Donna

I met Donna at a colleague’s birthday party. She was this elfin woman, small breasts, thin face, standing at the punch bowl all by herself. It was impossible to guess her age – she could have been anything from mid twenties to mid forties, depending on how the light caught her skin, her eyes, her smile.

“I see the way you’re looking at me,” she said, teeth showing. She had this spicy, Eastern scent, like that summer I spent in Cairo when I was nineteen.

I could feel my cock pushing hard against the front of my pants. “People talk about you,” I said, and she laughed and nodded.

“Punch?” She winked and glanced at my crotch while she ladled two glasses.

Later, as I lay back on her bed, grasping handfuls of the pillow, grunting breaths where I could, she picked up the conversation again.

“What do they say about me?”

Her fingers gripped my cock so hard that the head had turned purple, tugging it like she was trying to pull it loose. But it was the strap-on thrusting into my ass that made me buck and whimper.

I gulped. “They say you’re crazy. Like, properly… fuck… properly crazy. Insane.”

“Do you think I am?” She thrust forward, the dildo sliding up inside my anus.

“Yes.” I gasped as she pulled back. “But I like it.”

The bed creaked and thumped against the wall, and I gasped and bleated. Donna just laughed.


Check out Masturbation Monday for the image that inspired this little erotic flash fiction!

masturbation-monday-header3

18 thoughts on “Donna

      • I liked it because it didn’t end how you thought. It was almost like the hunter becoming the hunted. But she’s a very interesting woman, one where few boundaries exist one would think. 😜

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