss song.
But, apparently, a lot of those domly types seem to think that the usage of the word experience and its deviations in itself is enough to explain everything a potential sub might want to know about them.

Guess what: It doesn't … ah well, look above … Experienced with what? Needle play? Orgasm denial? Milking cows? Scratching your balls? Having your cock sucked?
(Coming to think of it I have seen this done mostly if not exclusively by males)

So, folks. Elaborate on your experience! Tell us about it. Explain yourself. If you don't, it's just an empty claim. Worse, it makes you look like an arrogant idiot.

You know, you've got only once chance to leave a first impression and you've just fucked it all up. With me, at least. Which isn't all that horrible, coz I've never really been your targeted audience to begin with.
Still, if it has me running away screaming it might do the same with others.

Funny enough, I can't remember ever having seen a personal ad by a sub who claimed she/he was an experienced sub.
Which I think is wrong. Because, if properly explained, it is just as good a sales argument as the experience claimed by a Dom/me. It needs to be filled with meaning, though.

In the meantime Patti Smith's version of "Are You Experienced"

Fifty Shades of Stupid

No, I haven't read the book. I won't, either. I have read review, though. I've also read two commentaries focusing on the book's huge success, one by a male, one by a female. Both came to a very surprising conclusion: The reason why so many women buy this book is because - gasp! - women are submissive. By default. All of them. The authors of the commentaries didn't explicitly say so, but both of them clearly implied that.

Yeah, right, some women are submissive. Most aren't. Some are submissive in bed, for some it's a rational and informed choice, for some (much too many) it's not a choice at all, but their culturally and/or socially enforced role.

But to say that E.L.James' book or rather it's phenomenal success, is proof of women being submissive by default is more than just stupid. It's about as smart as saying that the fact that half of Europe's male population was watching Real Madrid's victory over Bayern München is proof that European males are by default accomplished football players. 

Exactly fifty shades of grey. Not Grey

Guess what: They're not Lionel Messi. And we're not Anastasia Steele.

If anything, Fifty Shades of Grey is proof that women want a rich, handsome, adventurous lover who actually cares about them. Plus, on the sex side: They also want a man who can think of more than missionary sex and blowjobs.

Me, I'd like that book rewritten with the hero being a pot-bellied and balding, unemployed middle aged bloke living in a trailer park but still with all the character traits of Christian Grey.

Guess how many women will read that book?

Life happens

Life happens

Unlike the proverbial shit, which most of the time doesn't just 'happen' but very often is the result of negligence, ignorance or good, old and plain dumbness, life actually does happen. 

At least to me. Or us, rather. 

Not long ago and not very much after the birth of Charlotte Master and I sat down. The topic was family planning and especially whether we should use any contraceptive or not. 

When he asked what I thought and how I felt about it I just shrugged and said I didn't mind either way and that it was up to him to decide. I wished it had been in a "my body is yours"-kind of way, but it wasn't. All the important decisions had already been made and agreed upon earlier. Like that we both wanted at least one other child and that we didn't want them to be four or five years apart. 

So, he made that decision, I didn't go to the doc to get a prescription for the pill, we had sex (not as much as we'd like to, but that's another topic) and, well, I got pregnant. Pretty quickly. Very quickly, actually. Certainly faster than we'd expected.

That was no biggie (side note: It's amazing how much less thrilling the second pregnancy is. Not less important, but less thrilling). 

So we'd have two children not even a year apart, I thought.

But then life happened. Or rather, it had happened a couple of days before I noticed that I was pregnant. I was at the doc, craning my neck to look at the screen of the ultrasound thingy, seeing the usual blurry greyish fogs and black areas. Even I saw the little white dot on the screen. I smiled, the doc smiled, then she looked  grinned and said "oha."

I looked at the screen again to see a second white dot.

Me: "Is that what I think it is?"

Doc: "Yes."

Me: "Oha."

Doc: "They're identical."

Me: "Oha." (wondering how she'd know. I mean, they really were just small white dots.)

Then I shut up and started to get used to the idea that very soon we'd have two babies and a child who's not yet 1 year old. 

Life happens. All you can do is adjust.

Yeah, I did it again!

It's happened again. Saw this corset a while ago and just knew I had to write about it. Now, 63'000 words later I'm glad I came across that website. I think it's a good story. And if it's not, at least it was tons of fun to write it.


I'm still thinking about what story to write to go with the pic of the girl and the snake. 


PS: I'm still wondering what that lizard is doing on the woman wearing the corset.

Snakes, babes and other ideas

Came across this pic today and I just know I got to write a story where I can use it as a cover. That's how it often happens: A pic, a song title or line, a sentence I hear somewhere and a whole story unfolds. If I'm lucky. If not, it's merely part of a story and I'm stuck in the middle. But I got a good feeling about this one. 

Snakebabe by beautisdivine. They got that right.