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Disclaimer: If you are easily offended by blatant sexual stories, are under 18, or have a heart condition, don’t read this. If it is illegal in your state to possess this literature, then don’t possess. All within is pure fiction - I guess.

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We had a habit of reading over each others shoulders, but this particular story, called The Contest 2004 (author Solomon), seemed the most unusual merry-go-round that we had ever been on. As we finished, my wife and I just looked at each other, and finally, Ann said, “Is this a story, a contest, or what?” I looked at her and said, “Well, you definitely fit the requirements to enter, why don’t you.” “But what the hell is it?” she again asked.

I said, “I think it’s both. Maybe this guy wants it both ways and has found a way to get it.” Ann asked what I meant, so I went on. “Well, he writes a short story explaining his life and why he writes erotica in the first place. He muddles around talking about what has been his pleasure through a lifetime of pleasing others, and then ends by saying he wants to relive those good times once more before he dies of a fatal heart disease. And at the end is a hyperlink to his address that says to send a short message of what would be your choice for a day of servitude with him. What else could it be?”

Ann thought for several minutes as we re-read several parts of the story. She finally said, “I think it’s a goof. Maybe a way to get feedback on the story itself. Or maybe it’s just a mind game he’s playing with his readers. But then… maybe it’s a ploy. What if writing for so long fulfilling everyone else’s need for erotic material to read as they get their jollies, he’s found a way to get his readers to drop him a few lines of their own desires, sort as his own way of getting real life wishes sent back to him as his quest for erotic material?” I laughed when I saw her look down at her own breasts and gave each a squeeze in her hands. They fit his ideal, so I could see she wanted to write him. Then she asked, “What do you think John, would he like a crack at my baby girls? And maybe even a chance to make my world spin? I could shave it for him.”

I replied that though he admitted to being bisexual, “I think he would rather have a day being fed a manly cock, and getting fed some fresh sperm. After all, look at how he writes in such detail at those places.” She fired back, “What about the detail he goes into when he talks about sucking a girls pussy so expertly, even making novices cum. Hell, just his words have made me orgasm a time or two. And all his stories talk about small tits like mine; he must have a great desire, or fetish, for them. Maybe we should each enter and maybe we could both win a day of his servitude. What do you think?”

I said, “We’re in Virginia, what if he’s in Nevada. He wouldn’t ever come this far for one day.” Ann came back with the obvious, “He’s a dying man, his days are numbered, and he has a lot different values now than we do. And he said one trip anywhere would be worth the memories. I just can’t help but remember the true stories he’s written. Remember the detail he went into describing his freaky French girlfriend. The way he explained trussing her to the bedposts and forcing her into cumming for her first time. I couldn’t tell you how many times I’ve dreamed about having my legs tied over my head and having you to try to get me to cum like that. I know woman can do it. He sounds like he could play any girl like a fiddle.”

I countered, “Yeah, well how about that story Male Cuckold? His descriptions in that were nothing less than from a guy that really went through it. I bet he could deep throat a donkey by now. You don’t come up with those kinds of stories, with that much detail, without having had a few cocks down your own throat in the first place. And I don’t know about those “real life” stories. I know people that have lived through a lot of strange sexual escapades, but some of those sound rather fishy.” Ann perked up somewhat indignant, “Talk about details! If he has all those details, how could you believe he didn’t get them during those times? Look at the way he described how that neighbor forced him to suck his first cock at age eleven. You even said how that was so close to something you had done to a kid when you were that age. He’s drawing from some pool of knowledge.”

“That would be one ugly pool” I said, “when you think about Knotted to Canines. I thought I knew a lot about dogs, but his descriptions of that girl getting stuck on its knot, that he actually had to see to describe.”

We agreed to start reading from the beginning again and try to figure out the point of the story.

Solomon - The Contest 2004

I find as I look back on my life that it has indeed been full of a lot more than just bits and pieces of unrelated mayhem. It’s been full of trying times, happy times, and everything in between. But when I was truly at my height of fulfillment, it always seemed to evolve around sex.

Except for a very bad marriage, I realized that just about all the sex I had had was my being used for someone else’s amusement and benefit. It may have seemed coerced by some of my benefactors, but it had been a living fantasy from my eyes, at least for the most part. There were many things I would rather have never gone through, and things I wish I never had to do, but we all have some dirty jobs in life to wade through. They are as much rightful memories as any of the good times.

Now, as I see my end within easy reach, I at least have all those times to keep me in comfort. My heart may be failing, but my mind is luckily, still quite fit. I can remember in such great detail all those most memorable events that seemed to excite me so much at the time. But as I think about those times that meant so much, they also remind me how I’ll never get to experience any of them again. What I wouldn’t give to suckle upon a nice tight and taut pair of boobs on the smooth chest of a young girl? To be able to show that girl my ability at teasing and tantalizing her until she’s forced to arch her back to impale me with her chest, would go a long way at healing my heart.

I remember the first time I had a man forcing his rigid cock into my throat. It was so scary, and hard to breath. I was in jail and had turned the tables so well, but there was a price for the control I received. Not only had I offered myself to be used as currency, but I had to allow my ass to get fucked on several occasions. I never felt gay; it was more like I was letting guys use me to simply get off the way they needed to at the time. That was the whole point of the Jail Bait series. But what I wouldn’t do at this moment to have some man holding my head off the edge of a table as I lay on it and forcing his way into my throat. The memory of the drool falling from my lips into my nostrils seems so intoxicating to me now, as I would be struggling to breathe, waiting for the warmth of the man’s cum going into my throat as he relieved himself in me.

For a flash of a moment, I find myself wondering if I could find someway to get a last few jaunts at the dark side of my life. There must be millions of people that would love to reproduce some of my true story events, or even take me to task at some of the fantasies that I’ve come up with in my writings. The problem is how to let them know I even exist. I had thought the point of putting my words into bytes, was to let people know I did indeed exist and was waiting to meet them; but instead turned into a way to leave the biggest piece of my life to survive, after I’m gone. Maybe I should run a contest and make myself the prize. That could be scary, but it would indeed be worth the taste of another’s flesh in my mouth. And to please one or two more people before check out time, would certainly make at least those people happy for their brief moments with me. Then, my words would forever live through them. After all, none of my past conquests would ever know who Solomon was at all. Try as I may, I can’t remember anyone that didn’t find a great degree of satisfaction at having me serve them; I would so love to hone my skills upon the unsuspecting once again.

We paused to look at each other again, and I said, “See, it is a contest. Just look at what the link says at the end of the story. He wants to get freaky with someone that wants to put him to use, like in the old days. Tits, pricks, or pussies; it doesn’t really matter, just as long as what you want done is like the thrills he was use to getting.” Ann countered yet again, “I don’t think he was serious about starting an actual contest, he was just wondering how to get some action. If his last true story was about the time he was thirty-six, and he says he’s about to turn a half century, that means he probably hasn’t had any real sex, at least the way he prefers it, in fourteen years. He’s probably mulling over options for a last fling on the dark side as he calls it.”

“I don’t know,” I said, “the contest view seems like the main idea, but I do have to wonder when I read that whole Carlos series. That whole series seemed to be truly fictional as he states, but again, where did he get so many details from if he hadn’t lived through similar circumstances himself. So, if he did go through all that stuff, maybe he’s just waxing poetically. Maybe the idea of this whole story is to point out to himself what he has to miss in his afterlife. Hell, he’ll probably be reincarnated after a life like his, as some hot rocker girls panties.”

Ann quickly chirped in, “Man, I want to be a rock star so bad!” She laughed and looked at me, her face quickly turning somber. “What if he somehow survives another ten years, can you imagine the perversions he would have time to share with his readers? I could probably do without you… just kidding. But if you want me to keep you around, you better start paying closer attention to some of the things he does for his female characters. I remember a couple of parts in particular in the Porn Star stories about him serving that girl up some pretty hot sex, even as a kid. When the last time you ever tried finding the back of my clit?”

I said, “You know, you might be right about it all being a mind game. After all, most of his life people thought they were controlling him to get what they wanted, but in the end he thinks that he was the one controlling them. He seems to feel he got a lot more then the ones he was getting off. After all, look at how many times he put himself into position to be used as a kid. Let’s face it; he loved getting used like that. That carnival thing, the poker game he was bartered at, and joining a club with kids all years older than himself.”

“I don’t think that club thing was one of his true stories,” Ann said. “I think that one probably stemmed from a one time blowjob to some kid, and got turned into a fantasy for his own use. Like that story… what was it? I know, Wrong Place, Wrong Time. He started out the story by telling the readers that only the first part was true, and the last stuff was how he imagined he would have wanted it to end for his own masturbation needs. Can you imagine how much time he must have spent keeping all that a secret, especially as a kid?”

“I lived in a real small town growing up,” I interjected, “and believe me, the last thing a guy wants is for anyone to label him a homo. But then, he doesn’t seem like he thinks of himself as gay. I can’t remember one time in any of his stories that he made out with a guy of his own volition or even got close to a guy to get off. I think you might have to come up with a whole new name for someone like him. Maybe a horniphile?”

Ann said, “That’s a good one! Maybe we should write him and ask what the deal is? If he’s really into being someone’s prize, maybe he would consider having runner ups; you know, in case the winners can’t ‘perform’ their duties for him. Anyway, I think we should email him just to see what it’s all about. You know how long it’s been since we… you know… took a walk on the wild side. Just FYI, I’ve been wanting to watch you seeing me get fucked by someone for quite a while now. Maybe we could get a wild pic to send Solomon from it.”

I countered, “Yeah, and what’s with that picture request? Why would someone that’s been through as much as he has, want amateur pictures sent to him? Hasn’t he got enough in his head already?”

Ann retorted, “I don’t think he’s dead yet! As long as he’s alive, I’m sure he still wants to get as much sex from any venue he can. As a matter of fact, I’m going to do it. For all the erotic stories he’s given us for free, I think the least I can do is send him a pic of me fingering myself. Perhaps in front of the PC, with one of his stories on the screen. Come on, get the camera and I’ll get ready.”

I just wish I had those pictures back that I lost. I remember the pictures of Princess meaning so much to me. Especially the one she left me, with her in the throes of ecstasy. Knowing I had gotten her to a whole new plane of thought was so wild. I still hope she got to a normal life. I often wonder these days if she were to read my Carlos stories if she would ever figure out that she was a huge inspiration for them. But so wasn’t my childhood sweetheart, Mandy. God, how she loved to play. I never new what being controlled was really like till I met her. Princess was physical in her control, but Mandy, she had it all in her mind. And her eyes! Luckily, I still have those pictures that Mandy and I took. I’ve looked at them so much lately. My favorite was such a simple one; with her topless in a half profile, standing in the woods right next to a busy highway. She had the best boobs I ever had the pleasure of molesting. Small and taut, somewhat beneath her age, but did she ever know how to use them.

I think back to all the pictures that could have been taken and wish I had a portfolio of them now. Just seeing all those body parts that I had once had to take care of, would have me hard until the day I die. But then, some of those would get me in jail if I had them today. The last thing you need to keep on a hard drive when you’re a writer of erotica are pictures that shouldn’t be there. Maybe I should replenish my supply. But the crap you find on the web is just too posed and artificial. Not reflective at all of the real stuff I’ve lived through. Perhaps, again thinking of offering a contest, pictures should be required; could be… no, shouldn’t be a requirement. After all, I was never that discriminating in real life. But how nice it would be to see some real tit pictures from girls that wanted me to have them, like Princess had.

Hell, sitting here writing about those pictures from my past, I can’t ever forget the ones with those bikers. They were so close up, showing their rigid hardons in my mouth; but they probably would have been nicer if more of their cocks showed, and less of my bulging mouth. But I must still say, the nice chest shots of taut titties are still my favorite.

That settles it; I need to run a contest before check out time. As I ponder over all the stories I’ve written about pleasing others, now it’s going to be my turn. I’m going for that one last suck upon a hot little tit as I ravage her chest; making a girl scream in ecstasy as I show her that girls can cum just like guys, and even find a guy or two to force feed me their raging hardons as I gag upon their feeding of me. If nothing else, it would be a great way to enlist excitement over my stories, sort of a snapshot of who I have been in my past life.

But I’ll have to be discriminating. I’ll only want people to enter that know what I’m really looking for, and that understand why I write in the first place. If they’re smart enough to figure out what’s going on in this story, they might just qualify. If not, at least I’ll probably get a few nice pictures from readers who have been pleased by my writings, which in itself would be a nice thank you. If nothing else, I’m sure every person reading this story will understand my favorite pastime of all; ….just how much I really love to mind fuck.

After I snapped Ann’s picture, nude in front of the PC, I got a raging boner from looking at it. That inspired me to get her to take one of me. She was in a rather awkward position, because she insisted having her mouth in it as well. But the last pic we took was the nastiest looking one of all. We both agreed that Solomon would approve of it the most. It was just a close up shot of her chest, half turned for a good pronunciation. But the wild part was when she arched her back real intense like, with her head cut off; you would swear you were looking at a fourteen or fifteen year old.

Taking the pictures had gotten us so hot, that I found myself saying, “Let’s do it! Even if it’s not a contest, we would be saying thanks for all his stories.” Ann said, “But he asks for a few lines of our favorite erotic moments. I was thinking something like when that girl got bent over that construction guys knees as she got a funneling. I’ve been close to that position, and it was so wild when I felt my tits exposed to the air for all the guys around to see. I felt so helpless and that got me so fucking horny.”

I came back with, “I think for you, the story should be closer to one of the girls in Forced to Nurse or Daddie’s Little Girl. You’ve always told me how getting taken while you were in a coma state and not being able to fight back, turned you on so much. But then, remember how after reading that nursing story we spent two weeks proving you could give milk? I’ve never been so horny for you.”

Ann said, “I got plenty of ideas I think would make a good entry, but how about you. I liked that part in Male Cuckold where the guy was laying on the bed of the truck with his head hanging off. Getting deep throat in that position would be uncontrollable. And wasn’t that in part of the story, as well?”

I asked, “So are we going to do it, or what? I say what the hell. We write him a few lines and send him our pics. If nothing else, we’ll be so fucking horny over doing it, we’ll have a great fuck afterwards.” Ann agreed, “I’ll start my entry first. Do you think we ought to add what state we’re in? And should I send the shot of my chest alone, it looks so illegal?” I told her, “It may look illegal, but we know it’s not. Without your head in it, no one could ever prove it anyway. And adding our state seems okay. Just hurry up, I have a prick that just can’t wait until it gets up your pussy.

So, if you would like a shot at a person of my attributes, figure it out. Is this a contest… or an ad? Maybe it’s a request for your own most erotic fantasies or a request for you to flash me. I’ll give you a hint: there’s one line within the story, that’s gives you the answer.

Solomon

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So, if you want to interact with your first erotica, take your best shot. I challenge your wits, against your wants. Do you even understand the drift of this story? Personally, I can’t wait to post this story, just to see how much attention people pay. It’s actually turned out to be the one I find most humorous, and yet, still a touch of erotic stimulation. So for my last shot, I dare you…

Send me your answer, whether it’s a photo of hot little you at your best; a few lines of your favorite fantasy, or return a line of mine. It’s up to you to figure out… is it your wits, or your wants you want me to have… your exposed body, or your exposed mind. One last hint: Do you really understand erotica? Email me here.

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