Ghost Story

[pre-story]So, I wanted to get this out in time for Halloween, but writer's block is a bitch, so here we are. I wanted to write something about a exhibition with a ghost, and one of the ghosts that came to mind was Danny Phantom... The rest kinda happened. I got stuck for like a WEEK on the climax, I don't know why... Anyways, I hope you enjoy! I may continue it at some point if there's a demand for it.

As always, if you like what you see, [redacted][/pre-story]

Ghost Story “Ugh, just shut up, Manson!” Star insisted, scowling and stamping her foot on the wet tile floor of the girl’s locker room shower, a gesture that would have been more… impactful, were the little blonde girl not completely naked, her lithe cheerleader body glistening wet, perky, hand-filling breasts barely jiggling at the movement.

“No, I’m serious!” Sam rebutted as her hands roamed her teenage body, washing away a layer of soap. The raven-haired goth girl was in a rare makeup-free moment, her usual dark eyeshadow and purple lipstick washed away, her skin naturally pale and smooth. Junior and senior years had been kind to her, while she wasn’t as skinny as the cheerleaders around her, one last growth spurt had filled her out in all the right places. Her breasts grew from palm-filling mounds to hand-overflowing melons, like ripe oranges, crowned with dusky pink nipples pierced through with gleaming silver studs. A silver ring gleamed in her bellybutton, drawing the eye down to her slender waist, and another gleam further down brought it to her smooth-shaven lower lips where another ring looped through her hood. She turned around, letting the shower spray down her back, cascading down her spine and running down between the mounds of her juicy ass.

“All this ghost stuff happening around town, around the school, even, I’d be surprised it hasn’t happened yet!” She continued, ignoring Star’s objections. “Think about it… They can go through walls, they can turn invisible… How would you even know if one was right here, watching us?” She asked.

Reunited, P. 1

[pre-story]I decided to try and write something halloweeny, and with a little help, I came up with this idea. Vampire meets succubus, with an interesting twist! No sex in this part, got carried away with the setup bits, as usual. Not sure if I'll end up continuing this at this point, it's well past Halloween and I got actual commissions to work on now... 
As always, if you like what you see [redacted] Anyways, enjoy![/pre-story]

Reunited, Part 1

He was looking. Good. Without looking at him, Aleksandria shifted on her stool, her long, shapely, legs uncrossing. Black leather knee-high platform boots swung out, her black, thigh-high stockings parting for just a moment, granting just the barest glimpse of the pale, flawless flesh above them, not quite hidden beneath a short, black-on-gray pleated schoolgirl skirt. It lasted only a moment, before she casually swung the other foot up and crossed them the other way. But any trollop could pull off the Basic Instinct tease. Aleksandria was an artist. While his eyes were still on her, she rolled her spine, drawing his eyes up as her slim, corseted midsection pulled against the laces of her top. The movement continued, pushing her chest out to thrust the gloriously full, pale mounds, already presented deliciously by the corset to even greater prominence, the silver charm dangling off her necklace hanging just above the deep valley of her cleavage. Then, the finisher. Her glossy black-painted lips quirked at the corner, a subtle smirk, and she turned her crimson eyes to meet his. Her face was an image of porcelain perfection, pale, flawless, skin with a photoshoot-ready application of dark makeup that made her red eyes smolder. Not a single strand of long, straight, silky black hair was out of place as she turned to look squarely at him, holding his gaze, as she raised a hand, her fingernails painted black, and crooked her finger, gesturing him closer. He was hooked.

He rose from his seat and walked over, trying so hard to look cool and disinterested while still moving as quickly as possible. He was mostly unremarkable, a typical twenty-something goth boy dressed up in a hot topic halloween costume. Easy prey. Her tongue flicked over the points of her fangs inside her mouth. Another night, another horny boy, another easy meal, another day in the eternal life of a vampire… Honestly, the goth boys were getting boring, but unfortunately, there were only so many ‘scenes’ where incredibly-pale skin and red eyes didn’t seem that out of place. Obediently, her evening meal settled in to sit down on the empty bar stool next to her, and she turned to face him.

As she opened her mouth to speak, a new voice suddenly cut her off, bright and girlish and cheery, the sound alone making her bristle like she’d just heard nails on a chalkboard. “Hey there, stud~! Buy a girl a drink?” It asked, and suddenly her prey wasn’t looking at her, he was looking at the slut that suddenly plopped down onto the bar stool on the opposite side. Aleksandria narrowed her eyes.

Happy Birthday, Ch. 4

[redacted]

Chapter 4: The Triplets, Part 1

John pulled his hips back, drawing a weak moan from the barely-conscious Aunt Christina as his flared, fist-sized head tugged at the entrance to her womb, the wall of muscle reluctant to release the fearsome tool. Her walls gripped so tight his movements dragged her upraised hips back a few inches before the pull became too much and the fat knob pulled free. He kept pulling, and pulling, and pulling, drawing inch after inch after inch of thick, glistening, steel-hard cock from his aunt’s depths. He could feel all four of his cousins staring in awe and hunger as he unsheathed his mighty weapon, and as the gleaming crown pulled free with soft, wet pop, his aunt’s overstuffed pussy twitched, a stream of white-hot cream pouring out of her like a faucet. His member sprang up once it was free, slapping against his rippling abs once before it settled into place, thrusting proudly from his hips, almost a half-yard of cum-and-nectar slick, pussy-wrecking, never-softening, toe-curling studly incestuous COCK, throbbing angrily in midair, its gleaming crown swollen red like a mouth-wateringly ripe apple. 

[Musing] Lien's Adventures Part 4: Bitter

[pre-story]Last musing of the month is another installment of Lien's Adventures! Lien visits and old flame, and things quickly get heated! Clickbait aside, though, there's no actual sex in this one, just a fight scene I enjoyed writing way too much to stop, with some relationship-establishing dialogue in there. Next time, though, I can get straight to the fun stuff.
I always worry when I post stuff that isn't at least 50% sex. I figure you guys are here for the smut, after all, so I try to deliver that. But then, I suppose stuff like this is just going to happen from time to time, and stressing myself out over it isn't going to do anyone any good. Inspiration is a fickle mistress.
Anyways, I hope you enjoy!
As always, if you like what you see [redacted][/pre-story]

When you ask a mainlander to describe a pandaren, they usually use words like ‘honorable’, ‘friendly’, ‘wise’ or ‘fat’. Rarely is ‘intimidating’ on the list. Kenneth, however, was learning the hard way that it was very appropriate, at least, when Cheng Stoutbarrel, honored brewmaster and his boss, loomed over him with a fire burning in his eyes. The pandaren man’s massive bulk, impressive height, and broad, powerful shoulders were plenty intimidating on their own. But add to that the man’s legendary status and position, his sheer presence, and the suddenly-clear memory of that one time he punched a hole in an oak barrel, and they all combined to completely overwhelm the smaller human. Kenneth flattened himself against the wall, shrinking away from the brewmaster’s infamous wrath. “I- I’m sorry, sir, I-”

“YOU WHAT?!” Cheng demanded with a mighty roar, cutting off Kenneth’s stammering apology. “YOU DIDN’T FUCKING THINK, THAT’S WHAT! LOOK AT THIS!” He commanded, gesturing wildly at a nearby keg,half-buried in a mound of rapidly-expanding foam, more and more pouring out of the open tap-hole. “IT’S FUCKING RUINED! I CAN’T FUCKING SERVE THIS SHIT! OM NOM, DID YOU EVEN LOOK AT WHAT YOU WERE ADDING? ARE YOU FUCKING BLIND?” He bellowed, lapsing into Pandaren for a moment to properly express his fury. “GET THE FUCK OUT! GET OUT OF MY BREWERY! YOU’RE FUCKING FIRED!”

As Kenneth broke down crying, a new voice called out from behind the furious pandaren. “Om nom, Chug, still got that temper, huh?”

[Musing] The Tale of Mirabel and Erik the Pure, P.2

[pre-story]The conclusion to the patron-requested story of a lovely angel and her long-lost mortal love in paradise! Not much to say on this one, so just enjoy! 
As always, if you like what you see, [redacted][/pre-story]

Mirabel stood there, nude. She was a vision of angelic perfection, literally and figuratively. Her smooth, pale skin was devoid of even the smallest of blemishes, her face was soft and kind, her cheeks bearing a rosy flush, her full lips naturally pink, her features framed by long, wavy golden hair and lit by the golden glow of the halo hovering just inches over her head. Her body was equally divine, an hourglass figure, curves that even the most beautiful of mortal women would envy, but not so exaggerated they looked unnatural. Her breasts were perfect, supple mounds the size of oranges that sat proudly on her chest, riding high without the slightest hint of sag, with the unmistakable shape and softness of natural breasts. Her silhouette tapered in at the waist, her stomach smooth and flat, with just the faintest hint of healthy tone beneath it, then flared out into generous, rounded hips that in turn tapered down to shapely thighs, the perfect blend of firm muscle and soft flesh. Between those thighs laid the promised land, her womanhood, a small patch of golden cotton candy fuzz on her pubic bone her only body hair, her outer lips modestly closed, but still flushed rosy-pink, swollen and glistening with desire. Behind her, her glorious wings were half-spread, their neatly-groomed feathers so bright white they almost seemed to glow.

Erik, still on his knees in the seemingly endless field of flowers, could only stare up at her body with blatant awe. She was… divine. That was only word that could possibly describe her. There was a moment of silence as his gaze drank in her beauty, marvelling at every inch of her like he was studying a work of art. Mirabel smiled, softly. “You can do more than just look, you know. Touch me.” She urged, her musical voice taking on a sultry quality.

[Musing] The Pillar of Glory

[pre-story]Another musing! So, odd origin story for this idea. I was having a discussion about what sort of materials a fantasy sex toy would be made of, and then somebody mentioned dragon bone, and then I made a pun, and then I started to really think about it and ideas started forming... So, I have three fantasy sex toy ideas to write about now, and this is the first.
On the actual execution of the idea... I'm not proud of this one, I admit. Mistakes were made. If I hadn't fallen so in love with the idea of starting with the dance, I probably could have started with her being led down into the pyramid and finished this thing in one part. But then I got here, and I'm already behind schedule and adding a sex scene would be another thousand words at least and rewriting it would take even longer... I am definitely going to learn from this in the future, but for now, have part one.
As always, if you like what you see, [redacted][/pre-story]

Papan bit her lip nervously as the stood at the foot of the towering staircase leading up to the peak of the tiered pyramid of Xochikama, fingers gripping tight at the edges of the shroud draped over her shoulders, holding it tightly closed. The fabric was itchy on her skin, and she was soaked in sweat, but it was the only thing shielding her body from the gaze of the gathered crowd. Elder Sister Nenetl laid a hand on her shroud-covered shoulder, and she jolted, head whipping around to look. The elder sister smiled, reassuringly. “Remember, you aren’t performing for them. You’re performing for HIM.” She reminded, looking toward the peak of the pyramid.

Papan smiled back, weakly. “Thank you, elder sister…” she replied, then turned her gaze to the chamber at the peak of the pyramid once more. She closed her eyes, drawing in a deep breath. “I- I’m ready.” She declared.

[Musing] Onigokko

[pre-story]I almost did it again, that thing where a musing turns into  full chapter. This idea's been rattling around in my head for a while, a wild, amazonian woman who turns out to be a tsundere, and an oni seemed like a good choice, to go with the tsundere theme. Also, Onigokko is the japanese word for 'tag', and I like puns. I was kinda expecting this to be something light and cute and kinda funny, but it got a little unexpectedly heavy and emotional toward the end. Probably not enough focus on the sex, honestly... But writing emotional stuff is always kinda exhausting... I was also planning to end it with an epilogue of Hiroshi returning home and telling his parents he's alive, then introducing them to Akane and letting them know they're getting married, but I was already way over my word-goal. Anyways, enough rambling, enjoy!
As always, if you like what you see, [redacted][/pre-story]

“Oi! Wimp!” The demon’s booming voice heralded her arrival and stirred Hiroshi from his thoughts. He looked over to the tiger skin hanging in the entrance of the cave just in time to see it thrown aside with a sweep of a bright red arm. “I got dinner!” Akane announced proudly as she stepped inside, thrusting her other arm forward, proudly holding out the corpse of a wild boar, its back legs gripped tightly in her fist, the fresh kill still dripping blood.

Akane was everything one expected in an oni. Almost twice his height, with blood-red skin, a long mane of stark white hair, and short, curved horns jutting from her forehead. Her eyes were bright red, to match her skin, and her broad, beaming grin bared a mouthful of sharp teeth, with extra-long fangs and tusks at the corners. She was barely dressed, a strip of tigerskin tied around her chest to match the loincloth dangling between her thighs. Her body was covered in rugged muscle and dotted with scars, lines of slightly paler red on her otherwise smooth skin. When he’d first arrived, she’d been much worse. She refused to wear a top, she wouldn’t bathe, so she was always covered in dirt, and her hair had been a wild, matted, tangled mess. But over the last months, he’d managed to convince her to wash, to cover herself, and she even let him brush her hair (which was quite a process, especially the first time, as her hair was almost as long as he was tall).