Dirty Erotic Oneshots

hand on his knee but Lance didn't take the bait this time. Whatever game she wanted to play, it had been rigged for him to lose. 

The lights finally came up. Sandra hopped out of her seat. 

"C'mon," she told him. "You can walk me back to my car." 

"And what if I don't?" he pouted. 

"Then you don't get your phone back." 

She had a point. He got up. 

This time, Lance quickly walked ahead of Sandra. She noted his brusque manner. Clearly, the dude just wanted to put this evening behind him. Her stomach tightened with a sudden pang of regret. Yeah, he was dumb. But even dumb people had feelings. 

More importantly, he looked hot as fuck. Lance dressed down for their date. He wore jeans and a tank top that showed off his tapered torso and powerlifter arms. She initially disapproved of his casual attire but it suited him well. With a body like that, the muscular Adonis didn't need to wear much anything at all. 

The parking lot had emptied save for Sandra's white van and Lance's motorcycle. He headed towards her vehicle. 

"Well... it's been interesting," he told her wistfully. "Can I get my phone back now?" 

"Only after you kiss me goodbye." 

Her date groaned. Lance had endured enough of her "Lucy and the football" routine for one night. Lance leaned down and offered a chaste peck on her cheek, the kind a 10-year old gave to his clingy grandmother.

 

However, no sooner had he pulled away than Sandra grabbed him by the shoulders, spun him around, and backed him into the wall of her van. She stood upon the toes of her stiletto heels and planted a scorching kiss on the mouth. Her hips bumped and ground against his crotch with the seductive power of a burlesque queen. 

Lance's willpower melted like butter in a frying pan. He could feel the blood draining out of his head and into his inflating monster. It seemed as if his massive organ deprived his brain of an adequate blood supply for rational thinking. Though his medical theory might have been dubious, he clearly thought with his dick. 

With his mind on autopilot, Lance quickly reverted to form. Without a second thought, his hands snapped forward, grasping her flared hips, fingers sinking into the soft flesh of her luscious bottom. Before she could react, he pivoted, spinning the two of them around to reverse their positions. Her back hit the side of the van with a metallic thump. 

Lance pinned her hands against the van and closed in for another kiss. Sandra marveled at their difference in size. Standing six-and-a-half feet tall, the superstud resembled a human wall of muscle and cock. Sandra felt his jeans tent with an obscene bulge. Noticing her reaction, a wicked grin spread across his face. "If you liked Fellini's 8 1/2," he gloated. "You're gonna love Lance Leo's 10 1/2!" 

c o n s e n s u a l ( iii )

Quick as lightning, Sandra kneed him in the groin. Lance staggered back a couple steps and clutched his privates in exquisite agony. Not even the mightiest brute could withstand such a vicious blow. Lance's expression grew angry and ominous. She had violated the most sacred part of his body. 

Lance's exuberant masculinity had a dark side. Its name was violence. Beneath the façade of an ultra-hedonistic playboy, lurked a modern-day savage of animal passions. A man like him could fight as easily as he could fuck. Not even the biggest jocks at school messed with Lance. She heard he had ties to biker gangs. They hired the alpha thug as an enforcer to settle disputes. 

"MOTHERFUCKER!" thundered the raging manbeast. Lance wound up his arm and smashed his fist into the side of her van. He clearly hadn't aimed for Sandra but the damage still unnerved her. The powerful blow left the indentations of his knuckles in the metal sheeting. 

"Did anyone ever say that you look sexy when you're mad?" Sandra asked him without missing a beat. 

Lance didn't answer. He stood his ground with crossed arms. 

"So here's the deal," she told him. "I want to lie down for a minute. You either can get in the van or go home." With that, she unlocked the back door and got into the back of her vehicle. Lance hesitated. Some heinous shit could go down in there. Then again, he'd never find out what could have been. So Lance crawled inside. 

"Shut the door," she told him. He did. The interior became pitch black. The space wasn't uncomfortable though. A queen-sized mattress covered the entire floor. 

Sandra paused for a moment. She listened to his breath and the pounding of his heart. Lance felt so close that Sandra could taste him. She reached out and touched his thigh. The contact startled him. He drew back. 

"Don't be scared," she reassured him. Sandra sidled up to him on all fours. She lightly caressed his muscular arm with a fingertip, tracing the contour of his peaked bicep. The supersized limb was a fifty-bound battering ram. She had no doubt his fists broke bones. And, truth be told, it turned her on. She wanted to make love to the biggest, baddest boy in town. 

Despite all her dating jitters that night, Sandra suddenly felt completely in her element. In the darkness, the introspective teen had transformed into Red Sonja, a warrior woman of pagan desires. But, unlike the comic book, she would embark on the sort of adventure that lay outside the bounds of the G-rated Marvel Universe. 

To understand Sandra's sexual fantasies, one had to be familiar with the sword-and-sorcery tale of Conan and Red Sonja. In the comic, the male-female barbarian duo joined forces to conquer evildoers in the Hyborian Age. However, to Sandra's eternal disappointment, the superheroine never hooked up with Conan. 

The comic book had an explanation for their emotional distance. Though the pair fought together, Sonja proved fiercely independent and often defied her companion. They endured a very tense relationship and even came to blows on occasion. To complicate matters, Conan was attracted to Sonja but she always rebuffed his advances. The swordswoman vowed never to lie with a man who could not defeat her in combat. 

Despite this backstory, Sandra embellished the narrative in her own mind. In return for his pledging eternal loyalty and allegiance, she eventually would offer herself to Conan. And together, the comic book heroes would attain sexual Valhalla. 

Lance wasn't Conan. He was a horny teenager that used his big dick as a ticket for a lot of casual sex. Yet the darkness allowed Sandra to dream. She could be someone else in another time and place. 

"Take it out," Sandra ordered. 

"Huh?" 

"I want you to show me your dick." 

Lance hesitated. No girl ever spoke to him so directly. 

"Hey," began Sandra. "I just want to make sure you're OK. I didn't mean to kick you in the balls. Not that hard at least." 

Lance still felt unsure. Would she bite it off or something? 

"C'mon. Don't be a pussy." 

Sandra heard a zipper. Lance pulled down his pants. She reached down between his legs and grabbed his tool, first with just one, then with two hands. She had seen and touched him before but the contact still sent a chill up her spine. He was fucking massive. 

"Looks OK to me," she told him in flirtatious voice that hid her mounting excitement. 

"How can you tell?" 

"Because you're hard as a rock," laughed Sandra. He laughed a bit too. 

"Listen, I'm sorry for hurting you like that. Let me make it up to you." 

With that, Sandra slowly stroked his shaft with both hands. The organ felt hot and heavy in her grasp. Even in the dark, she sensed his size. It made her clit throb. Sandra had been with other men and there was no comparison. 

"Like what you see?" he asked. 

"We're in the dark," she told him curtly. Though technically true, Sandra preferred the darkness for another reason. It cloaked all the desire in her eyes, the burning urge to feel his gigantic prick thrusting inside of her. If he knew how badly she wanted him, the game would be over. 

Sandra leaned in. Lance felt her hot breath against his cockflesh. Her tongue reached out, flicked his glans, and traced the underside of his shaft. She hawked up a glob of saliva and spat on his dick, letting it dribble down his length. Lance moaned as she flicked, dragged, and gently pushed her wet tongue along his prick. The teen stud couldn't believe what was happening. He was going to lay Sandra Kong! 

The anticipation of impending sex caused his prick to lurch upward, smacking her right on the nose. The cockslap wasn't painful but its force startled Sandra. She grabbed the base with both hands to immobilize his love muscle. It felt like wrestling a python. 

Having steadied his rod, she moved her head back, yanked it downward, and aimed the fist-sized knob at her open mouth. Not missing a beat, her head snapped forward and engulfed him. 

"Oh, fuck!" Lance growled in a rumbling baritone, his senses immersed in pure pleasure as inch after inch sank into her hot, moist mouth. Sandra's jaw tensed up as she descended. Lance was forearm-thick from head to tip. But the vixen had an iron will. 

Sandra paused to relax her throat muscles. She breathed through her nose. Suddenly, the jezebel shoved her head downward, forcing the rest of him down her throat. "Holy shit!" he groaned as her lips reached the base of his cock. No girl ever took the whole thing. 

Lance took long and deep breaths, sustaining the ecstatic tension that seethed in his loins. He could have blown his load then and there. While the teen stud loved having a stallion-sized prick, women struggled to perform fellatio on him. He barely made it past their lips before they gagged on his knob. But Sandra had honed her skills for weeks on an oversized dildo. The fellatrix dedicated her body and soul to the erotic art of deep throating. She wanted to blow him away... literally. 

Sandra bobbed her head up and down, listening to his labored breath. Though blowing a dude supposedly demeaned a woman, she felt more empowered than degraded. Sandra owned his dick. He never had met a woman like her before. 

Without warning, her mouth slid up and off his straining erection. "Please, babe," he moaned desperately. "Don't leave me high and dry." Sandra ignored his plea. Lance didn't ask again. The psycho babe was calling the shots... for now at least. 

Sandra shimmied out of her jeans. She tossed her damp panties at his face. The van filled with the heady aroma of ripe, moist cunt. Sandra lied back on the mattress and