Pulp Covers: SMUTPUNK on Skates (aka The Butt Plug Blues)

Pulp-Covers-SMUTPUNK-on-Skates-pulp

Pulp Covers: SMUTPUNK on Skates (aka The Butt Plug Blues, Romance on Roller-Skates) by Emme Hor

skull-candy-roller-skates-smutpunk1. Asian SMUTPUNK Book One: Romance with Skull Candy & Roller-Skates

RomanceAlphaBillionaire20012. Romance with the Alpha Billionaire

SMUTPUNKonSKates2003B

3. Smutpunk On Skates Romance

 

TrashChute1997

4. Throwing Roller-Skates in the Trash Chute

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5. The Bundle of Books 1-4

emme-hor-first-lady-of-smutpunk

These four books take readers to Malaysia and give you an exotic, sexy taste of Asian Smutpunk. Click to get all four of these books or one inexpensive bundle. Emme is known as the First Lady of Smutpunk, the Asian Smutpunk, and wife of Moctezuma Johnson. She spends her time mixing perfumes for a well-known designer and enjoys writing as her downtime. Whether or not she took a bukkake when younger can be neither confirmed nor denied.

Mailing List: Subscribe to Moctezuma Johnson’s SMUTPUNK Site by Email

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Buy Emme Hor’s Books: Asian SMUTPUNKist is a must-read

buy-emme-hors-books

Buy Emme Hor’s Books right here on the MJ and Emme Smutpunk Site.

You can check out SMUTPUNK on SKATES which is always free on this site, or go over to Amazon where I Am Not a Whore, At Least Not Yet is permafree.

Besides the free books, Emme has many affordable books for you to enjoy. She’s finishing up the Smutpunk on Skates Bundle (four books) that you will be able to enjoy in one inexpensive book, rather than buying four separate titles.

Learn more about Emme Hor and, of course, buy her work.

The Romance on Roller-Skates Series by Emme Hor @horbooks #MrBrtg #LPRTG

Love Office Chicks in Compromising Positions? Of course you do! Try more with Emme Hor’s Romance on Rollerskates Series

47_vibrator_orgasm

 

ROMANCE with SKULL CANDY and BRAND NEW SKATES

ROMANCE on ROLLER-SKATES

SMUTPUNK on SKATES

THROWING ROLLER-SKATES IN THE TRASH CHUTE 

 

SMUTPUNK Kimchi Squat

Malaysian Big Tit Sexy Roller Skate Erotica by Emme Hor, the Asian SMUTPUNKist

KUALA LUMPUR, MALAYSIA — 19 MAY 2016 — Insiders are calling this series the Butt Plug Blues (title totally leaked by Moctezuma Johnson, retired smutpunk author) and singing it’s silly, sexy, smutpunkie praises. In each episode an Alpha Male leads Heather to end up with a butt plug up her ass. Somehow she’s always in micro-mini skirts or tight yoga pants and roller-skates. Can this Asian chick be any sexier? Well, the Alpha Male known as ‘That Fucker’ seems to think she can because he’s got a bevy of other girls’ anus’ butt plugs on display in his office on THE BUTT PLUG MANTLE. This cruel alpha, Heather’s boyfriend when the story starts, is out of control. HE’s so bad that Heather’s MILF mother Lana has to step in and help.

It all leads to a massive CLIMAX featuring BUTT PLUGS, ROLLER-SKATES, SKULL CANDY and much much much much smutpunkedly much MORE.

Bullsh*t Bulletin #6

Smutpunk’d by the Alpha FUTA –  Bullshit Bulletin #6

by San Esperma de Desgracia

 

Is it already the Bullshit Bulletin No. 6? That can’t be fucking right, can it? Six? It feels like yesterday that I decided to start writing these. Huh!

 

 

Emme’s singin’ the Buttplug Blues agian. <Robert Plant riffing while stoned out of his mind singing Blazed & Cum-fused by MoJo> Lot’s of asses plugged, but few of them know that the butt of a woman was created below.

Times are hard. Hard as cock. SMUTPUNKED ON SKATES is the sequel to sequel to That Fucker, who gets skated by again and again and is ready with a trophy mantel of   B _ T T   _ L _ G S (would you like to buy a vowel from Vanha? Yes, a “U”. There are two “U”s). Heather’s mother is here to help this time. And everyone knows there’s no lovin’ like the lovin’ of yo mama! There’s also nothing better to muck everything up way worse than it was mucked up in the first place. The Buttplug Blues becomes Mama’s Blues.

Have you met the women of Fuck Force Five, the Five Hive, yet? If you haven’t please introduce yourself here.

 

Subscribe to the SMUTPUNK Mailer, please — Free Sex and/or Lip Balm is promised†

Put your email address in the box to the right to subscribe to the SMUTPUNK mailer. Thank you.

Put your email address in the box to the right to subscribe to the SMUTPUNK mailer. Thank you.

LOOK TO YOUR RIGHT (if you’re on a computer, no idea where if you’re on another device, somewhere) and subscribe to this site to get notifications of new blog posts. If you’re a writer I’ll be sure to promote your shit, if you’re a reader it means you’ll get free promoted shit. Who wants a FREE SMUTPUNKED ON SKATES? Let me know by email, cute little puppies)

[[INSERT CUTE ARROWY IMAGE HERE >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>]]

It’s called iPick-Up. It’s where you SUBSCRIBE to this website to get your SMUTPUNK fix. Everybody needs her smutpunk or your cunt will go dry. Them’s the breaks. It cures bad breath, alien virus, and asthma. So type in your email thingy and let me stuff your box full of s.punk.

 

Some Friends Doing Great Things:

Callie Press (aka Queen Kegel) has gotten some really good reviews for her SMASH HIT  Erotic Pulp #1 – The SMUTPUNK Reader. See her interview with Brixton Atwood.

I want to introduce a new friend and awesome tweeter and writer. Find more about this genius brain at @MzPatchouli. She has one of the best websites I’ve seen from a writer. It’s elegant by design and thoughtful by, well, design. Just do yourself a favor and check it out.

 

MILKING TITTIES

MILKED BY THE YETI. Looks like Callie and I have forgotten to write a new piece, between Sarchasmo and FitMan and BurpeeGirl it’s hard to find time between sets of rough BJ Burpees to see what Milky Russian tits are up to. The old titties are still completely free. They won’t be free for long as Assazon wants to charge for all titties, whether Russian or Not. Milked by a Yeti or Not. I don’t set the rules. I just obediently play by them.

Anyway, don’t forget to stay up to date with Milked by the Yeti at literaryporn.net. Big hairy changes are around the Himalayan corner. 

You haven’t heard of MILKED BY THE YETI? Do you live under a rock? Well, get yourself a quick one-minute taste at xvideos.com’s trailer of Natasha and Lena in Milked by the Yeti. Please give it a thumbs up if you enjoyed it. Thank you. I made it, so I could really use the encouragement.

 

Blog Tours & Twitter

Is anybody doing a blog tour or anything because I’m up for hosting a stop. I don’t really even know what that means, but I’d like to try being a host and finding out.

In Twitter news, authors keep blastin out tweets lauding their own books. I do it too, but man I’m getting bored of it. It kind of feels like all of twitter has become bot-territory.

In other Twitter news, dudes keep sending photos of their dicks. I don’t really get that much, but hear from the WPW Nymphettes that it’s pretty rampant. They pretty much think that because you’re a writer of erotica you’re a whore. I’m pretty much as obviously male as Big John Slade, so the ones that send to me with love from India are clearly gay (Mental Note: consider this when marketing toward the sub-continent). I’m going with something alone the lines of “My White Co-Worker Made me a Bollywood Cuckold by Whoring Out My Wife” or something to that effect.

I had something else to say, but it’s gone. I think it was a rant. I have that feeling in my gut. The rant feeling. Ah yes, this business from FaceBook:

Moctezuma Johnson I got into a pretty pretty pretty interesting discussion with Ashlee Shades and others on Naya’s post.

There has been lots of criticism (from me) about the fact that a lot of indie writing is fully baked. Sometimes the editing is bad, the plots aren’t well-, well, plotted, and the covers are crappy and even contain errors. I’ve been pretty lenient on the review end of things but the truth is the Zon makes anybody who can type with their thumb on a phone feel like an epicurean capable of doling out Michelin stars to the world’s greatest bistros. They’re not. The first and most essential thing they miss is basic common courtesy. Professional reviewrs have etiquette, even when they loathe something. If they don’t, they don’t last in the industry. A lot of my fellow writers are asking Zon to stop allowing people to read a whole book and then return it. Personally, I don’t care about those clergy members who get riddled with guilt after my sentient dildos made them cum and have to wash away the guilt by returning the book before another clergy member sees it, reads it, and—GASP!—enjoys it.  If you want your $0.35 back, go for it you cheap guilty bastard.

The thing that absolutely bakes my noodle is how someone will read 3% of my book and then say they don’t like it. That’s like smelling a bowl of pasta and saying, “I hate Italian cooking.” That’s not a review. I don’t think that should be allowed. Reviews help/hurt sales. But let’s not get me into a rant. I know lots of us have this phenomenon. You work for weeks or months on your baby and then get a one word “awful” with one star from someone who didn’t even have the etiquette to read the thing they are trashing. WTF? How is that allowed? I’m pasting a strangely burnt version of said review. It appears this rocket scientist’s review has suffered in a raging attack of SMUTPUNK arson. No idea how that happened. Callie Press? any ideas? <whistles “Forgot About Dre” while strolling away peacefully> Basically my overall, main arc of a point is that I’m more saying STOP THE BULLSH*T, but I think it’s kind of case by case, so overall I say let these brain surgeons do what they like to do, whether it’s buy and return not read yet review, etc. All of their shenanigans lead to sales movement, publicity, and are ultimately good for the author. I’ve seen theft in my day job, I’m talking hundreds of thousands of dollars, so forgive me but $0.35 isn’t really on my radar as theft. It’s more bad etiquette. The cops callcar robbery “Grand Theft Auto” because the numbers (in most states) are higher than a grand, otherwise, the police say, “f*ck it!, go read the new one by 1- and 5-star king Moctezuma Johnson” 

 

Shitty Reviewer

Was this review burned? How did that happen? There’s been a lot of criticism about indie authors. Well, the indie reviewers ain’t so damn great either. Take the lovely “Miss Sha Sha” bet she’d do book reports without reading the book while flunking grade school. I’m glad this type of person doesn’t “get” my books. Good riddance!

See what’s new at Mr. Blackthorne’s Classy Castle

Some recent posts from mrblackthorne.com:

 

Poet for Hire

Moctezuma's SMUTPUNK'd abs is a poet for hire
Click the abs to hire today^^

Poet for hire is always a good thing, right? I suggest you click below and buy. You can request the ever-popular hate poem. The poem is emailed anonymously to anyone you choose and features nasty, MJ-style abuse. Great for ex-husbands, bosses, cunt family members, and nemeses. Great for holidays! Comes with or without images! Get your own personalized SMUTPUNK poem.

Sarchashmo is the poet for hire. He’ll cockslap any fools into submission. If he cannot, he’ll employ the help of his “friend”, Queen Kegel the Sextacular

 

Got something important to add?

Let me know.

I’m always around. Email, comment, tweet, or stop me on the street (grabbing me by the balls is the best way to get my wandering attention).

‘Nuff said, says San Esperma di Desgracia

 

 

 

Get a quick Poem:

“I’ve sprung

your frankfurter from

its bun”

Notes:
†To those over 357 years old

The Bullshit Bulletin #4 – #LPRTG #SSRTG #NSFW – Please #RETWEET @EroticAuthorsRTG @Smutpunk_Author

Well, it’s already been a weird month. Tuesday I released three books in a day, Dump The Futa President (Making America Great Again, Ese), Romancing the Hot Stone, and The Nose. I’m also about to drop a Steak and BJ Day Bundle. I had to get in on the Trump Parody craze but ended up writing an attack of American Politics in general, not specifically against Trump. I guess I relate to Trump supporters in the sense that they, like Sanders supporters, think the system is so fucked up it needs a jolt. We just don’t remotely agree what the jolt should be. Anyway, I don’t want to get into a political debate, I just had to hop on the bandwagon and smutpunk the shit out of the presidential parody.

Callie Press, who also dropped a presidential parody called Tonguing Tromp, is on the verge of completing her very creative Erotic Pulp, which I can’t wait to read.

Regarding the names, Callie went with Domald Tromp. I went with Tronald Dump. She went with Clitin. I stole Kat Crimson’s Clitskin.

SmutpunkButtonR.B. O’Brien was a guest on the Blog Tour Bus Stop. It’s was always going to be hard to top Linzi Basset’s interview, the Nabokov of Erotica but RB did a great job and got a lot of comments, which is cool. R.B. was also a good sport about answering questions such as what’s your stance on getting dick pics and do you write naked on a dildo’d chair.

Check out lots of great writing at mrblackthorne.com

Mr. Blackthorne hit 25,000 followers. If you’re not following him, I really don’t know what you’re waiting for to do so. This is your invitation.

Don’t forget to stay up to date with Milked by the Yeti at literaryporn.net

You haven’t heard of MILKED BY THE YETI? Do you live under a rock? Well, get yourself a quick one-minute taste at xvideos.com’s trailer of Natasha and Lena in Milked by the Yeti.Please give it a thumbs up if you enjoyed it. Thank you. I made it, so I could really use the encouragement.
buttplugblues

Click the Butt Plug to Visit the Book Page

The SMUTPUNK lexicon is being edited now as you read. That promises to be noteworthy. If you have any words to add, please let me know.

Emme Hor put out a new book with my crappy editing. It’s called Romance on Rollerskates. If you love butt plugs then this is a MUST-READ. You should read it even if you don’t like butt plugs but you’re simply interested in Malaysian (sex) culture. There are mosques, roller skates, and kopi tarik (stretched Malay-style coffee, yum). There’s an alpha male, I think he’s a billionaire, I forget, and a hot little Chindian-Malay sex pot. There’s always a sex pot, isn’t there? It features a facial, anal, and rollerskating. What’s not to love?

SMUTPUNK is new but gaining a bit of steam. Hopefully, we will get some more traction going forward.

Remember to notice that the HEART SHAPED ASS is just an ass upside down (see right if in doubt).

Happy Valentine’s Day, Everyone!

Of course you already know that July Cumming (the dungeon doctor) is awesome. If you need a reminder or have been living under a dirty rock, then check out her exxxcerpts on the MJ site.

It’s your last chance to get a Valentine’s Day Poem written for you. I wrote two poems for Sherri Clark, who you may know as the Ardent Rose. Click the link to her name to have a look. If you want one, hire me now before it’s too late!

Take advantage of this great service:

Poet for hire is always a good thing, right? I suggest you buy the ever-popular hate poem. The poem is emailed anonymously to anyone you choose and features nasty, MJ-style abuse. Great for ex-husbands, bosses, cunt family members, and nemeses. Buy today, guaranteed delivery on Valentine’s Day (plan ahead)!

Sarchashmo is the poet for hire. He’ll cockslap any fools into submission. If he cannot, he’ll employ the help of his “friend”, Queen Kegel the Sextacular

Got something important to add?

Let me know.

I’m always around. Email, comment, tweet, or stop me on the street (grabbing me by the balls is the best way to get my wandering attention).

‘Nuff said, says San Esperma di Desgracia

Excerpt “The Whore Awakens” from I Am Not a Whore, Am I? (very doubting intonation) || #LPRTG #EARTG #MrBrtg #SSRTG #Asian Very Trashy Artwork, NSFW

I Am Not a Whore, Am I?

The Whore Awakens

by Emme Hor

A bit of backstory: the first part of the Confessions of a WHore series I Am Not a Whore, At Least Not Yet! finishes with Brittany having dirty thoughts constantly to the point that she takes up her lesbian co-worker on the offer for a little fun. She decides her and her boyfriend need to get out of the rut and they fly to Bangkok for a vacation. Brittany, enjoying the sites and the fruit thoroughly is in the middle of a lovely daydream when a guy mistakes her for a professional and solicits her. 

With my hand full of money, I walked up to him and gave it to him. “I’m not a whore.”

I could smell bleach coming from the bathrooms and jasmine from the flowers hung on these wooden walls. A strange mix. His strong cologne smell had faded but was still there as a leftover musk.

“Okay,” he said and stared at my chest. I looked up into his eyes and realized for the first time that he had beautiful blue eyes even though he was mostly dark-skinned. The eyes were not the eyes of a fiend but they were fully on my tits and I looked down to find my nipples rock hard. It had to be the fear and anger. It had to be. This handsome man no longer seemed like a crazy maniac but more of a sex maniac. He wanted me badly. It was written all over him. It was kind of crazy to be so wanted, like he couldn’t control himself. My ego was flattered. He was staring into my tits so hard that I wanted to cover up, to melt, to disappear. It was too much. “I have a boyfriend. He’s around here.”

He reached out and grabbed my left breast over the tank top. There was no force that could stop this man. My big, sexy Asian body was driving him nuts.

“What the fuck?” I said. It shouldn’t have felt so good but it felt fucking great to be groped by this pushy prince. Still, I had morals and pushed his hand off of me. I wish Neil would have done this to me last night while I was dying of loneliness.

With his other hand this blue-eyed prince slipped the wad of bills into the waistline of my jean-skirt. “Keep it,” he said. “Now. Kneel down.”

“Get the fuck out of here,” I said harnessing all the bad-ass attitude I had learned in America and turned to leave. I had a big smirk. The audacity!

He grabbed my neck hard and thus my inflated ego was in his hand. He spun me around. In one motion he threw the straps of my tank top from my shoulders and exposed my tits. Before I could react he had both my shoulders in his powerful hands and shoved me down to my knees where his cock was waiting hard and out of his shorts. Before I could be sure what was happening, his dick found its way into my mouth until his massive mushroom cockhead was banging into my tonsils. I was so scared that I kind of gulped down my fear and ended up swallowing his massive meat completely into my throat like an accidental pro.

There I was with his money in my waistband and my pale tits out and his giant cock in my throat. He grabbed my head and drilled his cock deeper and deeper till my nose was on his fucking pelvis bone and my jaw was sore.

There was no way I was going to suck some stranger’s cock in public.

“Eat my big cock, you spoiled little brat,” he said and started to pinch a nipple with one hand while still holding my skull in place with his big, strong hands and fucking my face like I was a sex doll. I had never been used like this before. My pussy got sopping wet—maybe it was the heat or the fear—and my nipples were hard. Also, strangely, I was easily able to take his massive cock that had to be three or four inches bigger than my boyfriend’s dick. It slid right in and out of my throat, no gagging. I usually gag on my boyfriend’s. What the fuck? Was I meant for this? Was I really a whore? I took it balls to chin. And I loved it. I started to get into it, even milking the shaft with my throat muscles. Maybe I was a pro. I thought back to being ass-fucked all those years ago, the naughtiness was wonderful, and I was enveloped in that feeling again.

I would suck his cock here.

It was marvelous.

I felt a new set of hands take my arms and pull them back behind my back. Now I was kind of lurching forward while this big Arab cock devoured my esophagus. These hands were smooth and softer. I looked down and saw the clear heels. It was the fucking waitress, that fucking whore!aoi_yuuki_forced_face_fuck7_big

“Fuck this rude Korean bitch, Hassan,” she said in her nasal Thai voice.

“Yes, spin her around.”

My big Asian head was on the ground. Freshly cut grass tickled my nose and mouth. The clear-heeled whore was squatting on my upper back. Prince Hassan hoisted up my micro-skirt the whole half inch necessary to reveal my naturally hairless pussy. He moved my g-string to the side with his big cock.

I was anxious for cock in my cunt. This was fucked up and thus very exciting. This asshole turned out to actually be a handsome guy with a big, beautiful dick. In some way, I was the luckiest woman in Bangkok. All vacation I had wanted to have great sex and my boyfriend had been giving me a few thrusts and then conking out like a little bitch. I hated feeling like we were an old married couple. I wanted something exhilarating. It wasn’t with him, but I was getting it. This was a man. Real and undeniable. I wanted my cunt stuffed with his new, superior cock!

$.

(This is just the beginning. Read the entirety of I AM NOT A WHORE, AM I?)

Two Poems by Emme Hor | #EARTG #MrBrtg #LPRTG |

A Literary Porn Poem

Two Poems about Rothko and Rosenvasser

by Emme Hor

I was the meat
Rothko and Rosenvasser were the bread
I sauced, creamy dressing
mustard-honey vinaigrette on lunch-meatsexy (6)
they were lightly toasted
and soggy in the middle

^.^

Rothko and Rosenvasser
hate each other
each spits when he
hears the name of the other

 

$.

Author bio:

Emme Hor was born in Malaysia. She has a degree in Law and in Ass-kicking. She looks like a smoking hot supermodel, standing over six feet tall. She was once offered 10,000 dollars to take a Bukkake. Whether or not she accepted can be neither confirmed nor denied. If you compliment her on her poetry she may sign a picture of her ass for you as a souvenir. Get yourself ready for the Confessions of a Whore Series.

^.^

^.^

Excerpt of I Am Not a Whore, At Least Not Yet by Emme Hor | #EARTG #Erotica #LPRTG | Mirror – Original Published at mrblackthorne.com

Excerpt of I Am Not a Whore, At Least Not Yet by Emme Hor | #EARTG #Erotica #LPRTG

From the Confessions of a Whore Trilogy – This scene from Book 1 takes place somewhere in Anytown, USA

 

Neil was munching on a green tea ice cream out of the cup and I was eating an ice pop called Vanilla Quickie from a company called “Lil’ Sugar.”

Neil was staring at me, so I gave him a show. I held the red berry ice pop up to my mouth. My lips were parted, and my tongue was slightly out. Like Lenny, I looked like I was panting from the heat. He was panting cause of the sun, but me, no, it was different. I was hungry for a big, hard cock. In my mind, I was getting it. I was panting as I brought the big, dripping ice pop toward by open mouth. I licked from the very bottom of the shaft all the way to the top while staring into Neil’s eyes. As I repeated this full-length lick while holding the stick at the base I craned my head left and right. Then I put the tip in my mouth and sucked on it. It was so cold against my lips. My hot tongue melted the frozen cream. I pulled it out, “Yum!” I said.  The cream was sweet and tasty.

“You’re too much,” he answered.

“Am I?” I taunted him. I shoved the entire length of the thing into my mouth until the ice pop disappeared into the back of my throat. Only the stick was hanging out from my closed lips. I stared at Neil and he looked annoyed. I put on my sad puppy eyes and then pulled the length of it back out of my mouth. In a sweet baby voice I said, “Baby wishes she had something bigger and harder to suck on.”

“Baby!” Neil chided me. He looked down into his ice cream. “Come on, you’re not a whore!”

Vanilla Quickie

Something about this “Vanilla Quickie” ice cream changed me

I laughed. “Okay, you’re no fun, you know that?”

I ate “properly” the rest of the way, peering out at the boring, quaint town of South Pampton. We strolled home, slowly. Lenny was still panting. I looked down at him understandingly. I had been bitten. It was done. Between the hunk whose hands never touched me, the ice pop, and the nasty feeling in my gut, I had to do something.

I tried to let this feeling pass. It just wouldn’t go away. I would be at the supermarket in the aisle with the chocolate syrup and imagine the stock boy spraying it all over my chest. I would be reading a book in the bookstore and want to rip off my clothes and finger myself right there with the book resting on my pelvis.

While with Neil in the copy shop I wanted to be railed by the automaton making a photo copy of one of his geek achievements, something or other about being the Renegade Music Pirate of the Year or something I didn’t care about. All the machines pounded in their robotic, repetitive back and forth. It was too much for me. I wanted to be railed by an automaton. I wanted a fucking machine to do me over and over again until I was trembling. I was jealous of the sex life of a room full of copy machines. I mean, I was so aroused by all this copying that I would have let R2D2 finger me with his gyroscope thingy that plugs in and cracks imperial codes while C3PO diddled my ass with his gold-tipped toe.

That night I went for a bike ride. I rode to Lorna Morris’ house. Her boyfriend was in the back fixing a broken outdoor table umbrella. The shaft was stuck in through the hole of an outdoor table and jammed stuck in the base. I imagined the solid wood shaft of the umbrella going in and out of the hole in the table. Everything was sexy. I was wet. Not damp. Wet. Unbearably wet. Everything was sex.

Inside, I saw Lorna adding the last bits of clothes to the laundry basket.

I sat on the washing machine and spread my legs. I moved to the dryer, which was shaking like a lucky girl getting cunnilingus. I felt the shake and the warmth and inched that much closer to climax. When Lorna came in and saw me legs spread on her bucking machine she threw the basket to the ground. The dirty clothes spilled out everywhere. She got down and let her amazing tongue relieve the pussy-ache. She worked magic on my swollen clit. Tongue, lips, teeth, everything she did felt great. The machine buzzed and whirred to a shaky cataclysmic stop. It vibrated. Lorna licked. She fingered. She teased. My orgasm built and built and built some more.

I was on the verge of squirting across the room. Her boyfriend burst in, I guess he’d heard the buzz, and seeing him and his bulging muscles sent me over the edge. I grabbed the shelf above me so hard I dislodged it from the wall. As I came, I got showered in cascading fabric softener sheets. “So you finally seduced her, Lorn,” her boyfriend said. He walked back out, leaving the laundry room door wide open.

I rode back home feeling the bicycle seat under me. My sex was pushing against the seat like I was neatly in the right place. Orgasm had cleared my thoughts. I was calm. I knew what I had to do.

(continue reading this hot Asian-American RomanceI Am Not a Whore, At Least Not Yet by Emme Hor)

 

Contact Emme

Join her Mailing List for News about New Releases, New Blog Posts, and New Photos.
Follow her on Twitter

 

Emme’s To Do List: Have someone write “I Am Not a Whore” in cum on my bust and photograph! Who do I know that cums that much?

TRIVIA/FUN FACT: Later cum erupts out of a cock, drips down the shaft, and looks like vanilla ice cream dripping down a cone.

 

Links to Naughty Vids That Remind and Inspire this Excerpt:

Miko Dai (aka my stunt double)

Older Asian MILF (aka my stunt double of the very near future)