#wankwednesday was initiated by Ruby Kiddell. It’s a wonderful writing prompt for erotic writers to tweet and then post their short pieces – written specifically to encourage your hand to behave inappropriately.
In the close darkness of the tiny cubicle I closed my eyes and listened to the dying cacophony out on the Sisowath Quay Road. How anyone could possibly call this a hotel room was beyond me. It was really a large room partitioned off with sheets of pressboard that didn’t even reach the ceiling. That’s how I could hear the traffic – through the gap at the top of the wall. It let in sound, but no light. What can you expect for $8 a night?
Just on the edge of a heat-induced sleep, I heard it. A shrill squeak. Weak at first. Then it grew louder and rhythmic. More even, insistent. I knew what it was. Sex has its own distinct cadence, different from any other.
Fuck, I thought. I just don’t need this. I really don’t. My jaw clenched, my fists balled the damp sheets. I anticipated the moans and exhortations I was sure would follow. But they didn’t.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” I muttered into the dark.
The squeaking stopped. For a moment there was almost total silence. Then I heard a rustle and a squeal of bed-springs. A disembodied male voice spoke. “What?”
It was a challenge. My mind raced. What could I say?
“Can you keep the squeaking down? I’m jet-lagged and my fan’s broken.”
“I can’t help it. It’s the bed. I breathe and it squeaks.”
What an asshole, I thought, experiencing an unexplainable surge of temper.
“You weren’t just breathing. Take your $12 hooker somewhere else.”
A pause again. From somewhere I felt the tiniest tendril of a breeze.
“I don’t have a $12 hooker. I was just having a wank. Can’t a bloke have a wank in peace?”
I laughed, struck by the ludicrousness of the situation. “Can’t you manage it a little more quietly?”
Silence again, and then a few tentative squeaks. “No. It’s this awful bed.”
“Can’t you do it without bouncing?”
“I’m not bouncing.”
“Yes you are.”
“Not really. It’s… the mechanics of it. Sorry.”
I sighed up into the darkness. “Well…” I pondered for a bit. “Just… just get it over with fast, okay?”
I heard him take a deep breath and exhale it with a little tremor of angst. “You… you could help.”
“Fuck you.”
“That would help.”
“Fuck you!” I said even louder.
“Could you sigh again? Like you did before. I like that sound. It would help…speed things up.”
“Are you out of your mind?” I demanded.
“I don’t think so. But I’m definitely horny.”
I frowned into the blackness, gnawed on my lip a little. Then, very carefully, I sighed.
The squeaking started up immediately. “Nice. Don’t stop.”
I tried to put some air and some drama into the next one. Letting out a long, plaintiff sighing breath.
“Oh, lovely.” Now it wasn’t just the rhythmic squeaking. There was a clearly identifiable sound of moist cock being stroked. “How about a moan? Just a little?”
It was impossible not to picture what he was doing. Although I’d never laid eyes on the possessor of the voice, my mind hatched vivid images of his hand around the shaft of his cock, moving it up and down.
I let out a theatrical, porny moan.
“God… that’s brilliant. And again…please.”
As idiosyncratic as I knew the entire situation to be, I was developing that edgy itch of lust. My clit ticked, keeping time with my pulse.
Very carefully–because I didn’t want him to hear–I spread my legs, pulled my knees up, and slid my hand between my thighs. My cunt was swollen and ripe. My ring finger sank pleasingly between labia into a hot, fleshy mess.
The moan I gave him was less dramatic and more heartfelt.
“What’s your name?” The voice asked.
“Shut up and get on with it or I’ll stop moaning.”
“Okay, okay! So… just keep going, that would be nice.”
It was no longer an effort. I’m pretty sure it wasn’t even conscious. And quite soon it didn’t bother me in the least if he heard my own bedsprings creaking away as I canted my hips to meet my fingers. In that suffocating darkness all I could see was his hand tugging at his cock with delicious abandon. My fingers matched the cadence of his bedsprings, pushing into my cunt with each distinct squeak.
And I wasn’t just moaning any longer. I was panting and whimpering.
“Fuck, I’m going to come.”
“Then do it. Do it!”
I really don’t know if we came at exactly the same moment – I was too busy cutting off the blood supply to my fingers with my inner muscles and twitching like a maniac – but it was damn close.
I rolled over onto my side and wiped my fluids up with the rumpled sheet.
“So…what’s your name.”
“I’m not telling you. Go to sleep.”
“Alright. But … it was good for you, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah,” I admitted reluctantly, torn between absolute exhaustion and the fear I was going to suffocate on my own scent.
“Goodnight.”
“Goodnight.”
I got up at six the next morning, had breakfast and went to look for a hotel with honest-to-goodness walls.
_______
There was a veritable banquet of #wankwednesday smut tweeted today. Please go and read some of the other stories:
Spring by Ruby Kiddell @eroticnotebook
Spring by Aisling Weaver @aislingweaver
Delicious.
It’s so different seeing the pieces written up like than as opposed to how they appear when they’re being tweeted. I love the photograph.. and thank you for linking me there! Much appreciated.
*Turns off the TV after finishing the Budweiser. Glancing down to the crumpled sheet on the floor in the silence.
Smoothing the vellum sheet on the desk in a vain attempt to de-wrinkle it. Drawing a deep breath as he dips the quill into the ink well, then exhaling as the ink stains. He whispers to himself.
“Excellent, simply excellent RG…”
Holy FUCK what an incredibly sexy comment. Now you need to write the story of it.
Deliciously sexy. And I like the touch of humour in it… love your descriptive writing, always puts me *in the moment*.
Superb as always. I am always at a loss to describe the mindset your stories leave me in or how fantastic a read I find them.
*The ink stains like never before…
There’s something about the way you write that takes me so close to the action that I can smell, hear, see and feel it. I usually prefer non-consensual erotic stories, but I really enjoyed reading this (and she was sort of drawn into it despite herself!)
So hot!
Something delicious about a fully anonymous stranger encounter… thank you!
awesome, I’ll do my own replay now….
Nice work. I stumbled upon your collection and I’m enjoying it. Thank you for sharing.
Very nice. Two people in darkness not knowing each other just hearing, sharing something deep in their biology and minds. As a guy its refreshing to take myself away from a visual focus. Thanks for writing this.
I love the connection between two strangers in the dark. It’s not even a physical connection, just a shared need.
i cant imagine living my life without you now, this may sound cheap, but i hope it doesnt, i would do to you whatever you wanted me to…sorry, but you just understand sexy and lust and that drunkness as hormones interact and everything that could be understood.
sorry again, had to tho
Wow!
I absolutely love this one and I just got wet reading this. Wow 😉
I think I’ve fallen in love with your writing and style.
Keep up the amaaaaaazing work!!!!
Lots of love,
Leah Joy Brown.
That was simply glorious.
This was brilliant, I could really imagine it.
A fantastic and well written story, thank you for sharing.
this was brilliant and funny; i loved it
I laughed and imagined and came in the moment. Electrifying my imagination 🙂
I always find myself revisiting this story, and it never loses anything. I love the full anonymity of it.
I liked this! wish it described more though!
Absolutely fabulous!
(http://thebasementdiaries.com/2015/11/08/the-spring-in-the-night-by-remittance-girl/)
Really enjoyed that very talented at setting the visuals for the reader
So sexy. The fantasy is so well writen and turns me on soon much. Thank you xx
Now that was delicious.
well now am all wet …
RG u’re the best u know huh?
A great read
Deliously sexy, and oh so clever, as always.
xx
‘As idiosyncratic as I knew the entire situation to be, I was developing that edgy itch of lust. My clit ticked, keeping time with my pulse.
Very carefully–because I didn’t want him to hear–I spread my legs, pulled my knees up, and slid my hand between my thighs. My cunt was swollen and ripe. My ring finger sank pleasingly between labia into a hot, fleshy mess.’
Read a few of your stories, and i am speechless. You have an extraordinary way of jumping from romantic to erotic and to hard and really takes me with it. Fantastic work. Can’t think of anything better to say
Well as you asked that I should leave a comment …..
I loved the way the relationship between the characters developed.
My first time reading one of your stories, I enjoyed it very much.
Good work
Really good story, loved reading it. Thanks for letting it public. Keep doing what you do.
Delicious. Fantasy coming real. Thanks for your writing
I stumbled across your work by chance and I’m very glad I did! This story in particular brought on *that* hunger.
It’s interesting, isn’t it, how some stories just get under one’s skin, and some leave you cold. And it’s so subjective and personal.
That was nothing short of brilliant !
I can just imagine this shoe box of a room in a dilapidated flea pit. This was so like real life. There is a warmth and humour in that story.
Tingly from head to toe, right now. RG, genius, you sexy Goddess. 🙂
I come back to this story. I love the fantasy