Stone Town (Erotic RP)

Discussion in 'THREAD ARCHIVES' started by Asmodeus, Jul 5, 2010.

  1. "Say you'll take me away from this town, Johnny."

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    "You know I will."

    They had parked the car on the ridge overlooking Stone Town, the highway winding up the mountainside behind them. Cassidy leant on the railing and smiled at the houses below. "Far away from all this. Paris. Florence."

    "Wherever you want." Johnny approached behind her, a hand on her buttocks where the thin fabric of her red dress was ruffled by the breeze. She leant further to let him caress the shape.

    "Why are you so good to me?"

    "Because you're worth it."

    She turned, her hands coming up to untie the straps of her dress. The top fell down and revealed her bosom, skin soft and flawless in the morning sun. "Fuck me... right here..."

    Johnny reached upwards, past the expectant nipples, slipping the sunglasses from her eyes, her blue eyes that dilated then averted. He caught her chin, kept her eyes on him, hearing her moan as he kissed her lips. It was soft, a sensuous well into which they both might drop. But then he broke it off. One hand came to her breast and the other beneath her thigh.

    She yelped as he swung her, away from the railing and onto the hood of the sports car, her breasts heaving with her racing breath. Johnny's lips were on her, exploring the curves of her body, his other hand hoisting up the skirt. She cried again as the panties were seized, the thin white fabric pulled along her legs, past her heels, and cast into the wind.

    He was inside her in seconds, each thrust pushing her further up the bonnet, his head buried in her bosom. She could not mute herself and every cry and groan was echoed in the hillsides. She matched his rhythm, curving and writhing in time with his thrusts, and for a moment she smiled.

    Then another yell as he turned her over, rolling her onto her front. The dress was torn away, Johnny's strength ripping through the red silk, which likewise fluttered away in the wind. She was naked but for her heels, her body pressed on the sun-baked bonnet. He moved into her from behind and she gripped the top of the windscreen to steady herself, her mouth wide, eyes shut in ecstasy.
     
  2. XD
    yea that happens to all of us :P

    with luck your brain will allow you to put some rp ideas on hold :P
     
  3. .....

    ...

    ....

    ...

    First a Sylvie post, and now my own cheerleader.

    YOU'RE TOO GOOD TO ME KATE! *cries massive waterfalls*
     
  4. you can ^^
     
  5. "HELP ME!!"

    Cassidy tripped on a tree root, her heels coming off as she fell and hit the woodland floor. There was blood on her dress... Johnny's blood... the only thing she had left of him. She screamed and crawled, leaving her shoes behind as she tried to get up again. Johnny's cries were echoing in her mind, along with the last vision of him, spasming as the dagger plunged into his chest.

    They had only stopped for a moment. Johnny was hard again and she had made him pull over, unzipping his fly and going down on him. Just one more time, before they left the town and joined the interstate.

    He always closed his eyes when she sucked him off. He hadn't seen the killer coming.


    And nor did Cassidy. As she got up the killer's hand grasped her by the shoulder and she screamed, stumbling forward over more roots and bushes. The killer's fingers snagged her dress, tearing the straps loose. It fell open, exposing her white lace bra, the breasts beneath stained with blood and dirt. But she kept running, dodging between the trees with terrified gasps.

    He seemed to come from nowhere. Knocking her off balance, she fell with the killer's arms around her, thrashing and struggling. She wriggled free, screaming, pleading, but his hands were on her dress again. He got a hold around the hips, pulling her back towards him, and she had no choice... she pushed away and the dress ripped, the red material coming off.

    The killer fell back and Cassidy ran, faster now in just her underwear, leaping the bushes, ducking branches. She tore into the woods, away from the car, away from the road, deeper into the evening gloom.

    The ground gave way. She lost her footing again and tumbled down the short slope into the rushing stream. Cold water doused her half-naked body and the sobs tore from her lungs. She scrambled, getting to the other side, hauling herself onto the shore.

    But he was there again. The killer gripped her by the hair and she screamed as she was pulled up, begging him to stop and clutching weakly at her trapped hair. Then the air was knocked from her lungs as he hauled her against a tree. His hand snagged the bridge of her bra and in one powerful twist he ripped it away. Cassidy felt the cool air against her breasts, her breath leaving her body.

    He twisted her hair, making her arch against the tree, her breasts coming higher and for long and painful seconds he stared at her. Then he spun and slammed her face and breasts against the tree. Cassidy felt her panties gripped, the lace pulling upwards against the crotch, almost cutting the skin before they snapped. Naked and terrified, she was forced against the tree, her legs kicked apart, her hair ensnared.

    She felt him move inside her, dark and powerful thrusts opening her up, wetting her against her will. She cried out... screamed for help... but they were alone. His breath filled her ears, drowning her senses, and the next thing she knew she was on her hands and knees, bucking with the force of his rhythm.

    She could not help it. Her body roused against her mind, the orgasm rising like some creeping terror till at last it burst and it drove him wild. He pounded her like a piece of meat till at last he came and she felt him flood her insides, turning all to darkness. He pulled away and she fell down amongst the leaves and twigs, gasping for air.

    She almost lost consciousness, the pain and pleasure like the sickest cocktail.

    And then she screamed anew as he seized her by the hair and dragged her further into the forest.
     
  6. The Muse




    It was no big secret that Stone Town was somewhat of a sensation across the country that attracted all kinds of attention from the various schools of media. The porn industry being the main one. However, the town’s mystery (the kind of mystery akin to blunt force trauma) did also lure in various, unsuspecting writers from time to time.


    The party at Dunstan mansion was in full swing. Anybody who was anybody was attending; the wealthy elite of Stone Town and a plethora of artists, celebrities, writers and their various hanger-ons for the evening.

    Eric was wondering just how in the hell he’d managed to get invited.

    It had taken him three glasses of wine to muster up the courage to wander up to Jessica Dunstan and strike up a conversation. Jessica was not only the beautiful daughter of the very rich and powerful Richard Dunstan; but as a teenager, she played the role of the sassy teenaged daughter in a the famous family sitcom of the nineties. Her face adorned the walls and minds of thousands of young boys, who all spent countless nights of no sleep masturbating to her visage. Even now, in her mid-twenties, she was still nothing short of inspiring.

    “You’re Eric Faste,” Jessica exclaimed excitedly. “I loved Deerslayer! When does your next book come out? I can’t wait to read it.”

    Eric felt his cheeks redden. She knew him, she liked his writing.

    “Well,” what could he say? He hadn’t written a word. Not in years.

    “I’m still working on it, actually. Getting it just right.”

    He couldn’t believe it. Eric hadn’t enjoyed a conversation this much with a woman in so long. Jessica was witty and sharp, and had no time keeping up with him in their verbal sparring. They must have talked for hours, because the party goers were getting scarcer and scarcer.

    “I think we should continue this conversation in my room,” Jessica suggested nonchalantly, putting down her empty wine glass.

    Eric felt his heart suddenly beating in his throat.



    “Just let me go slip into something a little more comfortable,” she purred, and left him waiting expectantly on her bed. Eric’s heart was racing, his palms suddenly itchy. Here he was, about to make love to the woman who fueled the pleasure-filled dreams of so many. Perhaps this was it. This was his moment to rise from the wastes mediocrity, to be inspired by this golden-haired muse to write his opus. Eric felt his erection strain painfully with excitement.

    Minutes later, the door slowly opened, and there she was. Gloriously naked, holding a silver tray, laden with a small spoon and. . .

    The biggest pile of cocaine Eric had ever seen.

    Eric could only watch helplessly, too shocked to speak or move, as she sauntered closer, her eyes suddenly predatory.

    “I want you to use the spoon,” she quietly commanded, the manner reminiscent of the way her character would command her younger brother in the famous sitcom.

    “And put as much of this cocaine into my asshole as you can,” she took another step closer.

    “And then I want you to lick it,” closer.

    “And then I want you to fuck it.”

    She was standing over him, now.


    Well alright.