Ooooh!Dark 30

Sex and War. Put 'em together, you get Marriage.

Wednesday, December 14, 2005

All I want for Christmas, Part Two

When I returned to the party, it was now in full swing. The kids were gone, and it was mostly us singletons and the couples who either had no children or had sent them home to their au pairs. Kevin was there, AGAIN, but by himself.

“Hey, Karen.”

“Uh, hi Kevin. Where’s Janet?”

“She went home with the kids. Want a drink?”

I looked down at my champagne glass. It was empty. And putting up with some of these people requited something a little harder. “Sure, refill it with some of that Grey Goose Chocatini that I saw Lilly with- Wait, I’ll get it myself.” I walked to the other side of the large living room to the bar and sat down next to Lilly, one of the older accountants.

“Enjoying yourself, Karen?”

“Seriously, Lilly?”

“Seriously.”

I flipped my hand a little. “Eh. I’ve had more fun at the dentist.”

Lilly smiled, her green eyes dancing a little. I knew she would understand. “I saw you outside having a nice little chat with Santa. Think you’ll get what you asked for?”

“I dunno, it all depends on me. I’m wondering more if Santa will get what he wants for Christmas.” I pulled out the cherry out my Chocatini and ate it. Maraschino. Yuck.

“Excuse me?” Lilly’s brows shot up. “What do you know about what SANTA wants? I thought he straightened that shit out with Mrs. Claus!”

I smiled. “There is no Mrs. Claus in his case. There used to be, but not anymore.”

“Uh-huh. I see.” Lilly finished off her martini. “I’m guessing there’s a little elf too.”

“Yup . . . poor creature has no life, Lil. He just wants a night away, that’s all. I don’t know enough about him to help. I guess I’ll just wish and pray that he gets what he wants.”

“Make sure you aren’t neglected, and you get what you want too, Karen. By the way, you doing that thing you usually do this weekend? ” I saw Lilly smile her devious, I’m-thinkin’ smile.

“Uh, Yeah- - why? Gonna ditch Robert and join me?”

“Nah, not this week. I promise I will one day.” Bullshit. Lilly has two left feet and wouldn’t be caught dead at these things. “Ya’ll meet at Borbe’ Hall, right?”

“Not normally, but tomorrow night we are.” I let it go. Besides, they were starting to dance. Eric, who sometimes goes to swing dances with me, asked me onto the floor. And I danced. Swing really is easy if you have rhythm, and the fact that you look good doing it (even in PJ pants and a tank top!) made it really attractive as exercise when I was in college. Now that I was out of college, it was a good way to meet men. Ok, that hadn’t worked, but it was fun. The dancing at the party only made me look forward to swing dancing at the hall tomorrow night.

I had to wait another hour before finally heading home at 3 A.M. Too many Chocatinis.

I slept fitfully and kept thinking back to the Santa. His eyes kept staring at me, through me. I wondered what kind of man was under the suit. He obviously did it for the love of the children; he seemed a little more shy with me. Maybe it was the question I asked. I slowly started to imagine him without that hat, wig, beard OR suit. I cuddled my pillow as I imagined my fingers running through dark hair and kissing full lips, my body enveloped in steady arms with gentle hands. I rolled over to my back, and slid my panties off. I had been so tired from work in the past couple weeks that I had drifted straight to sleep. But tonight, I wanted to get off. I’m pretty vanilla when it comes to masturbation. I reached into my bedside table for my vibrator. I was already wet, my clit already hard and receptive to my fingers. I rubbed for a little bit then slid the vibrator inside me. I moved it in and out, feeling my body hold onto the object I’d inserted as I stroked my clit a little faster, thinking of his hands and tongue on me, his fingers and cock inside me. I arched my back as I shuddered and came. So damned good. I’d be freaking happy if I got anything half as good as that. With that sardonic thought and sexual satiation I went to sleep.

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I had finals this week- - But, I admit I've also been getting ready for Other Things. . .oh Yeah, people. . .You're gonna see something really nice that's gonna make you say, Play Ball! ;)

*Taylor*

Sunday, December 04, 2005

Hey, It's Christmas!

And of course, I have a Christmas Special for you all to take in. Whoo-hoo! This one's special because it's inspired by an Actual Santa Claus. Before you throw up on yourselves, he actually was a handsome fellow under the fake belly and grey hair. I'm sure you'll be able to see him in this story....and probably out your window too. Of course, this is but part one.

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All I want for Christmas


I’m not big on company parties. Really, I’m not. I don’t enjoy socializing with these people when I’m on the clock, why should I inflict them on myself when I’m not getting paid for it? But, dammit, I don’t wanna stay home, so I dragged my happy ass out of bed, took a shower and shaved and stood in front of my closer for half an hour to decide what to wear to the 15th annual Christmas Party of Hazelwood & Associates. I didn’t want to look “fuck-me-good”, but I did want to look. . .nice. So, I picked out a simple red dress. Well, it only looks simple. It’s retro, knee length, and it doesn’t need ironing. Whoo-hoo. Since the dress was simple, the makeup would be too. No blush. I hate blush, it gets kissed off, and that’s messy. Just lipstick and eye shadow. So, with my face all made up, my hair held back with a clip, and a matching stole and purse, I drove my late-model BMW to the east side of town.

Every time I go to Mr. Hazelwood’s house for a company function, I’m impressed by the sheer size of the place. How can such a huge house be supported by such a tiny slip of land? I toss my keys to the valet (“Be gentle with her, she’s an heirloom”) and walk in. Mr. Hazelwood goes all out for his people when it comes to his Christmas party. Almost all the upper staff is invited, right down to me, the rookie accountant. The house is ablaze with candles, and every breath is laced with pine and mint. Ok, maybe coming wasn’t such a bad idea after all. I pick up a flute of champagne and wander about the house. The crowd is thin right now, mainly the married partners and their children. I’m roped into a conversation with Kevin from Research. He’s had wandering eyes before he met his wife, and has tried to bed me since.

“Hey, Karen. Nice to see you here. Did you come with anyone else?”

Oh, Jesus. Janet isn’t five feet from him and he’s trying to make a pickup. “Well, my mom is in town. She was going to come with me tonight, but she has some baking she wants to do and she says I get in the way.” I smile. No, you can’t have a quickie in my car OR house, you letch. He places his hand on my shoulder, the tiniest flash of disappointment apparent in his eyes.

“Well, maybe Janet and I can come over for cocktails one day.”

“Yea, sure. One day.” Ok, I think I may just head over to the country club and drink instead. At least I can pretend they’re single there. I’m alone on the deck, and while it is cool, it is not prohibitively cold outside. A couple kids are lined up outside the gazebo on the back lawn. Oh, my god - -this guy’s plunked down money to hire a Santa! This may be pretty fun to watch. I find one of the covered chairs on the deck and watch, reliving my childhood for a bit.

I did believe in Santa as a little girl. My parents didn’t discourage it, but didn’t really comfort me with Tommy Shelley told me Santa didn’t exist. I was crying on the playground in 1st grade when he laughed and said, “You STILL believe in Santa? What a baby!” I still visited the Mall Santas with friends’ kids, but this one was different. He looked like he was actually listening to the kids and asked whether they wanted a peppermint or fruity candy cane. Usually the kids are handed a cane and sent on their way. This one smiled stroked hair like they were his own. But the most compelling thing about him was his eyes. They were the most peculiar, kind shade of blue. I decided to get a closer look.

As if on cue, one of the servants brought out a tray of cookies and the kids swarmed like sharks on chum. I wanted to pig out too, but I figured I’d reconnect with old Santy Claus.

I walked down the steps across the lawn. Santa, who took a drink of water from a bottle didn’t notice me readily, but he stopped before sitting up fully. “My God, children grow up quickly.”

“I’m not a kid anymore, Santa. But there are still some things I want for Christmas that I can’t get from a store.” I smiled at him, a plain sober smile. He smiled back. God, what a smile that old dude had.

“So, what do you want, my dear? You can sit on my lap if you wish.” Ha. He may be Santa, I thought, but under that suit, he’s still a guy.

“I’ll stand for now, Santa.” He leaned forward as I sipped my champagne thoughtfully.

“So, what do you want for Christmas?”

“Uhm--” Wow, I had something prepared, but I totally lost my train of thought. It was those eyes. I smiled. “I knew I wanted to say something, Santa. I just can’t remember.”

He took my hand in his. I breathed in the bracing scent of coffee and mint. I felt relaxed and warm as I took it in. The lack of wrinkles told me that he probably was a lot younger than those grey hairs. The warmth of his hand made my hand feel a little moist and clammy. “Now, Karen, try to remember.”

I wasn’t sure of my own name anymore and how he knew it. Oh, yea . . . he’s Santa. He knows these things. “Well, my life is boring. I’m a CPA at a great firm. I’m single; I go to Fiddler’s Green on Saturdays for swing dancing. I guess I just want a little excitement for Christmas, Santa. I don’t want diamonds or anything expensive like that. All I want is something I’ll remember for the rest of my life.”

Santa nodded. “Well, Karen, I’ll see what I can do. But I will say this. Sometimes all you can do is make your own excitement.” He winked. Yep, Santa was right. But, I had faith. As I walked away, I was struck with a question.

“Santa, anyone ever asked what YOU want for Christmas?” My back was to him, and I really didn’t expect an answer. Would I get a canned answer, or the thoughts of the person underneath the suit?

“You know, no one ever asked me that.” The voice wasn’t the resonant, deep voice of Santa. This was the ragged, but gentle voice of a tired man. “I guess all I want is a baby sitter for my son and a night out. Nothing has to happen. Just, I guess for a single dad not to be seen as a man.” My heart went out to him. I wanted to tell him to blow this joint, hit a couple bars and have a little fun with me. But, he was still Santa. I wasn’t gonna mess up his gig. I walked away without looking back, hoping in my heart I’d meet him again, without the worries he’d mentioned, and the ones I had thought about. After that, I actually felt a little ready to party.

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*Taylor*

Monday, November 28, 2005

Someone's compensating. . .





Take a look at this cartoon. This is the latest chunk of fecal matter from Ted Rall, who either has a problem with his own sexuality and has let this destroy his drawing ability, or has a pretty rich and twisted fantasy life, because when my boyfriend came to visit me after serving in Iraq, I don't think we did any of the things in that cartoon... ok, he's got me on the tying down thing, though, but unlike any fumbling attempts at coitus Mr. Rall has tried, let's just say it was a "Mission:Accomplished".

But - -on the brighter side. . .

Bruce Willis, out to counteract some of the naysayers of the Iraqi conflict, has announced plans to make a movie about the soldiers involved, specifically the Deuce-four(1stBatt. 24th Inf. ) in their battles in Mousul. But those who've been paying attention (like myself) have seen this coming if you read any of the entries from blogger Michael Yon. Michael Yon is a freelance journalist who was embedded with the Deuce Four (also called The Punishers - -which is a GREAT title for a movie, hint-hint) and his dispaches have presented a thoroughly human side and a positive counterpoint to convernional coverage.

Mr. Rall could learn a thing or two about manhood from these men. Rall isn't worthy of the freedoms preserved by men like this.



*Taylor*

(Credit to Michael Yon's Online Magazine)

Thursday, November 17, 2005

Tom Cruise needs to Come out of the Closet!

"The first time Stan said that, i thought to myself, 'are they saying what I think they're saying?' When they repeated it, then I had no doubt." ~ M. , the boyfriend.

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So my boyfriend tore me away from watching CSI:NY tonight. GOD, am I glad I did that, because I caught one of the funniest (and probably most imporant) episodes of South Park known to man or woman. . . for those of you who missed it, here's a ...er, rundown :

Stan's depressed (meh, he always struck me as more of a mensch than Kyle ever did) over religon, which is understandable. So, he stumbles on the Church of Scientology - - herein lies the genius of this episode and the entire South Park series, Trey and Matt have pulled no punches- - and they tell him --suprise,suprise--he needs help, which they will give...for a price, of course. (just because it's a church doesn't mean it's cheap!)
So, Stan sits for an auditing session. . .and Lo and Behold! It's revealed that Stan Marsh is L.Ron Hubbard (BTW, this link is from the CO$ *T*) re-incarnated. This sends the scientologists into a tizzy, bringing out the head of Scientology and it's celebrity spawn, including , you guessed it- -




He shows up in Stan's room (stalking is simply the logical conlcusion to the couch jumping), and when Stan besmirches his impeccable acting skills - - placing him as not as good as Leo DiCaprio, he disappears into. . .the closet,refusing to come out. which becomes an everlasting source of humor. . ."Tom Cruise won't come out of the closet." He eventually is joined by John Travolta and R. Kelly, who was previously was threatening to 'cap a bitch'.
Meanwhile, Stan is told by the head of the church what the scientologists really believe - - for the initiated, YES, he talks about the DC-8's and the movies and the Thetans. For those who have no clue what this means, the linky takes you there.(After you read it, I will repeat the text on the screen during this part of the episode : this is what scientologists ACTUALLY BELIEVE) Stan's told to write a new chapter and "continue" L.Ron Hubbard's teachings. Stan meekly suggests that because we're a church, maybe we shouldn't pay for this knowlege - - The head loses it, letting slip that maybe all of this isn't true after all, and forces Stan to continue writing. (R. Kelly goes into the closet, but not after the FUNNIEST singing exchange since...I don't know) Finally, the plucky kid can't take it anymore, and at his "coronation", he lets it out - -he's not L.Ron Hubbard reincarnated, and it's all one big charade. In the face of the truth, what do the scientologists do?

Well, what they usually do - - Sue.

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And this is what you missed. Part of me wonders if the CO$ will do what it always does- - sue Trey Parker and Matt Stone. . .I mean Messrs. Smith. This is a group that has followed journalists around ( The author of the May 6, 1991 Time Article "The Thriving Cult of Greed and Power" speaks of being intimidated) and it even motivated Mark Ebner of Spy Magazine to
"Dead Agent" himself in the opening paragraph of his article on the group:
I am an ex-drug addict who has solicited prostitutes in my day. I've also masturbated and inhaled at the same time, and I have been arrested more than once in my life. I dropped out of high school, and I've been under psychiatric care. Oh yeah, and I owe the IRS roughly six thousand dollars that they are well aware of.
Most of you kinda were aware of this - -many people believed that something WAS off in the kingdom of 'ol L. Ron. . .but this Episode of South Park was a funny confirmation of a sad truth.

(P.S- - watch the credits! )

*Taylor*

(Hat tip to Boing Boing via xenu.net)

Thursday, November 10, 2005

Exuses that you don't want to hear, and Part two of the story

I'm really sorry about this delay ( promise it won't happen again) You can blame Wilma for part of this, but the rest is me just being a slacker ass. But what do you care... More Story! More Story!

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At Loose Ends, Part Two

Now was the time to get a little rough. He pulled her head sharply, so quickly that there was still saliva glistening on his shaft.

“Trying to get me out of fucking you, you little slut? That’s not fair.” He pulled her leash she looked up at him again. He ran his hands down her chest, pulling again on that clipped nipple. She cried out. “Now bend over.”

She leaned over the chair; Mac then came around in front of her, holding the blindfold. She obediently put her head in his hands as he slipped the satin blindfold over her eyes. She was effectively blind now, her legs spread. She felt his hands stroke along the side of her body as he came behind her. Cathy’s panties were still on, but the crotch was soaked, Mac could smell it, and he felt his mouth water. He leaned in behind her, placing his hands on her round ass, then moved them up to her hips as he pulled her panties off. Her labia were swollen and wet. He leaned and gave a slow lick along the edge of her lip, up, up toward her clitoris.

“Mac, oh god- - please! I’m so close to cumming, dammit!”

He pulled away, her moisture still on his lips, and licked it off. Sweet. He leaned back to whisper in her ear.

“You DO taste good.” He licked his fingers. “But I still think you need a little tenderizing.” He slid her hands back over her ass to her pussy again, inserting two fingers inside her again. He curled his fingers back and started to stroke against a hard spot inside her. That brought even more moisture.

“You know,” he said, while reaching for the paddle, “Before there’s pleasure, there’s always a little pain.”

The wood of the paddle was surprisingly smooth, and felt cool. Mac saw the gooseflesh rise on her skin as he ran the edge of the paddle against her ass.

“What are you doing back there, Mac?”

That was answered with a resounding smack to her behind. Cathy wanted to cry out, but she didn’t, and bit her lip instead. Mac’s fingers were still inside her, pressing against that hard spot. Cathy began to move her hips along with his fingers, biting her lips at the pain of the paddle against her tender ass, but squealing at the feel of his fingers deep inside. She was longing for something else to fill and satisfy her, and Mac felt it was time after teasing her for a good while. His cock was getting hard again, and he edged up close to her opening, but didn’t remove his fingers. He gave a final, gentle stroke against the hard spot inside her, but before she could savor and orgasm, he removed his fingers and slid inside her.

Cathy’s back arched and she tried to get up on her knees to lean up against him, she was reaching back for him, to take in his warmth over all of her.

“No, no, no, Cathy,” Mac whispered. “Not yet.” She was so tight and warm as he slid deeper into her. He pulled her bound wrists away from him and placed them on her chest, using her own body to push further onto him. He began to fall into a rhythm, moving in concert with her gasps and moans. He ran his hands along her sides up to her shoulders and to her neck, where he started to gently tug on her clipped nipples. She moaned again, her body curling inward pushing, tightening herself further. He could no longer hold on, and he shot off into her with a moan.

Cathy felt it, felt Mac’s grip loosen on her. She smiled. The game had changed.

“Mac. . .” She said it gently, slowly. She worked off her blindfold, and looked back over her shoulder. Mac leaned back and withdrew from her. She turned around, now on her back, a foot resting on Mac’s bare shoulder. “Detective Taylor, you have been a very, VERY bad cop. Now uncuff me and go to my room.”

He did as he was told. The game HAD changed.

Cathy stopped at her fridge. She wasn’t always prepared for events like this, but- - somehow the stars had aligned for her to have some ice, some cherries and whipped cream in her possession. She picked up these items, along with the chain and blindfold. Before entering, she finally eased off her bra. Damn thing was uncomfortable as hell, anyway.

She entered. Mac was lying on her bed, eyes closed. Wussy. But, it was for the best. Taking the sash from her bathrobe, she slowly tied his hands to the iron poles in the headboard of her bed. He opened his eyes. “Oh, Jesus.”

She smiled and impish smile. “You’re gonna be screaming for all of heaven when I’m done witcha.”

“You’re gonna ride me this time?” He bucked his hips with a wink.

“Oh, I’ll ride you, but I get to pick where I wanna go.” She slid off the bed and looked at him, licking her lips hungrily, pacing like a tiger. He had brought her so close so many times, and after that orgasm he was still hard. Damn him. For someone under that much stress, his body wore it well. He was staring at her with those brilliant light blue eyes, his muscles tensed, waiting for her because she was now in control of the situation.

She crawled onto the bed, running her hands up his legs, leaning in close to the skin of his inner thigh, licking dangerously close to the base of his cock. But that wasn’t the point of this. She kissed up his belly button, the licking there giving a hint of what she wanted. Slowly circling, flicking upward and back down. She now was straddling him, his cock behind her. She leaned forward to stroke his hair and his lips caught her unclipped nipple. His tongue slowly flicked it as she reached down to slide a finger between her labia and slowly rub herself as he found himself tasting her breast. She slowly pulled away.

Wordlessly, she positioned her knees on either side of his head and lowered herself onto his face while stroking his hair. He looked up at her and let his tongue graze against her inner thigh, up towards the crease in her leg. She looked down at him, his eyes betraying mischievous lust and the simple enjoyment of the sweetness of her taste. He ran his tongue up toward Cathy’s slit as she lowered herself closer. She could feel his hot breath on her folds followed by his tongue trailing behind, lapping up close to her heat within. He dragged his tongue along her hood, bringing her body down even closer to Mac’s face, leaning back to watch him taste and stimulate her. He made eye contact, and she leaned back even further as he moved his tongue side to side over her now visible pearl like clit, then wrapped his lips around it and sucked. That brought out a moan from Cathy’s lips as she entwined her fingers in Mac’s hair. He opened his mouth a little wider, sliding his tongue down further as he slid his tongue inside her.

That started the bucking. She ground her hips over his tongue, slowly rolling her hips over as his tongue flicked in and out of her. She was getting closer, he could taste it. She looked down at him, her eyes glazed over in sheer ecstasy. Mac moved his face deeper between her thighs, his tongue deeper into her, working and exploring her folds. If he could breathe Cathy in, he would, but he settled to taste every shade of her. He could hear her breathe and bear down, tighten and lift off into an orgasm. He felt her let go as she did, and came down. He turned around and softly kissed her still trembling, but now sticky thighs.

He looked back up at her, and then Mac’s eyes turned toward the bowl on the bedside table. Cathy followed his eyes and smile.

“Is that what you want, Detective Taylor? To eat a cherry out of this one?”

He nodded. Cathy reached for a cherry from the bowl, and ran it along Mac’s lips. He ran his tongue over it then slowly bit into the fruit and devoured it, his mouth enveloping her fingers, slowly sucking them.

He smiled, the cherry pit between his teeth. Cathy kissed him, removing it. “That’s it. I like that.”

She picked up another cherry, and leaned back, so that she was sitting on his stomach. She sucked on the cherry meditatively for a moment, spread her legs, and slowly placed the cherry at her opening. Mac raised an eyebrow and smiled. Cathy leaned forward.

“Now, Detective, the object is to take your time with eating the cherry without totally extricating it from inside me. Got it?” He winked.

He could taste her and the sweetness of the cherry, which made a heady combination. He rolled his tongue over as he nibbled on the cherry, his teeth glancing, careful not to hurt her. Cathy’s moans told him that he was doing quite well at this. He rolled his tongue again, back up to her clit, trying to coax it out.

“Uhhhh, YES!” Cathy once again grasped Macs hair, not pulling too hard but wanting him closer, deeper. Mac licked back to the cherry and took a nibble, then flicked back toward her opening. Nibble, flick, suck. Cathy was coming close again, and he was getting harder. He could feel it. He decided to concentrate on her clit, nuzzling it with his lips and tickling it with his tongue.

“Oh – Mac, Jesus CHRIST! Don’t STOP!” She locked eyes with him, whenever they were open. But most times they were squeezed shut, her feet working under his shoulders, as she ground down, and this time; she came with such force, the cherry popped straight into his mouth. She slid away from his face, the nibbled-on cherry between his teeth, his lips and chin soaked with her juices. He sucked on the cherry first, savoring her strong taste with the sweetness of the fruit. And he could tell by her smile that she still wanted more.

She wrapped her fingers around his shaft and stroked, gently squeezing. His hips bucked, he bit his lip as a single drop of clear fluid emerged from the head of his erect penis. Cathy reached for the ice on the bedside table and popped a sliver of ice into her mouth. She then rubbed the ice between her hands. Mac saw something at the bottom of the bowl of ice - - the chain. She pulled it out, and very gently ran the cold metal along Mac’s stomach. It tightened reflexively as she blew on the head of his cock. She then moved up a little. His organ was now lying between her breasts, now warm from all the activity. She kept the chain along his stomach. She then ran the chain close to the base of his shaft, gently wrapping it around it. The contrast between her warm breasts and their erect nipples and the chain was getting to be too much. Cathy’s mouth, now warm, wrapped itself over his head as her still cold hands worked his shaft, letting the ends drift down to his jewels. She began to take in more and more of Mac’s cock into her mouth as he felt his organ throb and explode. She pulled away from his still throbbing dick, and stared him straight in the eyes and swallowed. Mac closed his eyes, now totally spent.

When he next opened them, he was unbound, Cathy asleep next to him. He smiled to himself. He was still at loose ends about the case he came over to speak with this woman about, but – for now, he didn’t care.

FIN

Thursday, October 27, 2005

At Loose Ends, Part One

This - -this is my first child, the one I brought forth with love and . . .well, I'm still proud of it. For those of you who have read my stories before. . .I'm starting at the beginning, then working my way up to newer selections as time goes on. Anyhow. . .I bring you my first Fan Fiction, At Loose Ends.

*T*

At loose Ends

Mac Taylor arrived at the apartment building in Midtown. Hawkes and Giles hadn’t been able to help, and the rest of the CSI team really didn’t have the experience to deal with such a strange case.

Cathy had been a member of the team from a while ago, and then left to work with the Museum of Natural history. Cathy was a literal genius, finishing college at 18, taking an extra year off to do some forensic work with the Vidoc Society before joining the NYPD’s Crime Scene Investigation Unit. Her Jamaican born parents would have preferred their youngest become a doctor. It was disturbing that Catherine found her niche working with the dead than with the living. But she found joy in Forensic work, and after ten years, she went on to work with the Museum, specializing in medieval lives and artifacts, inspecting remains of people and the objects they used. Mac had seen her become a thoughtful woman, from what was once a cocksure teenager. He’d seen her grow physically as well, once a borderline geek behind glasses to a total knockout. That thought resonated longer since he was now a widower. He knew he wasn’t being unfaithful, but he couldn’t resist the twinge of guilt along with lust. He put those thoughts aside as the elevator opened and he found her apartment at the end of the hall, and knocked on the door.

He heard a slight tumble, and the door opened. Cathy Reid stood there, wearing nothing but a white satin bra and panties and a fuzzy bathrobe. “Shit! Mac, you weren’t supposed to be here for another hour!”

He raised an eyebrow. “I can leave if you want, Cat, and we can do this later…”

“Chuh! Come in, dammit, it’s not like you’re stopping anything,” She grabbed his arm gently and showed him into her apartment, shutting the door. “Take off your jacket, I’ll change. There’s some Jack Daniels on the side table.”

“Alright,” Mac said with a smile. He had made her revert to her Jamaican patois, if but for a minute. He seemed to have that effect on her.

Cathy used the moment in her room to pull her self together and to pull on a pair of shorts and a tank top. She had hoped for the hour to herself to relax before seeing her old boss. She’d had an undeclared crush on him; one that fit with her mildly twisted desires. She felt herself moisten at the thought of submitting to, being possessed and conquered by Det. Mac Taylor.

She walked back into her front room, where he was settled with a glass of Jack, and an array of photos on her coffee table. She pulled a pillow from a chair and got on her knees on the opposite side of the table, facing him. “So, what is this great and mighty thing we are looking at?”

Mac was taken by surprise. Her eyes were somewhat at crotch level, and he felt his cock stiffen. He tried to focus. “Teenage girl found in Hell’s Kitchen. I’m sure you see the ligature marks-“

“Uh-huh.”

“We thought the method was manual strangulation, possibly during a sexual assault-“

“But there’s no bruising, and I’m betting the rape kit is inconclusive.” She leaned forward onto the table, affording Mac a view of her cleavage and full caramel breasts. He nodded, to agree with her assertions. She continued. “Sex was probably consensual and death may have been accidental. Hell’s Kitchen - -you’ve got sex clubs doing all kinds of kinky shit. Could be autoerotic asphyxiation -”

“I was gonna ask about that.”

“Shoot.” Her chest heaved, revealing her nipples starting to protrude through her tight tank top. Her deep brown eyes concentrated on his. He was beginning to think about how much she was teasing him.

“My question is these bruises on her back.” He passed her a picture of a milky white back with a series of deep purple circular bruises. Cathy didn’t bat an eye. She shifted and leaned back.

“It’s definitely medieval.”

“Ok, what is it?”

“It’s a rack. It explains the dislocation to her arms and leg sockets.” She thought about it. She ran her tongue along her lips and leaned over the coffee table, her hands supporting her as they squeezed her breasts together. “I can show you the principle behind it,” she said with a raised eyebrow. “I think it’ll help the case.”

His eyes wandered from her graceful neck to the swell of her breasts, her long brown legs, and back to that impudent mouth. Was she asking him to teach her a lesson? “Of course. You were always a hell of a tease, weren’t you, Catherine Reid?” He took her chin in her hands.

“Yes, sir.” Her eyes locked onto his light blue eyes, which served as a shocking contrast to his dark hair. She looked back at the table where the flask of Jack Daniels and its shot glass companions stood. His eyes followed hers. “Sir, you should open the drawer. I think I have all that’s needed for an accurate reconstruction.”

“Fine.” He got up and opened the drawer. There was a metal bar with a long chain, handcuffs, a blindfold, ball gag, a pair of jeweled clamps, a small chain, collar and leash, and a paddle. My, this girl is a little freak, he thought. “I’m guessing someone’s been naughty.” Lust and guilt were fighting with one another, and as the looked at the dark-skinned girl in front of him, lust was winning.

“Oh, you know I have, Detective Taylor.” she responded. She moved aside the pictures into a neat pile and stood on the coffee table, her hands extended toward a hook in the ceiling. He got onto the table with the chain, bar and handcuffs. Standing this close, he leaned in to kiss her, grabbing the back of her head forcefully. She obediently followed, he looped the chain over the hook, placed her hands over the bar, cuffing her in place as they continued kissing.

He pulled away and got off the coffee table. “What’s wrong with this picture?” He loosened his tie as he walked around Cathy, inspecting the scene. Cathy was now cuffed to a pipe, which hung from a double looped chain in the ceiling. She bit her lip as she looked at him pace like a lion facing its prey. He got on the table, and stood behind her, now pressing his raging hard on against her ass. “We have a nasty little slut chained up, about to be punished because of what a cock tease she is,” he whispered in her ear. “She’s rebellious,” as he slid his hand around to the front of her shorts, “She doesn’t listen, and I think-” as he ran a finger along her shaved pussy, “she’s wearing too many clothes.” He cut her tank off and pulled her shorts off. “Much better.” She leaned into Mac as he ran his fingers along the cup of the bra, easing a breast out. With his other hand, he reached to undo his pants, sliding them off along with his boxers. His cock now freed, he stroked it against the soft satin of her panties. He was getting turned on further by her soft moans that seemed to accompany every breath. He reached between her legs, feeling Cathy’s juices run over his fingers, as he stroked up to her clitoris. The moaning was getting louder.

“Mac . . . Sir, fuck me, please, oh, please!” She was begging. He got more turned on as her voice strained.

“Beg harder and see if I’m listening, little girl.” Teasing someone else for a change did feel good. He reached for one the jeweled clips and attached it to her erect nipple, now pulled taut between his fingers. Her ass now rubbed up against Mac’s swollen member. She was squeezing her thighs, nearly crushing his hand with the force, as he slid two fingers inside her, hard- in and out. “Is that how you want it?”

“Yes! Godammit, YES!” He had her screaming it, and her thighs loosened, and his hand didn’t feel so crushed. Mac leaned back and took a good look at her. She looked back. She hadn’t been broken yet. He got up close to her face, and her hungry lips took his in the form of a violent, devouring kiss. He pulled away from her mouth and slapped her lightly.

“Look in my eyes.” She didn’t move. “ Look up, dammit!” She finally met his gaze. “You don’t quit, do you?” She smiled, focusing her eyes on him seductively. Those eyes. Damn her. “Are you gonna stay still?”

She nodded.

He unlocked her handcuffs and locked them back into place. “On your knees.”

“Yes, sir.”

Mac got off the table and looked at Cathy, and reached for the leash and paddle. “You planned this out, didn’t you?” She didn’t meet his eyes.

“Tell the truth, you little cocktease.” He buckled the leash around her neck and

gave it a gentle tug up for her to look at him. Mac then slid off the table and she followed obediently, on her hands and knees, her ponytail unraveling, tendrils of her hair framing her face. Watching this woman he had lusted after in such a position turned him on. Mac had never done anything like this and he wanted to savor this experience. He now drew himself to his full height. He wasn’t very tall, but just tall enough for his hard cock to reach her mouth. He ran his fingers through her hair as she looked up at him, then gave her thick hair a good pull back. Her mouth opened and he slid his cock into her moist, waiting mouth. She was so open, so warm as Cathy wrapped her tongue around his throbbing member and started to flick the head.

He yanked her hair. “Tease. Suck my cock like a good girl, Cathy. Don’t make me have to spank you.” Her mouth opened wider, accepting more of him. Slowly, he saw the look in her eyes change into one of sheer lust as she took up her own rhythm as she moved her lips slowly up and down his shaft. She moved her bound hands along his inner thigh; the warm skin and the cold metal making him tingle. She finally started to stroke his cock as her mouth worked the now exquisitely sensitive organ. Cathy was bringing Mac closer, and he wasn’t ready!

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

It's only part one, I know. I'm sure you can wait long enough for the rest. :)

*Taylor*

Wednesday, October 26, 2005

And a Good Morning to you too!

I never thought I'd write a blog...well, this isn't really a blog. This is a journal of stories of an adult nature, the occasional news clipping. . .and just generally a spot for me to kick back, and share some of my stuff with you, and you share your ideas with me.

I'm Taylors Acolyte, and I'll be your host and guide.

I'll divide my stories into two categories: FanFiction and Non-Fan-Fiction.

Fan Fiction: I am a CSI:NY fan. . .loved this show from the get go for one very important reason:The Man in the Picture- -
(It's also why I'm called TaylorsAcolyte)
You may think that's odd, or that , good lord, He's FIFTY- - but, if you want average-guy-sexy, Sinise is your man. Hell, I wish he were my man... Someone tell my Devil-Dog I'm kidding.

Anyhow, so I write CSI:NY fan fiction of an erotic nature. That makes me a geek. So sue me.

But... I said TWO kinds of erotica, right?

Non-Fan-Fiction: I admit it's mostly interracial hooking up (if you don't like it, tough) But I admit I can be nebulous enough (Sometimes) that any woman/man can partake in the fantasies I weave. If you have requests, leave them. If you have a suggestion, post it. It only makes me a better writer. . .no, really, it does. :)

I'm all about giving the people what they want - -(most of the time)

But you came for the erotica, right? He's the rest.

A little about myself: I'm in college, I'm addicted to the internet and sugar, and I like to write good dirty stories. I have a boyfriend, who is in the USMC (ooh-RAH!) and he gave me the idea for this blog's title.

For those of you who do not know the term, Oh-Dark-30, it means. . .really fucking early in the morning. For me personally, it brings me back to a really shitty hostel room off broadway and really loud sex.(for the rest of you on the 3rd floor, I'm sorry, he's just good likethat)

Anyhow. . . you just want me to post the dirty stories,don't you?

I'll do it tomorrow. ;)

*Taylor*