Sixty-nine stories

Sixty-nine Stories

Each of these sixty-nine stories has sixty-nine words, and have something to do with sex. These were written in 2006.

Please note: These stories contain scenes which may be considered graphically sexual and/or violent, and may not be appropriate for all audiences. While I oppose censorship, I realize the existence of laws and the need to follow them until better, more reasonable laws prevail. Therefore, if it's illegal for you to view the following materials, don't. If you don't want your children viewing materials like those below, there are filtering programs available for the web: Acquire one. If it's legal for you to read sexually explicit or violently graphic stories, but don't wish to or don't like to, then don't. But please don't complain about their very existence... everyone has different tastes. None of these stories depict actual events, nor are they meant to represent or encourage actual behavior. They are works of fiction.

Taxi

"Where to, lady?" Ice blue eyes in the rearview.

"Away. Anywhere. Damn him."

The car pulls off. "The park?" The eyes, those eyes, dawdle on her chest. Dirty and comforting.

She shrugs, then pulls back her hair so he can see more. Impulsively: "Turn here, now."

The car stops in the alley; he moves to the back. Fly, unzipped. Shaft, unleashed.

She touches it.

"I can't!"

She walks home.

Dirt

The wrist restraints pinched as much as the corset, but Dirt was determined to show no emotion. That's what Queen Bitch wanted, and why she'd left him here, otherwise naked, blindfolded. He could hear the party guests passing by. His cheeks flushed at their laughter, but he held his stoic lips taut. No fear, no tears: What he deserved.

Later, as she held him in her bed, he cried.

Hearts

Carmen admired the reward he'd given her: A heart on her breast, above her own. Even more intricate than she'd imagined it could be. Stephen had become gifted with a scalpel. Who could she show? Who would even understand? It was theirs, alone, to be shared -- hidden from a judging world.

The phone rang as she brushed dried blood from the wound.

"Stephen! I was just thinking about you!"

Claire

Claire sat in the front row, her short skirt running high on her thighs.

It was the first class he had taught by himself. It was important to maintain a high level of professionalism.

So when she ran her tongue along her lips, he resisted.

And when she leaned over to show her cleavage, he resisted.

But when she spread her legs to reveal no panties, his resistance collapsed.

Pub

"Buy you a beer?"

David looked at him: Buff, but not overdone. He shrugged.

Keith signaled the bartender, then back to David: "Hi."

"Hello," David said, sipping his newly delivered beer. He missed his boyfriend, now ex, but still, there was an energy here.

"Recently broken up?" Keith asked.

David lowered his head, looking down.

Keith lifted his head again, and kissed him softly. "It's time to move on."

Polaroid

I awoke in the morning to the sun framing your face, outlining it, and I remembered the night before, my arms wrapped around your small frame, my sex inside of yours, the joining of souls and voices as we came together; in that morning sun, I cried softly from love and lust and the remnant smells of our union, praying as you slept that this was but the first.

Author

In his stories, he was female. First person, and he imagined himself in her body, felt her breasts with his rough hands, thought about what it would be like to have a vagina instead of a penis. He could smell her perfume and, running his fingers along his own arms, feel her smoothness. In that space, looking in the mirror and seeing her smile, his writing made him free.

Foyer

He usually said it: "Honey, I'm home!" But there was a stillness in the foyer that kept him silent, the words burrowed into his throat.

She was there -- the bedroom. And there was something else, something he could feel. Hear! Noises. Moaning. Springs, creaking. A man's voice saying her name.

He wanted to run, end it. Something pulled him back. Anger? No.

He listened, then came as they did.

Fairytail

Goldensong flitted from flower to flower, collecting nectar. She was lonely, and Tunniemoon and her girlfriend, that insufferable dryad, had keep poor Goldensong up all night with their chirping and crooning.

What was a fairy to do? She stood on a petal, akimbo, thinking about the last time she had been with a man, a real man.

The stamen glistened with freshness, and she could stand it no longer.

Virgin

They were the same age, but they were worlds apart: He, a seasoned veteran, having long lost count of his partners (of either gender, for that matter); she, a novice whose sole experience had been her own tentative fingers in the bathtub. But when he pressed the head of his cock into her and thought about that tenuous flesh tearing away, he felt like he was a virgin again.

Words

"'Defenestrate' means 'to throw out the window.'"

Cynthia stretched along the silk sheet, her milky skin aglow under the afternoon light.

"'Prevaricate' means 'to deliberately mislead.'"

Her hands luxuriated between her thighs, finding her pleasure spot.

"'Recalcitrant' means 'defiant to authority.'"

As she cried out her release, Jonathan looked up from the dictionary. Then, detached:

"'Jejune' means 'lacking maturity.'"

Cynthia, who was deaf, watched the sky through the window.

Wax

Richard held the candle at an angle so that Crystal could see the drop of wax welling at its edge, and though her skin was already stiff with a pattern of hardened paraffin and raw from the burn, she recoiled in her restraints. He was holding it low to her body, lower than he had been, and as she watched the drop falling, she readied a teardrop to match.

Mafiasa

I slept with the Godfather's goddaughter. She was seductive, and smelled of garlic. She wasn't my usual type: I prefer golden locks, not raven tresses. But there was something in the sashay of her hips (or the way her dress bunched at her waist) that made me crave her. But if you're ever seduced by a gorgeous mafiasa, don't get caught.

Ah well, Mother wanted me to marry money.

Swan

Leda savored the feeling of soft down against her breasts. The bill rested against her jawline, and she found herself both drawn and repelled by the gamy odor of the beast. Wings tangled with arms, tail feathers with legs, until they were one mass. Ecstacy and lust, love and desire, melded and melted until all that was left was incoherent everything. This was subhuman: And so it was divine.

Fried

"What are these?"

"Eggs."

"Well, I know they're eggs, but they're ... "

"Scrambled, I know."

"I like them fried."

"Well, Derek likes them scrambled, and we had them fried last weekend."

Joshua sat in silence.

"If you don't like how it's made...."

"I was just ... thinking."

"About...?"

"About how when we three are tangled in a heap, it's all good, but I'm still picky about my eggs."

"Oh, heh. Priorities."

Dark

I entered an eerily quiet apartment, even though it was evening and I knew you were home. The only light was the flicker of candles from the bathroom, where I found you, weak, skin chilled in the tepid red bathwater. Your wrists gaped, and you begged me not to call for help, to just let you go. I drained the tub so we could make love one last time.

White

"It's cold... thin... water?"

Candace was kneeling and blindfolded in the kitchen. Dripping from her breasts and belly was an array of color. My favorite was the amber rivulet of honey glowing in the fridge's halflight.

"You wish," I said. "It's not time to wash off." I held the jug to her nose and let her inhale.

"Ah, milk," she laughed as I rummaged in the fridge for more.

Black

It only came when the lights were off, when he was lying in bed, Oneiros tugging at his consciousness. It stretched across him, pulling back his sheets and swirling around his naked form with phantom tendrils. He'd given it a name, a woman's name, but in truth it was formless and genderless. It tugged at him until he orgasmed, then absorbed his spunk and retreated, again, into the shadows.

Teeth

The nightmare came: Her nipples had eyes that wept bloody tears; her vulva was lined with teeth that gnawed off cocks and spat out the sorry refuse.

I found myself drawn to her nonetheless, perhaps as much out of contempt for myself as out of visceral lust.

I prostrated myself to her.

"No," she growled in aboriginal baritone. "You beg too hard. Your soul is too fouled for me."

Hole

Jennifer crouched by the hole in the wall of the bathroom stall. This wasn't her: A timid secretary. Spoken about in hushed, pitying tones. Not so hushed tones from the boorish CEO.

But here she was, in the men's room of a skanky gay bar, staring at a cock that, now flaccid, was larger than any she'd seen erect.

She licked her lips, and took it into her mouth.

Karada

This was her liberation: Fifty feet of rope, nylon. Plain white. Wrapped around her neck like a snake, knotted three times (a fourth: pressing against her clit). Up her back, then latticed back to front to back again. Her upper arms bound to her torso, her wrists bound behind her back with the tail. Her breasts, framed with cord; when she walked, the clitknot teased: This was her liberation.

Hawk

"When she came to me, she was a broken butterfly. A thing of innocence and vulnerability." The woman took a drag of her cigarette. "She's been hurt by men, again and again, and she was seeking shelter. I took her under my wing, as it were, offered her protection."

The detective leaned back. "And then you raped her."

The woman shrugged. "Ain't no beauty in this world. Only pain."

Mer

The sailors tell stories of the merpeople who live beyond the rocks at the edge of the ocean, but the witnesses are scarce. It is said that the sight of the naked sirens can drive a sober man insane, if he doesn't succumb to lust first. I report that my sanity is intact; since I've met the mer, the other conclusion holds. Which I think does explain my odor.

Sandwich

"Are you sure this is the way it's done?" Sally said.

"Yes, I saw it in the movie." Frank leaned over, fingering her anus.

"My legs are going numb," Steve complained from the bottom of the heap.

"Shut up!" Sally and Frank said in unison.

"Wait," Frank said, "maybe if you just leaned in .... I could ... Wait, it's in! We're both in!"

"And I just came," Steve groaned. "Dammit!"

Fuchsia

"Tell me about the first man you loved."

Daphne laughed wistfully. "That would be... Teddy. He was romantic, and irreverent."

"Tell me."

"Well, the first time we made love, he brought me a single rose. The sex was beautiful."

"'Irreverent'?"

"The next morning, he grabbed my dictionary and flipped to 'Fuchsia' and pressed the flower there. 'So,' he said, 'whenever you're looking for a fuck, you can find it.'"

Rose

It was one simple rose: Long-stemmed, with deep red petals, the sweet intoxicating smell that mingled with her perfume as she held it delicately between her breasts. One simple rose, and as I ran the thorns over her flawless skin, I could see them catching, tugging, tearing. A simple rose, and simple lines of plasma, then blood beading up. I licked it off her skin, and kissed her deeply.

Honey

His hands were coarse and firm, and smelled of honey and rose water and flour. Baker's hands, which he used to knead my back and breasts and sex until I felt ready to be warmed. He took me over his knee and spanked, spanked harder, those hands pressing into my muscles until I felt like I could take no more, and spanked again, until I wept in his arms.

Hunted

I remember: Hunted, curled up behind a boulder, hiding from the noise that was coming, the cloud that spread out behind me. I could smell it: Smells of sin and sweat. The wind carried its stench, and the scrabbling of its hooves on the rocky forest bed. I jumped to run, but it clipped my shoulder, tore my clothes; as I faded out a tentacle pushed into my sex.

Koyi

Koyi wrapped her lekku around her neck as she knelt by her Master's feet. Her blue skin glinted almost indigo in the moonlight, and she listened to the birds in the distance. He was a good owner, she thought, letting her head drift to His knee wistfully.

He nudged His knee up and leaned back. She knew the signal, shivering excitedly as she wrapped her lekku around his cock.

Vamp

"Don't worry, love, it will be over quickly."

Belinda leaned her back against Gerard's chest and put her hands behind his head.

He bit into her neck; she moaned as his teeth slid gently into her flesh.

"It... tingles, it's doesn't really... sting." She melted into his arms.

Later, they watched the sunrise, and she played with his dental prosthetic. "It's too bad these aren't real.”

This

This was the futon where they'd made love all night, rolling in each other's arms until dawn.

This was the couch where they'd cuddled, watching terrible movies and telling each other how wonderful they were.

This was the porch where he realized he'd never told her how much he really loved her.

This was the door he closed behind himself, to sit in this chair to try to forget.

Vino

I do not like these modern wines so much as the older ones. These days, increasingly, wines are created by presses, but once they were crushed in vats by sturdy, zaftig Italian women who felt the skins and seeds pressing up between their toes and scraping their heels. These are the wines I like, because when I drink them, it is as if I am savoring those delicious feet.

Ready

I stood in the doorway, gaping. I was looking at me, a former me, considering himself in the mirror. This was the Time Traveller's Paradox: From what I'd learned, this should be impossible.

He turned around, sporting my fullest erection, and winked. I dropped to my knees and put it to my lips. "But... you're, I'm... how did you...?"

He rolled his eyes. "Duh. I knew you were coming."

Golden

Halfway down the ten mile hiking trail, my bladder tightened. I had to go, now!

I took a quick look around, then duck off into the brush and dropped trou. Sweet release! I thought, the first drops hitting the ground cover.

Afterward, I made my way back to the trail.

A ranger had been leaning on a tree.

I jumped. "Sir...!"

Winking thanks, he looked down at his erection.

Eros

Dawn: He set her down in a bed of silk, cinammon, and rose petals. The sunlight danced on her skin as she sank down into the bed and disappeared.

The day marched on, with half his mind still dwelling in memories of nocturnal bliss.

Evening came, and with it the shadows and the trace of her silhouette as she rose up through the petals, hugging him into another dusk.

Cuckold

Steven watched them from the darkness of his balcony. Up there, his beloved Christine, as Juliet, vowing love to Peter's Romeo.

The audience, of course, thought it was just part of the play. They were actors. Their love was crafted well.

Steven knew better. He had been fooled for so long, but now he knew the truth: Their love was real.

And so was the poison in the vials.

Voyager

It was in the summer of my thirtieth year that I learned that not only was my penis capable of detaching itself and traveling at will, I could still feel whatever it experienced. I'm not sure I enjoyed the summer it spent in Alaska, but it more than made up for that by Spring Breaking in Myrtle Beach, passing itself off as a dildo in a sorority's hotel room.

Regret

"I'm sorry."

It was written on a note left on the pillow, next to a rose. Kim held it in her hands, trying not to let her tears drop on it. Had Josh really just left her in the night? When had he gone? Hadn't she meant anything to him, beyond a scribbled note?

A noise in the doorway, and she looked up. "Josh?"

He looked down. "I'm sorry."

Queen

Dirt jerked from the snap of the whip across his back. Queen Bitch was angry -- frustrated, she'd said. "I wouldn't whip you while I was angry."

The end of the whip stung as it tore his skin, but he resisted the urge to respond. That would have made her more ... frustrated.

"Are we done?" Hardly a question.

"Yes, Ma'am."

She salved his skin; he sighed contentedly: She was sated.

Original

It was the apple that did them in; it was I who whispered the idea in her ear. I'd wrapped myself around her, slithered around her waist, my beady eyes looking into hers as I said, "Bite," and she bit. I could feel the change move through her, her flesh growing aware of the wrongness of me pressed against her dampening sex. I shivered with excitement as she awoke.

Strut

Jasmine strutted along the stage, through the idling cloud of smoke, along the line of men who watched her, some with great concentration, others with the same ennui she exuded herself, the heavy thumping of the song suggesting her pace as she grabbed the pole, twirled, climbed and then twisted upside down, and even though the men thought they owned her, she knew it was the other way around.

Yearning

He painted women.

He didn't use models: These women were from his mind, brought to life on the canvas. They bore the distortions of their origins: Breasts large and lopsided; eye, hungry, yearning for him to bring them pleasure.

By day, he would sit in the cafe and watch real women, and ache to talk to them. But they weren't safe. His paintings were safe.

And so, he painted.

Ice

"It's simple, really."

Shivering, Gretchen listened to Master's voice. It didn't seem simple to her: Blindfolded, tied up, and he was cutting off her clothes, her skin exposed to the winter.

"You're tied to an icicle. It won't break, I made sure. The only escape is to hug it until it melts. Or... you can keep your distance, and stay here."

She heard his feet receding in the snow.

Ink

The snap of the latex glove let kristina know it had started. The buzz, and then the pricking against her flesh soon followed.

Sir was there with her, holding her hand as the tattooist worked his way through the letters across her lower belly. Sir wiped away her tears.

Later, as her treat, He lay her down and ate her out, just below the freshly inked, shinily salved "CUNT."

Scarf

All I had was a scarf that she'd left on the back of her chair in the outdoor cafe in Rome. There were black hairs embedded in it, raven black locks that flowed down her back, along the curves of her spine to a beautiful ass. In the night, I held the scarf to my nose, breathed her perfume, and thought of the beautiful vision I'd never even seen.

Sushi

Sarah said, "It looks like Playdoh."

"It doesn't taste like it, though." Kenji rolled a ball of wasabi, setting it next the California roll adorning her left breast. He considered her for a moment, her chest and stomach a mosaic of fish, rice, and seaweed. "It's finished!"

After he'd taken a photo, the half dozen men around Sarah leaned over her and dined as she struggled not to squirm.

Wallflower

"You look about as comfortable as I feel."

Daria shot Jill a polite smile and looked back into the punchbowl.

"Jill." She held out her hand. "I don't know anyone here either."

Daria accepted the handshake. "I know the host."

"Want to dance?" Jill asked. "Or we could stand here all night."

Daria looked down.

"It's okay," Jill said. "I like girls too."

"How...?"

Jill smiled. "Let's dance, cutie."

Bubbles

"Wait... bubble wrap?"

"YES!"

"Why bubble wrap?"

"Well, he'd read this thing, in a book... kinky."

"The book had bubble wrap?"

"No, Saran wrap. We were at work."

"That's what you get for having sex at the office."

"Yeah, so he wrapped me, head to toe, in bubble wrap. Cut a hole, then he fucked me, and it was impossible to keep serious."

"POP! POP! POP!"

"YES! Each THRUST!"

Jeffrey

Jeffrey tensed, feeling the friction of the metal wire sliding along his skin, around his throat. His safe word lingered on his tongue, but he fought it back, even as Claudette's hands pulled the wire taut around his neck. The familiar tingle filled his head, his blood pounding in his ear, then darkness engulfed him.

He awoke to Claudette's smile. "You scared me," she said. "I'm glad you're back."

Letters

Dear Letters:

I never thought I'd be writing you, but the hottest thing happened last night. I picked up a girl who was hitching for rides, and let me tell you, she was sexy! Huge tits, and legs that wouldn't stop. Anyway, I watched her the whole way, eying her in the mirror. Then we got to her place, and I dropped her off.

Sorry, boring. I'm so lonely!

Double

"So you're an identical twin?" He asked, making idle conversation as she slid her pussy up and down on his cock.

"Yes, my sister is just like me," she said between moans.

"Is it true, what they say, that she feels what you do?"

"Yes. It certainly -- OH!" She tensed up.

"Hit a good spot?" He looked hopeful.

"No." She smiled blissfully. "She just took it up the ass."

Sheared

Carefully, slowly, he shaved her from head to toe, running the razor over every inch of her body until she was completely naked, fresh skin smelling of the floral scent of the cream he'd used. They lay together, his beard and chest tickling her pores, his hands massaging her bare scalp, the fur of his sex pressing against her bare mound. "Now," she whispered, "your turn to be sheared."

Zebras

We were in the zoo, watching the zebras have sex, when Sylvie leaned into me.

"Look at them," she said. "They just do it. They don't think about it. No complexities."

"Animals," I muttered.

Without a word, Sylvie dropped to a crouch and unzipped my fly. Before I could protest, she'd taken me into her mouth.

I heard a passing woman mutter, "Animals."

She was looking at the zebras.

Eraser

"What do you know about this?"

The boss slammed something down on my desk. It was an eraser shaped like a penis, with 56 written on the base.

"No idea."

"Well, it's the 14th I've gotten, numbered backwards. Someone's sending them."

I shrugged. "No clue."

He grabbed it and stormed out, looking perturbed.

I took out an eraser, wrote "55" on the base, and put it in an envelope.

Snow

We lay in the snow, side by side, naked, catching snowflakes on our tongues and feeling them dissolve on our skin. It was cold, just above freezing, but somehow, in the warmth of each other's presence, we didn't care. Your nipples were hard; I suckled them as you stroked my hair. When we got too cold, we moved back into the hot tub and made love while we warmed.

Underwear

My wife and I share a lot of interests. We like the same movies, the same music. We especially like the same sort of cuisine, and enjoy going out together. But best of all, we're the same size, so we can share clothing. Right now, for instance, she's wearing my jeans and I'm wearing her lovely matching hot pink bra and panties. Under my suit, of course. They're cozy.

Unicorn

Vixen sat in her chair on the porch, watching the halfling children play touch football. The bear twins were the worst, always hogging the ball.

"So tell me about last night, with Randolph. Your first night together, wasn't it?" Polly rolled her tea around in the glass.

"Yes, well..." She sighed wistfully, her tail twitching. "Let's just say, even for a unicorn, he's talented with his horn."

"Oh... spiral."

Victim

He felt the knife to his throat, a body pressed against him from behind. "Don't move." The voice was deep and rough. He obeyed. A mugging? He'd lose his wallet.

His pants were yanked down, and he clenched. The metal at his throat tensed as he felt a pain shoot through his body: Intrusion, in the worst way.

Hours later, he was home. Safe. And nobody would believe him.

Xenophile

I have on my wall a map of the world, and in it are stick pins representing the home nation of every woman I've bedded. Southeast Asia is riddled with them, while Africa is more sparse. Central America's handful brings me fond memories, each of them -- Latin love is indeed the best. However, I notice a definite lack of pins in my own United States. It's not worth changing.

Nude

"Tell me about your ideal world."

"First off, nobody would wear any clothing."

"Why not?"

"Clothing allows people to hide. It allows people to communicate through their masks. Nudity forces people to relate."

"Clothing is good for protection, though."

"It started as protection for the body, but it's become protection for the soul."

"So are you a nudist?"

"Goodness, no. Why should I reveal myself while others wear masks?"

Teddy

Jess was crying when I found her. "What's wrong?"

"I came home last night, and caught my boyfriend in one of my teddies!"

I suppressed a laugh. "That's not such a big deal."

"He was more erect than he's EVER been with me!"

"Well," I explained. "It's a novel sensation. Many men enjoy the feel of lingerie..."

"Lingerie?" She looked at me. "I mean one of my TEDDY BEARS!"

Raven

She had a gothic mind. In her eyes, I could see the moors; her skin was damp and smelled of mildew. Was it her perfume, was it my fantasy, inhaling her aura and interpreting what I would?

There were a hundred stories between her lips, each more purple than the previous, keening tales filled with gore, sex, and death. She kept me enraptured, unfolding them within our celibate embrace.

Clown

"Wear the nose."

"Of course, the nose. The nose is part of the outfit."

"And the ruffled collar?"

"Hush, I know what you like. Even the shoes."

We were talking through the wall, because I didn't want her seeing me until I was dressed. I didn't understand the appeal. The white cake makeup got all over the sheets. But whatever.

"All done!"

She squealed and jumped into my arms.

Voyeur

David crouched behind the closet door and listened to the moaning, the screaming, the banging of the headboard against the wall. Kristine was playing it up tonight, making more noise than normal, for his benefit. He doubted the man who was fucking her even knew that David was there, out of sight, stroking himself and thinking back to those shameful days where it was his parents he was hearing.

Micromacro

"Somewhere up there, in the jigsaw of stars, there are other people, other planets, other species. Speaking languages, going about their business, doing things that we're doing here. Dozens of planets, hundreds... thousands..."

Becca curled up to Danielle and looked up at the sky. All she saw were lights, a sea of them, but Danielle spoke with such passion, she was drawn in. The two were all there was.

Tower

Laurcelan had made his way through the dark forest, past the dragons of Nyx, under the burning bridge and over the black river to find his princess, imprisoned for years in the tower. He called to her, and climbed up to the window to rescue her. They kissed, but as he tried to take her, the tower shivered and crushed him.

"She's mine," the bricks said. "We are one."

Morning

In the mornings, as Luna sinks into Oceana, he spreads himself wide to take her in, and they meet, there, at the horizon. She: Dainty, yet bright, her wedge oscillating from full disc to nothingness and back again; he: Broad and dark, full of a cool depth that is everywhere at once. He consumes her; she is consumed in blissful release. In the evenings, they being the dance anew.

Dewdrop

Her name was Dewdrop.

He'd thought she was a Monarch, a rare enough find. She was a rarer find indeed, dressed in wisps of spiderwebs.

He watched her, trapped inside the glass jar. At first she'd pouted, but she'd decided to play for him: Bringing herself to orgasm with her dainty fingers.

That night, her friends came; when he awoke, he was caged in a fold between the trees.

Sixtynine

"The problem with the sexual act is, the power inequality is inherent. It's simply impossible for two people to be equal: One of them must be on top of the other, or in some other way commanding."

She took his cock out of her mouth. "Would you shut up and eat my pussy?"

He started to speak again, so she squatted on his face and went back to sucking.