It was wet in that alley. There'd been so much rain that everything was damp, all the time. Most of what had got soaked during the previous night's downpour stayed soggy enough, even without the drizzle. Even without me there, leaking my -- well -- I'm getting ahead of myself.
Daddy likes me dirty. That is, she likes getting me dirty. That night we were headed to a party: Daddy was in her dress leathers, hair buzzed so close to her scalp it was practically just a stain, jawline severe and set. I assumed she was packing, but didn't go examining: I always got in trouble if Daddy caught me searching out the bulge of her cock; she said it wasn't ladylike.
I was clothed as requested: white slip, sheer white stockings, body barely covered. No earrings, no makeup, face scrubbed. No bra, even, so my period-heavy tits swung almost painfully beneath the sheer material of the slip. She told me to wear nothing that would present "any obstacle" to her -- so, no panties. In deference to it being the beginning (and thus the heaviest part) of my period, I wore a tampon, string clipped a bit so as not to be so obvious. I planned to remove it surreptitiously once we got to wherever we were going.
Thus begins the latest story on Fishnet, the online erotic fiction magazine I'm editing: Piggy, by Jen Cross. To read more, read the rest of the story. (Not for anyone under 18.) Enjoy!
hey I suppose what it says is we all like different things, the writing is ok, spare but not lyrical, no Chandler for example, certainly no Anais Nin. The imagery makes me cold. As a woman who likes domination, swinging tampons - not so much.
No offence, there is a niche for every kink but that doesnt make it art.
Posted by: yoyo | February 28, 2010 at 08:52 PM