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She stood in line in the store, feet throbbing. It had been a long, long day, and this was the final errand before the end of the year. Shifting from her aching left foot to her less aching right, she looked a the long display rack that cleverly ran along the register waiting line. She wasn’t hungry, exactly, but she was running out of steam. Spying the bag of gummy worms, she reached for them. But the little bag of gummy Octopi fell free from the loop above.

What the hell, she thought, a sour gummy was a sour gummy. Tucking them against her shirt, behind the two bags of chips and the liter bottle of soda, she hoped her body heat didn’t melt them before she ate one. At long last it was her turn at the register. Paying for her New Years eve treats, she scurried from the store with her bags, and headed home.


The sun had fallen hours ago, the television was playing music in the background. Shoes off, clothing shed, she moved around her apartment naked. With the curtains drawn, and only herself to please, she’d eaten a light dinner curled on her couch with a soft fleece throw from her mom wrapped around her. The bottle of champagne that she’d bought to toast the new year sat waiting on the kitchen counter, and they were counting down in minutes now in Times Square. She had no desire to be one of those teeming in the massive crowd, but it might have been nice to cuddle someone. She ought to get a cat, since a boyfriend didn’t seem to be in the offing.

Rising from her couch, she uncorked the wine, and poured herself a generous glass. The bubbles tickled her nose as she took an appreciative sniff. No sipping until the clock wound down, she reminded herself reluctantly. Setting the glass carefully on her coffee table, she went to her bedroom to retrieve her favorite dildo. The vibe hit the exact perfect spot when it was inside of her; having an orgasm just as the old year ended and a new one began seemed like a great way to make that transition. Slipping the end of the silicone rod between her lips, she licked it, sucking on it to wet it. Glancing at the table, she grinned, before dipping the fake cock into her wine goblet. She licked at one drop, then slipped the dick along her slit. The wine tingled on her clit, on her tongue. Mmmmm, she thought as she settled back on the couch. She popped another gummy octopus into her mouth (they were surprisingly good, tart and not too sweet). She sucked and chewed it as she slipped the dildo up and down her pussy lips, teasing herself.

The last seven minutes of the old year were ticking down on the television as she inserted the shaft. She swallowed the last of the octopus, reached for another. The fantasy grew in her mind, the thing in her mouth growing gigantic as she twisted the cock into her belly, back arching. Close, she was so close to coming, the fantasy, the need building  as she stroked herself.

Two minutes, she noted, panting, as she looked at the clock. What the hell, she could toast out the old year and  toast in the new. She sipped the champagne, murmuring at the taste of the fine wine mingling with the tart sweetness from the candy. Her other hand slowed, teasing her clit with the shuddering toy.

Her head fell back as the clock continued to tick down. Gulping the wine, such an abuse of fine wine, her father would have said, she tossed another candy in her mouth. Chewing and sucking, she watched the enormous ball begin its descent to Times Square, the camera panning the frantically joyful faces peering up and counting down.



She stroked harder, teeth grinding on the candy, her pussy starting to clench.




She was almost there, almost there, her clit cramping up, her insides clamping around the thick dildo buried there.




At the stroke of midnight her pussy convulsed, a jet of come shooting from her, leaving her gasping, drained, on the couch. Her body was covered in a fine sweat, and her hand trembled as she reached for the wineglass.

Sip, she told herself, her pussy still throbbing. She sipped. The camera panned to the celebrities, close ups on faces, a blur of images as the crowded streets of New York cheered in the new year. Her pussy had cheered too. Wetly. Setting down the wine glass carefully, she tugged the fleece blanket around herself.

Stroking herself with both hands, she could feel the wet, the steady oozing of fluid. Amazed at herself, she lifted wet fingers to her face, sniffing. Wow. She had never come like that before. She touched her fingertips together, smiling at the sticky thick wet that glued them together. Wasn’t come a strange substance, she mused. Not thick like snot, but similar in some ways. With a shake of her head at her crazy thoughts, she reached for her wine, came up with the bag of candy instead. One left. Snagging it in her sticky fingers, she gave a half-shrug. What the hell, tomorrow she’d worry about eating better. It was new years, after all, and one was supposed to have some sort of excess. She licked the sugar from her fingers, sugar and come, smiling.

She fell asleep before she could eat the candy.


She awoke, coming hard.

What the…she wondered, as her body arched in ecstasy. Something was filling her, stuffing her. Something was probing at her anus, too. She tried to move, but was immobilized. Her wrists, held up over her head, her tits thrust upward, nipples hugely erect. She could feel them throbbing with an ache that was foreign to her.

“What…” she started to speak, but something filled her mouth. It was sweet, yet tart. Her mouth was stretched as the thing twisted down her throat, gagging her. She wanted to bite, but just as she started to, the thing probing her ass rammed its way inside her. Rather than biting, her mouth opened still wider, attempting to scream. Only a muffled sort of grunting came through her nostrils as she fought for breath, for a way through the pain. Her lower body was stretched beyond anything she had ever felt before. Her rectum throbbed, but somehow that transitioned to a deep pleasure at her clit. She came again, feeling herself grow limp as fluids rushed from her. The fucking didn’t stop, seemed to intensify. Her tits were squeezed, her nipples starting to ooze fluid. How was that even possible, one corner of her mind asked. The thing in her mouth withdrew, the tip of it touring her mouth, rubbing along teeth and tongue, tracing the inner flesh of her cheeks. Slipping from her mouth, it outlined her lips, ran along each ear, making her quiver.  A low moan came from her at that seductive touch. She couldn’t move, could barely do anything other than come, it seemed.

As if thought created deed, her body arched again, as her pussy convulsed. It was erotic pain, coming so hard, so often. The taking of her pussy and ass, the squeezing of her tits–her whole being was being assaulted and she couldn’t seem to care. Again she felt the gushing of liquid from tits and pussy, liquid that didn’t seem to make her wet. Was it…whatever it was, drinking her fluids? Would it drink her to death? Panic made her struggle, a pointless endeavor. The fucking grew to a frenetic pace, her body drew taut as the most enormous orgasm of all was ripped from her. She did scream, then. As the echo of her scream faded, the room went dark.


She woke on the floor between the coffee table and the couch, wrapped in the fleece. Her wine goblet had tipped over, but thankfully she’d consumed that before it made a mess. The sun filtered in around her curtains, sliding across the room until one beam fell upon her outstretched palm. It was that warmth that had woken her, she supposed. But man, she was tired, and thirsty as hell.

Untangling herself from the covers, she made her way to the kitchen, and drank a glass of water, and a second. She’d heard that doing that after drinking could get you re-drunk, but what the hell. She was ready for the new year now, a sudden surge of energy rippling through her. She felt…different, somehow. As if a thousand cares had been sucked away, and hope rushed in to fill her back up.

Striding into the living room, she grabbed up the fleece, the empty glass, and the bag of candy with one lone octopus within. She didn’t notice the blue eye blink. She put the bag on the counter for later as the doorbell rang.

She didn’t bother to look through the peephole, just made sure her important bits were covered before she opened it a crack. It was her neighbor, Brian or Bryce or somesuch.



“uhm…this is…awkward…kind of…”

He was cute in his sudden embarrassment.  She just looked at him. He seemed to notice, of a sudden, her state of dress. Or lack thereof.

“Nice blanket.” He grinned.

She smiled. A month ago she would have died of the embarrassment. Hell, a day ago she might have.


“I was wondering…ah…if you’re alone for the holiday, perhaps you’d like to come over for breakfast?”

Without hesitation she grabbed the apartment key from the table next to the door and stepped out into the hallway.
“That sounds lovely. I hope I’m dressed appropriately for the occasion.”

His appreciative “oh hell yeah” was all the reply she needed. Slipping her hand into his, she gave it a squeeze. Without another word,they stepped into his apartment.

In the little crinkled bag on the counter of her kitchen the little octopus smiled, and vanished.


House Call

“I don’t have a lot of time.”

The sibilant whisper against her ear blew a soft puff of hot breath against her skin. Gooseflesh pebbled across her neck. Her other ear, pressed against the cold wall, heard nothing but the noises of the house as it settled for the night. Her breasts pressed against the chill surface, nipples pearling into tight buds after the warmth of her bed.

Her hair was pulled into a taut ponytail, held by his hand, controlling her head with the tight grasp. She inhaled sharply as his free hand pressed into the split of her ass, pressing against that dark, private rosebud. If she could have shaken her head no she would have. The whine she would have whimpered was sealed behind the duct tape covering her mouth.

“He’ll be home soon, won’t he? Cuddling close to you in your bed, his arms wrapping around you, his cock slipping between your pale thighs. He’ll fuck you, perhaps, before he falls asleep. His mouth will suckle on your tits, his hands will grasp your hips as he slides in and out of your eager hole. I suspect you’ll be less eager for this…”

His voice trailed away as the sound of a zipper unzipping came to her. There was the faintest of snicks as the snap was undone, and the sound of fabric sliding down skin, a subtle sound for all its threatening promise. The heat of a cock pressed into that tight crevasse, pressed harder at her bumhole. The fist holding her hair tightened as the shaft began to enter her.

“It’ll be easier if you don’t fight. We both know you love it up the ass, don’t we? And when he spoons you tonight, perhaps some of my gift will seep out of your ass, and paint his thighs. Take it, take it deep…”

He grunted as his cock pierced her entry, as the tight grip of her anus parted to allow him entry.

He filled her, hurt her. The full heat of him pressed behind her back and inside her warmed her; the throb from her rectum kept pace with the her heartbeat. A single tear slid down,  down her cheek and then the wall where she was pressed tightly against it. Her breath came in a rasping grunt through her nose, barely heard over his thrustings. His hand grabbed her hair even tighter, her eyes widening, tearing at the pull. She knew his eruption was near. But for those few noises, the house was silent.

“My gift…” he panted quietly in her ear. She shivered, knowing he was close.

He withdrew, his cock thick and heavy against her ass. Pausing a moment he slid between her thighs. She struggled then, knowing what his ‘gift’ was.  Before she could even attempt to wriggle free, he was once again inside of her, deep in her belly. She swore she could feel the sudden pulsing jets of his come filling her womb with his seed. She was ovulating, dammit! She shuddered as he released her hair, leaning numbly against the wall. He guided her across the room to the bed by her hair, bracing a pillow under her hips. A bulbous plug pressed against her, into her. The tape was pulled gently from her mouth.
“Tell him you fell asleep masturbating,” he whispered, his hand pinching one plump nipple as she lay in a semi-stupor. “Then morning sex. He’ll be a father –and you’ll be a lovely mommy–by autumn.” He kissed her on her mouth, the gentle touch at odds with his assault on her ass.

He slipped away, though she didn’t hear his footsteps in the house. The room was illuminated a few minutes later by the slash of light against the wall and ceiling. Her husband was home from work. Yet she knew she’d never tell him about the ‘housecall’ from her OB/GYN.