Hey guys
Just had my first review for Roleplay Gone Wrong, check it out at the Delinquent Cheerleaders blog. Check out her blog and her works, their hot!
Also check out my new, free erotica ‘A Virgin Possessed’ over at lushstories. It’s my entry in the supernatural short story completion.
I’ve been editing the Battered Lamp this morning, and I thought I’d post a preview
The Battered Lamp Preview
He dripped water on the foyer, soaked by the deluge. Fatima laughed at him.
“Wet outside?” his impish, little sister asked, a grin on her round face.
Fatima had the same, strange racial mixture as Kyle. Round face and almond-shaped eyes from their Japanese father, but her rich brown skin and dark lashes came from their Kurdish mother. She was fourteen[sixteen], and blossoming into a beautiful flower that often fueled his fantasy, and left him feeling guilty afterward.
“You’re home early,” she taunted. “Did Christy blow you off? I bet you wanted her to blow you instead!”
“Fatima!” snapped their mother. “Don’t tease your brother. His date clearly went bad. Do you want a hug? Come here, let mommy make it all feel better.”
The mischievous grin on his mother’s face belied her motherly tone. She was beautiful, strong cheekbones and sultry eyes framed by dark-brown, almost black, hair. At thirty-seven, she was stunning, a ripened beauty, and Kyle’s cock twitched in his pants. He wondered if he would be thinking of Christy or his mom when he jerked off. Maybe both together…
“Her parent’s texted her to come home early,” he sighed. “But thanks for all the sympathy. It’s only my birthday.”
“Is it?” she asked, tapping her cheek. “I think you might have mentioned that once or twice.”
“Yeah, once or twice every minute!” Fatima laughed.
“That sounds right,” his mom nodded.
“Was I that bad?”
“Worse.” she answered, then hugged him. Her lush body pressing against him did little to help his aching balls out. “Now go upstairs, and get out of those wet clothes!”
“Sure.”
“And happy birthday.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
“Have fun polishing your pole!” his bratty sister chortled.
He froze, feeling his blood rise in his cheeks. “I’m n-not gonna.”
She just grinned like an imp, jerking her right hand almost casually.
“You’re one to judge,” his mom said. “I know a certain, young lady who has started taking extraordinary long showers since we got that shower massager.”
Fatima blushed darkly. “Mom!”
“If you can’t take it, then don’t dish it.” She turned to Kyle. “Have a good night, dear.”
His cheeks still burning, he trudged through the living room. An image of his sister, her dusky-brown body beading with water as she rubbed the shower head against her pussy, flooded his mind. Her back would arch, her brown nipples hardening atop budding breasts. She would gasp soft and sweet, her dark lashes fluttering, as her orgasm crashed through her.
He shook his head, trying to banish the image, and his eyes fell on his parent’s wedding picture. Dad stood in his dress uniform, a young Lieutenant in the Army next to his mom in her white wedding dress. They looked so happy together. It sometimes snuck up on Kyle that his dad had been dead for five years, killed in Iraq leading his company against insurgents. That’s one of the reasons Kyle planned on joining the Army. He told his mom it was for college, they would pay for it while he served in the ROTC, but he really wanted to follow in his dad’s footsteps and make him proud.
Kyle’s lust, and his very aching cock, didn’t allow for a longer reflection though, and he headed upstairs; his sock and imagination awaited him. His room was clean, unlike most of his friends. The bed neatly made, ready for a military inspection, and the floor wasn’t littered with dirty clothes or books or garbage. His laptop rested on his desk next to a lamp and a pencil cup. A few video game posters decorated one wall, and his TV hung above his dresser. His Xbox perched atop his dresser next to the brass lamp he had bought yesterday. Everything in his room set in its proper place the way his dad had ingrained in him as a child.
Kyle’s eyes fell on the battered, brass lamp, and still wasn’t sure what had drawn him to it. He had been in the Antique section of downtown Puyallup, picking up his grandfather’s watch for his mom from a repair shop, when he caught a glint through the window. He walked into Curious Treasures, marched right up to the lamp, and when he had touched it, he knew he had to have it. There was something special about it, a spark of energy that touched the very core of his being. The lamp had been priced sixty bucks—most of the birthday money his Oba-chan, his father’s mother, had given him—he didn’t even hesitate to buy it.
He still wasn’t sure what he would do with it, or even why he spent so much money on it. It looked like one of those Arabic lamps from that Disney cartoon, made of plain brass, and clearly old, with dents and creases pockmarking the surface. The best use he could come up with was an incense holder. He pulled out a frankincense stick—his mother had been burning them since he was a child, and Kyle was quite fond of the scent—lit it, and stuck it into the lamp’s spout, filling the room with a sweet, piercing scent.
He dropped his pants, stretched out on his bed, found his grimy sock, and started jerking his cock. He imagined Christy kneeling on his bed, her tongue lapping at his shaft while her hazel eyes looked adoringly up at him. Then his mom would walk in and join his girlfriend, her tongue—
The whooshing sound jolted him out of his fantasy. He looked around his room for the source; panic surged through him as thick smoke poured out of the lamp, swirling into the center of his room. Then he froze. What kind of smoke was yellow? A dusty smell, like sand baked in the sun, hit him; it reminded him of the family trip to the Grand Canyon before his dad’s last deployment.
The yellow smoke—no, it’s dust, he realized—swirled down to his floor, staying in a tight mass. His jaw dropped, too stunned by the dust’s strange behavior to be scared. It gathered in a single cloud about the size of a curled up person, whirling faster and faster, howling like a fierce storm. The hair on his arms stood up, static electricity charging the air. The dust coalesced like a star being born in a nebula.
A girl was born.
Take care,
J.