Dirty Thirty!

A few newsworthy items…

Quick reminder about the Smashword’s Summer/Winter sale. You can get the Miriam F. Martin books for half off until the end of the month. Not a lot of time left on the deal.

And something I hadn’t entirely realized… I’ve gone thirty weeks of posting two short stories per week without repeating. “Control” was quickie number thirty, and “For Friends and Money” was the thirtieth humpday story.

Originally I’d planned on writing a brand new short story for each week for 52 weeks. Then life smacked me around and I had to dip into my catalogue to keep things going. But I still wrote a bunch of new work, so total win.

I’m resetting my goals again. So in the meantime, I’ll repost some of the older Wednesday stories until I have a backlog of new stuff. Any requests, you can leave it in the comment section.

And one more thing… I’m rebranding Siren’s Garter yet again. Still have a lot of work with cover designs, but I’m pleased with the new direction. I don’t think I’ll relaunch the issues this year, but certainly early next year I’ll have enough to a) publish more issues, and b) re-release the older issues with new designs. Right now I have six issues published, and the next four mostly put together.

I’ll much more to say about all that when I’m closer to having final products.

A milestone I hadn’t realized…

With Sunday’s “In the Bag” and Wednesday’s “Friends with Batteries,” marks 25 weeks of posting two stories per week. So that’s 50 erotica short stories. I sort of knew I had a lot of work out there, but hadn’t really thought about it much. And I feel like I’m only beginning.

I began this as a challenge to myself to write a short story every week, which fell apart faster than I’d hoped. Then I kept things going by using my backlist stories. I have three more I’m willing to use for Wednesday, after that I’ll either need to write more or re-post older ones. I like the idea of writing and publishing a short story per week. We’ll see how this goes again.

I still have a lengthy list of Sunday Quickie stories to draw from, plus a number that have never been published. They don’t take as much focus to write, so no worries about those.

But I plan on re-posting some of the older Wednesday stories anyway, at least every now and then. A number of the people following this blog probably never got to read the January and February stories. So, if you’re curious about any of the titles, or just want to re-read one, let me know in the comments. Here’s the list of the Wednesday stories so far.

And yes, I’m working on novels and novellas too. My productivity and focus is slowly ramping up, so I’m taking on longer projects. Just going slower than I wanted.

A Thousand-one Days of Writing

I don’t discuss writing on this blog on purpose. Simply put, I’ve reached a point where I no longer need to justify my process. I just do things and make shit up as I go, and that’s enough to get me publishable stories. Better to leave a few things behind the curtain. And honestly, I think either a blog can be for the readers, or for other writers, but probably not both.

But today, I want to look back at something i’ve done, for teaching and perhaps motivating other writers who happen to be reading this.

Beginning on June 10, 2015 all the way to right now on March 6, 2018, I’ve written every single day. By my count, this is day 1,001. Continue reading “A Thousand-one Days of Writing”

The Undressing Room

When the Unthinkable Happens

The Undressing Room

by

Miriam F. Martin

WhenTheUnthinkableHappens_v1 I take GamerGirl out clothes shopping every so often. Not real sure why I do so. Ever notice the chair outside the ladies’ fitting rooms? That’s where I sleep.

When I’m not sleeping, I’m fantasizing. One of my biggest fantasies is to have wild, raunchy sex in the fitting room.

Surprisingly (or not) this is one of GamerGirl’s fantasies too.

For both of us, it’s the thrill of getting caught by a fitting room attendant, or by another customer. Or maybe even by security.

Luckily, department stores have drastically cut back on their staffing, so getting caught by an attendant is unlikely. Also because of less staff, there’s fewer customers. And security at these stores tends to be one guy who sits at a desk and watches TV all day, so no worries there.

But none of that kills the illusion.

So we were in the fitting room at GamerGirl’s favorite department store. She had an arm full of Lolita style dresses to try on. I had a massive boner bulging in my pants. She looked at me, I looked at her.

Then I pushed her into the cubicle and we ripped each other’s clothes off.

I played with her pussy for a bit to make her wet. Then I slipped on a condom. (She has five kids. She doesn’t need one from me. And Hubby owns guns.)

I turned her around to face the mirror. GamerGirl braced herself with a hand on opposite walls. I was balls deep in her.

Pretty soon, we were both sweaty. Our hair was a mess. Her makeup was ruined. I made eye contact with her in the mirror. Watching her tits bounce and her eyes roll backwards, just made me even hotter.

Then, over the intercom: “Good afternoon customers. There’s a tornado watch in affect. Sorry for the inconvenience, but we ask that you follow all ten of our employees to the designated safety area. Thank you.”

The thrill of being caught intensified. Now it was the thrill of being in danger. What if the roof got torn off while we were fucking?

GamerGirl and I rattled the cubicles. A few of the bolts fell out and clinked on the floor. The mirror almost came off the wall. It hung sideways.

And then the unthinkable happened.

People came marching into the dressing room. Lots of people. Employees, customers, security guy. More than I thought were in the store. Their feet shuffled across the hardwood floor.

“Is this really the tornado drill area?” said one person.

“Yes, ma’am,” said another. “And this isn’t drill, ma’am.”

“Just doesn’t seem all that safe.”

“Mommy, she has four feet!” said yet another voice, one with a high shrill like nails on chalkboard.

My dick shriveled up. I didn’t have to pull out. It just kind of fell out and migrated up into my prostate. My condom fell off and dropped to the floor. I didn’t dare move to pick it up.

GamerGirl and I froze, like deer in the headlights. Or rabbits caught in the garden late at night. Or…

Well, fuck it. We got caught, and it was nothing like I imagined. All the hot sweat was now cold.

I signaled to GamerGirl in the mirror. After a few weird hand signs, we agreed to dress ourselves.

I moved slower than a sloth slowed down with more than enough booze to tranq a mammoth. One leg. One pant-leg. Then the other. Pull the jeans up very, very damned slowly. Neither of us made a sound.

Then, unthinkably, the unthinkable struck again.

I accidentally smashed my elbow into the cubicle wall. Thunk! I froze again. The wall didn’t stay so still. The mirror creaked, and then fell to the floor and smashed into a thousand gazillion pieces.

The dressing room got real quiet quick. Even the tornado seemed to quiet down.

“Mommy, what was mmph mmmph…”

GamerGirl and I pretended the people outside the cubicle didn’t exist, as best we could. In return, the ignored us best they could. It was like being at family dinner and the weird uncle farted loud enough to rattle the house.

Nobody said anything.

After what seemed like an endless eternity, the damn tornado ended. GamerGirl and I cut our feet on the glass shards.

Driving her to the emergency room was the single most painful experience ever, not counting anything Vampirella’s done to me.

Needless to say, we’re both banned from that department store.

***

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Rule Number Two

When the Unthinkable Happens

Rule Number Two

by

Miriam F. Martin

WhenTheUnthinkableHappens_v1 I have a firm rule when I’m performing on cam. Never, under any circumstances, agree to meet somebody. No matter how sexy the photo she shares, no matter what dirty things she says, or even if she’s a stunning Asian woman with a dragon tattoo on her pussy.

That’s rule number two. Rule one is to have fun, of course.

This lady with the handle JennySuxCox had been lurking in my webcam chatroom for several days. I noticed her, said hi, and then ignored her because she’d never say anything.

Until one late night.

“Hi,” she wrote.

“Hello,” I wrote back. It was a slow night on the cam.

“Wanna be my BF?” Jenny said.

Now understand, I was bored with a massive boner in one hand. And earlier I’d gotten a lot of unwanted attention from dudes. Jenny’s profile image was of a very beautiful Asian woman. So, fuck yeah. I told her yes.

“Oh??” she wrote back immediately. “I think I love u.”

I smiled, and then stroked myself a bit for her. I figured this was some fantasy for her. And then she wrote a bunch of kinky, sexy things to me. How she wanted to ride my big cock. How she’d suck me dry under the stars. And then ride me even harder.

“So,” she wrote after awhile. “When u gonna propose?”

“Propose what? Lol,” I wrote back.

“Marriage, dumb a$$,” Jenny wrote.

I was silent for a long time. I typed and retyped several responses. “I like to meet and fuck first,” I said at last. “Ya know, get to know you.”

“OK,” said Jenny. “Let’s meet. Tonite. Make Out Park. I have a dragon tattoo on my pussy. Condom or bareback, ur choice.”

She sent me a picture of her twat. Sure enough, it had a green dragon breathing fire downward onto her clit. My cock twitched.

Then I replied, “Sure. See you soon, baby.”

I shut off my webcam. Sweat dripped down my pits and back. What the hell did I just agree to? Was I really breaking rule number two?

And if I skipped the meeting with Jenny, that made me a liar.

If I kept it, that made me a man-slut.

I had a reputation to uphold. My cam followers expected me to be a little slutty. But I can’t be a liar.

So I put on my jeans and a shirt, grabbed a condom out of my nightstand drawer, and drove out to Make Out Park.

I parked next to the other car that was there, which happened to have an Asian woman sitting behind the wheel. She got out, and got into the passenger seat of my car. Before I could say anything, she unzipped her jeans and showed me the dragon tattoo.

There it was, just like in the photo and twice as sexy.

I meant to look into Jenny’s eyes, but I kept staring at her tattoo.

Didn’t matter. She grabbed me by the face and made out with me. No words were said. I stripped for her, like on my show but in a cramped driver’s seat. She was a rough kisser. And when she climbed on my lap, turned out she was a rough fucker too.

As in, Jenny was bruising my balls. Literally.

I meant to shove her off. Tell her I wanted to put on the condom. But Jenny’s pussy lips firmly gripped my cock.

All that bouncing was taking a toll on me. My stomach and all it’s contents were being rattled senselessly.

I pushed at her.

Jenny pushed back and doubled her effort.

And then the unthinkable happened.

I let out the biggest, loudest ripping fart.

Wish it had stopped there.

I came at the same time.

But along with the fart and what was otherwise a wonderful orgasm, out plopped a massive shit that landed on the floorboard.

Jenny covered her mouth, covering both a scream and a hurl. She turned green. I never saw a woman move so quickly off my lap. Then she ran half naked out of my car, to hers. I don’t think she bothered putting her jeans back on. She drove away.

I was too embarrassed to log on to cam for weeks. Well, and too embarrassed to drive anywhere, because of the nasty smell in my car.

But I never saw Jenny again.

And I never broke rule number two again.

***

Thank you for reading. If you enjoyed the story, please consider leaving me a tip. Or, a bundled ebook version will be available for sale soon at your favorite retailer. Your support helps me write more stories!

A Foot Job from Sasquatch

When the Unthinkable Happens

A Foot Job from Sasquatch

by

Miriam F. Martin

WhenTheUnthinkableHappens_v1 Sasquatch is seven feet tall, blond haired, blue eyed, and built like a Scandinavian woman. She is strong, smart, and has a heart of gold. She happens to wear a size 14 in lady’s shoes. Her feet are about twice as long as my penis.

Most days, I feel like she’s twice my 5’4” height.

But I think she’s the most beautiful woman on Earth.

When we dance, I stand on her feet and snuggle just below her breasts. At the movie theater, we sit in the top row, her arm around me, and I lick and suck her nipples throughout the show. In bed, I like to crawl in between her legs and eat her out until she orgasms and falls asleep.

Our relationship suffers two problems.

I’m far too short to reach up and give her a kiss without a step-stool.

And she’s got the sex drive of a fourteen year old boy. I can barely keep up.

I usually can’t, at least not for very long. So Sasquatch travels the world without me, looking for the next sexual high.

But she often returns to me, though I have no idea why.

Doesn’t matter. When Sasquatch is home, I know I’ll be sore for weeks after she’s gone.

This time, I’m on one end of the couch, she’s on the other. And she’s massaging my groin with her bare feet. I wanted to have a normal, grown-up conversation, but alas that wasn’t happening.

Not with the teepee in my jeans.

I do what I’ve been fantasizing about for a long time with Sasquatch. I unzip and take my pants off. She knows right away what I want, like she can read my mind.

She grips my cock with one foot. The woman has amazing dexterity with her feet. What can I say? Sasquatch encircles my girth with her toes, wiggling them about as she strokes me down my shaft.

She takes one last peek at her cell phone, before putting it on vibrate and sticking it under her back.

And then she uses both feet. Her soles are rough from a lifetime of being barefoot. The toes are soft from pedicures. And her nails are painted alternating pink and purple.

I’ve found a little slice of Heaven. Sasquatch does me slow. My cock is aching with a build up of cum.

“Oh God, Sassy,” I said. “I’m very close.”

“Hmmm, good boy,” Sasquatch purrs. A startled expression appears on her face. “Oh shit…”

And then the unthinkable happened.

Her cell phone vibrated. It must have slid underneath her ribs, where she’s ticklish. Sasquatch jumped in surprise. Another vibration, and she yelped. This time, her feet shifted.

I heard a cracking, like somebody realigning their own back but much, much worse.

The pleasant sensation of being rubbed by a beautiful woman’s feet was replaced by a horrible pain that seemed to begin in my ballsack.

Sasquatch pulled her feet away slowly. Her face was horror stricken.

Halfway up the shaft, my cock was bent at a ninety degree angle. I had the odd sensation of wanting to pee while feeling like being kicked in the junk at the same time.

She apologized repeatedly. We both sat there for what seemed like an hour (but was probably five seconds), completely unsure how to handle this situation.

Sasquatch drove me to the emergency room. After a five hour wait, I was rushed into surgery. When I woke up, my dick was in a splint and Sasquatch was at my bedside, holding my hand.

She stayed with me the entire time, feeding me chicken noodle soup and changing my bandages.

Only the most beautiful woman on Earth stays with you after accidentally breaking your cock.

Even if she leaves soon after your recovery to go on further sexual adventures.

***

Thank you for reading. If you enjoyed the story, please consider leaving me a tip. Or, a bundled ebook version will be available for sale soon at your favorite retailer. Your support helps me write more stories!

The Nipple Ring

When the Unthinkable Happens

The Nipple Ring

by

Miriam F. Martin

WhenTheUnthinkableHappens_v1 After working out at the gym for long enough, I’ve developed a nicely toned chest and stomach. So naturally I want to show off a bit. I wanted to do something special to mark my progress.

Getting a tan is out of the question, because I burn too easily. I’m not ready for a tattoo yet. But a nipple ring… fuck yeah!

The piercing itself felt a bit like a bee sting. Once it was in, I felt amazing. I walked out shirtless and with a sexy steel ring in my right nipple. I loved the way it tugged constantly. Kind of like a gentle titty twist.

Put me in the mood, I tell ya.

I sent out texts to every girl I know. GamerGirl had to take the kids to the swimming pool. Mistress Midget was at a BDSM conference in Las Vegas. Sasquatch, my seven foot tall off-again/on-again girlfriend, was getting a pedicure.

That left one option.

Vampirella wanted to meet at the cemetery after midnight.

I might be a fool, but not foolish enough to turn down some action. A night with Vampirella certainly beat giving the Fleshlight a sixty-second drill.

So I met her at the oldest section of the cemetery, where you can barely read the inscriptions. She was silvery pale in the moonlight, wearing a gauzy (almost spider-webby) skirt with a form-fitting corset and knee-high boots.

I’m never sure how to greet Vampirella. Kissing her on the lips is painful, with her fangs in the way. A peck on the neck leaves my own neck vulnerable to a full on bite. A hug feels too pedestrian.

Doesn’t really matter, because she always decides the greeting for me.

This time, she grabbed me by the balls and the hair, and threw me to the ground. Then, using silk ropes, she tied me against a cold granite tombstone. Not just a simple sailor’s knot either. She used some elaborate rope trick Mistress Midget would be proud of.

Vampirella knelt in front of me. She nuzzled against my chest, gently licking the non-pierced nipple, then the pierced one. Back and forth. Then she scrapped her teeth across my skin.

I barely breathed, too afraid to anger her the wrong away. Too afraid to even shiver in delight. But I was incredibly cold and my nipples were rock solid.

She playfully slipped one fang through my ring.

And tugged.

I squirmed, completely helpless and at her mercy.

“Shit,” Vampirella mumbled, tugging even harder.

“Get your fang out. Please.” I gasped. She tugged every which way, yanking my nipple ever rougher.

“I can’t.” She sighed. “Hold on.”

“Shit,” I said.

And then the unthinkable happened.

Vampirella got a fierce look in her icy blue eyes. She snarled at me.

Then RIP!!!

She whipped her back supernaturally fast. One moment I had a perfectly healthy nipple and a ring attached to it. The next…

The ring was still on her fang. The nipple was still on the ring, hanging limp yet still erect.

Blood sprayed out of my chest, squirting Vampirella in the face and down her cleavage.

After a few minutes of licking up my blood, she untied me and dumped me off at the emergency room. The doctors successfully reattached my nipple.

Unfortunately, my nipple is now upside down. The hole where the piercing is, is now at the top of the nipple instead of the bottom.

Even more unfortunate, Vampirella still wears the ring on her fang. I think she likes to taunt me.

***

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A Sucker Every Day

When the Unthinkable Happens

A Sucker Every Day

by

Miriam F. Martin

WhenTheUnthinkableHappens_v1 I’m not proud of this, but once upon a time I was involved in a pyramid scheme.

I was friends with a guy named Tim, who raved non-stop about this product called Big +5.

“It’ll give you an extra five inches,” Tim said, holding up a nondescript box with a picture of a buff guy on it. “Chicks will be waiting in line for you.”

Being 5 foot 4, I dreamed of being at least 5’9” and built like that guy on the box. I was sick of sending emails to pretty ladies who, if they even bothered responding, replied with a “nope, you’re too short for me.”

Sick and tired.

I decided to take my destiny in both hands and stroke it until I got laid. Or at least until women fell over themselves at my new found height.

Tim gave me a contract to sign. I was supposed to find two other guys who might benefit from Big +5, and sign them up too. Then time to roll in the dough, because I’d make a 30% commission on their sales and the sales of the people they signed up.

But of course, the real reason I went balls deep into the pyramid scheme was for the five inches of glory.

The product was a powder you mixed with water and drank three times a day for a week.

After a week, I woke up one morning giddy and excited. But I wasn’t any taller.

Then I went to the bathroom to take a leak.

And HOLY SHIT!

My penis was fucking huge. I got a ruler and measured. Seven inches! Big +5 really did work, but not in the way I thought it would.

I snapped a few photos and texted them to GamerGirl, who was on my doorstep in fifteen minutes begging me to let her blow me.

After I gave her the biggest load I’d ever done, she got a serious look in her eyes.

“What if,” she said, “you gained another five inches?”

I thought about that for a few minutes. Then I started on the next treatment of Big +5 that afternoon.

A week later, I was twelve inches long. More photos sent to GamerGirl, and again she choked on my rod. She went home very satisfied, with a big smile and dripping stain on her t-shirt.

But I wondered…

Another week passed, and another round of Big +5.

I had to use a tape measure to verify my new size. Seventeen monstrous inches.

GamerGirl responded to my texts with a “haha” and a winky emoji. But she still came over, a concerned and worried expression on her face.

She got down on her knees. My cock was so heavy, it kind of hurt as it hardened. I could barely lift it for her. GamerGirl could only fit the tip of my head into her mouth.

But she tried hard to please me.

And I got hard for her.

Then the unthinkable happened.

My cock was filled with so much blood that I started seeing stars. When she tried to fit more into her mouth, the weight of my massive boner shifted.

And then I heard a “snap” and my cock broke off.

My dismembered member slipped down GamerGirl’s throat. She choked on it, literally. And I fainted from blood loss.

When I woke up, the floor was covered in blood and vomit. GamerGirl was standing over me.

And then she smacked me with what I thought was a sock with a rock in it.

But it was my seventeen inch broken dick.

“Hope you’re happy,” she said, throat raspy. “The ambulance will be here any minute. I told them to take their sweet ass time.”

I got a penis replacement from a monkey donor. And I will never again buy into a pyramid scheme.

***

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How to Annoy a Mosh Pit

When the Unthinkable Happens

How to Annoy a Mosh Pit

by

Miriam F. Martin

WhenTheUnthinkableHappens_v1 One of my long time fantasies was to have sex at a heavy metal concert.

This is why I’m friends with GamerGirl, even though she’s married. Not because she has ginormous boobs. Or because she has a pet monkey. Because she makes a lot of my other fantasies come true.

I bought tickets to see Rob Zombie, and then invited GamerGirl and explained what I had in mind. She quickly agreed, promptly arranging for her hubby to watch the five kids and the monkey that night.

At the concert, I could barely keep my hands off her. GamerGirl wore skimpy booty shorts, knee-high slut boots with six-inch heels, and low cut tank-top that showed off her big breasts. While in line waiting to get into the door, I wanted to drop my zipper and do her right then and there.

Instead, I bought us a few beers. I also got her a Rob Zombie t-shirt that I didn’t let her wear, because I wasn’t done perving at her boobs yet. I tied the shirt around my waist to hide my boner.

We had perfect seats, just right of the stage, above the bassist.

When the band took the stage, I pushed GamerGirl to balcony railing. I grinded my hips against her, to work up my nerve. I didn’t want to start too soon. I didn’t want to keep her waiting too long either. Suddenly I wasn’t so sure of the protocol of fucking during a concert.

And then GamerGirl flashed Rob Zombie. I was ready.

I unzipped and shoved my pencil thin dick into her booty shorts. Luckily she wasn’t wearing panties. With a little fumbling about, I found her pussy.

During the guitar solo, I pounded her with the drum rhythm.

The mosh pit was bouncing.

So were GamerGirl’s breasts.

Well into the third song, I blew a load into her pussy. Some of it dripped down her legs and into her boots.

I held her close, enjoying the afterglow and the music. This wasn’t quite like losing my virginity. But it was a close second.

I was invigorated enough to get hard again. Round two sounded like a wonderful idea.

Until somebody tapped me roughly on the shoulder. I turned around. Some big biker dude in a studded leather vest, with a greasy long beard and tattoos on his face.

“Oh shit,” said GamerGirl. “Hi Hubby.”

“Oh, shit,” I said.

And then another song started up. Fuck it. Already caught, might as well go all the way. I gave Hubby the finger and grabbed GamerGirl by the hips. I shoved my cock into her ass.

I got three pumps.

And then the unthinkable happened.

Hubby grabbed me by the hips and pulled his pants down.

Then I got an ass-full of his cock. And let’s just say, he’s a lot bigger than me.

And he hit my prostate HARD.

Hubby gave me the most intense orgasm I’ve ever experienced. I blew a load that flew over the mosh pit. Then another. After the third wad, Hubby threw me over the balcony into the pit.

Last I saw, he carried GamerGirl over one shoulder and left. Then I got my ass kicked and blacked out.

The rest of the concert is a blur, maybe because I had a concussion.

But I lived my fantasy in more ways than one. I fucked at a heavy metal concert, and then I got fucked.

GamerGirl wants to go to a Bush concert next. I hope Hubby isn’t invited.

***

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Living Dead Girl

When the Unthinkable Happens

Living Dead Girl

by

Miriam F. Martin

WhenTheUnthinkableHappens_v1 I’ve been Vampirella’s fuck buddy for a year now, but I never allowed her to blow me. Sure, she’s nibbled on my neck. She even bit off one of my nipples. That might be another story.

If you’ve ever seen her canine teeth, you’ll understand. The tips of her fangs poke out from her lips, which is cute when she’s wearing black lipstick. But when Vampirella smiles or gets angry at me, and she bares her teeth…

Oh shit, my dick shrivels up into my prostrate and I feel a little light headed.

Vampirella is charming as hell. And when she wears the blue-black corset that pushes her boobs up and her pale skin almost shines in the candlelight, Vampirella can sweet talk me into the stupidest shit imaginable.

Like letting a woman with razor sharp fangs within biting distance of my genitals.

She batted her long, black eyelashes at me. She gave me red wine (which tasted sweet and coppery). Then she put me in a stranglehold until I unzipped my pants for her.

Sure enough, I was shriveled up to nothing. My cock looked more like a giant clit with a ball sack.

Vampirella clasped my wrists in manacles hanging from the ceiling (her living room has kinky decorations). She assured me that, as long as I didn’t get hard, she wouldn’t bite me.

Sounded easy enough. I wasn’t going to enjoy her blowjob. No way in hell. I was too scared to have a boner. Those teeth were too sharp.

I glanced up at the ceiling and thought about Paris, where I first met Vampirella.

I felt the sides of her canine teeth brush against my skin. The sharp edges of the rest of her teeth tickled down my little shaft. Her saliva was cold and wet. Vampirella has no breath, which is an odd lack of sensation.

And then I got hard.

Which made her more excited. Vampirella sucked me even harder. My cock soon filled her mouth. The fit between her teeth was amazingly tight. I was pleasantly surprised at how good it felt getting sucked off by a vampire chick.

Until her fangs snagged on my skin.

I yelped in pain.

And then the unthinkable happened.

Vampirella pulled back to make sure I was okay. (Well, I keep telling myself that was why.) In my thrashing about, somehow the tip of my cock made contact with the tip of her fang.

She bit down. Her canine tooth impaled straight through the head.

Blood spurted everywhere. The carpet, the walls, down her corset, in her mouth.

“Smmph mmmph mmm!” Vampirella mumbled around my cock. My brain translated that as “Stop thrashing about asshole!”

Eventually she pulled the tooth out of my dick. I looked down, and saw straight through my head to the carpet below.

Vampirella was kind enough to take me to the emergency room. But she only stayed with me until an hour before dawn, when she had to rush home to sleep in her coffin.

A few nights later, she texted me. “When u cuming over, b1tch? Call me. NOW.”

I’m scared of getting my dick pierced again.

What do they say about not inviting a vampire into your home? You can’t get rid of her. The same is true about not letting a vampire give you a BJ.

***

Thank you for reading. If you enjoyed the story, please consider leaving me a tip. Or, a bundled ebook version will be available for sale soon at your favorite retailer. Your support helps me write more stories!