Smut Marathon 2018: Semi-Final Voting Round

cabin in the dark woods

Only 10 writers remained for the semi-finals of the Smut Marathon 2018. They had four weeks to complete an assignment, and only seven of those will receive the assignment for the final round. You, the readers, can help to decide who will be the finalists for this edition of the Smut Marathon.

The assignment

Start your story with these words:
The wind howled around the corners of the cabin…

Stories had to be a maximum of 1500 words.

What should you do now?

Read all entries – you have a week to do so – and vote for the three stories you like best. You have to vote for three – no less, no more. Don’t forget to click the ‘Finish Survey’ button when you have made your choice!

Please note:

  • Writers are not allowed to tell anyone which entry they have written!
  • You can only vote once.
  • The voting round closes on 27 October 2018 at 23.00 CET (Amsterdam time).
  • Results of the voting round will be published on this site on 28 October 2018 and then I will announce the author of each of the stories.
  • Only 7 writers advance to the final round (round 10), meaning we have to say goodbye to 3 writers at the end of this round.
  • Please note that entries are not placed in the order in which they have been received. I use a randomizer to order the entries.

One last thing

I know it’s a lot to read and even more to ask, but it would be lovely if you could leave as much feedback as possible on the entries, or to make it more manageable, please leave feedback on the three entries you chose as well as three entries you have not chosen. Make sure your feedback is composed in such a way that the writers can learn something from it. This will be highly appreciated.
(Feedback can be left in the comments section at the bottom of this post. Comments will only be approved after the voting round has closed.)

Enjoy reading and start voting!

~ Marie Rebelle
Source image


1) The Stranger

The wind howled around the corners of the cabin and the storm raged on. They arrived after nightfall, greeted by torrential rain falling through the heavy cedar forest. The cabin was rustic and remote, a perfect getaway for an uninhibited weekend. The drive though, had been a long tease. Luke’s hand on Paige’s thigh had started it all as they’d talked about the fun that was to come.
“I’m sort of glad the weather is gloomy,” Luke had said with a sly grin. “All the more reason to stay inside and fuck you senseless.”
To this Paige had laughed and pulled his hand up her thigh to the heat between her legs.
“Careful, or we’ll end up in the ditch.” He had grinned and given her warmth a prodding poke. “You should have worn a skirt.” Paige had lifted her hips and slid down her leggings and panties, pressing his fingers into the cleft of her vulva, making sure he felt the creamy wetness waiting there for him.
“Keep your eyes on the road, Daddy,” she had smirked.

Once inside, Paige looked around, checking out each room, and unpacking as Luke brought in their bags, the box of food and liquor, and the duffle bag of toys and gear intended to keep them occupied until Sunday afternoon. Paige turned down the bed and went about the usual preparations before playtime: low lighting, a carafe of water on the bedside table, Daddy’s favourite toys and ropes laid out neatly on the upholstered bench at the foot of the bed. She moved with a calm elegance as she performed the set up ritual but something pulled at her attention, an uneasiness crept in and she found herself staring out the window into the dark, wet forest, half expecting to see something or someone looking back at her.

“Babygirl?”
Paige startled and snapped out of her thoughts.
“What are you looking at?” Luke entered the bedroom and stood behind her, his arms encircling her, fondling her stomach and breasts as he softly bit at her neck.
“I feel like we’re being watched,” Paige whispered.
“Mmm, kinky,” Luke’s hand tightened at her throat as the other yanked down her leggings, finding her wetter and hotter than she’d been on the drive. “Let’s show them what a good girl you are for Daddy.”
“Luke, have you noticed there are no curtains anywhere?”
“Baby,” Luke stopped pawing at her and turned her to look at him. “We are twenty miles from anything, we didn’t even pass another vehicle in the last hour before we got here. We don’t need curtains. If the squirrels and raccoons want to watch us fuck, let them. Now, the room looks great, but you’re overdressed and so am I. Just panties. Now.”
Paige smiled and tried not to look past him out the window as she stripped slowly for him, remaining in her pink panties, and got him out of his flannel button down. She sank to her knees and worked on the heavy belt and button fly of his jeans. He fed her his throbbing cock immediately, holding her tightly by the hair. His words were raunchy and they rained down on her with a lusty hiss, his shaft filling her throat and making her eyes well up with tears. From the corner of her blurry eyes she saw something move in the darkness outside the window. Unable to speak she moaned and pleaded on his cock as his palm cracked across her cheek.
“Look at me!” he growled. Her eyes locked on his and she told herself there was nothing to fear out there in the dark as she slurped and sucked him. Temporarily sated by her obedient mouth, Luke pulled Paige up and tossed her onto the bed. Delighted, she squirmed and spread her legs as he fastened her ankles and wrists to the four bed posts.
“Since we’re at such a rustic retreat I thought that this was a good time to introduce you to something new, Babygirl, but you must stay still and not wiggle. Can you do that?”
Paige nodded, her lip bitten, eyes wide and dark in the amber glow of the bedside lamp. Luke produced a large hunting knife from a pocket of the duffle bag and held it up for her to see. It glinted malevolently in the low light as he pressed the tip firmly against her sternum and watched her eyes glaze over. He dragged the blade slowly under the curve of her breast and over each rib, down into the dish of her pelvis. Paige was mesmerized and gasped as Luke slid the blade under the fabric and sliced off her panties with one quick jerk of the blade.
“Open wide,” he whispered as he yanked the damp cotton from between her legs and stuffed the panties into her mouth. She breathed hard through her nose, her mind reeling at the taste and smell of her own arousal, at the way he had dispatched such an innocent piece of clothing so swiftly. He set the knife down on the bench at the end of the bed and she watched as his hands dug into her thighs and his face lowered between them. His mouth was hot and hungry and soon she was writhing, pushing more of her greedy pussy into her Daddy’s face. Eyes closed, moaning through her gag, she rode wave after wave of pleasure as he pushed her towards orgasm. Pulling against her bonds she opened her eyes to watch him eating her but was startled to see a man’s face outside the window, not ten feet away, standing in the shadows. She screamed into the wad of panties in her mouth, begging, but Luke took her sounds and thrashing to be the throws of passion. The rain soaked stranger stood still in the dark, watching her. His eyes moved from hers to the shining knife on the bench and back again, followed by one finger pressed to his lips in the universal sign for silence.

His threat was clear.

Paige swallowed hard and watched him watch her, helpless as Luke filled her with his fingers and drank deeply from her. She held the stranger’s stare as she recognized the familiar movement of his arm and the tense focus in his face. He was jerking his cock watching her be eaten out, strapped to the bed and gagged, a lethal weapon casually discarded between them. His gaze was frightening but it made something deep inside Paige lurch awake, an almost primordial response to the heady cocktail of sex and danger. Luke’s words from earlier rushed back to her and her fear gave way to a feverish desire to please and perform, to show this unexpected guest just how good she could be. She watched her voyeur and felt her body warming, her hips rolling, grinding against Luke’s face, her orgasm suddenly much nearer than before. Their eyes remained locked and as she grew closer to climax his arm moved faster and he nodded slowly, encouraging her as he brought himself up to the level she was at. Their eye contact was white hot, dangerous and consistent. Paige’s moans intensified as Luke worked her cunt forcefully, expertly, unaware that her sounds and movements were now focused on the pleasure of a stranger. Paige matched her stranger’s pace and when his eyes narrowed and his stern mouth formed the word “now” she arched and squeezed her eyes shut, flooding Luke’s face and chest as she came, her throat raw and burning as she screamed with pleasure into her wet gag.
When she opened her eyes, he was gone. Confused, she peered into the darkness but she and Luke were alone and he was grinning and undoing the ropes at her ankles and wrists.
“That was so hot, Babygirl. Time to ride Daddy’s cock and make him come.”
He pulled the wet panty rag from her mouth and laid down, pulling her to him.
Paige fought the urge to tell him about the man in the shadows, but held back, curious and still aroused, the hot prickle of fear making the hair on her neck buzz. Was he still out there? Would he come back? Her body throbbed as her mind spun.
“Daddy? I want to ride you the other way.” She kissed him and turned around, facing his feet as she slid down his cock, taking him to the hilt in one motion as Luke moaned and pulled her down by her hips. Outside, the storm carried on. Paige stared out the window into the darkness, filled with Luke’s cock, her fingers working her insatiable clit with one hand as she took up the knife with the other. She rode him hard, occupying Luke’s senses as she waited and watched for her mysterious stranger to return.


2) Read to Me

“The wind howled around the corners of the cabin…” Mr. Dimitr’s voice rumbled from his chest as he read some obscure piece of literature. Tia shifted in her chair.

It was the way his tongue wrapped around the words, like he could taste every single one and had to share his pleasure. It always made her squirm.

He used thin fingers to push longish brown strands of hair from his eyes. Tia wanted him to touch her, wanted to hear him whisper poetry in her ear. He was the knowledgeable man who knew exactly how to use words to get what he wanted.

Her love of the classics had developed over the last few weeks just listening to him speak. She found herself reading things she never would have before taking this class just because he had suggested it.

No other teacher spoke with such passion. Tia couldn’t help the surge of heat she felt listening to him.

“Okay, class, an easy assignment for you this evening. I need you to pair up and engage in some one on one oration.”

That squashed all her warm feelings. Finding a person to pair up with in her lit class was difficult. Everyone seemed to know each other since the first day and she’d not been able to connect with anyone.

“Do yourselves a favor and read the syllabus for directions. See me with questions.”

Tia looked around, hoping someone would gravitate to her. It was an uncomfortable wait while people paired up and discussed the assignment.

Mr. Dimitr stood at the front of the class collecting his paperwork while people filed out. Tia was debating what to do. She was a little too shy to talk other students in class, but perhaps he’d help her.

A thrum of nervous energy raced through her at approaching him. The idea of all his hazel-eyed focus on her made something in her belly clench.

Tia waited until the last of her classmates filed out. The slight nerves had progressed until her legs shook as she approached his desk.

“Mr. Dimitr?”

“Ms. Gregory. Did you enjoy today’s lecture?”

The way he said her name with the same warmth he used to read a piece of literature made her weak.

“Yes. You always make me… feel so much when you read.” He smiled and Tia glanced down at the sign-up sheet. “I… I have a bit of a problem with this assignment.”

He picked up his briefcase and beckoned her to follow. “Come on. My office hours start and we can sort you out before my next class.”

Tia let him lead the way and the conversation. Listening to him strangely put her at ease. He was a little like a god in her eyes. She’d follow him anywhere.

They entered the haven of his office and she had to tamp down the fantasies that cropped up just seeing his big desk.

“Have a seat, Ms. Gregory.”

He pointed to the plush chair opposite his desk. She sank down into it and glanced around his office. It was teeming with books. The bookshelves filled with tomes and statues and magazines.

The space should’ve felt dark, but the light filtered through the picture window making it warm. Light landed on him, like a halo on an angel.

“Tia.” She spoke in awe as she watched the golden strands of his hair move.

He chuckled as he sat in his chair. “Call me John then. No sense being formal. Now, what’s your problem?”

“Well, the thing is, I’m having issues finding a partner. Everyone seems to know each other well in class and I tend to get…”

“Excluded?” He grimaced before turning hazel eyes back on her. “I have to fix that next semester. The incoming class was a little more incestuous that I’d realized.”

She fiddled with her bag. “I was hoping you had a suggestion so I can do the project?”

“How about you read to me, Tia.”

“To you?”

He shrugged. “Yea, it’s a good idea. I can find you a partner for the next grouped assignment, but this way you still manage to complete this one on time.”

She was struck dumb. “But what do I read?”

“I had selected texts in the syllabus, but I’ll make another exception. Pick something in my office to read and that’ll work.”

Tia opened her mouth to speak, but closed it again when her eyes landed on an illustrated book on his desk. She felt her face heat as she read the title and realized it was a piece of incredibly explicit erotic fiction her mother refused to let her read.

His chuckle drew her attention back to him. “I think that will work perfectly.”

“But, I don’t know if I can read that, Mr. Dimitr.”

“John, Tia.” He leaned forward, holding her eyes. “I think you’re very capable of reading every word.”

The way he spoke to her, made her breath catch in her chest. She wanted to read for him.

Tia reached across to grab the book, the aged leather rough in her hands.

“Stand for me please.”

She rose, her knees knocking as she stood to her full height. The heavy weight of the tome settled in her hands and she wondered if the heat from the words would singe her skin. He leaned back in his chair, his eyes more green as he watched her gather her courage.

“What should I read?”

“Go to page two hundred and read the highlighted passage there.”

She read a few words to herself, her cheeks growing hot. A different heat started between her thighs as she stumbled over the word cock.

“I can’t.”

He stood and moved around the front of his desk. He propped his butt on the edge, spreading his legs so she was almost caged between him and the chair behind her. She had space, but he so much closer now.

“Remember, I’m your audience of one. Make me feel every word.”

Letting her eyes drop from his to the peek of chest his undone button revealed, Tia took a deep breath. She could do this. It was a simple reading.

“He bid her kneel at his feet. Not to worship, no, not in that way. He was no god, though she viewed him as one. There on her knees, her eyes so full of youth and desire, she opened her mouth for him. With eagerness befitting one so young she begged for his cock, and, when he gave it to her, swallowed it whole.”

A frenetic energy hit her and she felt like she couldn’t stand still. John nodded for her to go on, his eyes changing colors again as the words sank in.

“She would offer anything for his favor. Any piece of her he would take. First her throat that she welcomed him in, choking as he forced himself there. And when he’d had enough of that, she offered her cunt for his use. To have his gaze upon her, she would gladly bend over to be used by him. Gladly.”

She stopped, too hot to continue. He’d hardly moved. If anything he seemed too still, like he was on the verge of pouncing. He’d tucked his suit jacket closed during her reading, but nothing could tamp the wild energy moving between them.

A lack of movement was not Tia’s problem. She’d moved closer during her reading, stepping between his spread legs so she could feel the heat of him.

Tia was that woman, girl. Whatever he wanted from her, she would gladly bend over…

“Well done, Tia. You definitely have the voice for such works of art.”

His voice was deeper, huskier then. It made her ache to offer whatever he’d take. He looked on the edge of asking something and she leaned closer in anticipation.

When he reached out, time slowed as Tia held her breath, waiting for his fingers to touch her cheek. He stood as he reached for her and she let her eyes slip closed.

Would his mouth taste of coffee or tea? Would his tongue slide easily along hers? Would he push her to her knees after he kisses her lips and let her suck…

“I want you to write about this experience for you, Tia.” His hand landed on her shoulder, jolting her from her daydream.

“Oh, yes, Mr. Dimitr. Should I… should I use MLA or APA format?”

She was impressed that the wobble of her voice was slight. His strained smile buoyed her.

“APA is fine. I’ll see you Monday in class.”

As she turned to leave, she watched the lapel of his jacket part. The outline of his cock against the front of his khakis buoyed her even more.


3) Stag Beetle

The wind howled around the corners of the cabin. It was better that the weather was shit now, Emily thought, rather than being shit on the weekend of the wedding, but she was still disappointed. She’d wanted it to be perfect and instead they’d ended up quad biking in the pouring rain.

When Rich had announced that he was getting married, he’d given her the role of organising his stag do. To be honest, that had stung. She’d been hoping for Best (Wo)man.

‘Stag Beetle is just as important,’ he’d said.

‘Stag Beetle?! Fuck off!’

Rich had shrugged. ‘It collocates.’ Rich taught English, and sometimes it showed in the wanky shit he said. ‘Plus, you’re good at organising stuff.’

Their dynamic is a mystery to most people ¬– Emily’s been asked more than once why they talk like they hate each other. She can’t explain it, because the truth is that they used to fuck, but since he met Susie they don’t, and this verbal sparring is the closest Emily can get to remembering what sex with Rich used to feel like.

She is good at organising stuff, it’s true, but today there’ve been moments where she’s wondered if Center Parcs was a mistake. Too many small kids on bicycle suicide missions, too many hapless dads bumbling around the on-site supermarket. Plus, this is what Rich’s life will be like in a few years, isn’t it, and maybe he doesn’t need to see that in advance.

Still, the guys didn’t seem to mind. They told her: Benidorm or Wiltshire, it’s all essentially the same to them, providing there’s plenty of beer. And there is. There’s plenty of beer, plenty of crude plastic shit in the shape of tits, quad biking, a zipline-thing for those who want it, and then a curry on the Sunday night.

‘And a stripper, obviously,’ Rich’s brother Martin had said, when they were unpacking the car.

‘No,’ Emily had replied. ‘No stripper. Rich is too old to get off on some semi-naked girl gyrating on his lap.’

She hadn’t really meant too old. She’d meant too filthy – Rich wasn’t likely to get aroused by some dance routine because the things that used to turn him on were things like putting clamps on her nipples or fucking her in the carpark behind Starbucks. Still, she could hardly share that information with his brother.

‘Nobody’s too old for that,’ Martin had said.

In the small, beige kitchenette, Emily slid frozen pizzas into the oven, got more beer out of the fridge. They’d already played a game of Mr and Mrs with some video footage that Susie had pre-recorded, and Emily had been surprised that she knew a lot more of the answers than Susie did. She, for instance, could remember the first time Rich and Susie had kissed (in the worst pub in town), knew what he would consider his best quality (he was patient as fuck), and his worst (he never knew when to stop drinking). When asked what three words best described why she loved him, Susie had said confident, affectionate, reliable, and everybody had nearly wet themselves laughing. Reliable. Like a bloody car. Talk about damning him with faint praise.

She made him sound boring, Emily thought, and he wasn’t. Affectionate was true, but what about creative, kinky? It was incomprehensible to her that the Rich he was with Susie was not the same Rich he’d been with her.

When the cabin doorbell rang, she thought for a moment it was the timer for the pizzas. It was Martin’s shit-eating grin that gave the game away. He bounced up from the leather sofa and bounded to the door, returning with a scantily-clad, somewhat windswept blonde.

The guys whooped and cheered. Someone switched Emily’s Spotify playlist for a Britney album. Not wanting to spoil the fun, Emily turned the oven off and found herself a seat. It wasn’t that she was offended by the stripping – hell, let women make money however they wanted to – more that she felt she’d been out-manoeuvred, and she hated that.

‘This is Crystal!’ Martin shouted over the furore before returning to his spot on the sofa, manspreading hugely and leaning forward to better ogle Crystal, because this was exactly the kind of thing that someone like Martin would like.

Crystal had Rich sit on a dining chair in the middle of the room. She unbuttoned his shirt, poured a trickle of baby oil down his chest.

Really, Emily thought. Cliché much?

I’m a slaaaaaave for you, Britney sang.

In her sheer hot pink underwear, Crystal gyrated in front of Rich. But Rich was looking straight past her, his gaze meeting, and then holding, Emily’s. That was weird. Plus, was that a muscle twitching in his jaw?

The song was on loop. No sooner had Britney finished than she was back to where she’d started, but Emily barely noticed. She was too busy watching Crystal, who was astride Rich by now, massaging the oil into his pale stomach, waggling her tits in his face.

Rich was a boob man, Emily knew that. He’d always been a fan of coming all over hers.

After four renditions, both Britney and Crystal were done. Crystal gathered up the items of her clothing that were scattered across the room, and scampered out, the living room door slamming shut behind her.

Rich was breathing fast. He glanced down. So did Emily. And she could have ignored the definite ridge in the front of his jeans if his quiet ‘Oh, shit’ hadn’t drawn everybody else’s attention to it, too.

‘Maaaaate,’ one of the guys said, his tone caught somewhere between amusement and scorn. ‘Get a grip.’

Rich said nothing. He just looked at Emily and gestured towards the door. She followed him obediently. Luckily, when they reached the hallway, it seemed Crystal had put her clothes back on and headed off to her next job.

Emily couldn’t help herself. She reached up and cupped his face. A reassuring gesture, she told herself, not a come on.

‘Maaaaate,’ she said, mimicking his friend. ‘What was that?’

‘Fuck off!’ he retorted. ‘It happens, okay?’

‘Because of a stripper?’

‘No, Em, not because of a stripper. Because of you.’

‘What?’

‘You don’t remember?’

‘Remember what?’

‘That song. It was playing in the bar the night you and I first kissed.’

‘How do you even know that? You were hammered!’

‘You can remember what song was playing when Susie and I first kissed, but not when we did?’

‘When we did I was distracted by more distracting things!’

‘Oh for fuck’s sake,’ he said, grabbing her hand and dragging her down the hallway to a twin bedroom that was just as cream and non-descript as the one she was sleeping in.

A pair of crumpled blue Y-fronts lay on the floor on Martin’s side of the room.

Hot.

She dropped to her knees more for herself than for Rich, but there was still a sharp intake of breath when she took his cock in her mouth.

His hands rested on the back of her head, but he was disappointingly gentle. She pulled away for a moment.

‘Is that the best you can do?’

‘You wish,’ he countered, and no sooner was his dick between her lips again than he was pulling her hair and pushing right to the back of her throat. Her mascara would be even more fucked than it was when they were quad biking.

He yanked up her Fruit of the Loom t-shirt, which was emblazoned with the words ‘BUY ME A SHOT, HE’S TYING THE KNOT!’, so he could see her tits, and bit down on his own hand so he didn’t cry out when she licked her finger and slid it into his arse.

And Susie said his favourite thing to do on a Sunday was DIY. Christ.

He didn’t come in her mouth. He jerked his cock free and exploded all over her boobs.

Fuck, she’d missed this.

‘Wow,’ he said, and then reached for the box on the nightstand. ‘Tissue?’

‘Do you not know me at all?’

‘Sorry.’ He watched her rub it in and then lick her fingers clean when she was done. She stood, hugged him.

‘Nice one, Stag Beetle,’ he said, kissing her forehead. He didn’t seem to feel guilty. Yet.

She’d looked up stag beetles when he’d first called her that. They were endangered, apparently. Fewer than six thousand left in the UK. Because they looked so scary, people tended to think they were dangerous, and lots of them got crushed or killed in equally gruesome ways. And yet, they weren’t actually dangerous at all.

She’d wanted to tell him that, wanted to make him understand that she wasn’t looking to trash his marriage. She just didn’t want to lose him.

And yet, deep down, she didn’t have a good feeling about it.

Outside, the sound of the wind was still deafening. Stag beetles, she knew, did not often survive the winter.


4) Cabin Fever

“The wind howled around the corners of the cabin—”

No. It was true but like everything Simon had written in the month he’d been here it was a cliché. Spending the winter in a remote lodge was supposed to help him concentrate, spur him to begin the great American novel. It wasn’t working.

He’d lost his focus on day one when his closest neighbor walked two miles of backwoods trail to welcome him to ‘the neighborhood’. The prince of pulp fiction stood at Simon’s door and said, “Hi, I’m Hugh Johnson.”

Simon recognised the name. He wouldn’t dignify what Hugh did by calling him an author, not for churning out three or four steamy novels a year, uniformly awful, full of tired tropes, stereotypical characters and unlikely sex scenes that Simon abhorred. Hugh’s books still sold in their millions and his success attracted groupies prepared to hunt down the reclusive writer, hoping to re-enact the filthy fantasies he described. The stories those women told breathless gossip columnists had earned him a nickname, “Huge.”

Simon consoled himself that he was a better writer than Hugh. Anyway, there was an average for a reason and anything more was a waste. Simon was not a wasteful man. If anything, he was thrifty.

“A man’s mind is in inverse proportion to a man’s penis; a woman’s, likewise.”

Yes. He should edit that semi-colon out but it was an idea, a beginning. It could be firmed up, polished and brought to a satisfying climax. He stoked the log fire, opened his laptop and began writing Matters of Size, a searing indictment of female sexual expectation.

He hadn’t typed more than the title and that opening line when his new-found focus was stolen by loud knocking. Muttering his contempt for the man he expected to see, he threw open the cabin door and stood gawping for a second before one of his visitors spoke.

“Can we come in? We’re very wet.”

Simon blinked, dragged his gaze from her sodden white top to her liquid blue eyes and tried not to embarrass himself. “I can see your…” Don’t say nipples! “Cold. Come in, please.”

He cringed at his misuse of ‘your’, even verbally, but stood aside to allow the two young blondes to enter, wondering if they were twins or if he was deceived by their similar bleached hair, fake tans, silicone breasts and ill-chosen outfits. It wasn’t the season, nor the weather, for thin vests and Daisy Dukes, although they’d had the good sense to wear boots. But not bras, apparently.

Both girls rushed to the fire and stood, dripping and shivering.“Thank you! Our car broke down and the mechanic can’t come until morning. We’re lucky we saw your light, I thought we’d die of hypothermia out there. I’m Faith, by the way.”

“And I’m Hope.”

“Then I must be charitable,” Simon joked. “You’re welcome to sleep here, my bed’s large enough.” His cheeks burned as he realized what he’d inadvertently implied. “I mean, um, large enough for two. For you! I’ll sleep in here. Now, you should take off those wet clothes.”

He went to the bedroom, partly to fetch towels and t-shirts for the girls but mostly to avoid talking to them and embarrassing himself further. Focusing on her feet, he handed everything to Hope and directed both women to the bathroom.

Hope took the bundle, leaned in to kiss his cheek and whispered, “Thank you. We’ll be very grateful.” Her use of the future tense struck Simon as odd. Weren’t they grateful already? Perhaps she was too cold for proper grammar. No matter, the cabin had an excellent boiler and showering together would soon get them hot.

When the girls came out of the bathroom Simon regretted not being taller. The t-shirts he’d given them to wear barely covered their modesty and if they weren’t careful he might accidentally see their panties. That concern vanished when they went over to the fire to lay out their clothes to dry. Hope crouched to place a vest, denim shorts and a tiny, lacy thong on the hearth. Faith bent from the waist to do the same and as her t-shirt rode up to reveal the curves of her ass Simon turned away, avoiding embarrassment. When he heard a squeal he turned back to see Hope pulling Faith’s hair, preventing her from straightening up.

“It’s Faith’s fault that we broke down,” Hope said. “You should punish her. She needs a good, hard spanking.”

“And so does Hope,” Faith added. “She’s a very bad girl too.”

Simon shook his head. “You’re far too old for spankings! Besides, twins shouldn’t fight. All’s well that ends well, at least you’re not wet any more.”

The girls looked at each other and giggled. “I’m still wet,” said Hope. “But you’re right, we should kiss and make up.”

She stood and embraced Faith, their lips meeting in a kiss that became more than sororal as Faith ran her hands up Hope’s thighs and under her t-shirt, cupping her butt.

Simon knew some families were more tactile than his own but this display made him uneasy. He tried starting a conversation to distract from his discomfort. “Do you always hug your sister like that, Faith?”

Faith giggled again. “We’re not sisters.”

“Tonight we are,” Hope corrected her with a wink. Turning to Simon, she added, “We’re Faith and Hope Lamarr?”

Simon saw the downside of his distraction strategy. Now the girls were looking at him they might spot one reason he was so uncomfortable. He crossed his hands in front of his crotch, thankful he wasn’t Hugh Johnson trying to hide a much larger erection. “I think we should all go to bed, don’t you?”

Hope, obviously the more tired of the two, beamed. “Oh, yes! Lead the way!”

He showed them to the bedroom, where they leapt onto the bed and looked expectantly at him. “We don’t know if we can fit you in,” said Hope. “But we’d like to try.”

Simon raised an eyebrow. “You mean top and tail?”

Faith seemed reluctant to accept that sleeping arrangement. “Oh…kay. Hope, you’ll have to be tail, you know I don’t do that.”

“No,” Simon said. “Thank you, but I couldn’t subject you to my feet. I’ll be fine on the floor.” Judging by their frowns, his feet had confused them. Those frowns became pouts when he added, “Good night.” As he turned at the door to close it the pouts became scowls. Now he was confused. Hope had promised gratitude but he’d yet to see any.

Curled up beside the fire, his thoughts turned to why women as hot as the two in his bed were never attracted to men as intelligent as him. As he considered all the things he’d do if women didn’t have such unrealistic standards, he knew he wouldn’t sleep until he relieved his discomfort. He stood, imagining Hope and Faith kneeling naked at his feet, gasping in awe as he took out his dick and began frantically rubbing.

“Suck it, Hope, you dirty slut!”

Hope licked her lips and engulfed him. Faith lay back, legs parted, one hand teasing a nipple, the other stroking her dripping—

“Cunt!”

Simon ejaculated into the fire, tucked himself back into his pants and lay down, reflecting that his penis provided him just as much pleasure as Hugh’s unnecessary endowment.

He shivered himself awake, the fire having gone out in the night. The girls had also gone out, their clothes no longer on the hearth and his t-shirts tossed on the table, a scribbled note beside them.

Hugh,

Sorry we weren’t sexy enough to be the Lamarr girls in Twin Virtues. So happy you managed to jerk off thinking about me though. Yeah, I saw. Do you usually bribe women to lie for you? Don’t worry, Tiny, we’ll make sure everyone knows the truth.

“Hope”

PS I took a souvenir, asshole.

Suddenly everything made sense. Okay, they’d thought he was someone else, but they’d met him and they’d still wanted sex. With him. Women were so obtuse: was he supposed to have understood that, without explanation?

He knew now what he needed to write. Fuck the great American novel, he’d produce the sort of crap that made Hugh famous. He was certain he could and it might even get him laid.

“The wind howled around the corners of the cabin, drowning out the moans of Lance Steel’s secretary as he plunged his throbbing love muscle into her moist canyon of desire.”

Yes. It was awful and it was perfect.

With laser focus, he sat down to begin Cabin Fever, a searing exploration of female sexual degradation, but immediately hit a novel form of writer’s block. He had faith and hope, but no laptop.


5) A Storm Is Coming

The wind howled around the corners of the cabin. It was always like this in November. Lisa tucked herself under the quilt, a little drunk from the festivities. She warmed her hands between her thighs and thought about her options.

His name was Peter. Her pussy gushed when she thought his name and she squirmed under the covers and felt the moisture seep into her old boxer shorts. Peter was her brother’s best friend. They’d grown up together. He was in town for some college reunion thing, maybe hockey? Possibly rugby? Lisa hadn’t paid much attention to the conversation because Peter played both sports and his legs were thick and firm like oak trees, his ass like a round peach that she wanted to sink her teeth into.

Should she go down the hall and knock on his door? Should she stay in bed and forget this man she’d known half her life who’d never shown any interest in her? Should she sneak down to the kitchen for another shot of whiskey or crack a window and take a hit off the joint she had in her bag? Anything so she could forget her aching wet pussy and how she hadn’t gotten laid in a very very long time.

Lisa pushed off the quilt, feeling flushed and sweaty and overwrought. It had been a year since she’d last seen Peter. He still had that dark stubbly chin, those blue eyes and that way of flipping his hair off his forehead when he was drunk and laughing. Earlier they’d all been in the living room, laughing and talking and drinking, and she’d had to sit on her hands so she didn’t go sit on his lap. She wanted to run her fingers down his face and hook her fingers around his jaw to bring his perfect pink lips up to her wet mouth. She could almost feel her tongue on his lips, his soft brown hair in her hands, melting into him as his hands slid under her shirt…

The thunder rolled in the distance and she sat up suddenly. That was it. Nothing ventured and all that shit. Maybe it would go horribly but enough was enough. She had to do something. Without thinking about what exactly, she slid out of bed. Too bad she wasn’t wearing a sexy lacy something or other. Instead she had a stretched out t-shirt and old boxer shorts. But whatever, it was dark.

The wind kicked up outside, moaning through the old windows and puffing cold gusts down the hallway. Her teeth chattered and the wooden floor creaked as she slipped out her door. He was in the guest room just across the hall but the walls were thin and they had a full house tonight. She tried his doorknob, turning it quietly and leaving behind a sweaty handprint as she silently entered and closed the door behind her.

Clearly the storm wasn’t bothering him because he was snoring. Just a little. It was cute. He had his mouth open and his arms flung loose over the quilt her mother made. A pale watery moonlight gleamed off his dark hair and she watched his breath rise and fall as she eased over to his bed. As she got close enough to touch him, the window shutter slammed against the wall outside with an impact like a gunshot. She jumped and he woke, his eyes looking directly at her as she hovered over him. He was close enough for her to see the faint creases on his forehead, close enough to touch the dark hair of his chest, close enough to smell the bourbon on his breath.

He held her gaze and she froze, watching his eyes focus, watching him recognize her. And then just as he took a breath perhaps to say something, she pulled off her T-shirt in one quick motion. Her breasts rose and fell with her staccato breath, her nipples prickling in the chilly air. He shifted his gaze from her eyes to her breasts and after a long silent moment, her hands rose to rub them, warm them, hide them. She wasn’t sure. He watched her hands slide over her breasts and his eyes came back to hers. He didn’t say anything.

She stood there, paralyzed, maybe she’d made a terrible mistake. Her pussy was seeping wetness, she could smell her arousal as if it were steam that surrounded them. Her nipples hardened as she rubbed them. She wanted him to say something. She wanted to run away. Maybe it had been too many years and she should have done this sooner. Or never done it at all. She wondered where her shirt might be and if she could back out of the room and pretend this never happened.

“I’m sorry,” she yelped, way louder than she intended. He startled as she spoke and then grinned as she pressed her hands over her mouth, dropping her breasts free, her eyes huge over her hands. They both stopped and listened to the house but the only noises were the branches scraping frantically against the windows.

Just as she decided to turn and run, she felt his finger, light as a butterfly wing, running over her belly just above the waistband of her shorts. Lisa looked into his blue eyes as that callused finger slid inside the band of her old boxer shorts, hooking the waistband and pulling down gently. Peter held her gaze the whole time, his perfect pink lips twisting into a slight grin as his finger slipped down, grazing over her pubic hair.

The tip of his finger stroked over her clit as quick and light as the breath she let out. She felt her hands curl into fists of wanting, her pussy clenched and she watched his face as a second finger joined the first and he brushed softly over her wetness. He slid two slow fingers between her lips, quietly, carefully, watching her eyes, and she felt her slick walls stretch as his thick fingers penetrated her hot wet pussy.

She groaned and he let out a quick breath, his fingers easily pushing deeper until he was buried inside her sopping silken depths. She watched his eyes darken and his forearm flex as his fingers curled and her insides turned to molten lust. He slid his thumb over her clit and her mind emptied of anything but desire as her pussy wept into his hand. Oh god, more, her open mouth silently begged. But then he stopped. She gasped in dismay as he dragged his wet fingers out of her soaking pussy and up over her belly in a sticky trail.

The windows rattled and a cold gust of wind burst over her breasts as his slick fingers slipped around her nipple. She felt a line of fire ignite from her breasts to her pussy as he squeezed her nipple. He brought his fingers back, holding her eyes as he put his fingers in his mouth, sucking them quickly between his lips. He growled as he licked her juices off his fingers, his tongue flicking over his finger tip as her knees weakened.

Lightning struck sudden and bright outside his window, lighting up the planes of his cheekbones, and startling her as he quickly sat up. She nearly jerked away but then relaxed as his warm hands cupped her hips.

“You should probably get in,” he said, kicking off the quilt. She saw his long legs and his thick cock laying on his thigh, taut and glistening around the tip. “It’s wild and stormy out there. You never know what could happen.”


6) Spelling Lessons

The wind howled around the corners of the cabin as Sara drew the sharp blade across her palm and allowed blood to drip onto the page. Her raven locks spilled over her bare shoulders as she said the final words of the spell:

“It is not salt I turn to fire
But the power of lust I seek.
Open the circle, hear my call
My desires are true, bind with me.”

The drafty cabin sighed and made the candles surrounding her flicker. Sara slumped with disappointment.

“Ugh. Seriously?! I paid thirty dollars for this book, cut my hand, AND gathered moss!” Sara scratched at the mud on her combat boots with disgust before retrieving a band-aid from her skull shaped purse. She glared at the book on the floor, angrily scooped it up, grabbed her cloak, and headed to the lake.

“Ha! That guy said it was the grimoires of a real witch. I assumed he knew about this stuff. I mean he had an udjat tattooed on his wrist and everything. This book smells like moldy ass anyway. Good riddance! I hope the fish like magic!” Sara threw the book as hard as she could towards the dark lake and relished in the satisfying splash.

Thunder rumbled in the distance and a crack of lightning lit up the sky.

“Whatever,” Sara rolled her eyes and sulked on a rock.

“Hey,” a male voice said from behind her. Sara jumped.

“Oh hey. I didn’t know anyone else was out here.”

“I apologize for startling you. My name is Daemo.”

The man’s voice sounded like a soft echo and gave her goosebumps. Sara shrugged it off as weird forest acoustics.

“Cool. I’m Sara.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sara.”

Daemo was pale and sharply handsome. He seemed to be her age, and she approved of his studded leather collar and torn Sisters of Mercy t-shirt. He radiated sensuality and power. Sara’s libido kicked into overdrive, and she began to babble.

“I guess you’re here for the leadership conference, too. Personally, I’d rather be in my dorm watching American Horror Story than doing trust falls in the woods. Haha. I love your t-shirt. Their stuff is fucking awesome. Do you want to listen to music in my cabin? I’ve got Type O Negative, Fear Cult, Siouxsie and the Banshees and more.”

“Sounds good,” Daemo replied as Sara took a breath. The man unfolded from the rock and towered over Sara’s petite form, but his presence didn’t feel threatening. There was something warm and comforting about his aura. Sara pulled her cloak hood up as the first drops of rain began to fall and walked briskly towards her cabin. The chains on his pants clinked softly as his long strides easily matched her rapid pace. She glanced at him from under her hood. He was definitely her type: dark, somber, and mysterious. She hoped that he would want to do more than just listen to records. Her body tingled with the possibilities that the evening may bring.

“Here’s my cabin. Come on in before it starts pouring.”

Daemo’s voice was barely audible as he looked intently at Sara. “You’re inviting me in?”

“Of course! Unless you are like a murderer or something. I mean, that’s why they made us come to the lake, right? We’re supposed to make friends, network, and broaden our minds or something.” Sara opened the door and looked up at Daemo through the folds of her cloak. “Please come inside so we can get to know each other better?”

Sara noticed her spell casting things on the floor and with slight embarrassment added, “Oh, I was working on a spell earlier, so step around that. Do you like witchcraft?”

“Indeed.” Daemo grinned.

Sara unlocked the door and began to go inside, but Daemo moved to block her path. He gently grasped her shoulders, tipping her head back. Sara welcomed the prospect of a kiss; instead, she watched his eyes empty into pools of black. Terrified, Sara tried to break free from his grip. His hands tightened on her shoulders and smoke poured from between his lips. The tendrils of his essence carved a path down her throat, silencing Sara’s imminent scream. She stumbled backward, and the cabin door slammed shut leaving a pile of black clothes and chains on the doorstep.

Sara’s vision blurred and dark eyeliner streamed down her face with tears of desperation. Uncertain of her fate, her black painted lips gaped like a fish who is unexpectedly pulled from underwater into the unknown. The salt circle scattered as Sara lurched towards the kitchen, desperate to slake the burning that filled her body. Trembling, she filled a glass from the tap. The veins on the back of her hands pumped black rivers against her pale skin and fear churned in her stomach. She gulped down the water and sunk to the floor as the inky darkness completed its journey. Her breathing returned to normal.

Thunder boomed. Sara looked around for Daemo, but he was gone. Confusion buzzed in her brain, and she decided that she must have inhaled too much smoke from burning smudges and imagined him. She stood to take off her damp cloak, but strangely, her hands wouldn’t move. She tried again, but her arms remained wooden at her sides.

“What is happening?!” Sara cried.

“Hello, sweet Sara,” Daemo’s voice echoed in Sara’s head, “Thank you for inviting me inside.”

“Inside?! What?! I meant inside the cabin! Not inside my body! Well, maybe inside my body, but I meant that for later and in a completely different way!” Sara spun in a circle trying to find the origin of his voice.

“You should really read your spells more carefully. You called for the power of lust and gave your blood to seal the request. I will leave if you wish, but first, shall I show you what I can do?”

Sara nodded numbly as curiosity made her bold. She felt her hands unfasten her cloak and fold it neatly. It was as if she were a puppet. Fingers then stroked her cheek gently and lightly brushed her breasts through her tight corset. The slight foreplay made pleasure pulse through her body, but residual fear reminded her to be cautious. Daemo paused as he felt her reluctance.

“May I continue?” Daemo inquired from within.

“Promise you aren’t here to hurt me.”

“On my honor, sweet one. I know the transition is rough, but I swear that your pleasure is all I want.”

“I may be a complete moron and end up on a milk carton tomorrow, but I feel weirdly safe with you. I guess it’s because you are kind of controlling my brain, but whatever. It feels incredible, and I don’t want to stop.”

“I hoped you would agree to continue,” Daemo’s voice purred in her head.

Her possessed hands deftly removed her clothes while caressing each newly exposed inch of skin with tenderness. Warmth spread from her fingertips building the fire within her. Sara stretched out on the nearby bed, eager to allow her hands more freedom.

“You’re beautiful, Sara. It’s been a long time since I paired with a woman, and you’ve made it worth the wait. Your power is a well of untapped possibilities. MMM….so much more than what you pretend to be.”

Sara’s bedeviled fingers twisted her nipples into hard peaks making her gasp. Phantom lips enveloped each one while an invisible tongue flicked against them in a lulling rhythm. Her fingers worked their way down her belly pausing to stroke the soft roundness between her thighs before dipping into the heat of her valley.

Lightning illuminated each crescendo of passion as Sara’s body thrashed against the forces acting upon it. She surrendered to the power and was rewarded with the rolling bliss of perpetual climax. Sara closed her eyes and savored the dance between the seen and unseen. Her body writhed from pleasure. Lustful energy pulsed around her as the storm outside beat against the cabin. Her moans turned to screams of rapture as Daemo worked her body into a frenzy. Her fingers curled and Sara bucked against her own fist. The pressure was intoxicating and the phantasmic forces thrived on her undoing. Sweat slicked her brow and after hours of being Daemo’s plaything, Sara fell into an exhausted slumber.

The storm quieted and calm spread through the cabin. Morning light danced across Sara’s face, and she woke up alone. Sara wrapped herself in the sheet and then rushed to look out the cabin door. His t-shirt was on the ground. She picked it up and breathed his scent of sage and pine.

“Whatever,” she whispered as tears welled in her eyes.

“Hey.”

Sara hid the shirt behind her back as Daemo appeared from the mist.

“I…I thought you were gone…wait…you’re soaking wet!”

Someone threw my book in the lake,” he said with a wink, “Would you like to try another spell?”

“Please come inside.”


7) Pathetic fallacy

The wind howled around the corners of the cabin and rain thundered down even more heavily than before. Tucked up by the crackling open fire, Melissa should have felt comforted, cocooned as she was in warmth and blankets, but instead she felt trapped. The more she wanted fresh air and sunlight, the darker the clouds became and the more they mirrored her mood. Fucking pathetic fallacy!

Greg burst through the door in a flurry of raindrops and waterproofs. He had only been outside 10 minutes but was completely drenched.

‘Fuck. Fuck!’

He started striding around muttering indecipherable obscenities.

‘Are you going to tell me or should I just work out the good news myself?’

‘The fucking tyre is fucked and I forgot to repair the fucking spare.’ He turned angrily to Melissa. ‘And don’t you dare say anything about that. I know you told me to sort it and I haven’t but there’s nothing I can do about that now, is there? The nearest garage is swamped because too many fucking idiots have driven into lakes or some other crap and they can’t come out until tomorrow.’

He gave an exaggerated shrug that showered rainwater onto the carpet.

‘Apparently we’re in a place of safety so we aren’t a priority!’

‘So we’re stuck here?’ Greg nodded. ‘All night?’

‘Yes, and please don’t start at me about it. I didn’t know that puddle was a pothole. Honestly, I don’t want to be here any more than you do! I’m fucked off and cold and wet, and I’m going to have a shower.’

Without waiting for a response, he stalked off, slamming doors behind him as he went.

Melissa slumped onto the sofa. This was not how today was supposed to have gone. They had come up to the cabin to talk on neutral ground, to see if there was anything left of the relationship that they used to have, but all they had done was fight.

Six years. Six years since she first saw him across the conference centre. Six years since she had pretended she understood his sales pitch about coding software or something so she could speak to him for longer. Four years since they moved in together, perhaps two years since the cracks started appearing. It had been a year since she’d been happy certainly. Three months since they’d had a conversation that hadn’t ended in bickering or unnecessarily hurtful comments. And who could remember the last time they’d had sex that wasn’t a make-up fuck or an expression of anger or pain.

But it had been so good! Those first four or five years had been as close to perfect as she could have hoped for, and she knew their love had just faded away. There was no single event to mark their end, no blame or betrayal. Their time had run out, which is perhaps why they were so reluctant to throw in the towel and why they’d thought this ridiculous trip into the woods could have saved anything. Oh yes, let’s go to the site of so many happy and horny memories to try and recapture what they both knew was lost! Except that the weather and the pothole and the broken spare tyre had likely ruined whatever chance they had.

Melissa headed into the kitchen to try and make dinner. They’d not planned on staying overnight and it was highly unlikely that anyone would deliver takeaway this deep in the forest! Rifling through cupboards, she was pleasantly surprised to find that there was enough there to put together a decent pasta sauce. Choosing to remain busy rather than brood, she set about cooking while waiting for Greg to finish his shower.

Cooking had always been a good way for Melissa to clear her thoughts. There was something about the level of concentration needed that silenced the harmful background chatter but still left her mind free enough to think. Chopping and frying onion, watching it take on colour from chunks of dried chorizo and then merging it all together with the tin of tomatoes was immensely satisfying, and by the time Greg reappeared and she could tip out platefuls of pasta with this glossy sauce, she found that her anger had melted away. After months of arguing, she was suddenly worn out. Empty. Spent.

Greg’s shower seemed to have had a similar effect on his mood, washing away his frustration but also leaving nothing else behind. His face seemed clearer than it had in a long time; less pinched with tension, more like the man she once knew. He had found a dusty bottle of wine in the cellar and poured her a large glass. They sat together, eating in silence but it seemed strangely companionable, unlike any they had shared in recent months.

After a while, he started talking. At first, Melissa thought he was trying to break the silence, but Greg began talking about the last time they had been here – over a year ago and back when they’d still been crazy about each other, on occasion. It had been raining then too but they had danced under the deluge until their clothes were stuck to their bodies and mud coated their legs. They’d laughed and kissed in the rain and fucked against the tree across the yard. They’d run steaming baths and scrubbed each other’s skin until it was pink and clean, and then they’d lain naked on rugs in front of the fire and talked about how they’d wanted to do this forever.

‘I’m sorry…’ Greg hesitated, his voice breaking. ‘I’m sorry I can’t make you happy like that any more.’

‘Oh no, no!’ Melissa took his hand in both of hers, ‘Don’t be sorry, or at least don’t be sorry alone. I’m sorry too! It’s just that, we’re just…’

‘Over.’

‘Yes.’

Melissa didn’t know how long they sat like that, hand in hand, not speaking. She didn’t know whether she realised the tears were pouring down her face before or after Greg pulled her closer to kiss them away. She couldn’t have told you who first stood up or who led the other into the bedroom; she just knew this was what they both needed to do.

Exploring his body knowing that it was likely the last time felt almost like the first again. She hesitated in her touches, needing reassurance that it was OK, that this felt OK. Pulling off his shirt, she leant into his chest, filling her lungs with the smell of his clean skin and kissing every part of him that she didn’t want to forget.

She wondered if Greg had had the same thought when he lifted her onto the bed and slowly removed her trousers and underwear. He had always told her how much he loved her cunt and, as he settled between her thighs, she realised that she had no reason to doubt him now. Kissing gently at first, his tongue swirling her clit became more insistent in response to her squirms. He knew just how to tease her, just how to build her up towards an intense climax and pulling back at the last second. With each frustrated groan, Melissa could feel him laughing against her as he always used to and the memories added a bittersweet poignancy to her pleasure as he pushed her right up to the edge, holding her there for what felt like forever before he allowed her orgasm to spill over.

Her body was still shaking in recovery when Greg stood, taking hold of both legs and pulling her to the edge of the bed. Still standing over her, he thrust his cock deep inside again and again, finding a rhythm that forced a second orgasm to race through her. She lifted her leg onto his shoulder and tilted her hips towards him to find the angle that had felt so good so often before, and soon his groans were merging with hers as they came together one final time.

Greg fell onto the bed next to Melissa, both panting and sated. There were no more words to say, nothing left to do. He pulled a blanket over them and they soon fell asleep, still lying in each other’s arms.

The next day, they woke early. The storm had blown through and left a bright, clear sky in its wake. Melissa smiled – fucking pathetic fallacy! The recovery truck rolled up at 9 as promised and had the car fixed within an hour. Driving back, they chatted easily, freed from the hurt and anger that had so plagued them before. Greg dropped Melissa at her sister’s house and they made stilted plans to meet later in the week for her to collect her belongings.

It was strange. It hurt. Finally accepting the end really fucking hurt, but somehow the wound felt clean. Like they’d both be OK. Like this was how it was supposed to happen. Like this was how it should end…


8) The Waiting Game

The wind howled around the corners of the cabin. Well, proverbially at least – the screen in front of me was too primitive to show the curved nose cone of the ship. It worked though, showing a raging stream of solar particles. Our lifeline. I flipped a switch and we started refuelling.

Grinning, I pushed out of my seat. We were going to get moving, at long fucking last. Best tell Lee.

“Hey, get up!”

Lee laid on one of the bunks, barely moving her head as I entered.

“We have work to do,” I said.

“Huh?” she asked. “What’s so urgent when we’re stuck in the doldrums?”

“We’re not any more.” I replied. “The solar winds are streaming and we’ll be on the move shortly.”

Lee bounced up, the quickest I’d seen her move since we got stranded. “You mean we’re headed home? We’re gonna get real food again soon? No more reconstituted crap…”

I recognised the look in her eyes. It was sheer hunger. The emergency rations had kept us alive, but it was like eating soggy cardboard. No wonder the mood of the ship was low.

She covered the distance between us and grabbed hold of me, pulling me into a tight embrace.

I held her close and stroked her hair. Pressing my lips to her forehead, I inhaled. Lee always smelt good; our ship was old but reliable and the water recovery unit meant regular showers.

Cliched thoughts of smells ran through my head. Being isolated in space does that to you… summer rain and cut grass, the ocean. Oh! I’d missed the ocean…

“Hey, daydreamer!” Lee’s voice brought me back to the present.

“Sorry,” I said. “Just looking forward to terra firma.”

“It’s okay.” Lee pressed her lips to mine.

I kissed her back, feeling the stirrings of something. The past couple of weeks had killed off all libido. We’d both retreated into survival mode.

Lee moaned into me. I think she felt it too.

I walked her back into the wall, her acquiescing to my every step.

“Have you missed this?” I asked.

“Yeah,” she said, as I cupped her cheek, dipping to kiss her once more. The harder I kissed, the more she moaned, pressing herself forward into me. I leant in, trapping her. She was a free spirit, could never be caged, but she liked to give in to my control once in a while.

“So, what do you want?” I moved my hand down, resting it on her collarbone, applying light pressure. “This?”

“Mmhmm.”

I squeezed her breast. “This?”

Another moan.

I cupped her cunt, applying pressure with the heel of my hand, fingers pushing upwards.

“Please..,” she moaned.

I stepped back, replacing my hand with my thigh to keep applying pressure. Pinning her wrists against the wall, I leant in, kissing her until she writhed against me.

In my head it was now me saying, “please”. Fuck, I’d missed this. The last couple of weeks had been hard.

A sudden jolt almost took both of us off our feet.

“What the hell–” I regained my balance and sprinted out the door to the bridge, Lee fast on my heels.

The control panel flashed myriad warnings at us.

“Engine,” I sighed. “I’ll kit up.”

Disappointment flashed across Lee’s face. I grimaced, I knew how she felt.

“Just you wait,” I told her, stepping into my EVA suit. “Once this ship’s moving, we won’t be leaving that bunk again for a week….”


9) Boat Show

The wind howled around the corners of the cabin, and the floor shifted under my feet. I grasped ineffectively for the balcony door handle, trying not to turn my head towards the cold spray gusting through the open French window and soaking our bedroom floor.

Georgina shrieked and ducked into the bathroom, only to emerge almost doubled over in shaking, silent laughter.

“Fuck off, Georgie,” I yelled over the wind. “I told you to shut that door before we left.”

With fingers almost numb from exposure to the storm, I finally secured a firm grip on the door handle and pulled it towards me. It mounted one final resistance then slammed shut, sending a shower of droplets all over my dress shirt.

The room fell silent. I stared accusingly at my smirking, sun-kissed friend and reached for one of the beach towels hanging alongside our swimming costumes on the back of an armchair.

“Oh, I’m sorry Finn, I really am, but I also wouldn’t have missed that for the world! Besides, you of all people can’t complain. You’re getting a free sodding cruise out of me – I’m allowed to use you as entertainment!”

I unbuckled my belt and stepped out of the suit trousers Georgie had insisted I wear to dinner. Looking around the mini suite – by far the most expensive room I’d ever slept in – I had to concede her point. Even with the first squall we’d seen since Southampton raging outside, the forecast was clear for the rest of the week, and I planned to make the most of it.

Georgie raised an eyebrow and nodded towards my crotch. Through the thin white boxers, my dick looked obscenely plump, and she sighed dramatically.

“You’re going to spend the whole trip teasing me with that, aren’t you? I guess I’d better find myself one to play with before I just jump you and have done with it.”

I quickly pulled on some jeans and blew her a kiss. When Georgie’s boyfriend had walked out on her two weeks before their trip of a lifetime – the luxury cruise on which she was convinced he’d finally propose – I’d been wary of stepping into the breach. Childhood friends turned casual lovers, we’d learned quickly the extent of our ability to drive each other crazy at close quarters, and even though things had been much calmer between us since she’d met James, it didn’t feel like the best time to test the stability of our current, decidedly platonic arrangement.

“But Finnie, it’ll be so much fun,” she’d said, over a post-work pint one evening. “Get away from this dreary autumn weather, live by the pool for a couple of weeks, flirt with cute barmen – what’s not to like?”

By the second pint, I was seeing cocktails with little umbrellas dancing in front of me, and by the third, she’d changed the name on the tickets and booked me a train down to Southampton.

“You won’t regret it,” she’d called over her shoulder as I shooed her towards the Tube. “I really fucking need this, ok? Fuck James – I never want to think about him again.”

~

I stepped to one side as we approached the lounge bar, and ushered Georgie in front of me.

“After madam, of course.”

The pianist had already started his set, so we shuffled towards one of the only free tables at the back of the room and sat down. In a simple green cocktail dress, cut low enough that I had to drag my eyes away from her tits every time she leaned forward, Georgie hummed along to the music and I thought once again about her pre-trip vow. She seemed to be enjoying herself, and I certainly hadn’t noticed her mooning over James or crying into a pillow at night, but there was a restlessness under the surface that I knew wouldn’t stay buried for long.

Without turning her head, Georgie tugged my sleeve and jabbed a finger towards the bar.

“You see that guy over there?”

“Uh huh.”

“I’m going to fuck him tonight.”

I set my drink down carefully and peered through the crowd. In profile, I could see his appeal right away – he looked absolutely nothing like James. No more than 5’8”, he was tanned and wiry, with dark curls rolling down to a close-cropped beard. Next to her blonde bear of an ex-boyfriend, your eye might have drifted over him, but in the soft light pooling around the bar he made quite an impression.

“Shall I head back and leave you to it?”

“No, I need a wingman! Besides, it’s your round. Go talk to him.”

Noah turned out to be French, but to my relief his English was flawless. An off-duty steward, he liked to spend his free evenings listening to music (“he’s good, no?”) and mixing with the guests in one of the ship’s dozen bars. He needed little encouragement to join us for a drink, taking the seat next to Georgie who flashed her best Cheshire Cat grin and offered a cheek to kiss while I searched for an extra chair.

Watching her put the moves on Noah with barely a pause for breath, I was reminded of the first time we’d fucked. We’d drifted back together in London after years apart, finding that the misery of mis-sold graduate schemes did indeed love company – though not as much as it loved breathless, back-alley sex outside Camden dive bars, or furtive hand jobs at house parties with her boyfriend in the next room. Georgie was a woman who knew how to get what she wanted, and looking from her face to Noah’s as she laid a perfectly-manicured finger on his wrist, I had no doubt that remained the case.

20 minutes later, the pianist finished his first set and I made a beeline for the bathroom. I returned to find Noah helping Georgie up from her chair, a smile on his face. Be cool, she mouthed at me, before spinning round to face us both.

“Finn, you don’t mind if we take the party back to our room, do you?”

~

As Georgie raided the mini bar, I leafed through the ship’s guest manual, looking for a late-night show to which I could tactfully excuse myself. It was only when she thrust a glass of wine into my hand that I realised other plans had been made and quickly approved.

“Every night I feel your cock pressing against my arse and you still won’t give it to me – so I think you should watch me play with Noah’s instead. Might remind you what you’re missing. Sit!”

I fell into an armchair, unable to verbalise a suitable response. Georgie deftly slipped out of her dress, then pushed Noah flat on the bed, a broad, white-toothed smile on his face. She yanked his jeans and boxers down over his thighs, just far enough to free his cock. It fell heavily onto his stomach, already semi-erect, and she curled a fist round it, pumping experimentally.

I waited for her to turn and look at me, but she didn’t take her eyes off Noah. His narrow hips rolled and lifted off the mattress as she lifted his cock away from his torso and eased it into her mouth. I unbuttoned my jeans and took out my own cock, stroking it in time to his thrusts. With her nose pressed against his pelvis, Georgie reached inside her knickers and moaned; nothing got her wet quicker than giving head, and her whole body started to shake as she crouched over him.

“Condom,” Noah gasped, his hand searching the nightstand without success. I dug into my pocket and tossed one over to him. Never hurts to come prepared, right?

Noah tried to lever himself off the bed, but Georgie forced him back down and took the condom, ripping the foil with her teeth. Slowly she peeled off her knickers, and I gave myself over to the gut-punch memory of her taste – of her juice on my lips and tongue, and the flecks of sweat I licked from her body after we’d fucked.

Georgie rolled the condom onto Noah’s length and waited, her cunt poised over the tip as she rubbed her clit. For the first time she looked right at me. I knew exactly what she was about to do – why she was holding back – and she must have seen it in my eyes because she smiled in response. Yes.

As Noah screwed up his face, Georgie jack-knifed forward and started to come. With the orgasm still tearing through her, she straightened enough to squeeze down onto Noah’s cock, riding out each ripple of pleasure until he slid his hands round to grip her arse and hugged her tight against his chest.

In the silence that followed, I heard the French door rattle as the wind picked up again. Georgie rolled over to face me and blew a kiss of her own.

“See Finn – what’s not to like?”


10) Always Leave Them Smiling

The wind howled around the corners of the cabin.

I looked at the cover of the book, “Terror at Bobby’s Lodge.” A trashy horror story. I mean, a well-structured sentence would surely read:

The wind whistled through the rafters.

I lay down in the compact bed of the lorry’s cab and thought back to my English teacher. He encouraged my thirst for literature and acting. My family couldn’t have cared less. I should have studied English A’ level but was working at sixteen, in a knicker factory, packing. Any free time was spent at the local amateur dramatics group in Leeds.

At work I discovered my real talent – making women happy. I would get heckled whenever I went to collect the lingerie from the machinists,

“Come on cutie, wanna get your hands on my knickers?”

Initially I blushed, but soon retaliated,

“As long as they’re clean, love.”

Always leave them smiling.

Can’t tell you how their faces shone. I had the power to give them that moment. But it was Betsy who put a smile on my face. Dropped me a note on my seventeenth birthday to meet her in the car park at lunchtime. Married, twenty-eight, gorgeous full figure. Once at her place it was trousers down.

“Whoa boy, you have something to offer,” she mewled, clasping her lips around my knob. My balls began smacking her chin. Next, unburdening me of virginity, she taught me I could please a woman. When we fucked there was no faking her cries of elation. That birthday present shaped my life.

A couple of years passed. I began to fill out, welcoming banter from the ladies down the local.

“You look like that guy in the movies, yeah, same smouldering eyes.” I’d grin back and for effect comb the wavy hair from my forehead.

Always leave them smiling.

It was difficult to find a girlfriend who shared my admiration of books, but I notched up a few conquests while looking. You would, wouldn’t you? I landed the male lead in a local production. It did well and toured, achieving a little bit of celebrity. After the show, girls were always waiting. Greedy for attention. Why not? A looker like me. I didn’t want to disappoint and got a thrill from giving them what they wanted. No harm done. They were more than happy to get their hands inside my flies, and I made sure we had a good time.

Once back at work I met Susie. My, she was sweet. Saw her sitting in the park reading one of my favourite novels. I sat down on the bench. Looking up she brushed a lock of fair hair from her face, as I quoted from her book,

“Do you hear the nightingale singing?”

She giggled.

Susie had a great job – legal secretary – and we quickly became an item. She liked me to take control. You know. So my sex life took a lively turn. Working at the factory didn’t challenge me. Tying Susie up and whipping her until she screamed stimulated more areas than I thought possible. Her marks and bruises bore witness to our desires. Then, when we made love, she would climax and hold me as if I was the last man on earth. I liked that.

We got engaged by accident. I was quoting from a novel,

“It is you only I intend to marry.” Down on one knee in an attempt at satire, (always leave them smiling).

Susie took it seriously.

“Yes, oh yes,” she shrieked, giving me such an astounding blow job I wished I could’ve proposed twice.

Within a year we were married with a little one on the way. Needing a better-paid job I left the factory, gave up acting too. Liking my own company, long distance lorry driving fitted the bill and by volunteering for the trickier jobs I earned a tidy sum each month.

I knew from day one the freedom of the road was for me. Time to think. I got some audio books and caught up on the classics. My HGV was smart – a Leyland Marathon with a top of the range sleeper cab. Susie bought me a modern continental quilt from Woolworth, very warm. Once I had installed a CB radio and tied my monkey mascot on the front grille, I was ready to roll.

Our delightful daughter was born and the months turned into years. Life seemed complete – until I laid eyes on Lara.

I was in a transport cafe browsing a poor attempt at a tragedy,

No, don’t leave me alone like this…

I was shaking my head in disbelief – a twelve-year-old could write better – when Lara put my coffee on the table. Her skirt fell open slightly and catching a glimpse of leg, I had to have her. That evening her breasts jiggled as we walked to the cinema. Sitting in the back row, her smell intoxicating me, I whispered in her ear,

“You are so ready.”

Had memorised the line many years before. Simple, but effective.

She parted her legs slightly as my hand landed on her thigh. No panties. My cock went from springy to hard as fuck in seconds. I pushed my fingers down her moist slit. The warmth welcomed my touch, and as I explored, her cunt throbbed.

Enough! I liberated my cock, grabbed the back of her head and pushed it down to my lap. This woman could suck. I stared at the movie screen while Lara took care of me as if she was being paid. Her delicate lips exerting just the right amount of pressure, deft fingers teasing my shaft and balls. What a girl, she gobbled my juice down in one mouthful. No mess. No fuss.

Back at her flat above the cafe, I had to have her again, there on the table. Always ready with a jacket for my little man, I didn’t wait for an invitation, sunk my cock deep into her pussy. Staring back with large blue eyes, as her legs embraced me, she was something to behold. Looked like a 50’s starlet. Our moans could’ve been heard down-town. Eventually we slept, only for me to wake in the night and take her again. Couldn’t get enough. Chemistry, plain and simple.

I made my delivery but visited Lara’s cafe on my way back. Some dude was coming on to her. I burst in, the cowboy from a western. Swaggering over I immediately decked him, declaring,

“You shoot to kill, you better hit the heart.” The only pulp-western quote I could think of.

Then turning to her, “Marry me, be my wife.”

“Oh Johnny, do you mean it? Tell me you do and I will be so happy.”

Well, I wanted her to be happy – always leave them smiling. So we tied the knot.

It was convenient too. Just outside Oxford, on my route. I couldn’t keep my eyes or hands off Lara. I’d study her working in the cafe – that dainty, trim frame moving between tables with ease, saving her best smile for me. Then fucking as soon as we got in the door until her cunt and my cock were raw from the abuse.

Now I’m in Southampton. The walls of the small cab are covered with old newspaper cuttings about my past acclaim. Not that I miss acting. Juggling a job and two homes keeps me busy, and it’s great when I see Susie. She works part-time. Our daughter, a proper little book-worm, just started school. I certainly don’t want her to be a latch-key kid like me. Over dinner Susie and I enjoy discussing the books I’ve read on my trip and reminiscing about how I was almost famous.

I glance at the horror story beside me as the door opens and the wind howls around the corner, into the lorry’s cabin.

“Here you go Johnny, coffee.”

“Thanks, gorgeous, this trash is going in the bin. I’ll lend you one of my novels.”

Did I forget to mention Gwen? Six months ago she was sleeping rough. It’s 1979, a young woman shouldn’t be homeless in this day and age. I’d just collected the bonus for being safest driver in the company, so I slipped her fifty quid and never expected to see her again. But she found me, after fixing herself up with a little job and bedsit, wanting to say thanks. Scrubbed up well and her gratitude stretched through the night into the next day. Gwen’s keen to learn about life and I’m always happy to teach. What’s a guy to do? She’s quite young but so am I, at heart.

“Thanks, Johnny. Let me under the quilt. I love being in the cab. So cosy. When we’re married we’ll have a small place of our own, like you said, won’t we Johnny? That’ll make me so happy.”


9 comments

  1. Loving the bitter sweet entries this time. Perhaps it was the prompt but I found the darker side of human relations swept me up. I’m not able to give individual feedback but apart from the aforementioned dynamic I really appreciated the twists in the tales and the telling details of intimacy and knowledge. Thanks everyone!
    Indie

  2. 1) The great thing about this story is that the prompt has an ominous feel to it, I think, and you’ve totally managed to work that in. I would have liked to see you explore Paige’s unease a little more, though, as she was often so quickly drawn back into the sex that I didn’t really buy that she was afraid. Also, I felt more dialogue was needed in places – lines like ‘His words were raunchy’ made me feel a little distanced from the action.

    2) I’m always a fan of erotica that stops short of an actual sex scene, as I’ve said many times before, because I think anticipation is one of the sexiest things. I think it’s brave that you’ve dared to do this in the semi-finals though, as I’m not sure it’ll work for everybody, but it works for me! The reason it didn’t get a vote from me is simply because the plotline didn’t feel particularly original.

    4) This is a clever idea, but I’m afraid for me it’s not particularly sexy. Also, I wasn’t sure I completely got the plot – at the end the story said that he was planning to write the same kind of crap as Lance Steel, but ‘With laser focus, he sat down to begin Cabin Fever, a searing exploration of female sexual degradation,’ made it sound like he’d just be writing the same kind of stuff he’d been writing all along.

    5) I liked this a lot – it’s very well written and the sexy bits are hot – especially ‘thick cock laying on his thigh, taut and glistening around the tip,’ which I loved. The only thing that cost it my vote was the fact that it seemed to be more of a scene than a fully-fledged story – there wasn’t a great deal of conflict driving the plot forward.

    6) VOTED – As I’ve said many times during this competition, fantasy/paranormal isn’t usually my thing. But what I was drawn to with this story – and the reason why I voted for it – is because I very much liked your Sara and the ‘hot mess’ nature of her experiments with witchcraft. Lots of the dialogue was good, too. The only downside for me personally was that I found her ‘Whatever’ near the end confusing.

    7) I really liked the realism of this one – the dynamic between the couple was very plausible, the dialogue was good, and the story as a whole is quite moving. I’m also a bit of a sucker for cosy settings like this one, which adds to the sexiness for me, and the title is clever. The problem, for me, was that there were only really two directions the story could go in, so the ending wasn’t particularly surprising.

    8) Yes! This is very sexy indeed and a fun take on the cabin prompt. The details of the things the narrator misses from dry land make him feel like a three-dimensional character, and the sexy bits are, well … sexy. But it lost my vote for two reasons: partly because it’s much shorter than the other entries but mainly because not using that additional word count meant that this felt like it had less of a plot than it might otherwise have had

    9) VOTED – Great dynamic between your characters, massively helped by the dialogue feeling very natural, and a clever take on the cabin prompt. I’ll confess that I liked the build up more than the actual sex – I was so into their dynamic as a twosome – and hoping for the ship-based equivalent of ‘back-alley sex outside Camden dive bars, or furtive hand jobs at house parties with her boyfriend in the next room’ that the fact it became a threesome meant it lost something for me. That said, it’s undeniably a hot and well-written story.

    10) This story had an interesting premise and a fresh slant on the prompt, but I’m afraid for me, even though lorry driving/lorry drivers do have good hotness potential, I didn’t find the sex in this story particularly sexy. Kudos for writing an absolute bastard of a main character, though – that’s always a winner in my book.

  3. Thank you contestants – what a pleasure it was to read your entries. Not one was a bad one, so the task of voting and offering critiques is very hard. Please know I loved them all but these were my gut reactions.
    1) This piece was sexy the whole way through, that thread never weakened, but was greatly enhance by the added layer of danger. The female character’s fear was tangible, until it morphed into heightened arousal. A very complete and well drawn story, left the reader wanting more.
    2) Great sexual tension, which built and dipped then swelled again. A teasing plot which dealt creatively with the pre-set opening line. The slightly taboo topic of teacher /student was played on but carefully sidestepped. Masterful writing.
    3) Another great twist away from how the opening line could be used – this whole story strove to be unpredictable and yet was so real – the settings and the lightly drawn characters were real assets.
    4) I loved the slightly cartoonish style of this, a true homage to the 1980s ‘bonkbusters’. Enjoyed the obtuse and arrogant the male character, who looked down on others for the same faults he had in spades! Very tongue in cheek and clever, unfortunately at the expense of being erotic (which is a box I want all entries to tick).
    5) Loved the doubt and lack of confidence which fuels the tension in this; we are really in the female character’s head, which enhances the sexiness for me. To stay in character I would have expected her to behave more shyly once in the guy’s room, but the whole interlude definitely qualifies as a 1 handed read!
    6) I loved the occult/supernatural theme of this one, although the start of the story set up felt a little rushed. A nice twist was the erotic action embracing female self-pleasure. Fanny gallops were building!
    7) This was a beautiful relationship story. It was less about sexy, focussing more on the knot of angry tension and how it untangled into familiarity and understanding – all emotions were very well portrayed.
    8) Fresh perspective, I enjoyed the futuristic setting and the jargon enhanced the scene although some descriptions felt a little forced. Cleverly the reader is left unsure whether the lead character is male or female.
    9) This crackled with sexiness and action and character interplay but I felt the short wordcount hampered it, as something was missing or left unsaid.
    10) Well this was fun and it shot from the hip. This tale was a modern day Tom Jones, or Alfie, following this irrepressible guy through various bedroom romps, which were sexy and enthusiastic. Great thumbnail sketches drawn of each character.

  4. Wow. There are only 10 authors left and it’s the semi-finals! Isn’t that exciting? In this assignment, there were only 2 instructions: that beginning line and the number of words. That means that us jury members, are now ‘only’ looking at your writing skills, creativity and story line. The passive aggressive comments to the assignment that some of the authors made implicitly with their stories made ma giggle. I once was a contestant, and I totally feel with some of you, that this opening line is not the greatest. But – hey – you have to work with that. And you all did a great job here! But, it is a contest, and I have to give points from 10 to 1. So here are my votes:

    1. The Stranger (2): I like how you introduces a voyeur. That made the story a lot hotter. That said, the plot wasn’t as original as could be. You could have made it so much more exciting by elaborating on that voyeur. Now, it kept me in the dark, waiting for something to happen.

    2. Read to Me (10) Very nice and creative way of using the opening line in a different way. Also very erotic. The tension was very noticeable. Great job!

    3. Stag Beetle (8) Great story line, authentic style and realistic dialogue. I like this a lot!

    4. Cabin Fever (6) I see what you did here! An original way of using the opening line. I like how the author doesn’t take himself so seriously. That gives this story many layers.

    5. A Storm Is Coming (3) This is a nice story, but I wasn’t impressed like with some of the other stories. This has partly to do with some repetition in sentences and structures.

    6. Spelling Lessons (1) I’m truly sorry, but I had a hard time following what was going on. The story was a bit ‘jumpy’ and didn’t flow well. For instance the part where Daemo literally jumped into the story. Certain events seem to happen out of the blue.

    7. Pathetic fallacy (4) A very romantic but sad story. I usually like that, but in this case I didn’t get that sad vibe in the sex scene for some reason, making it seem out of place.

    8. The Waiting Game (7) Finally a SF story! I like it that you didn’t take the obvious route. Kudos for that.

    9. Boat Show (5) I like the story that was told, but not so much the way it was told. Many sentences and paragraphs had the same structure, so it was a bit dull to read.

    10. Always Leave Them Smiling (9) Great writing. The rhythm and the style was very distinctive and original.

  5. The Stranger: I really enjoyed the most erotic part of this story (the observer outside the window). Capturing the excitement of watching someone masturbate to a building orgasm on your part is hard to do, and you’ve done it. I was right there the whole time. The dialogue at the beginning and the end felt trite and forced compared to the middle section. The DD/bg dynamic made it hard for me to believe the newness of having someone watch what he does to her. It was almost as if the middle part was out of a completely different story with a completely different couple. It might have worked better for me if they were a relatively inexperienced couple, one of whom was just discovering the kink of being watched (with the added excitement of being the only one in on the secret of being watched).

    Read to me: this was an excellent snippet of a scene! It’s easy to imagine this kind of interaction as a build up in a longer piece. My one thought throughout is that you need to watch your spelling and grammar. If you’re comfortable, have someone else read it (obviously not someone else in the competition or who is voting) to get a fresh set of eyes on it. There was an instance of “that” when you meant “than” and a few punctuation errors. The meat of the story was solid – I also really enjoyed the difference between what “you” wrote and what Tia was “reading”. It really could have been two different authors. Nicely done!!

    Stag Beetle: the opening paragraph of this gives so much context!! I have a hard time being concise in my writing, so I’m incredibly envious. I appreciate the fuller picture of who I’m reading about. You switch from passive to active voice a few times which throws off where the reader is – am I reading what’s happening or am I experiencing Emily’s memory version of events? I love the “last dance” feeling of this. It’s hard for me to reconcile my reaction to the oral in the bedroom and the infidelity (meaning that Susie had no knowledge and gave no support) and the fact that I have experienced this very thing with almost zero regret. This is personable and relatable – and the desperation between Emily and Rich is hot as hell. As though he knows she’s the hottest fuck he’ll never have again.

    Cabin Fever: I have a great deal of appreciation for playing off of the cliche nature of the prompt. What a challenge indeed to make the start of this sentence become something I want to read! And how funny that this entire scene is as cheesy as his opening line, which he *knows* is cheesy. Almost as though he can’t believe that he’s in one of these Hugh Johnson novels that he cringes at. His analysis of their poor grammar, again that he would find in a Hugh novel, is hilarious. I really enjoyed the meta in this story.

    A Storm Is Coming: as silly as this sounds, I was distracted by the weather. It seems to be both freezing and thundering, which I’ve never experienced. I do love the girlish flirty anxious way that Lisa thinks about Peter. The description of his touching her was deliberate and evocative. I wish that the wrap up to this scene happened a little sooner so that the end didn’t feel like such a jolted stop, but overall a very nice story.

    Spelling Lessons: to start, I love a good punny title. +1 there. The details of what they’re wearing turned me off for some reason. I began picturing Hot Topic “wiccans” that change their names to Fyre and Wolfbane or something. I’m not sure that the story needed such strong details (combat boots, skull purse, Udjat tattoo, etc) – the more there were, the more the image felt forced. I also don’t believe a lot of the dialogue. It feels more like someone reading a text message out loud (the “haha” and “or whatever”, specifically).

    Pathetic Fallacy: I loved every word of this. Progression with context, the break-up sex that only comes when you’re reaching so far out that you come right back to the beginning of whatever you had. I also liked that, while this scene included sex, it wasn’t about them having sex. It was just another action point, same as having the car fixed or making dinner. I liked this one very much.

    The Waiting Game: another punny title, but you don’t know until the end! I like that this is a story where “cabin” refers to the cabin of an aircraft rather than a structure in the woods. As a reader, I was leaning into their kisses and moans, and I was jolted back out of the moment as they were. The story totally enveloped me. Brilliant.

    Boat Show: I wasn’t sure about this story until they got back to the room (again a different use of the word “cabin”!). The pieces in the piano bar didn’t seem to add much to the story that couldn’t have been captured in a few sentences describing how Noah got back to the room in the first place, leaving more time to explore Finn watching Georgie and Noah (maybe joining in?).

    Always leave them smiling: this felt like a short film to me. The cuts and scenes are easy to imagine, as is the passing of time. Some of the language seemed affected and unpleasant, but as I learned more about Johnny I realized it was perfect for him. The sex acts in this erotica, though, aren’t a turn on because he is so awful. This seems more like a scene in a larger dramatic novel or mystery that happens to have a bit of sex suggested in it than true erotica.

  6. I enjoyed reading through all of these so much! You are all so talented and whilst some stories weren’t as much to my taste, they were all expertly written.

    1. You are a very talented writer whose skills with words I really admire. The way you wrote this story made my heart race, but I didn’t really like the idea. Her reaction just seemed completely unbelievable, which I found too distracting.

    2. After the comment about her mum not letting her read erotica, I felt unsure of her age. It made it a very uncomfortable read from then on. I probably would have had a completely different opinion of the story if it wasn’t for that one remark.

    3. Voted! Loved it! You came up with such believable characters and created so much story withing a limited word count. I found myself invested in whether they got together or not. Excellent writing!

    4. Voted! Parts were a bit cliche and predictable, but I absolutely loved it anyway! Overall it was a really unique idea with a great main character.

    5. Voted! This was steamy as hell! I desperately wanted to read more. I will admit that I didn’t think there was an interesting story there, but I voted for it anyway as it was the most arousing for me to read.

    6. I really like the idea you had, it just didn’t work for me. I think partly because the speech didn’t seem natural.

    7. I liked this a lot as it seemed so real, like something that would genuinely happen. I honestly couldn’t fault it, it just didn’t wow me as much as others.

    8. There didn’t seem to be much of a story with this. Where were they? Why were they there? Who are they? And what is their relationship to each other? I got the impression this was a good idea, but perhaps you were rushing to meet the deadline?

    9. I thought it was clever how you thought to use a ship’s cabin and you definitely came up with a sexy scenario! You managed to fit a lot of story into the word count too. Brilliant writing!

    10. I had a bit of a love/dislike relationship with this one. I absolutely loved the character and your unique way of writing, but I felt like there were bits of the story missing. I do think that is more down to limited word count than your talents as a writer though.

  7. Well things are really hotting up now and judging this round really was damn tricky. I found picking the top 3 particularly hard and if Marie allowed me I would have given all 3 ten points but sadly that is not allowed so after much deliberation this was my decision

    20) Read to Me (10 points)
    I think this is as hot as hell. They don’t even touch each other and yet the sexual chemistry between them is electric. I found myself holding my breath as she read to him as I felt her embarrassment and arousal and the ending with her knowing she has aroused him made me grin happily. I really like how you used to the prompt not going with the obvious but setting it somewhere completely different.

    10) Always leave them smiling (9 points)
    This is absolutely excellent writing. I love how his passion for books is woven into the story and how that reflects on the person he is. Yes he is a bigamist and yet I found myself liking him. He clearly loves his wives very much. This is such punchy writing and there are so many great lines in this that I can’t possibly pick them all out but this
    “Yes, oh yes,” she shrieked, giving me such an astounding blow job I wished I could’ve proposed twice.
    It just says so very much in such a short sentence and made me want to suck cock.

    6) Spelling Lessons (8 points)
    Like this one a lot. Very inventive. When he commented about being invited in I actually thought he was going to turn out to be a vampire so what did happened was a surprise but it a good one.

    3) Stag Beetle (7 points)
    Really like this one. Excellent story telling with well fleshed out characters that totally felt believable There is great chemistry between these two which gradually emerges as the story carries on and the sex between them is hot and you did a good job with the ending and showing her vulnerability in this situation.

    1) The Stranger (6 points)
    This is super creepy. The thought of suddenly realizing someone is watching you and not being able to convey that to your partner is both terrifying and oddly exciting too. The set up was not hugely subtle though with the reference to the lack of curtains. I think you could have built that fear/tension a little better by being less direct. Also there are very big blocks of text that actually make this a little hard to read. Maybe it is a formatting issue but some of the paragraphs seem super long.

    7) Pathetic fallacy (5 points)
    Do cabins in the woods have cellars? Maybe that is me just being overly picky but that line did jar me out of the story a little bit as it just didn’t feel accurate. Regardless this is good writing. I could totally feel the unhappy tension between them and the sadness but it didn’t really turn me on at all as it just made me feel sad for them.

    5) A Storm is Coming (4 points)
    It’s a nice story but it didn’t really move me and I didn’t feel much connection with or investment in the characters. The moment she decided to go to his room it was fairly obvious what was going to happen.

    4) Cabin Fever (3 points)
    I found this story a little disjointed and there are just some bits that confused me like the reference to the twins. I mean I get that is a book that the other guy wrote but it is just kind of thrown in there. Also Simon, well I just didn’t like him. He came across as both a bit pompous and a little bit misogynistic also the wank seemed very perfunctory on his part and it wasn’t particularly sexy to read about.

    9) Boat Show ( 2 points)
    Well done for being inventive with the cabin. However I didn’t find myself warming to this story. Georgie seems almost slightly bullying towards Finn, certainly domineering and the person who joins them seems almost incidentals to the story, it might as well have been a dildo she fucked herself with in front of Finn.

    8) The Waiting Game
    Well done for taking your cabin, well, out of this world. This was a fun little story but I feel like maybe at this point in the competition you need something more than that. You had a good word count and I think you have only used 500ish of them. There is nothing wrong with that but if you are going to go short then it needs to pack a punch and this story doesn’t really do that.

  8. 1) The Stranger
    I love that they are being watched by a stranger, even though I know I would freak out so much when that happens that I wouldn’t be able to have sex at all. It does however add another dimension to this story. Well done for keeping it a bit creepy and sexy.

    2) Read to Me
    Oh god this is hot and sexy. I found myself holding my breath at times, waiting for what would happen next. Fabulous story, dripping with eroticism and lust!

    3) Stag Beetle
    This story is brilliant. The longing between Emily and Rich is palpable, but as a reader I could also ‘feel’ that Rich has to marry someone ‘safe’ like Susie. Adding the bit of information about the stag beetles totally fits the story, and the last sentence is a perfect one to end with. Brilliant story!

    4) Cabin Fever
    The moment I read “We’ll be very grateful”, I had a feeling the two girls have knocked on the wrong door. Even so, I enjoyed reading the rest of the story, and smiled at the note they left behind.

    5) A Storm Is Coming
    This story has sexiness from beginning to end, and the image of ‘ his thick cock laying on his thigh’ is just yummy!

    6) Spelling Lessons
    It’s always wonderful to see what stories are sparked by a few simple, almost uninteresting words to start it by. You have done well with this one, writing an ‘out of the box’ story.

    7) Pathetic fallacy
    In the first couple of paragraphs this story drew me in completely and I really like that you haven’t given them a happy ever after ending. The ending is sad, but realistic, and even the last fuck is realistic, and yes, sad too. I love this story!

    8) The Waiting Game
    I think this is the first time in the Smut Marathon that someone combined erotica with sci-fi (I might be mistaken though), and I love it. Even though you didn’t nearly use all the words, the story is good. I found myself reading and wondering if the first person character is male or female and actually like that I don’t know, despite the use of ‘EVA suit’. I would love to read the longer version of this story.

    9) Boat Show
    I like that this plays off on a ship, and I like the natural way the story advance to the sex scene, which in my opinion is hot and sexy with Finn watching and remembering! And maybe that last sentence holds some promise of fun between Georgie and Finn too.

    10) Always Leave Them Smiling
    This story made me smile. I like how you have used the prompt, and kept his love for books as a red line throughout your story. The way you wrote this also fits the time setting you have chosen. I would only have wanted to see the erotic scenes a bit hotter than they are now, but this is a great story. Well done!

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