Misunderstanding

Innocently he mistook the look in her eyes as passion and lust.

“I want to drain your life giving fluid from you,” she whispered softly.

The reality of the truth hit him like a bullet to heart as her teeth sunk into his neck and she began to drink.

Copyright: authorchrisbrown

Standard

Little Boy

I didn’t see him today
The little boy in the corner
The sad one
The angry one
The one that judges me
Taunting my every decision
Madness in my mind
If he’s real why can no one see him
But then I never saw him today
I hope he comes back tomorrow
There’s insecurity when he’s not here

Copyright: authorchrisbrown

Standard

Just a Question

What is it to live these days?
I spend most of my time locked up doing the things that pays for the box I’m locked in.
And to make box more aesthetically pleasing, costs more money, and so spend more time working to afford the things I have no time to admire.
The friends I’ve made have become nothing more than recognisable text on a screen, that offer a worded “hello” or an emoji, that it becomes weird and awkward speaking, let alone seeing them in person.
My mind feels starved of stimulus, instead taking on board garbage from the television or radio, until my sanity snaps and I reach for yet another book.
Dark nights draw in early, weather’s still cold, and a warm duvet is often a welcome respite from the monotony of the day.
I miss laughter, the sound of pointless banter. I miss being sociable and getting together with like minded folk to discuss things of interest.
I miss hugs and I miss kisses.
Living alone, even with creature comforts of life, is lonely, ever so lonely.
So I ask again, what is it to live these days?

Copyright: authorchrisbrown

Standard

A dark story of history repeating

A male child, born with no given name, to a mother than cried heavily at the mere sight of him. He was forever a contanst reminder of his father that forcefully planted his seed within her virgin womb before disappearing into the depths of night, leaving her shivering and broken. What chance did this child have when even his mother found the sight of him abhorrent? She couldnt love and nourish him, and so he found himself abandoned to the mercy of whoever could.

He was named Samuel by the elderly woman that would call herself mother, though he refused to accept either. He fought her love, rebelled against the sanctuary of homeliness she’d created for him. The years of his growing were a constant struggle, and yet she refused to abandon him as his mother had. Even when his school refused to educate him she stayed at home in order to school him.

He resented and despised her, and yet with each passing year an infatuation grew within him. There was something within his DNA that compelled him to obsess over being around her at inappropriate times. He would spy through the keyhole as she undressed, and yet would refuse to join her at the table come tea time.

It was upon a random evening late in the year, rain lashing down upon the panes of glass and the occasional flash of lightening illuminating the otherwise dimly candle lit room that he appeared before her as she was in a state of undress.

Instinctively she cowered away, covering any exposed flesh from his unblinking eyes, and yet he reached out and pulled at her night blouse. As she fought his advances, sharp nails scratched her breasts drawing crimson lines across them. Crying in shock and pain she could do nothing as he exposed them, his hands gripping tightly the area directly around the nipple.

As the tears rolled heavily from her heartbroken eyes, and her requests for him to stop went ignored, he forcefully pushed her backwards onto the bed. She knew what was coming next, and yet was unable to stop it. Pain soared through her body as he entered her. Emotionless he satisfied himself within her as she sobbed uncontrollably, her clothes torn and blood flowing from the wounds received as reward for her attempting to resist.

He said nothing as he left. A dark figure disappearing into the depths of night, leaving behind a broken elderly woman whose womb began preparing for the unwanted gift she’d been given.

Copyright: authorchrisbrown

Standard

Writing Challenge

Story Challenge: Word and Genre suggested by Laura ~ neon hotpants / crime thriller.

“Talk to me Sargent. What have we got?”

The middle aged policeman cleared his throat before addressing the suit clad inspector. Whereas the Sargent was time served and had progressed through the force via hard work and pounding the streets, the inspector was fresh faced and straight from behind some desk at the academy. There was still a mutual respect for their respective rank.

“Another from the homeless community. Male, around thirty year old.”

“That’s the fifth in as many days! Cause of death?”

“Strangulation, the same as the others.”

The inspector nodded as though he’d been expecting the answer and began pacing around as if searching for answers to the questions in his head. “I assume there were no witnesses as before also.”

“Actually,” began the Sargent. “We have a description.”

It was the first time the attack had been seen, or at least the first time anyone had come forward with information. Whilst previous murders had similar characteristics, there had been no viable leads with which to investigate.

“Average build and height, wearing a black hooded and neon hotpants.”

The description had the inspector kicking the ground in frustration.

“Look around you. What do you see? We’re smack bang in the middle of festival season and nearly everyone is wearing neon clothing of some fashion.”

The Sargent remained silent.

“Let us hope the body parts with more helpful clues than your witness.”

Copyright: authorchrisbrown

Standard

Finding Reason

‘Understanding’

To my left stands an Angel tending to my tears. “What did you do?” she asks soothingly.

On my right a Devil. “It’s not your fault!” he says rubbing my shoulder with his talloned hand.

Like an island isolated by a maddening sea, I stand resolute understanding their words, yet let them fall upon my ear, waves upon a rocky shore.

Copyright: authorchrisbrown

Standard

Caught – Taboo NSFW +18

The below is a work of complete fiction for a book entitled “Taboo” featuring a number of authors.

There I was, sitting alone, watching porn with my cock in my hand. Trousers around my ankles and erection standing proud as I stroked it gently.

To my utter surprise, in walks my daughter who says nothing but sits opposite me as I struggle to hide myself and pull up my trousers.

Slowly, her hand reaches under her clothes and it becomes evident she’s playing with herself. Her other hand clutches her breast and begins squeezing it tightly.

Caught in confusion. I’m struggling to dress and yet get oddly aroused at what I’m seeing. My cock is throbbing uncontrollably. Even more so as she begins undressing so as to make her own masterbation easier.

I sit back down in the chair. My gaze never leaves my daughter’s actions and I find my erection once again in my hands. Her groans were like sweet music. Her fingers stroking her young nubile clit.

As she brought herself to climax, her body arched and fingers deep inside herself, I felt the sweet release of my own cum all down my hardened shaft.

Slowly she stood, picked up her clothes and left the room. Nothing was ever spoken of the incident again, however I continue to masterbate knowing she’s in the house, hoping I get caught again.

Copyright: authorchrisbrown

Standard

Word / Genre Challenge #4

Word: Paper Aeroplane

Genre: Thriller

Autumn had arrived to the streets of London, and with it brought a distinctive nip to the earlier darkening evenings. The lamplighter having already done his early rounds, the flame from the street lamps casting ominous shadows along the many alleyways and recessed shop openings, had retired to warm his belly with a small brandy from within the hospitality of The George.

Inside, whispers were rife of another gentleman of wealth being parted of both his coin and his life down by the docks. He had been the third this month, and the local constabulary were still no further forward in establishing a motive, let alone potential suspects.

The only thing each victim had in common, was their privileged social standing, and a plain paper aeroplane that rest upon each of their chests.

Some speculated that their deaths were attributed to the proposed plans for an airfield where many of the poorest families are currently housed, but there was no proof substantiating these theories.

With the death toll rising, all potential leads were proving as cold as the plummeting temperature.

Copyright: authorchrisbrown

Standard

Curious 18+ NSFW

“Are you sure you want to do this?” she asked without a hint of compassion of sincerity. But then why would she, she was being paid regardless of whatever took place within the four walls of this dingy bleak hotel room.

He took her thick, hard penis in his hand, trying to give the illusion of being self assured and composed, however in reality he was trembling more than a young puppy whipped for fouling the carpet. Offering the tip to his Virgin ass, he braced himself.

An intense pain flushed over him as the thick shaft sunk deep inside him, and more so as it withdrew and thrust again. The was a strange sensation too. With each thrust he could feel her balls slapping against his own, his hardened penis swaying with the motions. It was quickly becoming a pleasurable pain and he couldn’t help but give vocal encouragement in the way of grunts and groans.

She grabbed his hips and held herself deeper than she’d been before, filling his once tight hole with her cum. He moaned gratefully as he accepted it all.

“Would you like to fuck me now?” she asked in the same clinical tone as before. “Or would you like me to just suck you off?”

He gazed at her large, false rounded breasts and she knew. Kneeling down, she placed his cock between them and waited for the inevitable release as a result of him fucking her cleavage.

“Well that’s that then,” she said wiping herself down with a nearby towel. “You’re trans sex cherry popped.”

He said nothing, preferring to dress in silence. Not through shame or guilt, but from a confused sense of his own sexuallity. They parted not saying another word, yet secretly knowing this would not be the late time they’d meet.

Copyright: authorchrisbrown

Standard

Picture Challenge

I walked what seemed like hours in the darkness
Taking re-assurance from the texture of uneven bark between my fingers
The trees, some three times my age, guided me
Like an old man holding gently the hand of his grandchild
I walked towards the light that hung in the air like some ghostly apparition
With a beauty most haunting it gave me chills
Was I heading towards salvation from the colour of the night
Or a prelude to my own eternal darkness

Copyright: authorchrisbrown

Standard