There are only 26 days till #HotinAruba drops! It’s always fun to imagine who I’d like to play main characters. For Samantha, our main protagonist, she would need to be strong and gutsy… someone who doesn’t take bullshit from anyone. Someone sensible, not prone to fits of hysteria or fantasy. She would need to be down to earth and, of course, incredibly sexy. I think Katheryn Winnick would do the job very nicely.
Well, I did it. I took the plunge. As of September 2017, I became a full time college student! Heading back to school was a nerve-wracking decision, but I never turn down an intriguing challenge. 😀
So, in honour of this crazy new path, I decided to document my journey with a series of videos, to give everyone a chance to experience the wild antics with me.
Here’s Day One.
Enjoy a trip down college lane.
The following fanciful tale is based on a true story… a story that resulted in $1100 damage, a tow, and tears. No actual people were injured in the telling of this story.
Rock & Car
Once upon a time there was a rock. It was an old rock, long forgotten by those who tread near. Covered in moss and lichens, it had withstood the test of time. It spent its days content with its solitude, grounded in its security. It didn’t want for anything that mother nature couldn’t provide. It was an old soul, wise and watchful.
Once upon a time there was a car. It was a humble car, never racing or causing a fuss at stop signs and traffic lights. It whisked its owners from destination and back without asking for anything in return. It loved the feeling of its thick tires on the road, a blanket of dew on its windshield, and the heat of the afternoon sun on its hood. It was a cheerful soul, giving and playful.
Rock and Car were never meant to meet. So far apart, their worlds were separated by miles and purpose. But fate has a way of bringing the impossible into being. The strings of chance, merely a puppeteer’s magic, pulling circumstance and causality our way. And when opportunity finally ceded to fate’s siren song, Rock and Car were forever altered.
It was more than a glancing caress, more than a passing touch. Their impact shattered the quietude of dusk, the breathtaking collision sending shock waves through them both. Car’s thick tires lifted from the ground, sending tremors through its body, the sensation startling and unfamiliar. Rock’s visage, once impassive and aloof, transformed into deep grooves of connection and warmth. The two souls merged so completely only chains and pulleys could drag them apart.
But part they did. And when the time came to say goodbye, there was only a reverent silence, their gaze never wavering until the trees swallowed their sight.
Was it love or merely a transient fling? One can’t possibly say. But for a brief moment, Rock and Car had shared an impossible union, and in that flash of brilliance, life would never be the same.
Trying out a new beginning I wrote last night. What do you guys think?
I was thirteen the first time I tried to kill myself. The knife was very different from the one I currently held. I swiveled the blade, watching more lime juice soak into the maple cutting board.
I placed the freshly sliced fruit into a plastic container, grabbing another victim from the grocer’s box. I wasn’t sure what made me think of that long-ago day. It might have been the song playing over the satellite radio, speakers tumbling out the tinny tune. Could have been the fact that I’d almost severed my thumb, the dull paring knife skidding off the peel and missing my digit by a hair’s breadth.
I dropped another handful of lime garnishes into the container and eyed up my stockpile. I grabbed the box of lemons and extricated a few of the lesser bruised choices, placing them on the counter top. It was probably more likely that today was the second anniversary of my divorce.
I turned over a lemon, neatly clipped off the ends, and cut it into halves, quarters, and then eighths. I scored each section with a horizontal gash, making it easier to wedge onto the top of a glass, then dropped the pieces beside the cut limes.
The first anniversary had landed me in the hospital, a blood alcohol level five times the legal limit. I hadn’t consciously been trying to kill myself. Though, I’d never driven drunk before. The night was a bit of a blur. It involved confronting Ron, a screaming match with his current conquest, several bars, and too many shots to remember. I thought I’d been lonely in my disaster of a marriage. It’s amazing how low you can sink when there’s no distractions, and it’s just you and your thoughts.
That’s where I was eighteen years ago, hiding in that closet, rubbing the switchblade across my wrist. Lost in thought. It wasn’t like I’d had a terrible childhood. I had friends who’d had it much worse. My brain just tended toward the melancholy, and my parents were emotionally unavailable. I’d had all the creature comforts in life, but none of the love and connection to go with them. I was a piece of litter adrift in a bleak, infinite ocean. In my opinion, there hadn’t been much to live for.
I glanced at the flawless, porcelain skin of my forearm. I’d been too terrified to do it, but I had craved the silence that I knew would come with a swift, deep cut. My blood would have flowed with suppressed tears. I’d have finally gotten their attention.
I shook my head. Jesus, that was morose. I finished cutting the lemons and carried both boxes back to the walk-in fridge in the basement. I’d come a long way since my accident, and I wasn’t that sad little girl anymore. I glanced at my watch and took a deep, cleansing breath.
I had five minutes until the doors opened, six until Jake and Adam sat across from me, each seeking solace, a friendly ear, and a pint of Guinness, and thirty seconds or less until Lisa accosted me about last night. I shoved the shroud of memories back into the closet with the rest of my skeletons and found my smile. It was show time.
Disclaimer: As always, do keep in mind, this is first draft material. It has not been edited. I’m just flying by the seat of my pants on these stories, lol. Nonetheless, they are so fun to write. Here is part one of the newest installment of Pleasure Incorporated. Enjoy. 😀
Catherine and the Cowboy
I tried to ignore the envelope in the front seat as I drove north west along the long winding country road. If it didn’t have ‘Catherine Griffin’ written in elegant script smack dab in the middle of the thing, I could have pretended it was meant for someone else. No such luck.
I mentally slapped my wrist and pulled a fingernail out from beneath gnawing teeth, salvaging what was left of my manicure. I’d wanted a ‘me’ day. Why couldn’t I book a massage or facial like normal people.
Overworked and stressed out, my latest client had wrung my emotions raw. Being a social worker had incredible moments, times when I felt I made a difference, but other days, I felt powerless, my hands tied. The job chipped away little pieces of my heart. What I needed was some time off. A break to mend the fissures.
My friend had slipped Pleasure Inc’s card across my desk, telling me to get out of town for a proper release. A wink and a sexy saunter as she walked out of my office and back to her car was the only answer I got when I’d asked what Pleasure Inc. did.
I should have known better. Pamela was a wild, sex-crazed nympho. Bless her. I smirked and shook my head at the image she’d described about opening the door to discover twin plumbers. A shiver passed through me. The stories that woman had shared. I shifted in the seat, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter.
I’d left the city two hours ago, barely noticing the wide expanses of wheat, soy, and corn waving in the breeze as I flew past endless farmer’s fields, my eyes fixed on the road ahead and the GPS, which ticked off the diminishing miles like a time bomb. More than once, I’d considered turning around but curiosity and a burning desire that grew in proportion to the distance travelled kept me pushing that gas pedal to the floor.
I turned onto a narrow, paved lane, canopied by densely packed maple trees, their luscious leaves filtering the sunlight overhead, dappling the driveway in soft edges.
I wiped clammy palms on my leggings and eased my foot off the brake pedal. I’d come this far. The tree cover opened to reveal a sprawling ranch bungalow surrounded by horse paddocks and fields of emerald grass. I parked the car and was met on the front steps by a young woman, who extended her hand.
“Good afternoon, Catherine. We’ve been expecting you. I hope you had a good drive. My name is Elizabeth. I’ll be your representative here in case you need anything, or have any questions.”
I followed her inside, admiring the building’s open concept created by thick beams of dark stained wood and vaulted ceilings. The décor was rustic with country accents and white upholstered furniture. We passed a comfy sitting area.
“Feel free to use this space to relax, read a book, or watch television.” She pointed to a large pine cabinet. “The T.V. is just inside there.”
I nodded, acknowledging her fine efforts at normal conversation, but we both knew why I was there, and it wasn’t to watch Netflix.
She led me down a hallway and ushered me through a thick oak door. Curtains billowed around a colonial four poster bed. Open French doors led to a screened in porch, and filled the room with fresh air redolent of lilacs and apple blossoms.
“One of our staff will see to your bags and park your car. I’ll just need your keys.”
I handed them over, wishing I still had them to fidget with.
“Cole will meet you in the sitting room at 5:00pm. Does that give you enough time to settle in?”
I looked at my watch. Two hours. I’d seen a picture of Cole—an 8 x 10 glossy black-and-white head and chest shot. Who could possible settle in anywhere knowing all that stacked masculinity would be waiting for you in the sitting room. I swallowed and nodded. That was the most I could muster in response.
“Cole is a sweet, country boy. You’ll be in good hands. In the meantime, feel free to stroll outside, take in some fresh air, enjoy the view.” She winked and left, leaving me to consider her final words.
I waited until my luggage arrived in the room, then took Elizabeth’s advice and wandered to the paddocks. I’d attempted riding lessons as a kid, but my experience had been limited to a tractor backfiring, causing the young sprite to bolt, leaving me clinging to the reins for dear life. After a good five minutes of death-defying antics, in which I managed to stay on the saddle, the horse finally stopped. I was so exhausted from the ordeal, I slid off and landed in a terrified, quivering heap on the dirt. I loved horses. From a distance.
As I approached the barn, I stopped and stared slack jawed. Cole stood in the middle of a training ring, running a striking chestnut stallion through its paces. Elizabeth’s words popped to mind. “Enjoy the view.”
Dusty cowboy boots poked out beneath tight faded jeans, a thick leather belt creating a striking boundary between fabric and tanned, sculpted flesh. Dirty blond locks curled beneath the brim of a well-worn cowboy hat, and a scruff beard framed high cheekbones and scrumptious lips. I liked mine in response, delighting in the tingle that ran through them at the thought of his mouth on mine.
His glossy photograph had whet the appetite, creating delicious fantasies in my head, but nothing could have prepared me for the real thing, knowing at some point this evening, I would have that hard-muscled body in my bed. Sweat trickled down my ribs.
I could count my lovers on one hand, and my experience with men wasn’t terribly different than my dealings with horses—they typically ended in disaster and the incident left me unfulfilled at best. I’d fallen into a rut, and this adventure seemed like an innovative way to kick start my sex life. It had looked good on paper. Now standing there, watching Cole’s muscles flex as he took control, coaxing the stallion to bend to his will, made me question everything I considered reasonable about this plan. What the hell was I supposed to do with all that?
While my mind grappled with semantics, my body knew what it wanted to do. Heat grew in my chest, and I gripped the wood fence for support as my legs trembled.
He caught my eye and smiled, impossibly adorable dimples winking, and my heart started, threatening to leap clear out of my rib cage. There was only one thing to be done. I turned tail and ran back to my room.
Stay tuned for Part Two!
This scene came out of nowhere, and apparently, I had to jot it down. And… it’s in Alrik’s POV. #Interesting
Could this be the beginning of Avelynn 3?
Alrik ran his hand along the worn rail, the wood cool and wet, the mist blanketing the hull in a shroud of silence. They’d all know of his betrayal and exile. Raven’s Blood skulked like a wounded dog, her numbers greatly reduced from her altercations in Wales, though no one would be fool enough to think her crippled. At close to fifty crew, she was still formidable, but dissent and bitterness trailed the aft like a festering dung heap. Those looking would smell it a hundred knots away.
“How much longer?” Tollak leaned his hip against the steering board—the rudder as useless as the compass stone since the fog descended and they’d dropped anchor.
Alrik ran a hand through his hair. There was no splitting the veil. “Another day, perhaps?”
At the least the sea rolled quiet. Despite the otherworldly chill, he’d gladly take fog over a tempest. He glanced around the crew. “How many?”
Tollak frowned. “At least half.”
Alrik nodded. That was to be expected. At least twenty men would stand by him, offering protection for the ship and Avelynn. It would be a good number to present to his uncle Rurik in Novgorod, if he accepted them. Only the Gods knew their fate. The rest of the men would return home to Gotland and Sweden. They owed him nothing.
Here it is: short but oh, so sweet. The Climax to Pamela and the Plumber!
If you haven’t read Part One… start here first!
Ready for Part Two… click here!
DISCLAIMER: Just a reminder, this is raw, uncensored, unedited first draft stuff. All mistakes are my own and hopefully you won’t notice too many of them, lol. 😉
Rick lifted me off the vanity, and I stalked forward, crawling along the chair on all fours and wrapped my lips around the tip of Paul’s cock, my hand taking over where his left off.
Some girls didn’t like giving blow jobs. I could never understand why. The sound of a man’s breath hitching, the feel of their thigh muscles twitching, their hand gripping your hair… what the hell wasn’t there to love?
Rick slipped in behind me and grabbed my ass, hitching my pussy into his face. A deep vibration escaped my mouth, wrapping around and caressing Paul as Rick’s tongue stroked my clit.
Jesus fucking Christ. Everything blurred into a kaleidoscope of sensation. My mouth pumping, swallowing every rigid inch, Paul’s hands kneading my breasts, flicking and pinching my nipples, Rick’s tongue lapping at my center, his fingers slipping in and out.
Hands and mouths molded and sculpted, creating a tower of ecstasy, lifting me to the heights of passion, coiling in my spine, rocketing me to a precipice I didn’t know existed.
Rick sucked hard on my clit, and I gasped, taking Paul deeper. The heady combination sent me careening over the edge, taking me on a leap of faith, leaving me adrift in hazy euphoria, as my body pulsed with endless spasms.
From some far-flung distance, I was vaguely aware that my plumbers had switched positions, and Paul pressed the tip of his cock inside me. I moaned as sensitive flesh stretched to accommodate him. I fisted Rick’s shaft and pulled hard with my lips, milking and stroking, growling with urgency. A primal need to devour and conquer seized me. I wanted to make them cum. I wanted them to shatter inside me.
Paul drew me back, a slow torture, a cruel ploy, and I pressed my ass against him, desperate. I wanted his cock filling me, bursting me open. He met my push with a driving thrust, causing pinpricks of light to flit across my vision as an exquisite mixture of pleasure and pain coiled deep inside my pussy.
A battery of new sensations churned and boiled like an alchemist’s solution, turning my body into an ecstatic frenzy of desire and need. My mouth and hand met, over and over, sucking and pulling Rick deep into my throat, urged on by feral grunts and the rapid pulse of his breath.
Paul matched the desperate rhythm of my efforts with hard violent strokes of his own, expanding and spreading me completely,
Then, as if they were master play-makers, and the coach had given them the go ahead for their signature knock-out punch, Rick squeezed my nipples while Paul reached around and slam-dunked my clit like a goddamn rock star.
I cried out as Rick pumped his cock, gasping as he came, covering my chest with the strength of his climax. My body disintegrated, each part exploding in a blinding onslaught of light, over, and over, and over again. The orgasm ripped through me and kept me captive as Paul stiffened, his body caught in the throes of his own release as he twitched and softened within me.
When I came back to my senses, the three of us lay in a convoluted heap on the lounge chair.
Paul kissed my belly button, running his fingernails along the insides of my thighs while Rick nibbled on the curve of my neck, his stubble sending shivers racing along my skin.
“I think you passed,” I said to Paul, my body limpid and flushed with a languid glow.
Paul nipped at my hip. “That was just the preliminaries.”
Looking for more HOT stuff? Check out Stephanie and Stephan’s steamy story! Here’s Part One to get you started.
DISCLAIMER: This is first draft stuff. 🙂
If you haven’t read part one of this hot story… check it out here first!
“I’m Paul, the hotel sent me to help.” He handed me a business card for Childs’ Brothers: Laying pipe day and night, as big as you need and as deep as you want.
“I understand you’re having some plumbing issues. I’d like to start with your tap,” he said and waited for me to usher him in.
“The bathroom is through the bedroom then around the corner.”
He nodded and made his way through the suite while I closed the door behind him. By the time I made it to the bathroom, he already had the vanity doors open, his flashlight shining into the dark cavity.
“This might take a while. Please, have a seat.” He motioned to the lounge chair.
I sat as instructed, placing his business card on the window ledge.
He unclasped his tool belt and set it on the floor near his feet. “It’s awfully warm in here,” he said while shrugging off his Oxford button down. The shirt landed in a heap on top of the belt.
I licked my lips. Sculpted back muscles rippled into a narrow waist, and when he bent over to have a look under the sink, his jeans slid a couple inches off his hips, affording me a delightful view of the top of his ass.
After a few minutes of poking around the drain pipe, he extricated himself and dusted his hands across his pants. “Done.” He turned on the tap. Water rushed unimpeded into the sink.
Case closed, he shut off the valve and turned to me, hands on his hips, his jeans slipping a little lower. I had the sudden urge to trail my fingernails through the tangled curls on his chest, following the indents between his pecs and washboard abs until they dropped lower, and I could help him out of those ill-fitting pants once and for all.
“I’d like to take care of your flow problem now.” He stalked over to my chair.
“My flow problem?” Those jeans were within reach.
“Yes, I’d like to make you very wet.” His grin smoldered, one side of his mouth twitching upwards.
I wanted to trap those smirking lips between my teeth. I volleyed the serve back. “It’s a serious dilemma. I’d appreciate it if you could fix it for me.”
“It would be my pleasure.” He fished his phone from his back pocked. “But first, I need to let the office know I’ll be putting in some overtime on this one.”
“Of course, I wouldn’t want you in trouble on my account.”
He finished texting his message and tucked the phone away. “Now, where were we?” He held out his hand, and I took it as he guided me out of the chair.
“I believe you were going to make me very wet.” I sidled up to him, glad to finally be getting down to business. I ran my hands up his forearms, gliding over his biceps and shoulders before threading my way into the course hair of his chest. Eager to follow the happy trail to see what kind of rigid tool awaited beneath that taunting zipper, I inched my exploration lower then froze.
Someone knocked on the door. I tried to ignore it, but the clamour continued.
“Excuse me. Don’t move.” I left my plumber, who had already been deliciously effective in getting my taps running, and answered the door.
“Good evening, Miss. I’m Rick Childs, Paul’s brother. I’m here to oversee his work.”
My mouth dropped. Dressed in an identical uniform as Paul, the only thing distinguishing the two brothers was the fact Rick stood in my doorway.
“We’re twins.” He delivered the line as a matter of fact, not something that had the potential to blow my fucking mind.
I nodded, my normal cheeky wit suddenly mute.
“Is he still in the bathroom?”
I cleared my throat. “Yes, straight through there.”
As he wandered off in search of his brother, I took stock. I’d mentioned in my questionnaire that one of my fantasies involved a threesome, but I never expected Pleasure Inc. to stack one experience on another. I remembered some of the other things I’d expressed, rather explicitly, in that survey, and my heart raced.
Rick sat on the chair, and I found Paul where I’d left him, waiting by the vanity. He ran his finger under the strap of my dress, inching the fabric down my arm. “You don’t mind if my brother watches do you? I’m almost finished my apprenticeship. This is my last test.”
I glanced at Rick, who rubbed at a considerable hard on, pressing against the fabric of his jeans. My stomach clenched, moisture flowing between my legs. At this rate, Paul would have a flood on his hands. I wondered if that would constitute a pass or fail? “Anything I can do to help.”
Like the atmosphere after a lightning storm, the air around me pulsed with electricity, my nerves firing in rapid succession, catching every inch of my body up to speed on what could potentially happen.
Paul slid both straps down my arms, tugging the dress over my breasts and hips until it pooled around my feet. Running his fingers down my thighs and calves, he knelt on the floor. He lifted one foot then the other, releasing me of the cumbersome garment. The back of his nails whisked up my foot, lingering on the ankle clasp of my shoes. “These can stay on.”
I’d spared no height restrictions with my heels and wore a killer pair of CFM stilettos.
He stood, lifting me in the process, and I squealed as he set my bare ass on the cold granite of the counter top. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched Rick unzip his pants, drawing his hard cock out. He gripped the shaft, rubbing his hand up and down, his gaze never leaving mine. My head fizzed with arousal, leaving me lightheaded and aching with need.
Paul hooked his fingers around my thong and left them in a pile by my dress. “Spread your legs for me.”
I opened wide as he grabbed my ass, squeezing the cheeks hard, thrusting me forward. I had enough presence of mind to grasp the edge of the vanity before his tongue lighted on my clit. My head flung back, pressing against the mirror, as my hips arched upward.
I closed my eyes, relishing Paul’s masterful attention, delighting in the spasms pulsing through my legs as his fingers dove inside me.
“May I?” Rick’s voice, teasing beside my ear, snapped me out of my reverie. He stood completely naked beside his brother.
Paul acquiesced, letting Rick tuck between my legs.
“My brother forgot to pay these beautiful ladies some attention.” He unclasped my bra, releasing a cascade of cleavage into his waiting hands. My nipples tightened and peaked as his thumb rubbed the straining nubs. His cock twitched against my clit, his pelvis pressed tight against mine. The intimate touch caused my pussy to clench with need. I wanted that pipe in me as deep as it could go. I rocked my hips against him, easing some of the torture.
A quick look at Paul assured me he’d stripped off his jeans and underwear and had taken over residence on the lounge chair. Like his brother before him, he rocked a wicked hard on, his hand pumping. Their cocks were beautiful, not too big or wide, but smooth and ribbed with thick veins. Arousal jolted through me. I wanted them filling every inch of me. “I want you in my mouth.”
Want more? Read The Climax here!
Looking for other stories from Pleasure Incorporated? Check out Stephanie and Stephan’s story. 🙂
Stephanie and Stephan Part 1 https://wp.me/p85fwy-is
Stephanie and Stephan Part 2 https://wp.me/p85fwy-iI
Stephanie and Stephan The Climax https://wp.me/p85fwy-iW