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honeytea8 · 4 years

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“Mister Fix-it” - Josuke/gn!Reader

A/N: Something I posted a while back on AO3 and now I’m dumping it here, I edited it to be gender neutral, pls let me know if I missed anything, enjoy!

Word Count: 2.7K

Summary: When your brand new air conditioning system doesn’t live up to the hype, you’re left with no other choice but to call Josuke Higashikata, the neighborhood handy-man and Morioh’s local heartthrob. (Post-canon; Josuke is 19/Reader is 23ish)

There is not a single ‘moderate’ thing about the summers in Morioh Cho and you come to this shocking discovery during your very first year back in this crazy, noisy town.

One early morning, a wave of heat sweeps in like a thief in the night, creeping over your body and making your nightshirt cling to you like second skin. A relentless force of nature that saps any residual moisture in the air. Everything is left high and dry—you lament over your dying succulent.

You can’t count how many cups of ice water you’ve guzzled or how many cold showers you’ve taken just to end up sweaty again, but something’s got to give. The day after Kai Harada announces the possibility of record-breaking temperatures in the following weeks, you delve into your emergency savings for a solution only money can buy.

Two days later, a portly electrician comes and installs a new air conditioning system for your home. He’s yammering on about how it’s supposed to be the best on the market. State of the art and all that jazz. You don’t really care for the details; you just want to be comfortable in your own house lest you end up a melted pile of goo. Who the hell would take care of your vegetable garden then?

You inspect the newly installed system with subdued interest. Truthfully, it doesn’t look like anything but an eyesore that’s completely thrown off the ambiance of the entire living room. It’s practically hanging out of your window. However, the only thing keeping you from complaining about its appearance is the dusty fan overhead that’s been circulating the same muggy, warm air for over an hour now. You prefer functionality over appearance, screw feng shui, you needed this AC.

“So, you’re positive it'll cool down the entire house?” you question one final time.

As if to prove his point, the electrician flicks a switch and the machine attached to the wall comes to life. The droning hum is annoying and would take some getting used to but it’s blowing the coldest air you’ve felt in a while. Both you and the electrician remain standing in front of it for a few seconds, basking in wonder.

Like magic, the heat-induced stress and tension leave your body all at once.

“Well then,” you say with a smile, “It’ll do.”

One week. Seven days. A hundred-and-sixty-eight hours of pure, absolute, uninterrupted bliss. You are in heaven! Your plants are flourishing as usual, and you aren’t sweating profusely like a pig for slaughter. Life is oh so good.

Until you wake up on the eighth day at four am with the worst case of cotton-mouth you’ve ever experienced.

You tumble out of bed, delirious from the sudden onslaught of heat that has transformed your bedroom into a sauna. Loose cotton sheets tangle with your ankles and you hit the ground, chin scuffing against the floor in your haste. The adrenaline pumping through your veins keeps you from wincing, or even feeling the pain. All you can hear is the sound of your own two feet pounding on the polished wooden staircase.

“Please, no, no, no, no—“

You sweep into the living room only to find the new air system is completely silent and no amount of switch-flicking or button-punching is going to change that. Mouth screwing into a scowl, you glare at the overpriced piece of junk with unbridled disdain.

This has become personal.

A hard smack from the palm of your hand to the surface of the machine echoes through the room—still nothing, not even a stirring.

Big fat tears well up in your eyes. Whatever hormones fueling your rage are now flooding you with sadness. Your hand and chin are throbbing from the pain. The money spent on this crap was gone and now you’d have to shell out another hefty amount just to get it fixed. You want to pull out your hair in frustration.

Glancing around the room, everything is so still and calm. It’s still quite early in the morning, a few hours before dawn and you are tired as hell. The heat is making you lethargic, so after drying your tears and chewing on some ice cubes, you curl up on your sofa and go back to a fitful sleep.

Later in the day, you’re hanging clothes out on the line when your neighbor comes out to greet you.

She’s a grandma who lives alone except for when her grand kids come to visit, and despite her penchant for being a nosy gossip, you kind of like her. She waves and meanders over to the edge of her fence.

“This is some heat, I tell you.”

“Right! I didn’t realize Morioh could even get this hot,” you pick up another sheet and toss it over the wire. “Would you believe that I spent two paychecks on an air conditioner that doesn’t even work.”

Your neighbor gives you a look of pity. “Oh dear, such a shame.” You watch as she adjusts the chairs and tables around her patio.

“You know, I have a teacher-friend with a son who has a knack for fixing things. Had him take a look at my plumbing a few weeks ago and he had it working right as rain. I can ask him to come by and take a look at it for you.”

You shuffle the empty bamboo basket in your arms. “I...guess that could work. Have him drop by sometime.”

What’s the worst that could happen?

Two days later, you’re tending to your many plants—because you’d be damned if another died because of this heat—when a Greek god falls from the sky and onto your doorstep.

“Hi! I’m Josuke Higashikata, your neighbor said you had a problem with your air conditioner.”

To say you’re surprised would be an understatement: the young man standing on your porch is a damn stunner. His pouty lips, broad shoulders, and slim waist are more than enough to fuel a wet dream or two. Your brain short-circuits for a solid minute. Is it hot in here or what?

(And for once, you aren’t talking about the actual weather.)

He shifts nervously from one foot to another when you don’t immediately respond, but all you can do is stare. You’re thirsty for more than just a drink of water right now.

“Um,” he looks down at the sticky note in his hand and mumbles to himself. “This is the address, right?”

That snaps you out of your stupor. You internally berate yourself for looking like a gaping idiot in front of this knockout.

“YES! Ahem—yeah, y-you’re at the right place.” you move aside and allow him in. And good Lord, he’s tall. You wouldn't mind climbing that beanstalk.

Josuke is dressed in a striped yellow tee and pair of boardshorts that fit just right, a real sight for sore eyes.

You try not to swoon and realize rather belatedly that your own attire isn’t hiding much from view. Since the air conditioner stopped working, you reverted back to wearing tank tops and shorts around the house. Josuke, for what it's worth, isn't ogling you but he’s obviously noticed if his reddened cheeks are anything to go by.

“Right over here.” You say breezily.

The sway in your hips is subtle enough that it doesn’t look intentional. You guide him over to where the AC is sitting in the wall like a heap of scrap metal. Josuke didn’t bring any tools with him, so you’re skeptical about how he plans on fixing it. Honestly, even if he can't, you plan on making the most out of this.

You enter the kitchen adjacent to the living room, allowing him to take a look at the thing without you hovering.

As you’re straightening out the dining table, you ask, “So, how old are you, Josuke? You look a little young to be a handy-man.”

There’s a pause in his movements. “I just turned nineteen!”

Your fantasy dies a swift death somewhere deep within the dredges of your subconscious. Of course he’s young, as if you hadn’t noticed. Dialing back on the flirtation, you hum out an ‘oh cool’. The last thing you want to be is a cradle robber!

You aren’t that much older than him...but it still feels a bit wrong? You’ve never been with a younger guy before.

A startling hum resounds throughout the house and you feel a gust of cool air coming from overhead. Josuke has managed to fix it! You rush back into the room just in time to catch him stuffing his hands into his pockets.

“All done!”

“That—That was really quick? What was wrong with it?”

Josuke only shrugged. “Not sure, but it seems to be working now.”

You stare uncomprehendingly.

“So...was there anything else you’d like me to fix?”

Blinking you look around for something but come up short. “No, not unless you can bring plants back to life.”

Now it’s Josuke’s turn to blink as he takes a look around with wide eyes. He hadn’t noticed all the plants in the various corners of your home, he had been too distracted by—

“Which ones?” He says before he can stop himself.

You point to the succulent perched on the coffee table, it’s dried up and brittle in some parts, but it’s not completely dead. He kneels down to its height, touches some of its chubby petals. Then he silently calls on Crazy Diamond and with a single touch, it’s restored back to its normal health.

A few years post-Yoshikage Kira, Josuke has gotten a lot better with his powers, utilizing his stand with ease. He turns and gives you a smile and has no idea he’s giving you heart palpitations just by looking like that.

“Woah! Josuke, what the hell was that?”

“Ahh, it’s hard to explain. Just know it’s something I’ve been able to do since I was a kid.”

“Wow, th-that’s some trick,” you glance at your plant in shock. It’s literally back to normal. You recall all the time spent nurturing it, along with your other plants. All the sweat doled out during back-breaking gardening. How could you ever repay him for making sure your hard work didn’t go down the drain?

Before you know it, you have his face in your hands and you don’t know what the hell you're doing but you're holding him and staring tearfully.

“Thank you times a million. Seriously.”

Josuke just gulps and nods. “Uh huh, not a problem.”

You really try to ignore the way he’s staring at your lips or the heavy blush on his cheeks because, again, you are not robbing the cradle. With more self-control than you knew you had, you let go of his face and step back.

“S-So would you like some tea, or lemonade or—“

“Lemonade,” he says as he stands to his full height. “Lemonade is fine.”

You nod with your bottom lip trapped between your teeth. He is so cute. You scamper off into the kitchen and pull out a full pitcher of homemade lemonade. Meanwhile, Josuke is left to take a look around your house.

There are plants everywhere, most are leafy, green, and healthy. The ones that aren’t, get a boost from his stand power.

Josuke wants to compare your home to a jungle or the Amazon, but that’s not quite an accurate comparison. Even though there’s clearly a lot going on, it’s not cluttered or disorganized at all. It’s just...really freaking amazing! There’s even a flourishing terrarium built in the walls near the staircase.

With your obvious love for nature, Josuke thinks you’d get along great with Mr. Jotaro, but for some reason he doesn’t feel too inclined to introduce you two.

When you finally return, you catch Josuke eyeing your little turtle tank with a weird look.

“That’s Kame, I just got him a month ago.”

Josuke laughs, “Kame, huh? That’s pretty clever.”

“I thought so too,” you hand him the cold drink and as he takes it, his fingers graze yours. “He doesn’t do much, so if you’re expecting him to do a trick, you’ll be waiting a while.”

“Oh nah, it wasn’t that. I’m just…kind of afraid of the little guy.”

Biting back the urge to say ‘awww’, you usher him over to the engawa overlooking your vegetable garden. “A fear of turtles is understandable. But would you believe that I used to be afraid of fish?”

“Fish? No, I can’t say I would. But I also wouldn’t judge.”

You smile at that because of course, he wouldn’t judge you. “Yup, had a bad experience when I was five. My father used to live in Morioh, near the coast. He was a fisherman,” you pause, momentarily distracted by the bob of his adam’s apple as he takes his first sip.

“H-He umm, took me fishing once... and it was the first time I’d ever laid eyes on a real fish. Needless to say, I screamed my head off.”

“No! Seriously?” Josuke chuckles and it’s so contagious and addicting. Soon you're laughing too.

“I swear, I cannot make this up!”

“So, what happened?”

“Okay, so I’m screaming like a mad person and running away. You know what my dad does? That asshole chases me with the thing still dangling from his fishing rod.” You shake your head at the memory. “I literally got sick and threw up that night, and boy did my mom chew him out for it.”

“That sounds so hilarious and yet so traumatic.” He laughs again. “That’s terrible!”

“Right! I could never look at a fish after that or even be around them. It took years before I finally got over it.” You sigh and shake your head again.

Silence ebbs between you for a moment before Josuke clears his throat.

“So, this might seem a bit forward, but would you like to go on a date with me?”

The question doesn’t register in your head all at once, leaving you to stumble over your words until you can finally think coherently. “Josuke I...I’m a bit older than you. Shouldn’t you go for someone more closer to your age?”

“No, and I’ve never believed age should stop two consenting adults from getting to know each other better.”

“Josuke, I’m old enough to be your big sibling though.”

He quirks his brow at that like you’ve just said something weird. “Well, Mr. Joestar, was like ancient when he met my mom so that really doesn’t bother me.”

For some reason, that comment breaks the tension. You barely hold back a grin. “This Mr. Joestar guy is your father then?”

“Biologically speaking, yeah. He’s pretty old now and I never really knew him, but my mom still loves him with everything she has.”

Okay. Now you are really having heart palpitations.

Josuke is exhibiting a surprising amount of maturity right now, making you eat your words about him being too young for you. Why did he have to be so convincing on top of being cute?

“Give me a chance,” he says. “I promise you won’t regret it.”

After mulling over it for a moment, you finally acquiesce.

“Alright, Josuke. One date, and we’ll see from there.” and just to catch him off guard, you peck his cheek. “Okay?”

“Y-Yeah! Of course, it’ll be perfect!”

Taking the empty lemonade glass from him, you both re-enter your home with smiles on your faces. Josuke stays a little longer and you both chat for a while then make plans for your date. You get to learn about how much of a hopeless romantic he is and how he’s a firm believer in love. He makes it very clear that he doesn’t want a fling and that he’s looking for long-term. All of these things surprise you, as they aren’t what you’d expect from someone as gorgeous as him.

By the time the sun is setting, you know it’s time for you two to part ways. Josuke stands at your foyer with pursed lips and a blush on his cheeks. “Can I...kiss you?”

To answer his question, you lean up and press a soft kiss on his mouth. Josuke’s strong arms snake around your hips, drawing you closer into his sturdy frame. His plush lips are gentle and pliant against your own.

When Josuke finally pulls back he is presented with the sight of your closed eyes and kiss-reddened lips and it’s the most enthralling two seconds ever. He thinks you're so freaking beautiful.

“Alright handy-man,” you say as you give him one last peck on the corner of his mouth. “I’ll see you around.”

“Yeah, sure thing!”

Ironically enough, you have this nightmare of a heatwave to thank for your date with Morioh Cho’s favorite dreamboat.

#josuke higashikata #josuke x reader #josuke higashikata x reader #jjba x reader #jojo’s bizarre adventure #diamond is unbreakable #jojo #jjba #my writing

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guesswho-mp3 · 4 years

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~•Ride•~

AU: outlaw!ateez | Pairing: character x reader | Warning: ahhhhhhhh we all going to hell, smut, bondage, dom/sub tones, dirty talk, language, unprotected sex (wrap that willy before you get silly), a sprinkle of knife play, slight choking, degradation if you squint, mind-rotting fluff shawty give me whip-whiplash | Rating: 18++++ | Word Count: 1.2k of pure filth

I imagined wonderland era mullet!san and like I surprised myself with this one I had to stop multiple times to take breaks because it was just too much and I even made myself blush ahhhh

Also the oc!reader for San’s storyline is a gunslinger named Armistice Adams, I’m still working on her introduction but I just wanted to release this already.

also uhhh please don’t read this in my voice ok enjoy :)

The gunslinger peered down at her crimson lover, hair mussed and already fucked out from their heavy petting, lips shining with gloss and begging to be bitten. She could hear him, serpentine tongue slithering into her ear and soft whispers of eat me, you know you want to invaded the recesses of her mind. His black jacket was already unbuttoned, chest heaving and abs tensing with every scrape of her nails against his skin.

“I liked seeing you tied up earlier.” He traced one of his prized knives up the threads that held her shirt together, teasingly weaving it among the strings and pulling it loose, cotton shroud coming undone. “When you were completely at my mercy and just begging to be fucked with those wide eyes of yours.”

“Oh you mean when I had to play damsel to lure out our prey? I dare say Mr. Chisholm I quite enjoyed it too, but right now it seems like you're cutting me loose,” she giggled, squeezing her things together that were wrapped around his slim waist. He just gave her a wolfish grin as he slipped the covering off her shoulders, fingertips ghosting down her shoulder.

“We made off with the score because the bastard couldn’t help himself but be drawn to our helpless little temptress. Don’t worry pretty, you’ll be bound again soon enough,” he simpered, sprinkling tiny pecks along the valley of her breasts, bodies leisurely undulating against each other like the tides.

The blade, not yet done, traveled south and cut through the fabric of her lacy bloomers like butter as she gasped. San used the tip of the knife to pull back the trim and he let out a groan at the sight of her glistening cunt; slick with want and waiting to be satiated. “Oh, look at you,” he pushed the cheek of the knife directly to her sex, “already so wet, you’re practically dripping.” He collected her honey before pulling away, hips lifting up to desperately chase after the little sting of rapture. Her apparent desperation made him chuckle as his tongue darted out to lap at the heady essence, moaning when he tasted heaven. Brown sugar whiskey and peaches.

“Taste yourself.” He brought the knife up to her mouth but she swiped it out of his hand, sending it to embed itself in the wall as she surged forward, shoving her wet muscle into his mouth. San’s dulcet murmurs were swallowed as she sucked up her nectar from his tongue, grinding her core against the rough material of his pants. He fumbled with his belt, shucking it off before binding the gunslinger’s hands behind her back; the scratchy leather nipping into her wrists with the most painful pleasure.

He teased the tip of his member against her engorged clit, drawing throaty moans as the woman nibbled on the freckles that adorned San’s neck; biting down hard when he slipped in. “So tight,” he hissed, voice trailing off in a breathy whine as he shallowly thrusted up inside her. “And you’re so big,” she purred back, nipping his jaw.

He planted a kiss before he pushed her up. “Ride me.” The order was hushed but firm, and the change of position nudged his cock even deeper inside her, sweet little mewls leaving her parted petal lips. Even as he started moving, impatience setting in and fingers digging into the flesh of her hips as he increased his pace, she remained still. Using all of her weight and pushing on his knees she pinned his lower half to the bed, interrupting his building melody to slowly rock back and forth, languid sensual bass in her movements.

“Come on, you can do better than that,” he goaded, the anguished way in which he bucked his hips betraying his haughty front.

The hidden plea fell on deaf ears as she smiled coyly, “I am the one on top, sir. And by the way you’re keening under me like a bitch in heat makes me wonder if I’m the one that should be called Snake Charmer.”

He grabbed her chin, command prickling off of him with the jest that pierced his ego. “I wanted to see what would happen if I let you take the reins. But it seems to me like you’re asking for a punishment. Is that what you want?” He taunted, taking the bait that trickled so delectable set on the trap.

“I want you to fuck me, claim me, tell everyone here in this godforsaken desert I’m yours,” she sneered through pouted lips, not hesitating to make know her ravenous desires.

She was suddenly flipped onto her stomach, a hand wrapped around her neck, the other around her chained wrists she was plastered to San’s chest. “Such a filthy slut asking to be used when she’s tied up. Show them you’re mine sweetness, say my name,” he growled in her ear, setting a bruising tempo as he pounded into her. Her mouth was open in a silent cry, too focused on the way his thick pulsing cock was hitting every sweet spot inside of her. “Say.my.name,” he gritted, punctuating each word with a brutal thrust that knocked the wind out of her lungs and tightened the coil around her tingling core.

The hand around her wrists snaked to her front messy circles being rubbed on her stinging bundle of nerves as white hot pleasure shot up her veins, wanton cries of San San San reverberating off the walls of the hotel. Feeling her velvety walls contracting on his length sent tremors throughout San’s body both of them murmuring love confessions and filthy praises as he quickly pulled out. He rutted against her in short staccato until he released on her back, pearly streaks of adour painting her backside.

Her trembling form was gently laid down on the sheets, the belt disappearing as a tender touch stroked her wrists. “You did so well,” he cooed, the saccharine utterances causing her heart to thrum pleasantly against the gilded cage of her chest. San got up from the bed to completely disrobe, changing into a fresh pair of cotton pants; and his lover watched, blearily eyed on the bed as he soaked a towel in the porcelain basin in the corner of the room and wrung it out.

“Mmh, it’s sensitive,” she slurred, jerking away from the icy chill of the cloth that ran along her core.

“Shh sh, I know,” he sultrily soothed, caressing her belly with his warm palm when he turned her over. ”I have to clean you up though, we made quite a mess.” Giggles bubbled from his throat, drunk in admiration and peach kisses. He dragged a clean pair of bloomers up her legs, pecking her soft and aching thighs as he ascended.

Flopping next to her on the bed, San hooked a leg over her hip and smooshed his lips to her cheek delivering little smacks without ever daring to part. The gunslinger hummed and caressed her fingers down his spine, the both of them clinging to each other, exchanging syrupy I love you’s until they both transcended the cusp of consciousness.

:’)

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theafrodeity · 5 years

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Church Belles - Part 3

I glanced at the chrome clock on the wall once again. Only five minutes had gone by since the last time I had checked. Why does time move so slowly when you’re not having fun? Also why did we still have clocks with Roman numerals which delayed how long it took your brain to process time by at least another 2 seconds. The sheer irony of it all! I shifted around in my seat and grunted audibly. Ok, maybe I needed to calm down. “Sena, was there something you wanted to add to that?” Oko raised his bushy eyebrows at me. “No, I think we’ve gone over all our concerns. I’ll draft a letter of agreement and send it over to you by Friday.” My response was shrill as I tried to hide my impatience and irritation. “Sounds wonderful! Me daa se[1].” Mrs. Koranteng beamed, slamming her red talon-like acrylic nails on the conference room table. “Ok, let’s go over their sales numbers again so I can be sure I understand it.” It took all of my will power not to roll my eyes.

Had it been any other day, I would have been thrilled to be in Mrs. Koranteng’s presence. She was such a powerful force in Ghanaian second-hand goods trade, president of the Makola Market Women’s Association, and the main distributor of most household brands in the country. Her diamond rings almost blinded us as the rays of sunlight reflected off of them. Everything about this woman glistened and screamed opulence, from the stone beads bordering her gigantic kaba[2] sleeves, right down to her white teeth which contrasted her smooth glowy dark skin each time she gave me that wide I-have-fuck-you-money grin. Our most valued client, no doubt, and I was impressed by how quickly she had turned her inheritance from her late husband into a fortune at 42 years. Her constant show of affection and warmth masked how meticulous and ruthless she could be in negotiations. Growing up in the busy streets of Kumasi had toughened her up into becoming a master haggler. Her hands were slightly callused, perhaps remnants from an early farm life. Still she was comfortable with patiently letting the experts talk in circles before interjecting with tough questions or a final well thought out plan.

Today’s meeting was no exception. We were providing legal counsel for a new chain of supermarkets Mrs. Koranteng’s company, GyeNyame[3] Inc was acquiring and had presented a very detailed proposal. However, I quickly realized that this meeting might drag on longer than expected since Mrs. Koranteng did not want to spend a single pesewa[4] above what she considered to be a fair price. Then suddenly she glanced at her phone, smiled to herself and changed her mind. “Actually, I have to leave now but let’s schedule another meeting soon. I’ll review them with my accountant tomorrow. Thank you so much Mr. Quartey and Ms. Kondoh.” I could have hugged her in that moment but instead Oko and I shook hands with her and walked her to her Porsche. On the way back we speculated about whether the message on her phone had been from the young actor she was rumored to have been dating. Oko was a cool boss; very down-to-earth with a calm confidence. If he weren’t already married, we could have made a great couple because there was such an ease with our conversations and we rarely ever disagreed about anything. I glanced at my phone and noticed 5 missed calls from Carla. I was late for our bi-weekly nail appointment so I said goodbye to Oko and dashed down the hallway to head out to lunch.

Thirty minutes later, warm bubbles were caressing my feet and Akua the owner of Luxury Nails & Spa was diligently filing my finger nails. “You can’t keep me in suspense any longer. What happened?!”. Carla’s dramatic tone made me chuckle. She was sitting in the chair next to me. Her curly hair was cropped low and dyed blonde. She was wearing a loose colourful graffiti t-shirt which hugged her bra-less C-cup bosom, over ripped jeans shorts. For a second, I let the envy wash over me as I glanced down at my crisp white long-sleeved shirt and grey pleated skirt. Carla sold decorative pieces and modern African print clothing at the Art Centre and sang at the Jubilee Jazz bar to an audience of wealthy politicians on weekends for a living. She was able to afford a nice home and got to wear whatever she wanted during the week, while I worked 60-hour weeks in a skirt suit and still lived with my parents. However, I felt fortunate to still have one of my childhood best friends to hang out with routinely. Like the dating scene in Accra over the age of 30, female friends were also slim pickings as they all disappeared into domestic life after marriage. Somehow, fun edgy Carla insisted that she was living vicariously through me and kept pestering me for details about my date with Fiifi.

“What do you want me to say? We had a nice dinner and some wine and talked about life.” I avoided her eyes.

“Girl! I wanna hear about dessert though!” I burst out laughing at her ridiculous imitation of an African American accent.

Chills cut through my belly, the kind you got on a roller coaster ride, as flashes of the night before came back to me. I was hunched over the back of the sofa and my black dress had ridden up above my waist. Fiifi paused for what felt like a lifetime behind me before pulling my panties to the side and holding on to them like an equestrian gripping on to the reins of a prized thoroughbred. He whistled at the sight of my naked derrière and I felt a cool breeze against my exposed skin. Without warning he grabbed my waist and pushed up against me. The delicious pain shot through my abdomen, my thighs, then down my leg as I felt the first short thrusts. He started off with a slow rhythm, then gradually picked up speed until he was slamming into me. The clash of my wetness and wobbling behind against his muscular thighs created a slurping slapping melody that drove us both wild. “Please” I whispered urgently through gritted teeth. I wasn’t sure what my pleas were for but he seemed to understand because he smacked my ass in response and it sent fresh ripples of ecstasy through my body. He let go of my waist and gathered my braids into a pony tail pulling them towards him and arching my back. I screamed as the thrusts got deeper and felt a little ball of fire growing in my stomach causing me to hungrily push back against him. My vaginal walls instinctively clenched around his throbbing member trying to absorb every ounce of sensation from each movement. Out of nowhere he stopped and bent over to kiss me. I moaned and kissed him back hungrily.

“Seriously, you’re not gonna tell me?” Carla was jabbing at my shoulder now, snapping me out of my reverie. Akua had stopped filing my nails now and was waiting to hear my response too. “Fine, we might have made out a little bit.” I conceded, still flustered. Akua returned to her filing, evidently bored.

“Sena!! You’re so bad. You guys are like a thing now. When’s the wedding?”

“Hehehe. Oh we’re taking things slow. He literally just got divorced.”

“Good point. Things could get complicated. I think you should just try and have fun. You’re always so uptight.”

“Here we go again. Not all of us have sugar daddies sponsoring us low key.” I teased, knowing full well that Carla preferred women. Still she had gotten pregnant five years ago with a former minister who helped set up her shop.

“I wish! I get a few tips here and there but Amina is starting kindergarten soon and that means I need to step it up and make some more money.”

“Wow, she’s grown up so fast. Are you going to reach out to Jessica?”

Jessica, Carla and I had been dorm mates at St. Maria’s High School. Jessica had always intimidated me with how strictly she adhered to the school rules and how often she would scold Carla and I for being late to mass or for not making our beds before class when she was appointed school prefect. Somehow, she and Carla had gotten along fabulously even though Carla was the biggest deviant in our class.

One night I had snuck out of class during prep time, our mandatory night study session, to take a nap in our dorm room. Light sucking sounds greeted me in the darkness as soon as I opened the door - the silhouette of two young women rolling around on Carla’s bed playing out before me. Jessica and Carla panicked when I let out a cough thinking it was our house mistress. They later begged me not to tell a single soul and I had remained tight-lipped for over a decade. Nevertheless, Jessica had never forgiven me for walking in on them and had only grown more distant over the years as if it were somehow my fault for discovering their secret.

“She’s Sister Jessica now, don’t forget.” Carla corrected me. “Yes, I have an interview with her on Friday. Wanna come with? I might need backup.”

“Err…ok. If you insist. I’m still not sure why even you need to go through an interview process to enrol your child.” Carla knew Jessica and I didn’t quite get along. We had even less in common now that she was a nun and the headmistress of a catholic preparatory school.

“Oh I think it’s just a formality. Any excuse to see me, I guess.” Carla and I both giggled knowingly.

[1] Means Thank you in Akan.

[2] A festive traditional blouse for women

[3] A popular saying meaning “Except with God”, a longer translation meaning something can only be accomplished with God’s help

[4] Lower unit of Ghanaian currency, no longer in use.

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fffffaaarrrrrgogo · 7 years

Text

Pissed off Neighbors

Pissed-Off Neighbors

F.M. Cary

https://www.literotica.com/s/pissed-off-neighbors

I had been staying in the beach house for a few weeks without meeting any of my neighbors. So when the mailman mistakenly left me a package for Donna and Sarah, the girls next door, I decided to do them a favor and take it over. I heard giggling from the other side of the gate, so I pushed it open a little to say hello. What I saw made me forget all about the little introduction I had prepared. Sarah and Donna were sitting on lounge chairs, totally engrossed in each other under the blazing sun. They were smoothing suntan lotion into each other's sweat-slick skin. They had both lost their bikini tops. Donna's hands slid down Sarah's slender shoulders and over her perfect waist and hips. Both women were obviously enjoying themselves, laughing and talking between gulps from a huge, icy pitcher of margaritas. I quickly ducked back behind the gate, embarrassed. I bent down to put the package on the ground by the gate and get out of there. Suddenly, I felt a powerful shove from behind. I slammed my head into the door, sending it flying open, and I ended up sprawled on the deck at Sarah's feet. My back and head were throbbing. Looking straight up into the sun, I could barely make out the figure of another woman standing over me. "Hey Donna, look what I found peeping at you guys," she snarled. Sarah and Donna jumped up and covered themselves. Donna yelled at me, "What the fuck were you doing out there, you pervert!" She was taller than her roommate, with large but firm breasts and long, muscular legs. I was so dizzy from hitting my head that I could barely move, but I stammered, "I was--I'm sorry, I was just--" My explanation was cut short by a sudden jolt of pain as someone stomped on my crotch! It was the one who had pushed me. I rolled onto my side, holding my cock and looking up at her with tears in my eyes. On an ordinary day, I would have been totally turned on by her outfit, a short black business skirt, tight white blouse and black patent leather high-heeled pumps with no stockings to conceal her smooth, tan legs. A swift kick to the side of my head from her shoe revived the blaring pain and sent me onto my back again. My pulse was racing. Sarah took over now. "Jeez, Cynthia, it's the dork from next door! I'm glad you caught him!" Grabbing a handful of my hair, she yanked my head up and shouted into my face, "How long have you been watching us, you numb fuck?!" Her words were slurred, but being drunk didn't diminish Sarah's anger or her strength. As she yelled, her long, brown hair flew into her face, slightly damp with sweat. "What is it, huh? You think you were about to see our pussies, is that it? You stupid shit, you wanna get a closeup look at our nice little cunts?" Sarah taunted. I didn't know what to say or do--I just leaned on my elbows and stared wide-eyed back at her. Shoving me back onto the ground, she untied her bikini bottom and tossed it aside. Even in my confusion, I noticed how pretty her pussy was, neatly trimmed and glistening with sweat. She was almost model-perfect, slim and fit. Sarah got down and squatted over my face, teasing, "Here you go, have an eyeful!" I looked straight into her pussy for moment, transfixed. Suddenly, she let out a rush of pee! My eyes burned as the urine splashed over my forehead and up into my nose. What the hell? I couldn't do anything but weakly shake my head, as Cynthia quickly immobilized me in the crook of her elbow from behind. While Sarah aimed for my cheek and eyes, Cynthia grabbed my jaw and forced me to catch some of Sarah's acrid shower in my mouth. I choked, and my faced burned with humiliation. I couldn't believe what was happening! It seemed to take a full minute or more for Sarah to finish, and by the end of it, my hair and face were totally soaked! Cynthia finally let me go. I coughed and spluttered as I realized that there was laughing and clapping. I looked up at the circle of women above me, pointing and making fun of me. Sarah rubbed her clit lazily as she took in the sight of her wet handiwork. I thought it was over once Sarah calmed down, but Cynthia had other ideas. Before I could get up, she stepped into view and exclaimed, "Gee, that looks like fun, Sarah! I had three cups of coffee on the way here. Mind if I use your toilet?" Without waiting for an answer, she lifted her skirt up, pulled her white panties aside and let loose with a deep, yellow spray from her standing position. No, not another, I thought, but it was already starting. Cynthia spread her long legs wider apart so her warm piss shower would fully cover my face and upper chest. I desperately wanted to get out of there, but I was still paralyzed with shock and pain. As the pee flow continued, I heard one of the others yell, "Get his clothes off!" Helplessly, I didn't resist as I felt the laughing women grab my wet shorts and shirt and pull them off roughly. I was mortified with embarrassment, my cock swinging free from my underwear while Cynthia's thick, pungent rain poured down onto my face. Before she finished, I was totally nude on the now-soaked boards of the deck. The taste of urine filled my mouth and nose. Cynthia didn't last as long as Sarah had, but when I saw Donna coming towards me with a wicked smile on her face, weaving from her drunkenness, I knew I was in for a major piss bath. She had obviously been drinking margaritas all afternoon, and she looked about ready to burst. Wordlessly, she straddled me facing away, bent over and held my knees for balance, watching me between her legs. I stared powerlessly as Donna bent her knees and lowered down onto me like I was a toilet seat. Her fleshy ass slowly approached my face, and I tried to get ready for more degradation. Donna's pee started slowly but soon shot out in a wide stream, drenching any bit of my head that hadn't already been covered. I tried to keep my eyes open, fascinated by her sweaty, shiny ass and cunt. Donna went forward and splashed my stomach and chest, moving back again until her clear spray returned to my neck and face. Again, someone forced my mouth open to accept the relentless piss stream. It tasted somehow sweeter than Cynthia's. Donna pressed her ass down onto my face and squirmed, spraying out more and more incredible amounts of pee. She lifted off periodically, giving me a perfect view of her ass cheeks and pink pussy lips as she pulled them apart to direct her fluids onto me. Then she would plunge her backside onto me again, plugging my nose and mouth with her asshole and splattering vagina. I could hardly hear anything, since my ears were clogged with liquid, but I caught a glimpse of Sarah off to one side, spread-eagled on a lounge chair, still massaging her pussy lips and chugging from a big bottle of water. I knew what that meant. Donna's ass demanded my attention again as she finished off by grinding it mercilessly on my lips. "Wipe me with your tongue, pissboy," Donna commanded, swiping her butt and pussy over my lips and tongue. I obediently licked deep into her pussy and ass crack, swirling out the last drops of her urine. I had to clean her of every droplet of pee before she would finally relent, allowing me to breathe again. As soon as Donna stood up, I suddenly bolted! Ignoring the shooting pain in my back, I got up to my knees and frantically crawled towards the gate, trying to stand up. I didn't care that I was naked and covered in urine; I just had to get out of there. "Get him!," yelled Sarah. In a split second, Cynthia and Donna were on me, pelting me with smacks and punches. They grabbed my hair and dragged me back to the middle of the deck. Cynthia jumped down and kneeled on my chest, slapping my face over and over, yelling and cursing. That was when the spitting began. With me now immobilized in front of Sarah's lounge chair, the other two girls circled me, hawking and spitting over and over. Saliva landed in gobs on my cheeks and forehead. I knew enough not to object, but I couldn't help moaning when Cynthia squeezed my cheeks together painfully and spat right onto my involuntarily puckered lips. I had never seen such rage on a woman's face before. I gagged as I felt the strings of spittle fall from between my lips and slither down my throat. "Oh no you don't," she warned, "you'll swallow it all, dickwad. You should have thought of this before you went out peeping this morning." Donna took a long drink from her water bottle, watching intently. Cynthia spat on my face one more time before standing up again. I could feel spit and piss sliding down my cheeks as I tried to wipe off my eyes. I don't think I had any grip on reality anymore, just the need to endure this torture until they would let me go. Watching as Donna held me down with her bare foot on my neck, Cynthia explained to her, "If you want to do that, it works a lot better with heels on." I watched her casually walk towards my crotch and tease my cock with the sharp heel of her pump. I was terrified of what Cynthia and Donna would do to me next, but I noticed that Sarah was sighing and breathing heavily as she reclined on the lounge chair to my side. She was circling her nipples with lotion-covered fingers and dipping into her pussy with two fingers while she watched the show on the deck in front of her. I think she was actually getting off on my abuse and humiliation! Then, pain shot through me as Cynthia stepped up past my groin onto my belly with her full weight, plunging her spike heels excruciatingly into my skin. She calmly walked a few steps, ignoring my screams. "Donna, shut him up," Cynthia commanded. Donna quickly grabbed a pair of piss-soaked panties from the deck and stuffed it into my mouth to muffle me. Sitting cross legged, Donna held my writhing head in her lap with both hands and spat some more on my sopping wet forehead and cheeks, ignoring my pleading eyes. "Ohh, poor baby, I know it hurts, doesn't it?," Donna mocked, smiling at me. My left eye stung as she landed a gob right on it. Cynthia's merciless heels dug into the flesh of my cock and stomach and chest over and over. I was almost relieved when Donna took her turn on me. At least she was barefoot, although I practically lost my breath every time she moved onto my belly. Cynthia laughed at my agony, standing over my head and pushing the panties deeper into my mouth with her four-inch heel. "Suck my piss up, you little fucker!" The dance got more intense as they laughed and held onto each other's shoulders for balance. All I could do was try to make the best of it and look past their toes and ankles up their powerful legs to their shiny pussies and perfect tits gathering sweat from their exertion. My cock and balls took a few more random kicks, turning almost purple now. Then, Donna knelt and yanked the panties out of my mouth. I thought she trusted me enough not to yell anymore, but I soon found out she had other things in mind. Incredibly, the two women managed to stand on me at the same time, Donna on my pelvis and Cynthia on my chest. I gasped and moaned, but I knew they would only torture me more if I made too much noise. The pointed toes of Cynthia's shiny black pumps were inches from my face. I almost wished she would stand still. For some reason, her feet and gorgeous high heels were mesmerizing. Unfortunately, Donna needed to move up and shove her right foot into my mouth, her left foot planted firmly on my chest while she held onto Cynthia for balance. "Look at him, Donna" laughed Cynthia, after a long drink from a water bottle, "I think he likes licking your toes! He's getting hard!" Donna teased my lips with her big toe, sliding her foot in slowly. "You like this, pervert?," she asked softly. "Suck my toes, go ahead, lick them." I tasted the piss and grit from the deck on all five of her flexing toes. There wasn't much I could do but slurp and suck until she yanked her foot out to show me her spit-shined toenails. Thankfully, Donna and Cynthia's torturing was cut short when Sarah gasped and warned, "Get out of the way!" Sarah sat up on the edge of the lounge chair, perpendicular to me, her feet planted by my hip. Her left hand was massaging oil into her breasts while her right moved furiously over her clit. She threw her head back and groaned as she came mightily, simultaneously releasing an arcing stream of piss directly onto my penis, which, incredibly, was indeed hard. The heat of Sarah's golden shower actually felt good washing over it! Cynthia and Donna clapped their hands and giggled like girls, urging me to jerk off. I was getting pretty close to cumming before I even grabbed my cock. I never knew a woman could piss so far and so much. Pulling her pussy lips apart and shifting her hips from side to side, Sarah drenched me from head to toe with her incredible urine spray shooting three or four feet from her pulsing vagina. I started stroking, using her piss as a lubricant. Donna and Cynthia had gotten completely naked now and were standing with their arms casually draped around each other's waists. They watched for a little while, until Sarah's stream finally began to subside. My dick was throbbing and ready to explode. Then they did something amazing. Standing on each side of my head, Donna and Cynthia put their hips together, glistening cunts aimed towards me, and simultaneously bent slightly at the knees and let go onto my face. They had evidently saved some pee the last time they went, plus they had both been drinking all during my ordeal. I found myself opening my mouth without even being told. They alternated clenching off to make their dual shower last longer, but at least one stream was hitting me at all times. As their twin pee trickles crossed and landed square in my mouth, it didn't take long for my oral cavity to fill. "Wider," Donna ordered. I obeyed, stretching my jaws open further. It sounded like piss hitting the water in a toilet bowl as they aimed perfectly between my upper and lower teeth. Finally, as their tangy urine overflowed my mouth, I lifted my head up a little so I could swallow. "That's it, drink our pee, yeah," urged Donna, smirking. "Guess he likes this, Cynth, he's jacking off like crazy now!" Sarah was still soaking my penis and legs with urine. "Let's see if we can drown him before he cums!," giggled Cynthia. The sight of the girls' beautiful pussies lowering slowly closer to my face almost put me over the edge. Finally, Donna and Cynthia were crouched right above me, still holding onto each other for balance and trickling onto me. Donna sat full-on onto my face, grinding the back of my head into the wooden deck, draining her bladder without mercy. Cynthia soon pressed herself in, and the two girls maneuvered until they somehow crushed me with their full weight from both sides. Four ass cheeks, two pussies and one combined torrent of urine took over every bit of my attention. I got a little nervous when they closed off all my sense of the outside world, relentlessly smothering me, but . . . At that point, everything went into slow motion. What I was feeling on my cock was the most heavenly thing I had ever imagined. Sarah had apparently finished cumming and spurting piss, and she sat forward on the chair, her toes pushing my hands aside. A glop of suntan lotion landed on my cock head. Sarah's warm feet enclosed my penis lengthwise, her smooth soles sliding up and down, very slowly and sensually. I couldn't believe the sensation. Sarah massaged my rock-hard dick between her feet. Her toes clenched around my balls and squeezed the shaft all over. Her strokes sped up gradually. I was in such ecstasy, I almost forgot the wet onslaught that was still happening on my face. It only took a few caresses from Sarah's soles before I felt cum boiling up from my bruised balls. Faster and faster, Sarah's slick feet moved up and down my straining cock. Finally, she yanked down with both feet one last time before I came violently. I must have shot cum up the length of her leg. I felt some of my ejaculation squirt through her toes before she pressed down on my balls with her toenails as if to squeeze out all the semen inside me. Over and over, I spurted jism, soaking Sarah's feet. I grabbed onto Donna's and Cynthia's relentless asses, trying to get a breath. My heart was pounding, but I couldn't draw in any air. I came again and again, spasming and convulsing under the pussies grinding into my face. Finally, Donna and Cynthia finished pissing on me, but their facesitting didn't let up. I don't know whether it was exhaustion from cumming, pain or sheer lack of oxygen, but I must have passed out at that point, because that's where my memory ends. The three women's laughter faded into oblivion, echoing in my head . . . When I woke up, it was almost dark out. I was still soaked with piss. I wiped thick, stringy gobs of spittle from my eyes and face, along with pussy juice and every other bodily fluid. I saw the puddles of my own cum on the boards of the deck, which was completely stained with the oceans of pee that had been unleashed on me. I dragged myself up, shivering. Despite my aching body and the disgusting, amazing experience I had just survived, I found myself getting hard again as the memories came back to me. I wondered if any of the images from that long, hot day would ever enter into my fantasies in the future. I noticed conversation coming from the well-lit interior of the beach house, so I didn't stick around for them to catch me again. I limped out of the yard towards my house. On my way out the gate, I passed the package I had left on the ground earlier . . .

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F.M. Cary

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