Crimson Crossing – Stories in Erotica


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Cockpit

The Venetian Hotel, Las Vegas Nevada
It’s no secret that Las Vegas, Nevada is an overplayed bachelorette destination. But, that is precisely where I’m taking my girls. Not one of us has ever been there, and well, I plan to make it memorable even if it lacks creativity. There is seven of us making the trip. Our stay will be at The Venetian, one of the better known hotels in Vegas. I’m looking for an old world charm in a place where sin leads to heavenly creations. I understand that the financial impact will be costly, but I don’t care. This event has been in the works for two years, and now that is time to have it. I want it to be where I want it to be, cost me even a slap on the face. So, The Venetian it is.

It’s May 29th, the day of our flight, and the party has already started. The stretch limo sounds like a chicken coop with the compiled voices of seven excited woman reverberating throughout. I’m trying to leave all the creativity for Vegas, but this skimpy bridal gown doesn’t exactly scream prudence. I have a feeling that I’ve started something that I just won’t regret doing. My girlfriends are the coolest bunch of accomplices anyone could ever encounter. So, we’ve all purchased trashable-mobile-phones that can only be used for texting, and phone calls. There will be no capturing of graphical memories from the “hen night”.

Mid way through to the airport, most of my companions are mildly under the influence of B52s, though I think the shots have been mostly kahlúa. I am not drinking, my wit is as sane and alert as it can be. I don’t want to miss a second of this here journey. Upon arrival at the airport we are rushed to the terminal because the plane just happens to be waiting for, specifically, our party. I think we might have been running a few minutes late. Our suitcases are checked for proper safety, then brought to the gate with us. Someone takes them from the plane door of the Boeing 747 to load in the cargo section. He’s very cute. Had I me hands on him…

We board the plane, find our seats right on the “business class” front area of the plane. I’m row A, seat 2. I want to be on the isle, looking forward to check the cockpit. I’m a fanatic of planes and purposely selected A2 so that I can try to view the flight from where I’ll be seated if the cockpit door is left open. I’m more excited about the possibility of being allowed in there than I am about the bachelorette party.

Emergency instructions are presented to the passengers, the plane takes off, it levels out, I am ready for the five hour flight. The crew welcomes our party, and congratulates me. We are served more drinks as if needed. I take my drink, but leave it untouched on the tray. I am just too excitement about being so close to the front of the plane that I can’t concentrate on anything other than the thought of the door to the front-control room opening. I can hear my girlfriends chit chatting about the plans for the first few days. I’m glad they are here to worry about all of it for me. I am mostly concerned about making the view from the cockpit memorable, the rest I hope is a blur.

A quarter of the way in to the flight a few of my girlfriends are already asleep, those awake are rowdy enough that the crew members need to settle them down. The captain comes out to greet the passengers. He notifies the cabin that the door to the front will be open for sometime, anyone wishing to view the front is welcomed. I wait quite a while, no one comes up to the front. I presume that not everyone appreciates planes as I do.

Pilots in cockpit, mid-flightI’m apprehensive about coming to the front, so I take the drink that’s been sitting on the tray and gulp it. It’s encouraged me to stand up and head towards the cabin, I knock outside the door, the flight attendant sees me and comes over. I inform her of my obsession with planes and that I would like to view the goodies piloting the plane. She tells me to wait that she’ll inform the captain. Soon enough I’m looking at the sky ahead of us, the captain welcomes me aboard. We exchange small talk about my plans in Vegas, my chosen dress for the flight, and the controls all over the cockpit. I’m as excited as a teenage girl attending her first dance. He stands up from his chair and asks me to please sit down and “take” the controls. I’m jumping about like I’ve won some sort of price.

Sensual Bride in CockpitThe two other “pilots”, the first, and the second officer look at the captain in disagreement. But, I still sit, put my hands on the controls and instantly become saturated with lust. I would have exploded were I not a human being. I clench my legs, tightly closing my thighs as if it could help prevent further desire from seeping out of me. I’m uncharacteristically shy, I feel that if I get off from the seat, spots of my reaction from touching the sidestick controllers will reveal my wants.

I look back at the captain, he notifies me that it’s time to return to the cabin. I take a deep breath, stand up, quickly look down at the seat and sigh in relief. There is nothing to divulge that being in the front of the plane aroused me. The captain grabs my hand, and leads me towards the entrance to the cabin. Before we arrive at the door, I stop, look back at him and tell him that I’ll be at the Venetian in Vegas. He takes down my information and tells me he’ll meet me there. He escorts me to my seat, kisses my hand goodbye and returns to his duties.

Minutes after, and a few drinks to feel daring, I head over to the cockpit again. The flight attendant fetches the captain, he greets me outside where we engaged in flirtatious dialog, after-which he leads me inside the cockpit. I close the door behind us, and quickly remove the skirt from my “wedding” gown. He stares me down in deep thought, then walks to the front, delegates flying duties to the first officer and walks back to me. I push him against the wall next to the second officer and kiss him. I go for his belt, but he holds me back to unbuckle it himself. He slips out and I grab it with my right hand while using my left to place his right hand on my bottom.

I jerk him slowly. I’m an addict for the feel details on a manhood; I can spend hours caressing the engorged body. The first officer puts the plane on auto and stands up to have a view of us. I’m kissing and stroking… “I bet the two officers are staring at my buttocks”, I think to myself. The daring tease, even if shy, I am. I turn my back to the captain, slide his penis between my inner thighs and hold tightly to my crotch. I grab my undies, push it to the side, stare down the gentlemen looking at me and grind my crotch on the captain’s manhood.

The captain tries to insert it in, but I say: “no, no, not now.” I continue to slap my buttocks against his pelvis secreting on him. Down below at my crotch his head peeking out is visible. I reach down for it, push the head up and slip it inside of me only to jump off of instantly. I turn face to face, squat down and put him in my mouth. His hands reach for my face, but I slap them away. I’m the only one controlling how much “richard” goes in my mouth. I play around with the head sucking the sides and running my tongue on the tip while my hand pulls back the skin on the shaft to ensure I see, and suck all I can on the tip.

I’ve always found it meritable when sucking a sizable man to self sooth; my left hand reaches down, I pull apart the lips with my thumb, and index finger and proceed to rub my clitoris. The plane hits a single disturbance and it goes deep into my mouth. But, I don’t gag. I lost those reflexes long ago before this very moment. Even the unintentional shoving into my mouth goes unnoticed. I retrieve him, look up at the captain and slap his penis against my lips.

“Captain, care to share?”, I ask of him.

There wasn’t a need for a response, both horny fellows zipped down and quickly. They were much more to write about than was the captain. So much so that I debated trading partners. I wish I didn’t have to bypass them, but the captain, well, I did enjoy his size. In time of need, beggars can’t be choosers. I place the “Cappy” back in my mouth, grab each boy with each hand to jerk them. Have you ever had a feel of three men? One on each hand? The other in your mouth? You should try it. It’s less of what you think it is, and more of what you don’t think.

I’m versed enough swallowing whole that I can look to the sides to check how the fellows are responding to my hands. They are enjoying it, but not enough. So, I release “Cappy” grab the fellow to the left and gobble him for a few mouth fills, likewise I do to the follow to my right. Were I more daring I’d want to swallow the outcome of this venture from all three of them. Yet, I’m here to feel “Cappy” inside of me. I turn around to give him my back. He is allowed to go inside of me to fulfill his whim. He grabs my hips with both hands and slows in entry until his pelvis meets my buttocks.

His body slops against me increasingly harder making it difficult to stroke the officers. He slams against me, bouncing my body about as if going through turbulence. It’s much a joy, the sound of clashing bodies, the sound of wet vulva against a penis, the sound of jet engines flying at over five hundred miles per hour, and the sound of making the three of men enjoy me. It would make anyone lust into climax. “Officers”, I say. “I’m going to turn around, you can remove my underwear. I’m going to lean, spread my legs, put my hands against the wall, and you will finish, all three of you, wherever you desire. Smack your penises against me. Let me feel them hit my vagina. Don’t forget that the ass, too! It wants to reach sin city covered in prayers. I’ll return to my seat counting my blessings, leave the prayers written on my skin so that I may read them and smile about what you’ve done.”


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Hell Week Haze

I didn’t walk my parents’ preferred path in High School. I moved to three different schools by sophomore year of High School; four all together during the four year tenure. I’d like to think that I increasingly improved at misbehaving where it became difficult to get caught, and as a response, expelled from School. And, I would be dishonest to acknowledge that I haven’t been so in this, my first year of College.

I have an issue though. I’m unequivocally lured by public romantic encounters. Not just any romantic encounter, because of romantic, there is nothing; but, of being seen handled with little to no respect in public. Kids my age don’t know how to disrespect, they think it’s being rough and tossing me around; fools! Not that I know what it is, either, but think it can’t be what I’ve been having. All that I know is that physical encounters didn’t feel the same after I stopped being caught and expelled from Schools.

It’s that taboo, the forbidden action of being seen, being caught in public that attracts me; especially so living in one of the Bible Belt States. For heaven sakes, this is the least of the worries of sinners around here: me, enjoying the body I was given while others watch. I do enjoy the casual closet “quick-fix”, but in public… lengthy and perturbing enough where I can be caught to rise hell. Now, that makes my skeleton shake.

B.A.S.E ShieldAll semester I was hounded by the B.A.S.E sorority gals to join them. Maybe it was because of my home state that they chased so fervently. By my second semester I was a ticking time bomb. I wanted to imprint my needs on campus yet, found no way around it but to use the sisters of Delta Psi Epsilon as my guinea pigs. I thought it well, I thought it thoroughly, I didn’t leave anything out, not the very least of details.

What I didn’t know was how I would react. Was I going to be afraid? Was it such a long time since being exposed in public that my thoughts had changed? What if I couldn’t go through with it? Who would save me, then? I had to recruit someone for moral support, just don’t know who. Perhaps my roommate, the too easily swayed and impressionable girl.

During the entire pledge process, or as these young and prodish young adults refer to it “new member education”, I behaved as any proper Bible Belt young female would. I did as told, followed rather impeccably the commands dished out to the rushees. I might have had a chance of making it through, had I not been deterred by the pleasures of the flesh, by the fetishes that control my thoughts.

Hell Week was about to start, and my plans couldn’t have been more favorable. Instead of being pledged as others sororities during Hell Week, each one of us rushees were to “haze” ourselves. We were to choose for ourselves what it was to happen as a final test that would merit entrance into the sisterhood. I felt almost part of a convent, really. If not for my little dark secret of enjoying the flesh, I would fit right in.

The night was chosen, of when we would carry out our “haze” to the sorority: a Thursday night. It series of events were to commence at 10PM, and last no more than 20 minutes each. We would be informed of the outcome of our “haze” at the end of the night when the last pledgee presented revealed her test. Out of 9 new members, I was randomly selected to present fifth. That meant that at around 11:20PM I would already need to have had set up my plan, be carrying it out for them to judge.

It took me the entire pledge period to smooth-over… gain my roommate’s confidence, and vow of her help. She was to reach out for help if things did get out of control. I gave her my cell phone, pre dialed campus police, and instructed her of the duties. She was to dial campus police if I ever, at any point, screamed out “man in the hole”. I didn’t want to fully disclose all of the details. I mentioned that I wanted it to be a surprise, at least fully. I only revealed that it would be of a sexual nature. She was also presented with more responsibilities, besides the calling for help. Her being a virgin seemed to have been beneficial because she jumped to the rescue, expressing desire to watch if she could, too. I didn’t mind, she would add to my desire of being seeing in public.

Lonesome Light PostAt 11 PM my roommate at I left the dormitory. She brought a video recorder on my request. We got to the lone light post out by the quad at around 11:10 PM. The light was on rich and bright. I wore only a stolen jersey I had taken from one of the sisters with new letters on the back reading: B.A.S.E. I had my roommate handcuff me face forward around the light post. I told her to hide by the trees, start recording and watch with close attention. My heart was racing, my knees almost shaking… not of fear, no not that… of finally carrying it through.

When I heard the all too common pledge song, I called out to the boys to come out from hiding. Four of them all together. Four Guys and a GirlOne of them pulled my jersey up to reveal that I was wearing nothing else. Three of them stood around with their pants down using their hands to keep themselves entertained. The one was to rub lubricant all over me, except where the sun don’t shine because that was forbidden. He could touch if he wanted, lick if so wished, but his member was by no means taking that part of me; neither was anyone else’s.

He started first. I would count how many thrusts he was to have, then ask the other student to take his turn, and so on. The one geeky student forgot to bring protection, so I refused to let him touch me, well, maybe just a little. I allowed him to pleasure himself and released on my face. I spoke extremely lewd to him. In his eyes I could see that he had never been spoken in such a way. I wanted him to release when the girls got closer, but he didn’t last long. He finished within a few strokes. But still, at least some of it did reach my face.

The other three guys alternated turns thrusting inside of me. One of them so harshly that my right shoulder hit the light post numerous times. I wondered if the residues of the geeky student on my face would last the collisions from the other three students. I liked it hard, and fast. I didn’t want a seductive thrust speaking of good times while in love. I wanted to be shoved in hinting pain.

I had finally realized my fantasy popularized by the term “train ride”. It had haunted me for years. Whether I would have the will to do it, the prowess to carry it through. It wasn’t that the young men were good, but that I was out in public with the light of the post shining down on me, my roomy recording, and the sisters who had stopped singing by now, screaming, looking down that one of her sisters was being given a “haze” by four men. They ran down pushing the guys off of me, fighting them. The poor idiots tried to tell them that it was all my plan, but the few of them didn’t have a voice against some 30 angry young women.

It wasn’t really a violent scene, the fellows were pretty composed. Standing in a line, each time I asked of one to move off from me to give the other a turn. The manly moans and cursing directing me to bend over, spread wide and hold steady was all my doing. I give specific instructions in how to be treated. They missed a few, but hey, they didn’t get to finish me off either. The female screams heard by my sisters were the pleasurable kind. The kind that had me saturated on the walk to place from bliss. I really didn’t need the lubricant, but having his hands spreading it all over my rear excited me. The cool breeze gave me tingles as it traveled around all of my saturated parts.

The campus police arrived, freed me, cleaned me up; but, not before I got a little taste of the salty residue from my face. If I knew what fear tasted like, that’s must have been it. What that geeky guy left in my face… made me feel, oh, so brave. They took the four kids to the campus police office.

I dropped the charges on the four fellows; charges that I hadn’t plan for. I almost got away with the public fetish until I heard the four kids would be expelled from college. Too bad I opened up my mouth because five people were expelled in total. The four of them for going through with the plan, and me for masterminding the plan.

Yet, I don’t take it back. The feeling of different shapes and sizes, one after to other pushing strongly with residue from another man on my face, all while in public still thrills me. The different voices telling me what to do and how to do it; in conjunction asking if the little dirty girl enjoyed what was happening. And, I do also know that a few of the girls, those Christian ladies in the sorority enjoyed it. We got to speak of fantasies, and while that wasn’t one of them, for any of them, a few of them did enjoy the thought of many guys and one girl. Had they known better, maybe they would have watched for a bit and interrupted after they finished.