The Collapsing Tunnel - Chapter 3

 

3 –Tesh – The Grand Market

As an apprentice rope-maker, Tesh Varu Dagan helps to lay out the items that they carried from the Two Forges School to the Grand Market. His master, Varu-Gashki, hangs up a couple of nets and then fastens overhead ropes so items for trade can hang. Tesh unrolls the sample trade goods and ensures that the stock items are properly rolled and tagged.

He listens to the chatter of the Bimkor market kids as they share gossip faster than the elders.

“Silent ones caught two stone sniffer cross-border, down-below.”

“Trussed ‘em like spider food, I heard.”

“Runner says one of us got hurt down below, too.”

“Border down-below or Deep-deep?”

“Deep-deep.”

“Who and how?”

“A hairy-bear Bimkor crushed by stones”

“Not a Half-heat?”

“No. Runner says he still breathes.”

“Must be a big hairy bear.”

“Mosek.”

 Tesh stops checking the stock and looks for the speakers. He is about to leave the stall when Varu stops him. “Where are you going? We’re not done preparing, and the market opens soon.”

He wants to explain what he overheard, but realizes his Master is right. As an apprentice on Market Day, it is his turn to learn and practice the skills of trading and exchange. Everyone in the school does it. Spinning, braiding, and weaving are done at the School, and trading is done at the Market.

“Yes, Master Varu. You are correct. I was distracted by the gossip of the runners. I won’t let it happen again.”

Once the Market opens, there is a mixture of voices. Mishikwe, Durask, and “Market Speak”. Tesh wishes he were a runner again. Then he’d know the latest rumors, but his place is in the stall.

An old goblin, with the earthy reek of damp fungus, walks up to Varu and begins making hand gestures. Tesh moves closer and says in Mishikwe, “There is no need for the old trade language. We speak the words of the Children of Bruna.” But the old goblin glances at Tesh, wrinkles his nose, and focuses on his non-verbal discussion with Master Varu.

Tesh is used to dwarves looking at his mixed-blood heritage as ‘impure,’ but not goblins. Regardless, he steps back and waits for Master Varu to tell him what to do. Soon, the elderly goblin holds out small bags of dried powders. Master Varu examines samples of each one, then nods silently and makes a number of hand and arm gestures. Finally, they both clasp arms.

“Tesh, he gets one net and two of the short coils.”

“Yes, Master,” he replies, pulling a net from the cave wall and then removing two red-tagged rope coils, using the shears to cut the tags. Handing them over to the elderly goblin, he says in his most polite tones, “May the blessings of Bruna be on you as you return home.”

Silently, he nods, but still has that look of uneasiness at being so close to a Naawaii-wakwan. A moment later, Varu quietly strokes his intricately braided beard and says, “Tesh, don’t take it personally. They rarely leave the swamps and almost never see your kind. Let me show you the rare dyes he brought.” Varu shows him a small pinch of each: The Wahkom Blue, Miskwa Red, Mashk Brown, and Zhingwa Purple. Each is highly valued by the weavers and cloth merchants. A valuable exchange, benefiting the whole school.  Master Varu locks them in a storage trunk.

The rest of the morning is less exciting. Dwarves are buying ropes with gold.

“Master Varu. Do you think most of them were miners?” he asks after selling his fifth coil of rope.

“My young apprentice, we are not to judge who we trade with, are we? Isn’t dwarf coinage as useful to use as goblin-traded goods?”

“Of course, Master, but after the news this morning about stone-sniffers, I mean miners who were captured by scouts…”

“Tesh. Don’t worry yourself. We craft fine items and exchange them at the market. We don’t worry who uses them.”

Tesh has heard this before. “Don’t judge. Don’t assume. Don’t fear.”

 It isn’t until the Market pauses for Mid-Bite that Tesh hears how Mosek was hurt and had to have a “binder-of-skin” heal him. If he were a runner, he could visit Hairy Old Bear, but he’s no longer a child. He has responsibilities. The large tables are pushed to the center of the market space, and food is set out. Varu and Tesh unwrap the platters of “Fry-Flats” they kept covered at the back of the stall until now. They also place their personal bowls and carved utensils on the table. Tesh hands the platters to the other merchants.

When he was a child, he would have taken a fry-flat fresh off the plate, but now he has to wait until they come back around to get one. A hot earthenware pot of Stone stew is passed around, and he quickly ladles some into his bowl. A pot of warm root-tea also makes the rounds, and Tesh unfolds his waxed cloth cup. Varu uses an old stoneware mug, but most of the cloth-craft apprentices use their handmade cups as a sign of their skill in crafting and proof to their masters that they can make something that can even hold liquid. When all have filled their plates or bowls, the Bimkor Mid-Bite Caller offers a blessing of thanks to the workers who prepared the meal that they will share. Dwarven merchants make the sign of Durn while Goblin traders tap out blessings of Bruna. Then they all eat.

As bowls are emptied and platters are passed, news and rumors are shared. Tesh keeps listening for news on Mosek.

“You look disturbed, my apprentice. What weighs on you?” Master Varu-Gashki asks Tesh.

“Master, I heard that the old trader Mosek was gravely hurt. I wish I knew more.”

Varu lifts his mug and slowly sips his tea. “He’s a good man. I’ve known him for years, too. He’s carried many of the School’s goods to both the Clan strongholds and the Deep-deep. But if he’s being tended by a Mihkwa, he’s under the best care he can receive.”

Tesh looks sadly at his cloth cup and the texture of its tight weave. “I just wish I could help.”

“When we return to Two Forges, spend time at the loom, and weave bindings and clean wraps. We will send them the Deep-deep. That way, if fresh bandages are needed, you’ve supplied them. Does that help?”

Tesh thinks about it for a moment. As a child, he would have yelled and cried, ‘But he’s my friend. I want to go to him.’ But he understands the meaning of his master’s words. So, he softly smiles. “Thank you, Master. When we finish, I’d like that. Yes. I want to be helpful any way I can.”

The Collapsing Tunnel - Chapter 2

 

2 – Mosek / Ashke - Rendering Aid

Mosek happily pushes his cart deeper into the goblin tunnels. If he were in a Dwarven tunnel, he’d be whistling, but the Goblins taught him to “rhythm tap”, a form of music that is less harsh in the “smoothed through wear” pathways. Gently drumming a tune on the handle of his cart, he knows it will mark him as Bimkor – ‘Between Folk’ – those who freely share the border. He enjoys moving among the “Children of Bruna” even though his long beard marks him as “other”. But he also knows that there are those who want dwarvish-made iron and glass, but fear leaving the safety of their caverns. Besides, to get freshly made mushroom flatbread, you must be in the Deep-deep Caverns. The wheels of his cart squeak, sending a gentle echo down the dark tunnel. His eyes search for the blue‑green glow of the fungus trail markers. He chuckles as he taps each one — his cousins still think he’s mad for going without even a miner’s lamp. He tried to explain that to earn access, he had to pass the “scout’s test”: walking the paths in total darkness, finding the unlit cave markers by touch alone. It took time, and he failed the first attempt, but the older Scouts and Protectors encouraged him. They wanted the Truth-Seekers and Listeners-of-Bruna to meet honest, friendly dwarves in a safe place. “Bruna, protect the soul of Zima,” he whispers, thinking of the aged Protector who vouched for him, long dead now.

 “Greetings, Mosek,” a voice quietly but quickly says behind him. He notices a runner and pauses to let them pass and move ahead of him.

“Tell them, I’ll be there soon”, he says in his accented Mishikwe.

“I will. Don’t trip in the darkness, Big Hairy Bear,” the youth says as they sprint ahead.

He smiles and nods as the runner is out of sight. “Yes, that’s what I am to them.”

Soon, instead of just faint blue-green trail markers, the bluish glow of a large, communal cavern is visible.

 At the entrance, he is greeted by Ashke Wenii-Gwewin or Ashke, “I heard the big, hairy bear was on his way.”

He extends his arm in greeting. Mosek takes it and then moves into a full hug. “It brings me much happiness to see you. I was thinking of Zima, on the way in.”

“My mentor’s spirit is always with us, as his body fed the spores,” Ashke replies.

He leads Mosek to the center of the cavern. Children of all sizes and ages duck in and out of the shadows to watch as Mosek unpacks his cart.

 Ashke is an Ashini-waki-mishig – a Protector of the people. He helps him by spreading out blankets and rugs. He frowns a little at seeing the red merchant tag attached to items. He knows it isn’t Mosek’s doing but that of the merchants who produced them. All Protectors and Scouts know dwarven laws, but it always saddens Ashke to think that a person will not freely share items with those who need them.

 The children circle closer, but Ashke keeps an eye on them. For some, living in the Deep-deep, it is a game to take an item without being seen, remove the tag, then wear it as proof of quickness and stealth. Protectors, Scouts, and Peacekeepers, more than once, in the Grand Market, had elders punish youths for attempting it. Luckily, now Bimkor children are more common in the Grand Market, and lessen such games just out of peer pressure.

 Mosek lays out pots, pans, and other cooking utensils, then the steel tools — hammers, saws, axes, and knives. Last come the glass storage jars and bottles, which he unwraps carefully from their wool and silk protective coverings.

 “My friend, should I call the elders and tell them you are ready to trade?” Ashke asks.

 But before Mosek can respond, a goblin child runs up, grabs something from a blanket, and runs away.  In a playful laughing tone, Mosek yells, “You lose, little scamp. I saw you. Bring it back, or the Hairy Bear will catch you.”

 The child ducks into a cubby along the rough wall. Ashke starts to move, but Mosek tells him, “I’ll get them.” He moves his bulky form into the mouth of the cubby and sees the child trying to bite the braided cord of the tag of a ladle.

“Give it to the big Hairy Bear, or I will eat you. I am still hungry from my trip.” He jokes, but instead of laughter, he sees fear in the youngster’s eyes. “No! Children of Durn eat us like wild bears.”

The child cries and throws the ladle at him. He leans forward to get it. “Don’t cry, little one. I was only joking. I don’t eat the Children of Bruna. Let’s have some fresh mushroom bread and stew.”

As he picks it up, he braces against what he thought was a rock but was just a dried calcium deposit, which gives way. The area shakes around him as rocks loosen and fall. The child screams in terror.

Mosek hears metal tools against stone as rocks are pried up and then pulled free. Multiple Protectors come to clear the area, checking Mosek and the child for wounds.

“Bring the Binder-of-Flesh. Mosek is bleeding.” Ashke yells as he applies pressure to the large gash on his back. Soon, the crying child is consoled by elders while also being chided for causing this. Mosek tries to defend the child’s youthful prank but is given an herbal tonic to drink as he is carried in a blanket to a healer’s tunnel.

The last thing Mosek remembers is “Hold still, old friend. This will hurt.” Then there is pain and blackness.

 He wakes lying on his stomach, in a soft pallet of stuffed silk pillows. The room is lit with a mixture of fungi pods and oil lamps. The lamp wicks are set low, but the gold and brass reflectors amplify even this. “The big bear will live, but maybe I should hibernate some more?” he tries to joke, unsure who is in the room.

“Yes, you will live, my friend,” Ashke tells him. Mosek tries to roll over, but a firm but reassuring hand presses on his lower back. “Please don’t move. Mihkwa said you must stay still. When the rocks fell, your upper back was cut open.”

“Oh.” Mosek, lies still. He thinks about Mishikwe words for a moment. “I am cut so deep that a 'binder-of-skin' was called for?” The pressure on his lower back eases, and Ashke moves where he can see him.

“Yes, hairy, old bear. We feared our silk wrappings weren’t enough. He had to use some of Bruna’s holy blood to help repair the damage.”

Mosek thinks about this for a moment. He’s always heard of sacred golden tools made from Bruna’s holy blood, but he has never seen any used. His throat tightens; tears sting his eyes.

Ashke holds a cup of medicinal tea near him. “Are you in pain?”

Mosek shakes his head. “I’m not worthy of such a gift from the Children of Bruna. How can I—”

“Hush, my old friend. You are part of us. You bring us items for trade that the elders would never see otherwise. You are welcome at circles, and you play with our young. You are the ‘Hairy Old Bear’ of our stories. Saving you is saving one of us.”

“But I must repay….” He tries to protest.

Ashke nods. “Of course. You explained how Children of Durn must do equal exchanges. Let Mihkwa weigh the value of it, and we’ll have the Listeners-of-Bruna agree. Does that seem fair?”

He thinks it over. It is almost dwarven in its proposal; the healer will decide the cost of the treatment, and the priests will oversee it. He smiles and extends his hand. “I agree. Shall we shake on it?”

Ashke gently takes his hand and squeezes it. “Now drink some tea for the pain and sleep. I soon need to check that your cart has been moved to an alcove.”

“Who picked up...”

“The Protectors carefully repacked your cart. I found your slate list and accounted for each item. The elders declared your cart a ‘red tag item’ and scouts have told all the children that any caught trying to play the ‘red tag game’ will be punished in the ‘Hall of Disputes’.”

“But..that… seems…harsh,” Mosek tries to say before the medicinal pain tea takes effect and he drifts off to sleep again.

The Collapsing Tunnel - Introduction and Chapter 1

 

Introduction

My Dear Reader, welcome to this story. Before you begin, I’d like to give you a few things that will help you in this world.

I: This is not an allegory. At the time this was written, yes, there were events in various parts of the world that were similar to what takes place in this story, but what I wrote was based off of historical trends, not specific acts at the time of writing. Whether you choose to believe this is up to you, but I am a student of history, languages, and culture, all of which influence my writing.

II: In this world, dwarves and goblins evolved from a common ancestor and can intermarry and have children. Before you cry “Blasphemy!” because this differs from the versions you know, remember that many cultures across our own world have stories of “little people of the mountains.” They go by many names. For this story, I chose Dwarf and Goblin. That is all.

III: The languages are fictional but inspired by real ones. Durask, the dwarven tongue, draws from Icelandic, Norse, and English. Mishikwe is shaped by Algonquian languages. The cultures in this world grew from the logic and rhythm of these languages.

IV: Everything is translated into English for the reader, except for certain names, items, and terms that lose their texture when translated. You will also encounter people using formally structured phrases at times. This reflects characters operating in official spaces or showing honor and respect through formal speech. If you find yourself thinking, “They’d be more casual than that,” remember: that is your expectation. In this world, the speaker at that moment would choose formality.

V: This story is part of a larger world, and there may be more tales set within it. After the epilogue, you will find glossaries and world‑building notes if you wish to explore further.

Welcome, and I hope you fully enjoy this story that takes place in a mountain range shared between the Children of Durn and the Children of Bruna.

 

1-Ana - Guarding the Border

Ana moves like a breath of cool air through the stone. The tunnels of her people curve and dip around her, familiar as the lines of her own hands. She keeps low, letting the rough cavern wall brush her shoulder as she listens. Noonda Ashkwa Mishig or Ana is Aniniwiin Sukaniniwinin, “one who guards the border”. She is deep in the border tunnels, where the lands of the Children of Bruna press against the carved domains of the Children of Durn.

 A narrow ventilation shaft opens to her left. She pauses, sniffs, and feels the faint pull of moving air. A larger tunnel lies ahead. She slips into the shaft, climbing downward with practiced ease. Her climbing claws find every ridge; her spider‑silk uniform whispers against the stone.

She stops and presses her listening tube to the wall. Voices. Echoed. Distorted. But unmistakably Durask. Harsh, clipped, like stone cracking under strain. She thinks of Waad’s voice: ‘Peace comes from understanding. Do not judge. That is the Speaker’s duty, not yours.’ She continues, stopping now and then to listen again. Yes, Dwarf voices — but whose? She slides the tube back into her belt and moves on in silence.

Lamp‑light glows ahead. She wishes she had more scouts with her — a runner to send for aid if needed —, but it is only her. ‘Don’t give in to doubts or fears’, Waad would say. ‘A single silent scout is more than a match for anyone who crosses the border. Trust your skills and knowledge’. Her uniform, dyed to blend with the stone, makes her a soundless shadow as she approaches.

Lamps mean Dwarves. If it were the blue‑green glow of glow‑moss, it might be Bimkor traders or tunnel keepers. But dwarven lamps mean miners — those who dig into Bruna’s flesh. “I see a quartz seam here. There might be some gold,” one voice says.

“You’re dreaming. There’s never gold in the gobblers’ tunnels. That’s Durn’s gift to us. Besides, what would animals like that do with gold?” the other replies.

 ‘Two treaty breakers’, Ana notes silently on her barkskin pad. She moves closer, using stalagmites and rough walls to mask her approach.

“Ding.” The iron pick strikes stone.  She moves faster.

 Two dwarves come into view — miners, no guild insignia. ‘Lone‑wolves’. She makes more notes, then draws her speaking horn. In her best Durask, she calls out, “Stop. You are in violation of Goblin lands and the peace treaty. Drop your tools and prepare to be arrested.”

Her voice echoes. The dwarves freeze. One lifts his lamp, searching the shadows.

“I don’t see a Peacekeeper. Must be a goblin guard.” He draws a knife. “I bet I could find and skin it.”

His companion turns, pick still in hand.

They are broader and a little taller than she is. Stronger, likely. Waad’s teachings steady her: ‘Shadows have no substance, no strength, yet can cover the strongest object’.

 She pulls her bolo free. “Stop where you are or you will be stopped,” she warns, projecting her voice off a different wall. The shift in direction makes both dwarves hesitate.

She steps into the center of the tunnel and throws. The bolo wraps the knife‑bearer’s legs, sending him crashing down. His knife clatters across the stone; the lantern shatters.

The second dwarf drops his pick and raises his hands. “Don’t kill us! We were just prospecting. We didn’t see the border.”

Ana is already behind him, binding his wrists with spider‑silk ties. “You can tell your story in the Hall of Disputes.” She secures the fallen miner as well.

She blows her security whistle and taps the code into the stone: “Violators captured. Meet at the border post”. The vibrations carry down the tunnel walls. In near‑darkness, she guides the prisoners, a rope linking them, their tools bundled in one pack. The dwarf who surrendered carries the other pack on his back.

 Closer to the border, she whistles again and taps the message once more.  A whistle answers, followed by the tapped reply: “Message received. Awaiting prisoners”. Ana exhales in relief. The Peacekeepers she has met before deal just as harshly with dwarf treaty‑breakers as with goblin ones.

 The rough natural walls give way to polished columns and carved stone. Border lamps cast a bright reddish‑yellow glow, harsh compared to the deep caverns’ darkness. The dwarves squint; Ana slips on her slit‑eye carapace shades.

 Two Peacekeepers wait, clad in dark blue wool and leather, armor‑styled but helmetless, their beards tightly braided. One lowers a lamp shade to soften the light.

“What fish have you caught in your line today?” he jokes in Mishikwe. One miner scowls at hearing a dwarf speak goblin.

Ana answers in Durask so the captives will understand. “These fish swam in dangerous waters. I saved them for you.” She drops the pack; the broken lamp rolls out, the pick clanking on polished stone.

The other Peacekeeper manacles the prisoners, then returns her silk ties and rope. “We’ll inform you when to be at the Hall of Disputes.”

She nods and hands over her notes. One Peacekeeper copies them onto a slate. “These will be added, along with the evidence, to the charges.”

Ana rolls her rope and lines. “Thank you. Let me return to my watch.”

“Return to the shadows, vigilant watcher,” the first Peacekeeper says in Mishikwe.

She replies in Durask, “And maintain the steadiness of watchful stone,” before slipping back into darkness as the lamp shade lifts and bright light fills the cavern.

Building Worlds

 

I’ve spent the past couple of days editing and working on a polished version of my novella “The Collapsing Tunnel”. I also know that I have subscribers who enjoy my smutty and erotic stories. So I am torn in ways I hadn’t anticipated.

I want to write a smutty pick-up story, but when I do the descriptions leave the modern world and switch to either the fantasy or sci-fi worlds I’ve been working on. The simple answer is “write another sci-fi sex story” or “write some descriptive dwarf on goblin porn”. As many of my readers know, I try to write a variety of styles and genres. But when I also want to write stories that the readers want too. My “Random Encounter” stories always have higher reader rates than my “Couple’s Tales” and are always double or triple the readership of my genre stories.

I could just stop creating erotica. But I feel like that’s ignoring the couple hundred of readers out there who enjoy my work. Realistically am I changing the world with my smutty little stories? No. Writing consensual stories about loving couples or adults who ‘hook up’ are just a tiny segment of the wider erotica and smut community.

In point in time where AI programs are generating smut faster, cheaper, and as detailed as what I create, do I need to still be here? Probably not. But I enjoy it. I enjoy the community. I enjoy the engagement of readers and other writers. This has never been about money. Yes, I’d love to earn a bit for the stories I’ve written. I have over 150 posts on the various platforms and have earned enough for a 12 pack of soda.

But I don’t want to disappoint the readers either. I don’t want to produce slop just to make a schedule. I’ve worked too hard the past couple of years to make interesting and unique stories in a landscape filled “cuckold tales”, “stepping out stories” and “true confessions”, to just quit.

Yes, changes in my personal life have changed a few things and the schedule I had, which was dictated by being a care-giver has been modified. So I’m faced with the broader question that I really want to hear answers from you - my readers, What do you want me to write?

I look forward to your comments (I might have to find the Mishikwe word for “throbbing cock” or the Durask word for “wet cunt”. Mmmm Goblin grunts and dwarf moans and vice versa).  

Oral Sex with a Married Man

 

Tonight, you are at the bar. You are meeting up with the man you have had sex with a few times previously. You are wearing a sexy black lace & satin bra and panty set, with matching garter belt and stockings. These he bought for you last time. Your dress is white cotton. Perfect for the warm weather tonight. And easy access for him.

You light up your cigarette, and enjoy the smoke, as you see him walk in.

He’s still wearing his business coat & tie. “He must have come here straight from work.” You think. Holding the cigarette to your lips, you slowly suck in the smoke. Your lipstick marks are on the tip. It reminds him of your lipstick on his cock when you suck him. You tap the ash into the ashtray. 

“Should I order a drink, and dance with you to the music? Or just go to a hotel room?” He asks, removing his sport coat. Under his white shirt you can tell he’s not wearing an undershirt. You can almost see his hairy chest through the light cotton fabric.

Taking his hand, you lead him to the dance floor. The music is fast. You move against his body. As you grind against him, you feel the texture of your lingerie against your skin as you dance. Also as you rub against him, you feel him get hard. Pulling you closer, he kisses you passionately.

The next song is slower. He holds you close, his hands on your lower back as you put your arms around his neck. You kiss him, and press your chest against his. You feel the pressure and texture of the fabric rubbing against your nipples.

His hand grabs your ass firmly, like he doesn’t want this to end. “You are wearing your sexy gift I bought you. I’m glad.” He says in a deep sexy tone.

The song ends and you go back to the bar for your drinks. Sitting on the stool, you raise your dress to show him the tops of your stockings. You feel sexy and naughty.

“Those look so good on you. I knew they would.” He says into your ear. “You look so sexy, I want to fuck you here.” You feel his hand up your dress. You are thankful that everyone is watching either the band or the dance floor. You feel his fingers rub your panties. “Oh, yes, you are getting wet. You like the idea of me fucking you, in front of everyone?”

“But I like this club, and don’t want to get kicked out. Shall we go? Or dance again?” You playfully protest.

He pays for your drinks and you leave. The hotel is nearby so you walk. The evening air feels good. At the hotel, he uses the key to the special corporate suite, used by his company for special clients.

In the elevator, you stand in front of him. He raises the back of your dress, and you feel his cock still inside his pants, press against your exposed ass. “You love when I take you from behind. If there weren’t security cameras. I would fuck you here.” He whispers in your ear.

The doors open to his floor. You go to the room and he unlocks the door. Once the door closes, you kiss his mouth hard.

“Yes, I want you to fuck me, but I want to suck your cock, then I want you to lick my pussy until I cum.” You say.

There is a couch in the suite and the king sized bed. You’ve had sex on both previously. “Where do you want to do it?” He asks as he removes his tie and unbuttons his shirt. Removing his shirt, you have him sit on the sofa. Slowly you remove your dress, doing a striptease to tease him.

You wiggle your hips as you unbutton each button of your dress.

He unzips his pants and pulls out his hard cock.

You slowly slide one side down your shoulder…

And then the other.

As you slowly slide the dress down your body, he licks his fingers and slowly strokes his hardening shaft.

As the dress hits the floor, he’s fully hard.

You sexily walk over. Grab grab his prick… “Do you want a hand with this?” You ask in a seductive voice. He nods and you get on your knees. Licking the tip, you slowly stroke the shaft. You look into his eyes as you suck it. “Whose cock is this?” You ask playfully but firmly as you squeeze it.

“It’s your cock. My wife hates it. She won’t suck it, and only wants missionary sex once a month.” He replies as you continue licking it.

“And what about my pussy?” You ask. 

“Your pussy is the tastiest and most beautiful there is. My wife won’t let me lick her. She says oral sex is sinful.” You suck his cock deeply, “Oh God, that feels so good.”

You stand up and he kisses your pussy through the fabric of your panties. You feel his mouth press against your damp lips. He licks up and down. His tongue pressing the satin fabric against your damp cunt. It feels so good.

He slowly slides your panties off and you feel them slide down your legs. Grabbing his head, you press his face against your pussy. “Lick me until I cum.” You command.

You then lie on the couch with your legs spread. You feel his head rub against the tops of your stockings and his warm breath on your pussy. Slowly he licks up and down your exposed cunt. 

Up… around…down… and across.

Then he licks between your lips. You enjoy the feeling of his smooth wet tongue on and in you. Grabbing his head again, you hump his mouth in pleasure. He licks deeper and harder. Grabbing your hips as you feel his tongue thrust deeply.

He rubs your clit with his tongue still deep inside of you. Rubbing faster and harder until you cum. His mouth is filled with your juices.

He then moves up to your mouth and kisses you passionately. You taste your pussy on him. “I love just doing oral with you, so much more than straight sex my wife.” He says and hugs you tightly.

“That was just the warm up. Show me how much more you love me.” you tell him in a wicked tone, before moving off the couch to the bedroom. 

Couple's Commercial Role-Play Fantasy - Part 2

 

The next morning, you get up, make coffee, clean up, and get dressed for work. You let your wife lie in bed for a bit. She took time off this week so she can take care of the kids. After packing lunch and taking a sip of coffee, you check on her. Softly, you kiss her lips. She lets out a sleepy moan. “Good morning, my sleepy head. Coffee’s ready in the kitchen, and I’m leaving for work.”

She opens her eyes, glances at the clock face on the nightstand, rolls onto her side, and pulls up the blanket. “I can sleep for a couple more hours,” she mumbles.

“I’ll see you later.” You whisper into her ear and then gently kiss it.

“Uh-huh.” She says in a sleepy tone. “Go to work, be safe. See you when you get home.”

You get up, grab what you need, and then head off to work.

The office has that weird, ‘empty but hectic’ feel. There isn’t really a lot going on, but with so many people taking time off, if there is something to do, there really aren’t a lot of people to get it done, so you feel like there are so many orders to check, so many emails to respond to, and so many things that, during a normal week, others would do.

A couple of times, you get up from your desk, refill your coffee cup, and just walk around to see who’s really in. One of the ladies up front; one of the senior partners; and a couple of team leaders. But aside from that, most everyone else is gone. You make small chit-chat with the few people you see. The lady at the front desk asks if you’ve got anything special planned for the weekend. You blush at the thought of your wife and you, role-playing tonight. She asks what’s on your mind, and you tell her in rough, vague details that you have the house to yourselves, so you and the wife will have fun. She gives you a knowing nod and then answers the phone. Raising your coffee mug, you motion to her that you’re going back to your desk. She nods as she answers the caller’s questions.

By the end of the workday, you just want to go home. With about 10 minutes left to go, you start closing up and locking things up for the day. You see your boss closing his office. “You’re still here?” he asks. “Didn’t I put out an email telling everyone in the office to leave an hour early?”

You shake your head. “I didn’t see it.”

“Tomorrow, check your ‘spam filter’. If it’s in there, leave early tomorrow.”

“Will do.” Your reply.

Traffic on the drive home isn’t too bad. You pass signs on the local churches advertising “Holy Week Services”.

You and your wife could go to the “Holy Thursday” evening service. If the kids were home, you know that you’d go. But your dad will take them to their church. You smile at the thought of your father telling your kids the importance of foot washing, the specialness of the Last Supper, and the preparations to go to the garden. You slowly shake your head, because you’ve never been as religious as your parents. You attend church, but that’s mostly for the kids.

No, tonight, instead, you want to spend time with your wife.

Walking through the door, you smell pasta and sauce. You put your lunch bag in the kitchen and see your sexy wife wearing an apron to cover her ‘housewife’ shirt and slacks. “That smells good. Should I…”

She turns and tells you, “Go wash up, but don’t change. Don’t go into the bedroom. You have to wait until after dinner.”

Nodding, you do as you’re told, washing up and then sitting at the table. Soon, your wife brings a hot plate of noodles with homemade sauce. “Mmmm, I love it.” You say as you take a forkful.

She smiles as she sits down next to you. “I’m glad. It helped put me into the ‘helpful housewife’ spirit. I even watched some TV while cooking, so as to see if I saw more of those commercials.”

“Did you see what you wanted?” you ask.

She reaches under the table and rests her hand on your crotch. “Oh yes. I even found commercials I have fantasies about, too.” She gives your thigh a loving squeeze, which awakens your ‘trouser snake’.

“Are you trying to get me hard before I finish dinner?” you ask.

She winks and smiles. “Maybe,” she leans closer and whispers, “or maybe I just want to be wet for you because you don’t know what I have on under my outfit.”

Your mind flashes through a variety of options: plain cotton underwear, lacy black or red lingerie, or maybe nothing at all. “Should I guess or…”

She kisses some sauce off your lips. “You have to wait. By the way, you have to clean the kitchen before you get to play.”

Nodding, you kiss her and then finish eating.

After the kitchen is clean, you walk to the bedroom. The door is closed, but when you open it, you see stacks of your folded shirts and pants on the bed, on a couple of chairs, and on top of the hamper lid. Giving the room the basic feel of a clothing department in a “big box” store. Her back is to you as she looks at her closet, as if deciding what items to try on next.

“Wow, you really set things up. Is there anything I need to know?” you ask without getting into character yet.

She walks over, kisses you, and points to the lube and dildos on the nightstand. “I prepared myself, to be filled every way. Just make sure I’m ready, first.” She whispers, “And my safe word is ‘marmalade’.”

You nod and softly repeat “‘Marmalade’. Hopefully you won’t need to use it.”

She then walks back over to the closet and gets back into role.

You smile and try to remember the dialogue of the ‘hapless dad’ from the commercial. Picking up a couple of polo shirts; a grey one and a red one, you hold them against your chest and move like you are comparing them as you look in an imaginary mirror. Frowning, you turn to her. “My wife sent me to get a new shirt. Can you help me?”

As she turns, you notice she is wearing a striped sweater similar to the ‘mom’ character in the commercials. “Of course. Let’s see.” Walking over, she takes both of them from you, holds up one, and then the other. She looks like she is thinking as her eyes narrow, and she bites her lower lip in concentration. “I think the red one looks better.” She holds it against your chest and softly caresses the material. Even through your work shirt, you feel the pressure of her fingers on your skin.

“Should I try it on, so you can, see?” You ask, with the same tone of the male character in the commercial.

She nods and smiles. Pulling off your work shirt, you pull on the polo. You smooth out the front as you feel her fingers smoothing out the back. You move like you are still looking in that imaginary mirror.

“See how good it looks on you. Your wife will love it.”

Turning to her, you smile, just like in the commercials. “Thanks, what would I do without you?” Then you pause, “How can I make it up to you? You’ve been so helpful, you deserve a reward.” You give her a seductive wink and a nod.

She then motions towards the nightstand where she laid out her ‘toys’ of various sizes. “But what about these people that I helped too?” She is still in character.

“If they want to reward you too, how can I say no?” you reply, continuing to role play.

You quickly clear off the bed and have her stand next to it. Slowly, you unbutton her sweater. “Your husband is a lucky man.” You playfully tell her.

As the sweater falls to the floor, she replies, “Yes, he is.”

You kiss her, tasting a little of tonight’s dinner. Reaching into the waistband of her slacks, you pull up her plain white shirt. You are happily surprised that there isn’t a bra underneath. Her nipples look so beautiful and tasty. Those nipples, which a few years ago were suckled by your children, look like they are begging for your mouth. You lean forward and slowly lick around the areola of the left one. “Is that the kind of thing your husband does to you?” You ask.

“Not as often as I need.” She answers, her voice taking on a sensual, husky tone.

“Let me help you then.” You say as you lick and suck it, feeling it get firm in your mouth.

“Mmmm.” She moans softly. As you focus on her breasts, she reaches for a dildo. “Oh, you helped me, too. Is that cock for me?”

Before you can answer, she answers herself in a fake man’s voice. “Yes, little lady, it’s all for you. You’ve been so helpful.” Then she licks and sucks the tip of her toy.

“Do you want to lie down, so we can all pleasure you better?” You ask, trying to make your voice sound suave and different, as you undo her slacks and pull them down. “Oh, does your husband know you wear underwear like that?” you ask in the same fake accent. She’s wearing red crotch-less panties you bought for her a few years ago.

“Oh, no. He doesn’t know I like to wear sexy things like that. Especially when I have a chance to hook up with friendly strangers.”

You get on your knees and kiss the lacy fabric just above her exposed pussy. “So that’s why you’re always so helpful. You’re hoping to hook up with ‘helpless husbands’ and good-looking strangers?”

You hear a sucking noise above you as she takes her toy deep in her mouth. Pulling it out, she responds. “Yes. That’s why I’m always so helpful. Looking for men and maybe a few women who will repay my kindness.”

You imagine seeing your wife with a strange dick in her mouth, a strange woman sucking the nipples you were just sucking, and a third man licking her ass. Your dick hardens at the strange fantasy. She must be imagining something similar because you smell her arousal. Plunging your tongue into her pussy, she moans around the toy in her mouth. She spreads her thighs a bit more to let you thrust your tongue deeper. You feel her hand on your head as she presses herself harder against your mouth.

Gasping, she asks, “Can I get on the bed now, to give you all better access to me?”

You slip your tongue out and look up at her. There’s a string of saliva from her mouth to the dildo she’s holding. She looks so sexy and slutty.

“Yes. Get on the bed. Let’s use you like you want to be used.”

She smiles down at you, wickedly as she steps out of the pants, puddled around her ankles. You stand up. Kiss her, thrusting your tongue into her mouth, and then you reach for two more toys on the nightstand. She laid out a small bottle of lube, a clit sucker, and a textured glass dildo, along with the rubber one she is using. Your wife climbs on the bed and rolls onto her back, rubbing the dildo between her breasts.

You get between her legs, drip some lube on the tip of the clit sucker. She’s rubbing the cock between her breasts, “Yeah, titty-fuck me just like that.”

Slowly, you lick along the inside of her thighs as you lick one and use the tip of the sucker on the other. The mixed sensations on her skin has her look down at you. “Mmmmm. More than one of you on my thighs. Are you going to both lick my pussy?”

“Of course. That’s what you want. All of us thank you.” You reply with a mischievous tone.

She spreads her legs wider as you move the sucker to her clit and put your tongue in her wet, waiting pussy. “Yes, have her suck my clit as I suck this cock.” She says sucking on the dildo again.

You stop licking her pussy and rub her pussy lips with the tip of the glass dildo. “Would you like a real cock in your mouth?”

She pulls the toy from her mouth, “Yes. Let me move first.”

You stand up as she gets on her knees. Watching as she takes the rubber dildo between her legs and lowers herself on it. “Lube up my glass cock.” She says in an almost commanding voice.

You do, then hand it to her. She bends forward and rubs it between her ass cheeks.

“Do you need help with that?” you ask with a smile. She tries to put it into her tight anus. You kiss her softly. “Let me help. I’ll be gentile.” She nods and hands it to you. Dripping more lube along the crack of her ass, you slowly spread it around using the dildo, moving up and down. “Relax and imagine a strange man slowly entering you.” You hear her inhale and squat, the rubber dildo still in her pussy. Placing the glass tip against her puckered hole you gently but firmly push. 

It slides in as she pushes back a bit. “I love it. One in my cunt, one in my ass.” She turns to you, and motions for you to get in front of her. “And now one in my mouth.” She squats down so she can ride both toys at once and leans her head forward.

You’ve rarely seen her so you turned on and depraved. There is a hunger in her eyes as she grabs your hard shaft. Her tongue is so smooth and wet as she licks the tip, then she sucks you firmly, while pressing herself down on the bed, pushing the toys deeper into her. Soon she is rocking back and forth, fucking her mouth with your hard cock. She’s moaning in pleasure as she grinds herself against the bed. In your imagination it’s the actress from the commercials whose sucking you as she takes cocks in her ass and pussy. Placing your hand on her head, you thrust in time with the rhythm she’s created. You’re breathing harder and won’t last long. “Do you want me in your mouth or somewhere else?”

She pulls you from her mouth. “Fuck my ass.”

Moving around and behind, she raises up her ass. The glass dildo slides out. Even though your cock is slick with saliva and pre-cum, you put more lube on it.

Her asshole is waiting for you as you press your tip against it. With just a little pressure it slides in. She feels so warm and tight. So different than her mouth or pussy. She rocks back against you. Moving back and forth she takes your cock as deep as she can. “That’s it. Fuck me. Fuck my ass.” She says with an almost animalistic growl. You feel the vibrations of her using her sucker toy on her clit and the pressure of the fake cock in her cunt. You are so close to cumming. She presses back against you, and you feel her body quiver with pleasure. Her asshole tightens around you as she cums. It feels so good as you hold her hips tightly and fill her ass with your spunk.

“Yes….” She moans.

Then she pulls the dildo from her pussy and you slowly slide your softening dick from her. You both are sweating. She gets up and hugs you. You hold her tightly in your arms. “You must have really enjoyed that.” You say to her, breathing hard.

She nods and kisses you. “More than you know. Join me in a shower?” She asks as she gets off the bed, strips off her crotchless panties which are now stretched out a bit.

“Of course.” You answer as you put dirty clothes in the hamper.

You both walk naked into the bathroom. She grabs a towel and washcloth, leans into you and whispers “Tomorrow night we can do my fantasy, ‘Mr. Insurance guy’.”

(I hope you enjoyed this 2-part Couple’s Tale. If you want a follow up story of the husband as “Mr. Insurance Guy” helping the distressed housewife, tell me in the comments. If you enjoyed it, Leave a Comment. If you enjoy my writings, Follow and Subscribe. See you next Friday with a new story.)

Couple's Commercial Role-Play Fantasy - Part 1

 

You sit on the couch, trying to relax, watching TV. The kids are excited for Spring Break from school, planning to spend time with their grandparents, and your wife is reading a trashy novel, sitting in a chair near you.

Between episodes of police procedurals and emergency rescue dramas, you keep seeing the same commercials over and over. You don’t know if it’s that you’re tired, bored, or just horny. In a couple of commercials, you notice that the actresses are a more plain-looking version of your wife. Your mind wanders, imagining the ‘hapless guy’ that the “mom” helps find the right furniture, clothing, or whatever, offers to take her in back and repay her kindness with vigorous sex in the showroom, the dressing room, or in the storeroom. A wicked smile crosses your lips when, in one ad, after she helps one guy, there are three others who also need help. “Of course. She wants all four at once.” You quietly chuckle to yourself.

Your wife looks over the top of her book, “What’s so funny?” She asks, glancing towards the TV.

“I’ll tell you in a bit.” You say, as you get off the couch, walk over and give her a kiss. “You are so much sexier than the actresses on the commercials.”

She arches her eyebrow, “Thanks, but what brought that on?”

“Let me put the kids to bed first.” You respond.

Going into the other room, you get your son off the game system, and have your daughter put away her coloring book and crayons. “It’s bedtime, kids.”

“Awwww, but we don’t have school.” Your son says.

“Yeah, Daddy, we’re on Spring Break.” Your daughter chimes in.

Nodding, you remind them that tomorrow you’re going to take them both to your parents’ place. They’ll spend a day with them and then spend a day with the other grandparents.

“If you aren’t good, I’ll tell them you aren’t allowed to go to the candy store.”

“Candy World!” your daughter screams.

“It’s just candy.” Your son tries to say in a cool tone, but you notice that he saves his game and powers the player off.

As the kids brush their teeth and get ready for bed, you do a quick check in the kitchen to make sure you turned on the dishwasher. There is nothing more frustrating than filling and loading the dishwasher and forgetting to turn it on. It is gently humming as it still washes the dinner dishes.

Going back to check on the kids, your son is climbing into his bed. He has the library book he’s supposed to be reading during the break. “Read only a chapter or two and get some sleep. You can read more on your way to Grandma and Grandpa’s.”

“Ok, Dad.” He says as he focuses on the book.

Your daughter is wearing her pretty night gown and has a book that she wants to read to you. Recently, she has worked hard to show that ‘she’s a big girl and can read too’. You walk in and sit on the floor, leaning against the bed. “So Baby, what’s tonight’s book?”

She holds it up for you to see. “The one with the bunny that ran away. Are you ready, Daddy?”

You nod and sit as she starts, “Once there was a little bunny who wanted to run away…”

As she reads, she yawns from time to time, but soon she gets to “‘Have a carrot,’ said the mother bunny. The End.”

“You did a good job reading that one, Princess.” You kiss her forehead. “Now get some sleep. Remember tomorrow, your mother is taking you to see Grandma and Grandpa.”

“I know, Daddy. I’ll be good for them.” She says as she hugs you.

You softly close the door behind you, then make sure your son turns off his light.

Softly walking back down to the living room, you see your wife still reading but occasionally watching TV too.

“Is everything all right?” she asks quietly.

You nod. “Yep, the kids are in bed and ‘Runaway Bunny’ is back home.”

She gives you a quizzical look. “That’s what our daughter read to me tonight.”

She nods and then looks at the TV as one of the commercials comes on, where a ‘housewife’ in ordinary clothing is helping a ‘lost guy’ find what he needs.

“So, what’s this about me being sexier than her?” she asks.

You sit on the couch and pat the cushion for her to join you. She moves and snuggles up next to you.

Putting your arm around her, you explain your fantasy. That she, your sexy wife, was the helpful woman in the commercial. Wearing just a plain sweater, top, and slacks. Helping you find an outfit for a ‘special occasion’ or the ‘right recliner’. And how afterward, you would reward her with sex. You lean in closer and whisper, “And maybe you’ve helped other men, too, who want to reward you? A good chance to use multiple toys.”

She grins. “Mmmmm, that multiple partners fantasy that I’d never have the guts to do in real life?”

You nod. “And with the kids at the grandparents for the next couple of days, we can have a few nights to ourselves.”

The cop show you both like is on, and you watch it together, holding her. During another commercial break, you see the one where a ‘housewife’ helps a guy find an outfit for golfing, then at the end, three men ask, ‘Can you help me too?’ Both of you chuckle at that one. “Oh, is that where you got the idea of her being thanked by more than one guy at a time?”

You sheepishly smile. “Maybe.”

She kisses and hugs you. “I see the attraction to this ‘role play’ fantasy. Maybe after I drop off the kids, I’ll have things set up?” Her tone is relaxed and playful.

“Really?” you reply. “Maybe we should move to the bedroom now?”

“Shhhh, the show’s back on. I want to see if they catch the bad guy.”

You smile, nod, and kiss the top of her head. “Ok.”

(Come back tomorrow for Part 2)