Wednesday, March 18, 2009

"Aditional Benefits"

A Flasher by Julius
Copyright 2004

Emerging from anaesthetic is magic.

"Welcome back," said the blur.

I mumbled.

She lifted the sheet, "She's going to be very pleased."

I wondered vaguely why my wife would be particularly pleased with a repaired, herniated belly button.

"New technique and pricey," she leaned closer, "four thousand bucks an inch."

"I thought the health plan paid," I said, still out of it, uncaring.

"Not penile enhancement honey."

She sensed my panic, grabbed the clipboard.

Eventually the hospital paid the twelve grand. The hernia? Repaired five weeks later.

The nurse was right though, Cynthia was, is and will ever be, pleased.

*** *** ***

A historical note: Friday saw Julius getting his belly button "done." His fans will be delighted to know he's fine. Sorry Iris, Amanda and others, too numerous to mention but his secret inches remain the same. (Aspire measures in metric by the way, being a funny Canadian .... mind you, it sounds much more impressive in centimetres)

Sunday, March 15, 2009

"Why Don't We Have a Fetish?"

Well, this little tale has it's origins in real life, which is nice.

by Julius
copyright 2004

Sue stared at the screen, “I can’t believe you got this.”

“Well I didn’t really,” he sounded annoyed as he compared the numbers, “wrong movie in the right box I guess.”

“Well, let’s watch it anyway,” she said, snuggling up to him as he sat down again.

Soon they were thoroughly enjoying the action. Hearts speeded up a little, hands strayed, fires kindled. With sweet inevitability they slid into passion. They always did when they watched blue movies together.

On the screen the closing scenes played amid jetting come and happy cries. Bob was spooned against Sue’s back feeling the wonderful afterglow of their loving. They lay on cushions on the floor, a blanket over them. She squirmed her ass against him and whispered, “Why don’t we have a fetish?”

Bob thought about fetishes. The movie had been all tight black leather and shiny chains, straining bodies and reddened buttocks. He decided that perhaps his fascination for underwear, women’s underwear, rated as a fetish. The underwear ad’s in catalogues always aroused him. In stores his eyes would stray to the women’s underwear. He loved Sue in hers and bought it for her at birthdays and Christmas.

“I suppose I do have a thing about women’s underwear,” he said thoughtfully and added quickly, “mostly about yours.”


“Yes really, you know how I love you in lingerie,” he said. Bob wondered how she’d look in a thong.

“How would I look in a thong do you suppose?” she asked and, as so often happened, shook him with her apparent reading of his mind.

“This sweet ass of yours would look incredible in one,” he said.

Sue squirmed her buttocks against his groin again, “I wonder how my sweet ass would feel in one? I’ve heard them called butt floss.”

His mind juggled with the images and his cock stirred strongly.

“I’d love to see you in one,” she said, “then it could be my fetish as well.

“Let’s go shopping tomorrow,” she said, wiggling herself against his new stiffness, ending any argument he might have had. Not that Bob had any argument against her in a thong

Sue was up and out of bed before the alarm. “Take me out for breakfast, then I’m taking my ass around the shops for a thong,” she told him.

He watched her dress and wished she come back to bed, but she was on shopper’s autopilot by then. His imagination handed him a picture of a thong-wearing Sue and the morning brightened.

Breakfasted, they left the restaurant and she shooed him off to the bookshop, the hobby shop and the like. Sue headed for the mall’s lingerie boutiques. They’d meet in a couple of hours at their favourite coffee bar.

“Well?” he asked, “find what you were looking for?”

“Pink and blue and yellow and green and black and white; six of them and they’re sweet, just you wait.” Her eyes seemed to sparkle and Bob got that racing feeling in his chest.

The waitress came over and they ordered coffees.

Sue got to her feet and looked at him, “Don’t go away.” She walked off to the washrooms.

When she came back to the table she had a mischievous smile on her lips. “My, but I like the way this feels,” she said.

“How what feels?” he said, knowing perfectly well.

“How a thong feels,” she said and squirmed on her chair.

“Which colour?”

She giggled, “Blue, pink, green, yellow, white and black, black last of course.”

“You’re not wearing all six?” his cock began to stiffen.

“I imagined you taking them all off, with your teeth, one at a time. So I put them all on, just couldn’t resist the idea,” Sue said, blushing as he stared at her.

She slid her hand across towards him. A scrap of black cloth fell onto the table. “Now,” she said, “go put yours on."

“Weird is the word,” he whispered to her when he came back from the washroom, “I feel bare-assed naked and I’m sure everybody knows.”

She wriggled in her seat and made a purring noise, “Feels like I’m being invaded.”

They sat and sipped their coffee for a while.

Sue propped her chin on her hand, an impish grin on her face, “Want me to tell you how it feels?”

“Okay,” he said, wondering where this was going.

“Want me to tell you how it feels and get you all horny?”

“Okay, but I feel horny already,” he told her.

“Well, six of those wicked, narrow bits of fabric are deep and tight between my cheeks, and can you imagine that?”

Bob said he could imagine it because he was wearin gone. He also had a raging erection.

She continued in a whisper, “It’s like sitting on a clothesline, I’d hate to ride a bike like this. Oh my poor little ass, don’t make me walk home Bob!”

Bob imagined the six straps pulled up into her sweet round ass and his cock sought a way out of his own thong’s pouch. “Let’s go home Sue.”

“Let’s have another coffee lover,” said Sue getting up and going to the counter. Bob watched her panty-lineless ass. She was wiggling it just for him.

“Want to hear some more about my thongs?”

“You can be very cruel Sue.”

“So can these thongs. You watched me walk to the counter just now. My poor little ass felt naked, ooh, I love the way this feels,” she squirmed some more and closed her eyes.

“You have no idea what this is doing to my poor little pussy Bob. I’m being cut in half. There’s more thong in me than on me.”

Bob groaned at his own discomfort and his hand went into his pants to re-arrange his equipment. He wondered if he could come just by imagining the happenings between Sue’s soft thighs. He thought he probably could.

They were alone in the restaurant. Bob was sat with his back to the window. Sue stood up and grabbed the hem of her skirt and lifted it.

“How do I look? Do you like my tiny thongs?”

Her labia pouted on either side of the thong. The fabric, only black was visible, formed a sharp-pointed arrow that seemed embedded in the top of Sue’s prominent, shaved pussy.

“My God, all it hides is your clit,” he murmured.

She dropped the hem of her skirt and sat down. She giggled, “Standing up and sitting down was never such fun.” She stood again and then sat slowly down, rolling her eyes, “Have you any idea what that does to my pussy, to my clit?”

Finally she said, “Okay, let’s go home.”

The walk to the car was a set of new sensations for him. The cold air sought out the apparent nakedness of his ass. The intimacy of the thong up between his buttocks and the firm cupping of his balls. It felt good. He wondered about being forever horny in a thong.

For Sue it was a sweet torment. She was all but naked under her skirt and feeling sweetly violated. Six tight strips were trying to get inside her. Every step was a turn on. She fished her keys from her purse and hurried to the driver’s side of the car and unlocked the door.

A scream bubbled in her throat when she sat down. When Bob got in he looked at her, “You okay honey?” he asked. Her head was against the headrest, her eyes were closed and her hand clamped over her mouth.

“My God Bob, I almost came then!” she hissed.

They’d not driven far when she pulled the car over. “Hold my hand honey.”

Amazed, Bob watched her. She went rigid. Her skirt had ridden up. The muscles and tendons of her thighs were straining. Her other hand was clamped between her legs. Her hips and belly were humping, her breathing coming in quick, loud gasps. Sue climaxed, bucking frantically. Her grip on his hand was painful as she writhed and fought through her orgasm.

Bob’s cock was rigid, hard as iron. His wife had just come in the seat beside him.

“I’m wearing six thongs. I just came. I’m soaked. I’m soaked Bob.” She turned and looked at him, “Take me home and fuck me.”

They swapped places and Bob started the car. “Can I still pull your thongs down with my teeth?” he asked her.

“One at a time,” she whispered, “just get me home.”

She reached over, working his zipper down needing to get at that cock, needing, needing.

Bob wondered if this really was a fetish and decided he didn’t care, Sue was dragging his thong aside.

Sue wondered about fetishes too, but, right then, she wanted cock.

Wednesday, March 11, 2009

"He's Come! For me!"

by HIM (a silly flasher dedicated to a long time ERWA member)
copyright 2004

On the dais he stood.

A thousand hearts fluttered in a thousand heaving bosoms.

"It's him!" they sobbed, "it's Julius!"

"That cute ass!"

"That bulge!" breathed many, "is he ...?"

"Those pants would not contain him if he were."

He smiled. A thousand hands plucked a thousand necklines to cool those sweat-glazed cleavages.

Six hundred thongs seemed to tighten, a hundred pairs of panties moistened. The summer breeze strove to fan the rest.

Two thousand thighs tensed, as many nipples seemed to reach.

He gestured, they quieted, scarce dared to breathe.

"Is there one among you who calls herself Iris?"

"Coming Out"

a 100 word flasher by Julius
copyright 2004

I wear them when we walk around the lake. They're cooler, kind of convenient.

There's a bench we sit at.

"Why the sunscreen? We already did that."

"Special treatment," she says deftly working my cock out. The handling has me erect.

She squeezes a long worm of sunscreen, "Gotta look after this guy."

The cream is too thick and her hand drags my cock's tight skin. It feels wonderful, pussylike but tighter, wickedly tighter.

In moments I come, out of her fist, over her knee. A buttercup droops, come-blobbed.

"Perfect fertiliser," she murmurs.

God, I love these pocketless shorts.

"The Happy Fondler"

a 100 word flasher by Julius
copyright March 2006

Gloria supposed they felt right, despite being so cold.

Certainly, Bill seemed to think so whenever he took a fresh one from the fridge.

She'd see him weighing it, letting it flip-flop in his hands, a dreamy look in his eye.

Likely, soon after, he'd grab her from behind and heft her tits.

She'd lift her skirt, bend over the sink and let his cock skewer her eager, pantyless pussy.

Then she'd bless whoever'd thought of packaging their one-percent in floppity plastic bags.

No matter how busy he was fucking her, he’d keep boob-jiggling; comparing no doubt.


[Footnote: Two kind souls read this over for me, before submission and it seems that much of the 3rd world outside Canada doesn't have milk sold in sealed plastic bags and may not also realise that 1% refers to fat content. Oh hell, now I know how aliens in their spaceship must feel as they circle the earth wondering if the beings below will comprehend.]