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“I know things.”
“Really? What things do you know?”
“Just … things…”
As he sat in her living room, confidence oozed from his every pore. She could almost see it staining the carpet in her new apartment. He widened his knees and slouched back on the sofa, the smirk on his face giving his dimples shadows that didn’t belong.
“What things do you know?” She repeated the question, pulling the red plate across the counter, bringing fresh baked chocolate chip cookies within reach. Taking a bite, she forced herself to wait for an answer, figuring the chewing of the cookie would help to keep her impatient mouth closed.
“Well, I know your birthday is August 19th.”
Surprise widened her eyes and her jaw dropped. Half chewed cookie pieces saw their chance to escape and took a free fall onto the counter-top. “Damn!” She blurted, palms landing heavily on the fugitive crumbs. “You DO know things! How do you know that? Someone had to tell you!”
Laughter rambled across the room like a herd of ponies across the desert sand. Soft and dusty. “I’ve done my research. I also know that you like Batman and Santa Claus. I’m a little jealous.”
Her mind raced. “I see you found my Twitter account.”
Amusement glinted in his eyes as he leisurely pushed himself forward, leaning elbows on his knees. The perfect rock star pose.
“Since you’ve been on my Twitter timeline, I suppose you also know that I write erotica.” It was her turn to take control of the conversation. No one, she didn’t care who, was going to throw her a curve ball with their perceived secret knowledge. She was the one who held the cards. Period.
“Yep. And I followed your link.”
“Is that right? Did you find anything interesting?”
“Several things, actually.” He stood up and circled around behind her.
Gasping at the suddenness of his forearm across her throat, she felt her pussy clench. God, she was an animal, wasn’t she? Raw lust and power, that’s what turned her on. “Billy…”
“That’s right, my little groupie. You wrote stories about us, didn’t you? The first time we met in New York City at the Limelight. And then again, when I hid in your closet for your birthday bondage surprise. Did you think I forgot about that? How do you think I know when your birthday is? Huh? You’re sharing our secrets for the whole world to read, aren’t you?”
“Yes. Uh, I mean … no.”
“Ha! You know what? I kind of like it,” he said, releasing her neck and walking back to sit on the sofa. “Especially the one you wrote about masturbating to my songs on the radio. Very cool. Very cool, indeed,” he chuckled.
Wanting to feel his body against hers again, she followed him into the living room, straddled his lap and leaned in for a kiss. His hands snaked around her ass and pulled hard, fingers digging flesh.
“You’re my biggest fan, aren’t you? Isn’t that what you wrote?” Pushing his groin up, he bucked her forward until her breasts were pressed into his face. “Fucking sexy little groupie. Hot, voluptuous, horny little thing. Come here, groupie. Fuck me with that tight pussy. Show me how big of a fan you are.”
Unzipping his jeans, Billy Idol’s cock jumped from its restraint like a race horse coming out of the gates. The veins throbbed, the skin pulsed. Sticky need shone like a spotlight on stage. Perfect.
She lifted her skirt and he nearly tore her thong from her thighs. His hasty endeavor knocked her control off balance and put her on edge. Just the way he liked her.
Assaulting her cunt with quick thrusts from below, he thwarted her efforts of lowering herself slowly and running the show. Billy liked it hard and fast. Like his life. When you were with him, you played by his rules. It didn’t matter what cards you thought you held.
Muted groans amplified her lack of resistance and his lack of dating protocol when a knock came on her apartment door. “Billy? You almost ready? You gotta be on stage in 20 minutes.”
“Ya … I’m coming,” Billy panted hard. And he did.
Zipping his jeans as he strode to the door, Billy paused and turned. “Thanks, baby. See ya soon.”
Society’s rules of engagement don’t really apply to rock stars … do they?
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Come and Go
(shooter)
1 ounce Tequila
1 ounce Triple Sec
1/2 ounce milk
Add tequila, triple sec and milk to a cocktail shaker filled with ice. Shake until chilled. Strain into a shot glass.
Enjoy!
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Poinsettia Cocktail
1/4 cup Vodka
1/4 cup Champagne
1/2 cup Cranberry Juice
Combine vodka, champagne and cranberry juice in a large red wine goblet. Add crushed ice. Stir until well chilled. Twist strips of orange peel over the glass before dropping them in.
Enjoy!
** Thanks for the recipe Emeril!
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‘Twas the night before Christmas
anticipation was high
but, not a finger was stirring
between my moist thighs.
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The slipknots were hung
on the bedposts with care
in hopes that a kinky partner
soon would be there.
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Santa’s elves promised a visit
yet still have not shown.
Where the fuck were they?
My arousal has grown!
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My pussy throbbed
in the cold of the night
calling for relief
from someone just right.
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Then what to my horny little ears was presented,
but a big Dominant Man
hauling a bag full of presents.
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He lay the sack down
by the bed with great care.
Then came rambling round
leaving a scent in the air
of masculine cravings
filled with want and desire.
The perfume of love
all hot, bothered and wired.
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The stroke of his beard
was the last thing I viewed,
before the blindfold covered my eyes
and was tightly secured.
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He went straight to his work,
not a moment was spared,
as he moved with a purpose
much like Fred Astaire.
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My pussy was flicked
and my nipple was squeezed,
he moved quickly about,
and I felt a light breeze.
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Wrists tightly secured,
legs spread-eagle open
my body getting hotter,
the juices freely flowing.
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“Come in elves, come in,”
I heard him exclaim.
Then the patter of feet
and warm hands did claim
my body as theirs,
all fingers a flutter.
My nerves were on edge,
my mind in the gutter.
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Sensations on overload,
flesh pinched, pulled and teased.
I was soaring right now
with the greatest of ease.
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Dasher and Dancer
had nothing on me
as I flew through the skies,
earth’s gravity released.
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Pussy craving a cock,
“Santa? Fill me with yours?
Won’t you please, Santa
pull down your drawers?”
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My Christmas wish fulfilled
in a push and a thrust.
Santa’s thick cock
was engorged with hot lust.
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We pounded hips to thighs
in the merriest of jingles,
as the bells on his waist
gave me all sorts of tingles.
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Elves have the softest of hands,
did you know this was true?
Like magic fingers or glitter
that falls around you.
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They worked on our bodies,
on Santa’s and mine,
Until we both exploded
in colors and rhyme.
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Merry Kinksmas to all,
to transgender queers,
to BDSM-ers and foot fetish seekers.
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To gays and lesbians and those in a tryst,
to sex workers and erotic writers
and folks with a twist.
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To poly’s and straights
and the Masters and slaves,
to Dominants and submissives
and to all those who crave.
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May you have the most beautiful Christmas
filled with Peace, Love and Trust
and Acceptance and Happiness,
and Hot Sex and Wild Lust!
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Santa’s Secret
1 1/2 ounces Dark Rum
1/2 ounce Light Rum
1/2 ounce Kahlua coffee liqueur
1/2 ounce milk
Add dark rum, light rum, Kahlua and milk to a cocktail shaker filled with ice. Shake until sides are frosted. Strain into a martini glass. Garnish with red sprinkles.
Enjoy!
May you get everything you desire this holiday season!
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Christmas Wishes
1 ounce Peppermint Schnapps
1 ounce dark Crème de Cacao
2 ounces Milk or Cream
Fill a tumbler with ice. Add schnapps, creme de cacao and cream. Cover with cocktail shaker and shake until frosty. Garnish with a fresh mint sprig.
Enjoy!
What?
No post this week? How could that be?
I am in the middle of a complete life changing event, dear Readers …
Vineyard Road’s home base is in the process of moving from the East Coast to the Midwest, thank you for bearing with me during this tumultuous time.
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He Said...She Said...