Saturday, May 9, 2015

Free smut for mothers...and others!

What does mom want? Smut! When does she want it? For Mother's Day!

My humble Mother's Day offering is below. A short story titled Earth from my most recent short story collection Lucky Streak. All stories previously unpublished, so this is the first time this baby's been posted online.

Happy Mother's Day to all you moms, aunts, grandmas, honorary aunts, baby sitters, daycare workers and anyone who has touched the life of a child and offered love, caring, and support. I salute you!

XOXO
Sommer



Earth

The summer we put in our box garden, I became fixated with earth. The smell of it after a heavy summer thunderstorm, the damp feel of it under my bare feet when the morning dew was still fresh, the way it provided life. Clark could find me outside at almost any time of day, clearing weeds, shoving my fingers into the dense, rich dirt, fiddling with our burgeoning garden.

“A man could get a little jealous,” he teased. “The way you’ve fixated on this box of dirt.”

“It’s also important to me because we did it together,” I said. “We got out here with pieces of wood, screws, mulch and top soil. We made something,” I said, softly, staking up a tomato bush that had seemed to triple in size overnight.

He squatted down and kissed me. “True. Very true.” There, in the back of the property, hidden by sprawling plants, he slipped his hand inside my tee and rolled my nipple between his thumb and finger, making it stand on end.

I made a soft sound and let my eyes drift shut, the feel of damp earth beneath my knees ramping up my desire. The simple pleasure of tending something coupled with being tended to by Clark was overwhelming.

He sat back on his haunches and watched my face. “I think the garden has some effect on you. Maybe you’re turning into a pixie. An earth sprite. Maybe it’s magical.” He winked.

I shook my head, blushing. “You’re just giving me a hard time.”

He glanced around, though, back there on our property, there was nothing to see but us. Clark tugged the tee neck out and stretched it down. My breast popped free, and he leaned in to suck it hard. The tight knot of sensitive flesh grew even tighter, and the pleasure he delivered with fast swipes of his tongue created a chain reaction, rushing from nipple to chest, chest to belly, belly to pelvis. My insides contracted wetly, and that pleasure seemed to pool in my pussy.

I could feel that twin spots of color stood out on my cheeks. When he ran his finger across one cheekbone it was confirmed.

“I have to go to work, now. But how about you meet me in the garden after dinner, pixie? This magical garden that has you so transfixed?”

I laughed, but excitement flared deep inside me. I wiggled just a little, feeling the soil beneath my knees give with damp abandon.

“I’m not kidding,” he said, tilting my head up so I could meet his eyes.

I looked into those big blue eyes and saw he was dead serious. I nodded instantly. Yes, fucking in the box garden, earth beneath me, was exactly what I wanted. I hadn’t known I wanted it until he’d mentioned it, but it was out, now, and the craving was very real.

“Okay,” I said, finally. “Yes.”

Clark gathered my long red hair up in a messy knot and used it as a lead to pull me in for another kiss. “I plan to do all kinds of salty things to you out here. Just you wait and see.”

And wait I did. All day. Eagerly. For his extra-long work day to end and the evening to begin.
Clark called at lunch. “How are you?”

“I’m good.” My mind had been racing all day. Constantly fast forwarding to us out there, in the growing darkness, together. I could, if I shut my eyes and grew still, smell damp dirt and lush green vegetation. And just the thought of him taking me out there where we’d worked side by side with tools and mulch and laughed…well, it was intoxicating.

“Yeah? You sound a bit distracted.”

“I am,” I said in a hushed voice.

“By what?”

“Don’t play innocent with me,” I laughed. “You know.”

His voice lowered, and I could picture him leaning in to whisper into his cell phone. “About me fucking you in the garden? About me driving my cock into you? About tomato bushes and squash blossoms brushing against your hair and against the soles of your feet?”

My tongue became sealed to the roof of my mouth. I could barely process his words through the arousal, let alone speak.

After a moment, Clark said, “Are you not speaking to me?”

“I am. I am, yes. I was just thinking…”

“About?”

He knew damn well, but him forcing me to say it made the anticipation that much worse—that much sweeter.

“About what you said.”

“Which was what?” he asked, putting just enough steel in his voice to trigger a shiver skittering along my spine.

I shook slightly, glad no one was there to see me, and said in a breathy voice, “You fucking me in the garden.”

“Good girl. I’ll be home a bit late, but you be sure to ready for me, yeah?”

“Yeah,” I said. Little did he know, I was counting the minutes. Or maybe he did know. It was turning out to be the longest day of my life.

I found myself holding my breath as the dinner hour passed, and I picked at a salad. My heart trip-hammered, and I wondered what to wear. That thought made me laugh. Did it matter what I wore if he was simply going to take it off? Should I wear gardening clothes? It didn’t seem very sexy, but it sure as hell would work. Or should I wear something sensual? Something I was willing to part with. Because big smears of earth and mulch were not going to come out of the more delicate things I owned.

I had about twenty minutes before Clark arrived, and I suddenly decided to go out there nude. Nude would work. Nude wouldn’t hold onto dirt and pollen. Nude was perfect.

I was half way out the back door in just a dressing gown, just to cover me until I got to the back of the yard, adrenaline making my limbs heavy and my head light when I heard him call out. His voice a deep note in our quiet house. I froze, my hand on the slider door, like the proverbial deer in headlights.

“Zarra?”

I held the door half-open with a shaking hand. As soon as I moved it, he’d hear. He didn’t see me in here in the sunroom. The darkness was darker in the addition to our living room. The French doors threw the light. It was the rabbit hole, Clark joked. You could look in the sunroom, and depending on natural illumination, it was impossible to tell if something in there was looking back.

I panicked, shoved the door, and it let out its signature squeal-rasp. I saw him in the next room, spotlighted by the floor lamps. His grin was wolfish, a predator scenting his prey. He tugged his tie loose, flipped off his shoes and whipped off his socks. I stayed there one moment longer, stomach swirling with a flock of butterflies. I bolted.

“Here I come, pixie!” he yelled.

A soft cry burst from me, and I ran faster. My feet flew through dense green grass that was just beginning to grow damp.

“You can’t run from me,” he said, and I let out a squeal. I wasn’t sure if I was going to laugh or cry. I had expected sex in the garden but not some god Pan on a rampage scenario. My blood was up, my feet fast, my pulse pounding.

When he caught up with me, I damn near came when he captured me in his arms.

“There she is. My magical, little being. And what’s this? What’s this bit of gossamer she wears?”

He whipped off my dressing gown and left me chilled and bare, shivering before him. Spectacularly. Gloriously. Nude.

Clark trapped me in his embrace, carrying me over the threshold of the box garden like a new bride. The darkness was full on now. Just a silvery spotlight supplied by the light of a fat, nearly-full moon.
He laid me down in the largest clearing, the garden soil licking at my back. He yanked off his tie and bound my wrists. Then he began to undress, flinging his good work clothes over his back.

“Your suit!” I managed.

“My suit will come clean. Our cleaners work magic.” Then he was on me. Kneeling there in the leaves and shoots, spreading my thighs and putting his lips to my sex. His tongue nudged my outer pussy lips, outlining my need with his subtle stroke. I thrust up from under him, wanting more. Desperate. Greedy.

Clark sucked my clitoris hard. He painted it over and over with the tip of his tongue. He pushed his big fingers inside me and expertly prodded my G-spot until the coupling of mouth and fingers forced me to surrender to my orgasm.

I came, twisting on the ground, my hands bound by his silken gray tie.

“There she is,” he said. “My woodland spirit.” He kissed my belly, and my muscles quivered.

He hiked my hips up in his big hands and pushed his cock to my drenched slit. I gasped, my body writhing, getting dirty—so damn dirty.

Clark paused long enough to watch me struggle against my own pleasure, then thrust into me hard and fast. I groaned, and he followed suit. The base of his cock kissing my already tender clit. He held me there, captured in his grip, and drove into me over and over until I was begging. Mindlessly begging for him to give me another climax. Another peak to climb only to tumble down.

He grunted, very much the beast in the forest, and it sent a thrill straight down the core of me. His hips moved back and forth, back and forth, until I was clasping my fingers together inside the coil of his tie. Every thrust drove me higher, closer—reaching for that coveted release. I was panting like some cornered animal, and the goodness that soaked my limbs and my soul was overwhelming. Leaves tangled in my hair, my foot brushed a fat, wet stem.

I arched up, trying to loop my tied wrists around his neck. He let me, covered me with his body and pumped into me until I came a second time, saying softly, “Yes. Yessss…”

“Yes,” he agreed. He bent over me and suckled my nipple. His teeth made the next assault, tugging that bit of flesh out as far as it would go. The brief spark of pain augmented my orgasm, causing it to curl out long and sparkling in the darkness behind my closed eyelids.

“So pretty,” he said. “So pretty, this creature I captured.”

I squeezed my internal muscles around him, knowing that if he just gave me another minute, another waggle of his trim hips, I’d come again. He moved to the other nipple and delivered the same, sweet punishment. He did that thing with his hips, then thrust into me, hard and deep, repeatedly.

“Oh!” I said, in a silly, girly voice. “Oh!”

I came again. This one short but brutally lovely.

He roared into the darkness and came, his big body shaking over me, his fingers caught up like thorns in my hair.

When my breath came back, I found myself laughing. The laughter had a more musical quality than my normal sounds of amusement.

“What is it, then?” he asked, kissing my shoulder, pushing against me. His soft cock was still in me, and I was glad the contact remained.

“I think you’re right. The garden is magic. I might be magic.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” he said, nuzzling me again. His beastly qualities having faded to tame attentions. “You are most definitely magic.”

Earth and twelve other all new stories can be found in Lucky Streak from Excessica.

1 comment:

  1. Shoot! I knew I was behind on my Sommer reading (lmao - get it - wink wink). Now I HAVE to get to it. And Pray for Rain...and.. I'm sure there's others...

    ReplyDelete

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