Ryan, a geeky technology apprentice student, is determined to lose his virginity. Shy by nature, his lack of experience with women has left him unfamiliar with ideas other than vanilla sex. In his search for his ideal girl, he seeks out those he deems normal, only to be faced with and turned off by their sexual kinks. After failed attempts with two classic beauties, Ryan takes a chance on the oddball, discovering that normal is relative, and that he and his ideal girl are anything but vanilla.
Angora Shade is an American author living in what she lovingly refers to as “Sheep Shit Nowhere” Europe. In an attempt to add some spice to her small town life, Ms. Shade began writing explicit erotica and romance as a form of self-entertainment. Exploring the boundaries of acceptable sexual literature, she often seeks to create stories that not only entertain others, but also expose and push against the negative stigma surrounding sex in modern day society. She believes that sex in literature, art, personal thought, and physical nature, should be celebrated and expressed openly and as easily as any God-given freedom. Her favorite themes in writing include revenge, self-discovery, alternative materials for love play/BDSM, as well as anything that produces a good tingle, sizzle, or laugh. When not writing, Ms Shade enjoys red wine, travel, dancing, classic cartoons, baking, and creating fine art.
“Cream makes me rabid,” she purrs at him, her voice low and controlled. She looks up at his face, watching for his reaction, feeling his lips clamp around her finger as she pulls it back out of his mouth completely clean.
Ryan adjusts his glasses again and flattens himself up against the wall of aprons as she pushes up against him. She deliberately pushes her bust into him, enjoying the wide-eyed and uncertain expression on his face. He barely opens his mouth in time as she forces her creampuff toward him, smearing a wide ring of white around his lips and cheeks. He chews and swallows what he manages to take into his mouth and then stands frozen, like a prey animal crossing the road, caught in headlights.
Beth laughs softly. “Oh dear, look what I’ve done.”
She pushes her hand against his chest and feels the hard outline of his pectoral muscles. She’s secretly pleased, thinking he must work out, and she digs her fingernails lightly into the cotton fabric of his white polo. Parting her lips, she rises up slightly on her tiptoes and slips her tongue between her teeth, taking a long, slow, labored lick from the corner of his mouth.
“I’ve made a clean spot,” she taunts as she comes to rest flat against the floor.
Pressing her perky breasts into him a bit harder, she rises up a second time, sliding against the resistance of their clothing and back to his face. She feels him shudder, and his arms twitch at his sides. She’s ecstatic; growing even wetter between her thighs, eagerly licking from the bottom of Ryan’s chin and up over his mouth. The quiver upon his lips sets her alight, and she can’t help but discard the creampuff to the floor and
run her hands up over his shoulders. She hates kissing him so desperately but mentally shakes her impatience away, giving in to the moment completely.
Remaining cream smears across them both. Beth can taste it as her lips pucker and part, and then make contact again. She loves the way Ryan kisses her back, undisturbed by the sweet addition of cream sliding between them. It doesn’t even bother her how hesitant and nervous his kisses are. It’s just the way she likes it. A hesitant man knows his place. A hesitant man will do what he’s told.
Beth pulls back from Ryan’s lips and drags her hands from the tops of his shoulders, down his arms to his hands. Pulling him gently away from the wall, she moves backward toward the table. Feeling her lower buttocks bump the edge, she stops and brings Ryan’s hands up to her breasts. She feels him stiffen when his skin makes contact with the worn fabric of her apron, his palms easily swallowing her average bust. A slight push into them, she sighs and reaches out to grab his face.
“Bet-h-h…” he stutters into her mouth.
She spins Ryan around and kisses him with intense force. He stumbles, and Beth is pleased to hear a satisfying rumble as the heavy table behind them shifts a bit over the floor as he stumbles into it. Ryan’s arms instinctively reach behind himself and away from her in search of stability, irritating her. She smacks him hard across the face; angry his attention would waver over such an insignificant thing like balance. His glasses come askew, slipping down the bridge of his nose.
Ryan straightens up. Shocked to attention, he pushes his glasses back to their rightful position. Surprise burns equally in his eyes as on the abused skin of his cheek. He stares blankly at her a moment, and then looks down at his feet. “Beth, this—”
She breaks him off midsentence with a second slap across his other cheek. Harder this time, the action stings her hand, and seeing the flushing red of her force upon his skin causes tingles of lust in her nether region.
She sees his emotions flowing between confusion, frustration, and desire, causing her to lick her lips in greedy anticipation as she reaches to the table for another creampuff. Bringing it up to his mouth, she again forces him to take a bite.
Creampuff in his mouth or not, he stares at her, speechless. Clearly Ryan has no idea how to respond. She doesn’t blame him. She knows her looks are deceiving. Blonde, tan, and delicately boned like the traditional Baywatch beauty, she muses she’s transformed before his eyes from a deliciously attractive coworker into some crazed and famished hell kitten. Surely he’s never been struck before—at least not by a girl—and she secretly hopes he enjoys the sting on his face she continues to feel in her hand.
Ryan swallows the bite without taking his eyes from hers. Smiling at him, she reaches behind her head with her free hand and undoes the knot of her apron from around her neck. It falls to her waist, folding over at the bow upon her lower back, revealing a white cotton shirt with a low-dipping V-neck. Beth takes a bite of the creampuff and then squishes it flat against her exposed cleavage.
“Oops,” she says innocently, raising her eyebrows and drawing her lips together like a pouty child. “I’m dirty.”
She watches Ryan gulp. The air in the room feels electric with anticipation, almost supercharged with explosive energy. He stands stiff and immobile as she feels his erection push softly into her torso. In order to help ease his shyness, she takes charge again, reaching both her hands up to his face, removing his glasses and setting them onto the tabletop. His eyes wander with her movements but come back to her face as she pulls and guides his head with both her hands down to the sticky mess on her chest.
“Clean me up,” Beth commands.
Ryan’s eyes, still wet and glassy from the power of her smack, dance from her face to her chest as he slowly bends his neck. Beth wishes she could hear him thinking—hopefully something naughty, dirty, or negative about her aggressive actions—if only to have a reason to smack him again.