Tolle
The young man took a deep breath. Who the hell could this be, pounding on his door at this time of night? Didn’t they know how busy he was? “I swear,” he grumbled, running a hand through his brown curls, “if you’re not naked and drunk…”
His hand fumbled against the wall as he walked in the dark, fingers brushing against a light switch.
He blinked his eyes, hand running down his face as he grew accustomed to the light. Inhaling a large breath, he sighed as one who has woken fro ma deep sleep in an early morning.
As the banging continued, the young man made his way down the stairs, lights turning on as he passed from hall to hall.
Eventually, he found himself before the large, varnished, walnut door.
Lazily, his hand drifted up to turn the key in the lock and open the door. There he saw her: Aqua eyes, short brown hair, the same clothes she’d been wearing earlier that night, though now they were ruffled and messed up. “Miri?” he asked, “What are you doing here?” Her eyes carried their familiar glaze, and her grin said it all. “You’ve being drinking, haven’t you.”
Miri’s grin widened. “Maybe a little,” she laughed.
“Pick anyone up?”
“No takers, so I thought I’d come here.”
The young man glanced behind him at the clock. It was almost four in the morning. “No takers, huh? Can’t imagine why.”
Miri laughed again, an infectous sound that soon had the young man smiling as well.
“You may as well come in.” Letting loose a short giggle, the girl brushed past him and entered the hall.
“Tolle….”
“What?”
“It’s so bright in here. Like a fairy.”
“Fairy?” the brunette asked, shaking his head. Sure, she’d been drinking alright, and she’d had more than a few by the sound of it. “And it’s bright because all the bloody lights are on.” He closed the door, turning the cheap, aluminium key in a clockwise direction.
“Locking me in?”
Tolle smirked. Turning to face the girl, he approached her.
“You’ve got nowhere to go, Miri. What now?”
The girl’s grin widened, her eyes meeting tolle’s, teeth exposed. Like a predator of the savannah, she pounced.
Lips locking onto those of the young man, Miriallia forced her tongue into his mouth, making her intent clear from the start. One hand glided up his back, coming to grasp tightly at the brunet curls on the back of Tolle’s head, and walking backwards through the familiar layout, she guided him over to the living room sofa, onto which they both collapsed in an ungraceful heap.
The fall separated the join of their faces, and Tolle took his opportunity to speak. “Miri, do you really want to do this here?”
The girl giggled. “Do what, silly?” she teased, feigning ignorance in her common way that drove the young man mad.
“You started this,” Tolle replied. “You know where this is going. Don’t you want to go up to the bedroom?”
“Come on, Tolle. You’re not going to make me go up all those stairs, are you?”
The brunet smirked, pulling the girl onto him. “You’re so lazy,” he remarked, his voice low and deep.
Miriallia giggled, leaning down to meet the young man’s lips, she invaded his warmth once more, her tongue gliding over his, repositioning herself so that she straddled Tolle, grinding against him smoothly, like components in a well-oiled machine. “Look who’s talking,” she slyly retorted, breaking the kiss only long enough to speak, before fervently devouring him once again, eliciting a small groan of approval from below.
Between the miniskirt that had ridden up to her waist and the boxer shorts that Tolle must have been sleeping in, there wasn’t much between their joined crotches. The satin of Tolle’s shorts, and the white fabric of Miriallia’s panties didn’t offer much padding, so the brunette was able to feel the fruits of her labour.
She could easily feel the young man’s excitement mature, feel his growing hardness press against her.
Miriallia sat up strait, still straddling her boyfriend, still grinding against him in slow, circular, hypnotic rhythm. Staring lustily down into his eyes, the brunette shed her jacket, the heavy garment falling to a heap on the floor behind them.
Arms crossed over her abdomen, hands gripping the hem of her orange t-shirt. That, was the next to go.
Hands on Tolle’s shoulders, she slowly trailed them down, stopping at the young man’s nipples, teasing them through his t-shirt before they continued on their way down.
Slipping her fingers beneath the fabric, she slowly lifted the t-shirt.
Like a curtain rising on a stage, the t-shirt was gradually raised, inch by inch, revealing more of the young mans’s flat, smooth, pale stomach.
Tolle sat up, bare skin of his abdomen pressing flat against that of the aqua eyed seductress straddling his lap.
Miriallia took the opertunity to lift the shirt up and over his head,as though he were a child, and she his perverse mother. Grin widening, she went with the unexpected inspiration.
“Be a good boy,” she cooed, as though talking to a nursling, “and let mother undress you.
Tolle’s muffled complaint distracted the grinning brunette from her thoughts. She tugged the shirt harder.
“Hm,” She replied. “I think it’s stuck.”
“I know it’s fucking stuck! Get it off me!” His threat lost some effectiveness, muffled as it was by the t-shirt.
“Aw, is the wittle boy in a bad mood?” the girl teased. “Such naughty language for such a good boy.” Miriallia knelt over the young man and with one hand, gripped the throbbing hardness through the soft satin of his shorts. “So big and hard for such a little boy,” she continued in her high pitched, cooing, baby talk. “He must really love his mother.”
“Would you cat that out and get this shirt off my head?” Tolle replied, attempting to remove the garment for himself.
“The little boy is so flustered. You’ve become so hot and bothered, haven’t you?” She lay her child down on the sofa, still perched above him and began gently stroking his shaft through his soft, smooth underwear. Her movements were slow, gentle, and slight. So gentle, barely anything at all, but she managed to elicit a soft moan from the boy. “Would you like that?”
At Tolle’s lack of response, Miriallia stopped the movements of her hand, causing him to groan in protest.
“Would you?”
“Do we have to do this?” the boy asked, finally managing to dislodge red face from the t-shirt and throwing it to the ground.
“I told you you’d get a big head.”
“I’m a big boy,” Tolle remarked, rolling his eyes.
“That’s right.” Miriallia tightened her grip on the brunet’s warm, seven inch member. “Such a big boy. Just like his daddy.”
“Miri,” he pleaded.
“So big. What a dirty boy you are, getting so excited in front of your mother. Naughty boy. How dare you let your dick get so hard in your mother’s hand.”
“Miri,” the boy groaned.
“Say you’re sorry.”
“No.”
“Tolle, apologise right now.” She tightened her grip, firmly squeezing the appendage. “Apologise for your bad behaviour. Say you’re sorry for being so dirty. Say you’re sorry and…” the girl’s smirk made one more appearance. “And I’ll kiss it better.”
Tolle was silent. He didn’t even make a sound at the girl’s abuse of his now painfully engorged organ.
Miriallia stroked the appendage and watched Tolle’s expression soften, Once, twice, and then she stopped.
“If you’re going to be stubborn,” she demanded, I’ll leave, and you can take care of your own booboos.” She released him and stood to her feet.
“No!,” Tolle complained. “Okay, I’ll do it.”
“Go on then, say it.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Why are you sorry?” Miriallia stood, dressed only in a white bra and miniskirt. She leaned down over him. The boy whimpered as she once again claimed in her hand what was hers.
Tolle sighed. Resigned, he submissively complied. “I’ve been a bad boy.” Miriallia grinned, a glint of evil sparkling unnaturally in her bright blue eyes.
“Why are you a bad boy? What did you do?”
“Miri, please, do we have to do this? It’s embarrassing.”
“Say it!”
“I…” Blushing, he submitted. “I’m sorry for getting hard in my mother’s hand. I’m sorry for being such a sick, dirty bastard. I’m sorry that my mother gave me an erection, but you gotta admit,” smirking, Tolle’s tone dropped. “She’s pretty fucking hot. Aand if you forgive me, I’d love you to kiss it better.”
“Who? Who am I?”
“You know.”
“Say my name.” Miriallia’s devious smirk widened. “Call me you mother. Tell me what you want, you sick bastard. Tell me you want your mother to fuck your brains out.”
“I want you. I want release. I want you to suck me dry and swallow it down. Drink me like a yardstick.”
“You didn’t say my name, Tolle.”
Tolle smirked, the lustful deviance now spreading. “Fine, I’ll say it. Mom, suck my dick.”
“Such naughty language, but why so formal? Why can’t you call me something a little more intimate, huh? Maybe you’d rather have a bedtime story?”
“I don’t want a story, Mama, I want you. I want to shove this big baby dick of mine in your mouth and let me feed you. Suckle from your little boy’s dick the way he suckles from your teat.” Tolle grabbed the brunette by her arms and pulled her down onto him. If she wanted to play, that was fine. He’d play Miri’s messed up games. “I wanna fuck you, mommy.” He spoke in a low tone. “I want to cum inside you and make you a grandma.”
“That’s better. Now, let mother take care of you.” Her fingers were down at her boy’s waist, and with one swift, fluid movement, his shorts were off.
XX
So, what do you think? I don’t have much practice writing sex scenes so I’m really looking for feedback. This wasn’t technically my first lemon, but it was my first consensual one. The other two involved underage, interspecies, bondage rape (Trial of the Flesh) so, you know, it didn’t matter so much if nobody got aroused. It was supposed to be horrifying. In this case though, I wanted to try something short and sweet, tame and simple. I don’t think it worked, and I wound up with an insane incest role-play.
Between me and Miriallia, I don’t think we have what it takes to be tame and innocent. I’m just not sure how to write vanilla stuff. What can I say? I’m a degenerate.
By the way, I’ve started drafting chapter 10. It should be up soon, and it’ll shift the focus back to Lacus.
mjrobertson333 