Today I want to re share the story – Standing Ovation- I wrote for round 6 of the smut marathon in 2018.
The brief for that round was to write an erotic tale of no more than 650 words including the words Fortune Cookie.
As it happened I actually ended up with three fortune cookie stories! Here’s how.
Fortune Cookie Tale One – One night after having a few too many gins I roughly wrote a cookie tale. Then, completely forgot about it until too late! In hindsight, it was fortunate that I didn’t find it earlier as it was way over the word limit. Generally, in the SM my first draft was always more than the number of words allowed. So I would then fine tune. Making every single word count. However, I think with this first story it would have been a shame to hack it around, as I rather like how it turned out. You can read it for yourself.
Fortune Cookie Tale Two – The second story was only half written and remains in my draft folder still. I abandoned the the tale as I was being rather ambitious with dialogue and at that time was not really skilled enough to make it convincing. Now I am more experienced perhaps one day I will complete it.
Fortune Cookie Tale Three – With not many days left until the writing round was due to end I tried to get some inspiration by thinking of things I had read or been told that were sexy. After much deliberation, I decided to fictionalise a true-life event that happened to an old friend of mine, Shirley, quite a while ago. Thankfully I had made the right decision as I ended up in a 3 way tie for top of that round. Not only that I made a few changes, added a condom to the plot, and then entered the story into a small writing competition. I was thrilled when it won.
Here, I am sharing the original story. Remember, I was limited word wise – so every sentence had to count. Written in first person, present tense to create urgency.
Our eyes meet and my cunt involuntarily contracts – a tiny bit of moisture escapes caressing my slit. There, seated at the next table, alone, staring, confident, smiling – he can only be about twenty-five. I shift in the chair, hoping my damp panties won’t stain my skirt. A rush of adrenalin floods my veins as blushing I turn away and wonder why he’s still looking. After all, I’m nearing forty.
Noticing I’m distracted the office girls joke with me – daydreaming again. We split the bill, say goodbye and leave the Won-Ton Restaurant. But realising my fortune cookie is still on the table, and being slightly superstitious by nature, I rush back to retrieve it. Pocketing the biscuit I feel a hand on my shoulder.
“How about a drink then?” he suggests in a sexy Irish brogue, sharp green eyes intent.
In the Red Lion, over a gin and tonic, we talk about my bastard ex-husband. A few months earlier I came home to find him shagging the cleaner. It was a wake-up call and I found the guts to take a stand and kick him out. My new friend nods and not to be outdone confesses to fleeing Ireland six years ago on the day he jilted his sweetheart.
I begin to feel bolder as we make the most of our time to brush hands and exchange glances.
This is quite out of character. Normally I’m a bit reserved, but am enjoying our dance. It has been a while since an attractive guy has been solicitous with me. Tonight, I’m a chameleon basking in the warmth of the moment.
Suddenly he grabs my arm. I’m not afraid – he is laughing, joking, taking the lead.
Outside in the dark, back alleyway we literally fall on each other.
Blouse ripped open.
Nipples taut in the cool breeze – longing for attention. His tongue teases them and fingers find my slit and intrude into my sodden cunt. How I’ve waited for this.
I pull down the zip and release his erect cock. The warm perfume of sex meets my nostrils as I edge back the foreskin, tentatively. His red, swollen knob glistens in the moonlight.
He leans me against the wall, hitching up my skirt and jerking my legs open with his. Assured. Bending his knees he guides his cock past the gusset of my knickers. I respond, move my hips slightly forward – it stabs my pussy and victoriously angles into the warm, dewy flesh.
Groaning, he tugs at my long blond curls. My cunt greedily devours his cock. Hands positioned against the wall either side of me – a wilful capture – we begin to fuck, primally.
Grinding – short, sharp jabs.
Then long, vital strokes.
Eyes locked on mine – animated.
When his tongue finds my mouth, I begin to quiver and moan unable to hold back my climax. Intoxicated by the spontaneity. Within seconds he trembles and falls heavily against me panting.
We stand, simply holding each other. Heartbeats slowing. Satiated. His cock still trapped in my pussy.
Finally, it droops and slips out. Yet still connected, as we keep the embrace.
His wavy dark hair tickling my face. My back a little chafed from the craggy wall.
The sound of a police siren passes close by, snapping us back to reality. He zips his fly, strokes my cheek with soft fingertips and heads off to the toilet.
I wait as his juice begins to soak my panties.
He doesn’t return.
Smiling, I am not disappointed, just relishing my freedom and such an intense experience with a beautiful stranger.
We never even swapped names.
At home, finding the restaurant cookie in my pocket, I break it open and, reading the fortune, start to giggle,
“With your back against the wall, you can still stand tall.”