New Blog, Kin List Still A Red Flag

she never saw that woman again but if she did, she'd thank her.

because it was that awakening that landed you in her bed. back arched, tits glistening in a sheen of sweat, writhing beneath her touch. you were desperate for her, wet from the second you caught eye contact through the haze of a dance floor. she'd been out celebrating a friends birthday when you walked in. all pretty n dolled up.

it was dana that struck up conversation and bought the first drink. it was her hand that made its way onto your thigh as you sat snugly in a booth beside the bar. but it was you that asked if she lived nearby and offered to walk her home.

that only led to the two of you being pressed up against a stone wall, engaging in a make out session not fit for public viewing.

"come inside?" she'd panted against your mouth, lips wet and pink.

you'd accepted way too quickly. completely caught up in a dana-drunk haze, you don't remember walking into her house or removing your shoes nor do you remember being dragged up the stairs and stripped naked. but it was the moment she sunk two nimble fingers into your dripping cunt that stuck with you. how her face mirrored yours, mouth falling into an 'o' on the first curl of her knuckles.

"god, you're something else baby" she mumbled against your neck when you'd cried out her name, pussy clenching around her digits. she fucked you so hard, your mind went blank, fuzzy and white, a sky of little stars behind your eyes. "so fuckin wet oh my god" she whined, pulling out her cum covered fingers and inspecting the glisten coating her nails.

"want you to taste it"

"dana- fuck" at this point you were sure she could dirty talk you straight through another orgasm. again and again. words dripping from her lips in that thick accent, making every statement feel like an order.

she danced her wet finger tips along your bottom lip, coating the skin with your own arousal. you opened at her touch, tongue coming out to lick them clean as she worked her fingers against the flat of your tongue. as soon as she curled two inside, you started to suck, taking her all the way to the knuckle until she was practically fucking your mouth.

you moaned sloppily, saliva pooling at the corners and dripping to collect at your chin. you could tell this was working for her by the way she was rolling against your thigh all of a sudden, hips loose and desperate.

"christ thats good" she breathed. "doin so good f'me" your thighs clenched at the praise as her fingers worked your mouth all hot and messy.

"wanna taste me now?"

you mumbled something, sound garbled against her fingers.

"yeah?"

you nodded, pulling her out of you with a pop and gasp for air, begging a "please"

she pushed you til you were flush against the mattress, hovering above with hands either side of your head.

"open"

you repeated your actions earlier, mouth opening and tongue lying flat as she leant over you. she pursed her lips, hollowed her cheeks out and let a bead of spit fall directly into your mouth.

god, the taste of her.

your eyes nearly rolled into the back of your head as you lapped it over your tongue, savouring it, losing her completely inside you.

she could tell you wanted more.

"yeah, you like that?" she smirked when you nodded, eagerly. "you want it on that pretty pussy?"

you said yes by moaning all too loudly, biting down on your lip as she teased a trail down your thighs, feather light touch of fingertips and lips. then she got between your legs, the ghost of breath hot against your cunt. this time she didn't treat it like your mouth, pulling your legs apart with conviction and spitting harshly on your slit. her thumb came to rub it into your folds until your clit was glistening and you were coming with her name on your lips.

she made you cum five times that evening and you drew three hard ones from her.

better late than never <3

Has been since they were randomly assigned as lab partners during pre med, but Robby only admitted it in his own mind after a drunken night in MS4 when one of their classmates dared them to kiss. Robby had gone rigid and was two syllables into his excuse not to when Jack wrapped an arm around him and planted one on him. It’s was sloppy and tainted with the leering cheers of the people around them, but it still made Robby’s heart sing.

Jack’s friendly arm stayed locked around his shoulders for ten minutes after and Robby spun in and out of a fantasy where Jack loved him back.

The next morning, the hangover pounds in Robby’s head, but there’s an extra sickness with it. It starts trapped in his chest, then hacks its way to his throat before spewing his hopelessness into the toilet in the form of bloody petals.

Over the years, Robby has had the displeasure of watching Jack’s string of girlfriends come in and out of their apartment. As much as it hurt then, Robby never worried it would actually kill him, but that becomes more likely by the day.

Hiding his illness is a challenge. Jack is a gentle, attentive soul who notices something is off with Robby almost immediately. He offers support, but backs off when Robby denies it. He’s perfect.

Being in love with Jack is easy; Robby just wishes it didn’t hurt so much.

After they graduate, Jack leaves to repay the military with his life and Robby wanders south to hide his shame. The distance alleviates the pain, Robby can go weeks with only a few odd coughs until Jack calls him. He always erupts into disgusting bloody fits after they hang up.

One day, Jack is extra giddy during their call. “I’m coming to visit,” he says. “Clear your schedule. I’ve got big news.”

Robby does as he’s told and practically trembles with anticipation. What news? Stupidly, he daydreams of Jack kissing him again, saying he’s fallen in love with Robby and wants to be together. Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell be damned.

When Jack arrives, he does so with the biggest smile Robby has ever seen. He wraps Robby in his arms and squeezes tight. Warmth transfers between them and for a brief moment the flowers suffocating Robby wilt. Then Jack speaks:

“I’m getting married!” The joy on his face rivals the sun.

A thorny vine scrapes its way through Robby and clenches around his heart. Blood and petals pool at the base of his throat, but he forces it down. “That’s great,” he chokes. “Congratulations.”

“I couldn’t believe she said yes! Oh, Mikey, you have no idea how nervous I was—“

He prattles on happily while Robby wonders when Jack got so serious with this girl, he hardly ever mentioned her name to Robby and now she’s unknowingly signed his death sentence.

His weekend with Jack passes painfully. Robby frequently has to make excuses to pull fully grown flowers out of his mouth and cry alone in the bathroom.

“Ceremony is happening when I get home from the deployment,” Jack says. He’s halfway in his car, unknowingly saying goodbye to Robby for the last time. “It’ll be a few months, but Amy will send out the invitations. You’ll be there, right?”

“Of course,” Robby lies.

Jack gives him one last hug. Robby does his best to savor it, but the metallic threat creeping up his throat makes it difficult. That night he prays this girl loves Jack enough for both of them, and that one day Jack will forgive him.

—

Eleven months later, Robby is watching nonsense TV alone in his living room when the phone rings.

“Hello?”

A man’s voice comes excitedly through the speaker. “He lives! I was starting to worry.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Don’t be. Your RSVP got lost in the mail; do you want the steak or chicken?”

Robby frowns. “I think you have the wrong number.”

“Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten my beautiful voice already, Mikey,” the man laughs. “It’s Jack! I got home about a week ago.”

“Uh…” Robby racks his brain, but it comes up empty. “I don’t know a Jack.”

There’s a pause. “This is Michael Robinavitch’s number, right?”

“Yes,” Robby says carefully.

Another pause followed by an uncertain chuckle. “I don’t know what this game is, man, but, it’s me. Jack. Jack Abbot.”

The long scar running between Robby’s ribs begins to tingle, though he’s not sure why. He drags his knuckles over it to soothe the ache. “I’m sorry, sir, but I really don’t know you.”

“What? Mikey—“

“Sorry,” Robby says again. “I hope you find who you’re looking for.”

Virgin! Titus who is well past his forties but has never once had the chance to sink into a woman and lose himself to the pleasure.

Virgin! Titus who always had more pressing matters to attend to so any woman that caught his eye was spared from his novice first attempt at intercourse.

Virgin! Titus who bumps into you quite literally mid-hunt. You were stunning and quite shy when you introduced yourself, cheeks flushed a pale shade of pink as you slung your axe handle onto your shoulder with a huff and offered him your palm.

Virgin! Titus who couldn't stop thinking about you the entire time he hunted. The way your hand felt in his, the smile you offered at his playful quips - it was like his heart had swollen ten times it's original size.

Virgin! Titus who then made it his mission to follow you around, unaware just how much he looked like a lost puppy at your heels. But it's okay, because you secretly found it endearing.

Virgin! Titus who you pull to the side after letting him watch you kill the intended prey, blood soaking your skin and dragging your weapon through the mud. Murder was foreplay to you and now you were more than ready to let him feel your desire.

Virgin! Titus who grips your waist with a bruising force, keeping you at arms length as you try to press yourself against the hard planes of his front. You frown, head cocking to the side slightly as you regarded him, and that's when you noticed the uncertainty in his eyes.

Virgin! Titus who practically melts when you offer him a gentle and kind touch. You wouldn't force him to do anything he didn't want to do. Your fingers find his stubble clad chin to guide his lips to yours, letting him get used to the rhythm before slipping your tongue between his teeth.

Virgin! Titus who eagerly follows your lead, the usual ego he held deflating into something more submissive. You showed him where to place his fingers, how to bring you to an orgasm by finding the spongy, soft spot inside of you. He was a fast learner and was soon curling his thick digits just right, making you scream out his name.

Virgin! Titus who had trouble lining himself up as he pressed down on top of you in the stained red grass. He grunts, dropping his head into the crook of your neck, chest working over time to handle his deep breaths.

Virgin! Titus who has a very niche kink awakening when you take ahold of his length and guide it to your slick slit, urging it inside nice and slow until he was fully sheathed. The heat wrapped around him, velvety walls contracting as if urging him to go deeper. He could barely breathe, barely even utter a word into your skin as he began to move and chase the pleasure that tickled the base of his spine.

Virgin! Titus who spilled his load a little too quickly but you didn't seem to mind, offering him the chance to stay seated inside until he had fully gone soft.