Genel

The Imperfect Storm Ch. 01

Blonde

(Are your pants down and you’re ready to wank? If so, maybe you should go read ‘Mommy and me go to the Doctor’. You’ll cum in no time, seriously. I liked that one a lot. This story, however, is a bit slower.The characters and some plot elements were suggested by my friend, Bob, who’s English skills aren’t so great. He wanted to have me write him into a story. Here you go, Bob. It may not be what you were looking for, but stick with it over the long-haul. It might be ok.)

-The Imperfect Storm-

Bzzz, Bzzz, Bzzz!

Fucking alarm clock. I turn it off.

“Hey Whit,” I say quietly to my girlfriend. I reach for her under the sheets, and am instantly disappointed. She’s wearing granny panties. That only happens for one of two reasons. And she he isn’t mad at me, so that means Big Red is in town. Fuck. Or, to be more precise, No Fuck.

We had sex once when Big Red was here. Didn’t work for me. It felt weird and the visual was too disturbing. I’m all about alternatives, though. My cock is fired up and, hey, what is she doing?

“Morning, babes!” She says sweetly. As she’s getting out of the fucking bed. “I’ve got to get in on time today. They’re watching me like a hawk.”

“Yeah. Um, Happy birthday?”

“Oh shit! I’m sorry! Happy Birthday Sweetie!!” She returns and gives me a nice, but short, kiss. I squeeze a soft, hanging boob for a moment. “I love you, Trent. We’ll do something tonight, ok?” And she slithers away and gets the shower water going.

Ok, I’m 26 years old and I don’t expect a bouncey house or clowns, but a little recognition on my birthday would be nice. My cock is still looking for something to do. Jacking off by myself in bed on my birthday, when I have a girlfriend? Fuck that.

I get up and stroll to the shower and peek over the top. Whitney is just getting her hair wet. Mmmmmm. She does look good, too. Nice C-cups, and the water makes her pink nipples stand right up.

“Knock-Knock!” I say as I open the door and Lynn inside.

“Trent! Good lord look at that thing! You could put an eye out with that thing!”

“Whit, you aren’t that short!” She is pretty short, but she is actually taller than my crotch. Although, it might be cool to have someone that short… but I digress.

We hug and kiss and I grab her sexy little ass. It’s really nice. I like it.

She breaks the kiss, though, and pushes back a little.

“Sweetie, I don’t really have time and I’m on the…”

“I know!” I cut her off. I don’t like hearing things about rags. That’s why I call it Big Red. “But you’ve got two minutes, right? Two minutes? I’ll make the coffee. And the breakfast. Two minutes.”

She smiles and gives me the ‘oh all right’ look. Putting down a couple washcloths for her knees, she takes my cock into her mouth. Mmmmm. Hot water hitting my neck and back, and a hot mouth on my cock. Now this is a good start to the morning!

Whit isn’t exactly a porn star, but she does fine by me. What she can’t get in her mouth she grips with her hand. In unison, she strokes and sucks my cock.

She stops and looks up at me. I love it when she does that.

“Happy Birthday, Baby,” she purrs. Mmmm God. Her thumb is on my main vein and her tongue is hitting my cock just right. Fuck yeah!

“Go baby, go!” She likes encouragement. “Suck it! Yes, so good! You’re so pretty sucking my cock.”

My steel hard cock is loving this. I know pre-cum is going down her throat. I can see her tits swaying as she rocks back and forth on my cock. Maybe tonight I’ll tittyfuck her and cum on them. Fuck, her mouth feels good on my cock. I have to put a hand on the wall to steady myself. Jesus!

“Goddammit Whit! Shit! Yes… Here it comes!!”

At the last possible second, she pulled her mouth off and finished me with her hand.

My pulsing cock shot long streams of hot cum on her cheeks, across her nose, another shot to the eye which made her scream a little.

Jesus I do love cumming.

Whit’s pretty face is a mess. Gobs of cum drip down her nose, cheeks, one long strand is hanging in the wind. She stands up, though, and quickly shoulders me aside so she can rinse my cum off.

“You got it in my hair!” She whines a little.

Hey, sorry, you know? It’s my birthday. Cum happens.

We finish the shower, and I hustle to get the coffee and bagels going. I don’t get dressed, I figure she needs to see me naked some more so she’ll know what’s what.

“Thanks!” she says, sweetly, as I hand her the mug and plate. “You know, uh, that you’re still naked, right?”

“Yeah, it’s my Birthday Suit. I’m wearing it all day!” She rolled her eyes at me. “So, are we going out tonight?”

“Honey, I know it’s your B-day and all. But I thought we could just have the girls over tonight. We can do something special on the weekend.”

Little sigh. “Yeah, fine. We’ll do that.” The ‘girls’ are her two sisters. They’re nice and all, but, I wanted to do something different. We always hang with her sisters. Don’t get me wrong, they are great, I love ’em like sisters. But sometimes bahis firmaları we kind of devolve into petty little sister squabbles and I get bored and go play X-box. But, whatever.

We dress and go to work. Whitney might get to work on-time, I hope.

– – –

Another fun day at Archer Webz. I help with the web-hosting services. Not real exciting. Pays the bills. Most of them.

Whitney calls me just as I’m getting home. She got in trouble for texting on the job, so she’s playing it cautious.

“Honey, I’m so sorry! I have to work a double shift today. That old bitch Gladys AND Tracy are out sick and I can’t go home. I’ll see you in the morning, though! The girls will make dinner! Oh, and hey… if you’re good,” she lowers her voice to almost a whisper. “Maybe I’ll suck you off completely tomorrow, how’s that?”

“Sounds awesome babe. Except, no ‘maybe’ about it. You WILL suck me off completely!”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, thrill of my life!”

“Hey I work HARD all DAY making that stuff for you! And you just let it go on the ground or down the drain.”

“Awww! Poor baby! Nobody eats his sperms!”

“Yeah, poor me. Poor OLD me!”

“Oh stop it. You’re still a puppy. You’re in your prime! I love you honey. Happy Birthday! See you tomorrow!”

She’s the best girlfriend I’ve ever had. But we’ve been going out two years now and, well, it seems like that certain question is hanging around the relationship. Unspoken, but it’s lurking.

‘When are you two getting married?’

Married. I just don’t know about that one. Whit and I broke up once, after about 8 months. Then, a month later, we couldn’t live without each other and re-united. We say we love each other, all the time. But. I don’t know, just ‘but’.

“Sister Bitches! Welcome. Welcome!”

Hey, I don’t walk around calling bitches, ‘bitches’, not to their faces. But Whitney and her sisters all have tattoos that say “Sister Bitches” on various parts of their bodies. Whit’s is on her ankle, her older sister Stacy has it tatted on her back, and the baby, Melissa, has it tattooed somewhere I can’t see. Rumor has it that it’s on her ass cheek, so I can’t confirm.

Anyway, the sister bitches have brought a bucket of chicken and a 12-pack of Buds. Hey! Bottles! We are celebrating tonight, man!

We do the hugs and cheek kisses, which is nice. Both sisters are pretty, with Stacy kind of classy-pretty and Melissa kind of cutesy-pretty. And you know how most girls do that kind of A-frame hug where no body parts actually touch? Yeah, that sucks. Not the Bitches. Full body hugs and cheek kisses. And Missy has got a set of D’s on her that are VERY nice for hugging. She always gives me an extra little shake, too. Flirt.

We have a few beers, eat up the chicken parts, and lick our fingers because, you have to! It’s just that good.

Missy wants to step it up a notch, so I make her a nice big vodka and Redbull. Uh, it’s not Grey Goose. It’s Popov. I’ll write another story in a few years when I’m rich and we’re drinking Grey Goose, baby! Til then, you don’t have to comment on our financial situation.

We’re just about heading towards the TV room when I have to tell them the latest news item.

“Did you guys hear about the latest scandal involving our wonderful president?”

“Um, no,” ventures Stacy. “What’s he done now?”

“Well, you know, when he gives speeches in public. He’s always surrounded by bullet-proof glass. Personally, I think the Secret Service is being a bit overzealous. I mean, just cuz he’s black doesn’t mean he’s gonna start shooting at people!”

The girls think for a second, then bust out laughing. Yeah, it’s a little racist. Sue me.

Stacy actually trips and sort of falls into Melissa, who spills her entire drink on her own shirt. She’s soaked through.

“Stupid bitch!” she yells at Stacy, but they’re both still laughing. “Now what am I supposed to do?”

I’m laughing at the joke and the incident. But I get it together for a minute. “Smooth move, Stacy-Lax!” She flips me off. “Missy, go in the closet and get something of Whit’s. Here…” I lead her to the right closet back in the bedroom.

I walk away to go join Stacy, when I turn to ask Melissa if she wanted another Redbull or something else. But, before I speak, She’s already lifting her shirt off over her head. She’s facing somewhat away from me; I’m out of her line-of-sight. She reaches back and takes off her bra and drops it on the ground. I can see the complete side of her right boob swinging in the breeze. She takes her wet shirt and pats herself down, making sure she’s somewhat dry. She flips through a few shirts in the closet, and finds one she likes. It’s just a white t-shirt, but cut for a girl. Sized for my sister, who is smaller in the chest.

Melissa pulls the shirt over her head, and down across her chest until it’s on properly. Shit. the tits are covered. But I got a nice side view. There’s something to remember next time…

Missy turns and looks at me. I’m caught.

“Uh, hey,” I manage.

“Hey, kaçak iddaa yourself. How’s it fit?”

She put her hands on her hips and poses for a moment. The shirt is tight, too small for her. I can just barely see her nipples outlined in the thin t-shirt, protruding through the cotton. Her breasts swell the shirt. Those little wrinkles appear in the shirt between her boobs. Fuck me.

“Well?” she asks again. She’s smiling this mischevious grin.

“Looks great!” Fuck, this is not great. Get your sorry ass back to the TV room.

I quickly get back to the kitchen and make more drinks. I make a strong vodka for me as I don’t think beer is strong enough right now. It’s really not good for me to be seeing near naked tits right now.

We sit back down and I put some Cudi on the iHome. Gotta love the Kid.

“How’s the writing going?” asks Stacy. “I haven’t seen anything for a while.”

“Yeah, I know. Rejections are up, Income is down!” I’ve been trying to sell articles to magazines. Any magazine. I got a couple articles sold here and there in some offroad mags with my Jeep, but that’s about it. I’ve tried some male-point-of-view things for the ladies mags, but nothing yet.

“You know,” teased Stacy. “I use your rough drafts to show my students how NOT to write!”

“Thanks a lot!” I say as I flip her off.

“But seriously, why haven’t you written anything lately? You know you have to keep doing it to get better. Or are you not using me as your editor anymore?”

“No, no, it’s not like that. You’re my only editor. Because you’re cheap.” I take a big swig of vodka/sprite. “I did write some stuff, but not to sell. I didn’t think, I guess I’m not sure you would approve.”

“Approve? Why wouldn’t I approve?”

“It’s, uh, it’s not mainstream magazine stuff. It’s just on the web.”

“What, are you writing some kind of weird blog or what? Why won’t you let me read it? Are you turning into a junior Rush Limbaugh or something?”

“HA! No!” Shit. Why did I open my mouth? I don’t want to tell her this. I wish she would drop it.

“Well, spill it! I want to know what you’ve been writing! Unless, I guess you don’t want me to edit your stuff anymore.”

“No! I need your editing skills badly!” I guess I have to say it then. Christ, this is embarrassing.

“Ok,” I begin. “Have you ever heard of Literotica?”

“Litter what?” chimes in Melissa. She’s just been listening and drinking.

“Yes,” says Stacy. “I know that place. You wrote something there?”

“What is it?” ask Melissa.

Stacy looks at me, I don’t answer. She replies, “It’s erotic literature that people write, and post to the web.”

Melissa looks at me incredulously. “You write dirty stories?” She looks astounded, as if little old me would never do anything like that.

“Well, I tried. It went ok for awhile, then I sort of crashed and burned.”

“Alright then,” says Stacy. “My interest is piqued. What did you write?”

Sigh. “It was called ‘The Imperfect Storm’.”

Pregnant pause…

“Bullshit,” says Stacy.

“Uh, Bullshit? What do you mean, bullshit? I wrote it.” I’m getting indignant now. I’m not really a liar, not about writing, anyway. And being accused of that pisses me off.

“I know that story,” she says. “You, that couldn’t have been you. Prove it.”

“Well, fine, Sister Bitch!” Stacy starts explaining the story to Missy as I get the laptop, sign in to Literotica, then I present the laptop to her.

“There. See? SnakeyJake submissions. ‘Imperfect Storm’. Boom!”

There’s an awkward silence in the room. Stacy just looks really strange. She browses the first few paragraphs. Missy knows something is going on but is keeping quiet to find out what it is. Finally, Stacy speaks.

“This was about month ago, right?”

“Yeah. 5 parts. Finished a few weeks ago.”

“I, um… I really liked this story. For awhile. You fucked up the ending. Bigtime.”

“I know. I actually got hate mail. Lots of it.”

“Ok!” cried Missy. “Enough! What the hell is this story? I want to read it!”

“Go ahead,” I said.

But Stacy didn’t like that. “Wait. Melissa, it’s, it’s kind of, unusual. I don’t think you’re old enough.”

“Yeah, right,” she said as she took the laptop and settled back on the couch to start reading.

Stacy and I continued talking.

“So, what happened with the ending?”

“Honestly? It was my first ever submission. Each part had dwindling readers, and fewer comments, and I…” I didn’t like admitting this. “I rushed it. I lost confidence in the story. I lost confidence in myself. I guess I was trying to appease the masses.”

“Will you guys shut up?” piped in Missy, trying to read.

“Go sit over there!” retorted Stacy. “We’re talking!”

“Jeez.” Missy went and sat at the kitchen table and kept reading.

“I remember thinking, you just, it was like you just canceled a TV show mid-season. All the actors shook hands and went home, and left the viewers stranded.”

“That was about the nicest anyone put it. Like I said, People kaçak bahis were pissed. I’m hesitant to write again. But, it was okay until then?”

Stacy looked at me, and said in a very quiet voice. “Trent, I had to touch myself, each chapter. And I re-read each chapter a lot.”

Holy fuck. Huh. Wow. So maybe it didn’t suck entirely.

“Um, thanks!” I said, shyly smiling.

“What did Whit think of it?”

“I didn’t tell her, she doesn’t know.”

“Are you kidding me?!?” Stacy exploded.

“Shut up, you guys!” hollered Melissa. After a quick series of ‘Fuck you’s back and forth we talked more.

“How can you have all that inside of you, and that was some good shit, and you haven’t told Whitney?”

“Well, fuck. It isn’t just about her. It’s fantasy. I didn’t know if she, if she could separate the two. I thought she would get mad at me, maybe, for some of the stuff in there.”

“Jesus, Trent. You guys must be having a fantastic sex life, though! I mean, if you’re half of what that guy was like–“

“No,” I cut her off. “It’s fine. We’re just, kind of normal, you know? Nothing too special.” It was true. We just kind of have regular sex. And, honestly, it has been waning, a bit.

Melissa suddenly stood up and announced, “Stacy. I have to go home. Now!”

“We’re not leaving! We haven’t even done presents or cake yet!”

“Right. I know. But we have to go home. Now.”

“Melissa, what’s wrong?” I asked. She’s looking really weird. Oh, right. She’s reading the story. She probably hates it and thinks I’m an asshole or something.

“It’s this story. I need to go home.”

“Sorry…” I don’t know what else to say. Stacy shakes her head, no, she isn’t leaving.

Melissa’s face flushes red, and she charges to the bathroom.

“What the hell? Is she mad at me?”

Stacy smirked. “Ha, no. She isn’t mad. Ten to one, she needs to cum and didn’t want to do it in front of you.”

“You’re shitting me!” Stacy takes my hand and walks me to the bathroom door. In spite of the music playing out here, we can hear Missy panting and moaning in there.

She’s fucking masturbating. In my apartment. To my thoughts, to my story.

I take a little step to head back to the couch. It doesn’t seem right to listen in. Stacy, still holding my hand, yanks my arm back. She shakes her head ‘no’, and leans in closer to the door. We can hear little Missy, the baby Sister Bitch, getting very close.

Muffled noises, but we can hear “ooooooh yeah, oooooooh yeah, mmmmmmm yeah” repeated over and over. We also hear skin-slapping noises. What the hell is that?

Finally she lets out a long moan followed by lots of ‘Fuck yeah’s. Stacy’s nipples are poking through her bra. My cock is all out of order. I have to reach down to adjust him.

Stacy does the raised eyebrow thing a couple times, then we walk back to the couch. Both of us take long swills on our drinks.

“So what was the rushed writing all about?” She starts up again.

“Well, when I write this stuff, I sometimes get a hard-on. Well, most of the time. And I can’t do that while Whit’s around. She’ll wonder what the fuck is going on. So I only write when she’s asleep or not here. She’d been around a lot lately, so I rushed it to finish it.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“You’re not the first one to call me that.” We tink our glasses and drink some more. She starts talking to me about my grammar and typos, and how I use the ellipsis too much.

After about five minutes, Melissa comes out of the bathroom.

“What,” she says, looking at us. Her nipples are fully engorged, the outlines completely visible through the thin shirt.

“Everything all right?” asks Stacy. Smirking.

“Yeah. We don’t have to go home any more.” And she sits back down at the computer. She wants to read more.

Stacy and I talk more about the story. She starts telling me how I might improve the sex scenes. It’s weird talking to her about sex scenes. Then she switches topics and wants to know what story I’m writing next.

“I’m a little stuck. I’m trying to make it somewhat realistic. But, girls don’t just take their shirts off and say ‘Let’s fuck’ very often.”

“Well, you’ve got a situation here that maybe you could use.”

“Situation? Whaddya mean?”

“You’ve got two girls who are rather turned on. Sisters, no less. It wouldn’t take much for something to happen. Just a spark.”

I’m wracking my brain. But I seem to be experiencing blood-loss at the moment and can’t think of anything.

“Like what?”

“Well, you got her shirt wet already. That’s a big cliche but, still, it sometimes works. You’ve got the older sister talking about cock sucking and pussy licking. The little sister has already masturbated. You’ve got the male with a hard-on. You can’t think of anything?”

Melissa interrupted us by pushing her chair back, making that awful squeak on the linoleum floor. She went to the bathroom again.

Within seconds, we could hear her going at it again. All the way from the TV room. She came in less than a minute.

Stacy and I were talking story possibilities when Missy returned. She had something in her hand. She came up to me on the couch, and put it on my head. Soft. Then it fell forward on my face and down my chest.

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