Reading Porn at the Library
- 2 years ago
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Reading Porn At The Library free porn video
Writing porn is usually a very lonely process, and if it weren't for the great encounters some of my stories are based on, and the great encounters that follow some of my stories, I wouldn't be doing it. This is about some of the more unexpected outcomes of forays into smut.
My friend Novella, upon hearing that I'm also a writer of porn, thought it would be a great idea to organize an "intimate reading" at the library she works for. At first I was sceptical, especially about the audience and if they're really aware of what they'd be in for, but she seemed so enthusiastic about it and didn't see any problems with it that I finally agreed.
From what I understood, the event was mainly advertised in the lesbian community and the posters made sure this was an "adult, no holds barred, all pussies leaking" event on porn, unabashed, unashamed, without the pretentious mask of "erotica" or the word "sensual" in it. It was an event about getting hot, and getting off.
To my surprise, there was an actual little crowd on the evening of the reading. Novella introduced me, beaming visibly for excitement. She was dressed unusually tasteful and nice for her, wearing a tunic-like teal dress that was flowing nicely down her figure, stretching a little around her wide thighs. The blue streaks in her short black hair were only faintly visible in the spotlight and she actually wore decent makeup behind her glasses - thin eyeliner and some mascara that showed her beautiful long lashes.
"I'm not going to lie," she said. "Kathrin is my friend, and she's made me cum, and she's made me cum even more often with her stories." I stood a little aside, at a desk she had put on the small stage for me, grinning embarrassed in my orange batik dress. She continued: "And Kathrin's not going to lie to you either, when she reads her stories now. They're straightforward, honest, raw and without sugar, so they're best served with some pussy in your mouth. Which is why I'll be underneath her desk the whole time."
I stared at her in disbelief but she already made her way over to the desk and just crawled under it. For a moment I was baffled, but the audience was applauding and I felt stupid just standing there, so I finally sat down. The small room in the attic of the library where we were was about halfway filled with listeners, women of all ages, all staring expectantly at me.
I cleared my throat. This was something I was so not used to, being a musician, expecting fans to cheer and chase them from one song to the next, with hardly a pause. Reading for an audience was much more... quiet, and slow, and awkward. "Hello," I said, feeling Novella's hair brush against my legs, "the first story I'd like to read is about a housewife I met at a sex shop."
I started out slow, reading some not too kinky material, wanting to make the audience feel at ease and loosen up a bit. But as I read, Vella was nudging my pussy, running her small fingers through my pubic hair as if trying to comb through it, kissing it, licking it gently until I had to finally slouch down some, my tits barely above the desk, spreading my legs further to give her the best access to my effervescent pussy springs.
The audience applauded politely as I finished. "More," someone said, "that was much too short!" I sighed, partly because of the tongue at my clit, partly because of the comment. "I write these stories usually in one sitting, until I cum," I said. "So they're perfect wank-material for me. But if it takes you longer, you can always read another while you rub yourself. Which, by the way, is recommended." I grinned as I reached for the next sheet of paper.
"This is the very first story I wrote," I began. "It's about my friend Sabrina, and what she did with a bottle." This time, I took my time. I read slowly about Sabrina, how she fucked herself with a bottle in my car until she had to pee, and how I took my revenge by pissing in her mouth. Vella was nuzzling, enduringly, on my clit, her fingers only slightly probing my pussy, licking the hot wet crevasse.
In the dark, quiet room, I could hear a few soft moans and some of the women were sinking suspiciously low down on their chairs, squirming a little with their hands at their crotch. A few apparently didn't know what they had bargained for and so I heard a few disgusted sounds when I came to the part where I pissed straight down on Sabrina's face until she opened her mouth to swallow.
I closed my eyes when I finished, sighing again as Vella was crooking a finger inside me, licking pussy slime as she scooped it out. "There are a few fetishes you'll have to expect from my stories, and pee is definitely one of them. If that's too much for you, then I heard there's a nice vanilla erotic reading next week that may be more to your liking." Some of the girls in the audience were laughing.
Suddenly, one woman stood up. "It's not just the urine fetish," she said, looking disgustedly at me. She was middle-aged and conservatively dressed, her hair pulled up to a nice updo. She was wearing some cat-eye glasses that reflected in the dark room and gave her a grandmotherly look, even though she couldn't be much older than myself.
"It's that you don't know how to write properly," she began her tirade. "You should use more descriptive words, and spend more time building up. Writing about how something feels, smells, sounds... all those things are important. Frankly, I'm hugely disappointed."
I stood up. "And what makes you think," I asked as I slowly made my way around the desk towards the front of the stage. "What makes you think I want you to like my stories?" She looked at me surprised, heads now turning towards her. "Well," she replied, "it seems like a logical conclusion. Why does one read stories in a public forum and submit to being critiqued if you don't care if someone likes what you write? Otherwise why write, if you don't care if anyone likes the stories, why read them? Furthermore why leave a story open for judging if you don't care?"
I laughed, slowly making my way through the few rows of women towards her. "You seem to be under the mistaken impression that I read stories here so you can judge them," I said, slowly and quietly, "that is not the case." I had finally reached her, my face only inches away from hers, staring through her glasses into her eyes.
"You don't get to judge," I hissed, sharply, under my breath. "Nobody cares about your critique. Nobody cares what you like. Your opinion matters for shit to me." I stretched the last words long and distinctly as she sank back into her chair, staring at me speechless.
I smiled, getting even closer, pulling my skirt up above my knees as I was straddling her seat, sitting down in her lap with my hands on her shoulders, looking at her provocatively. "You think you're somehow entitled to have writers appeal to your tastes," I continued to taunt her. "Well, you're not. You're not entitled to shit. If you want a story that caters exactly to your peculiarities, go write it yourself. Otherwise, shut the fuck up, suck it up, or get the fuck out!"
She stared at me baffled, unable to cope with the situation. I smirked triumphantly, then leaned back with my eyes closed, rocking my hips on her lap as I let it out, pissing straight onto her crotch, a warm stream of urine trickling out of my pussy, soaking her dress.
It took her a while to realize what was happening. When she finally did, she opened her mouth as if in protest, but not a word came out. "That's right," I nodded as I got up, looking down at her despicably. "That's all you'll ever get from me. Pissed on like the worthless cunt pig that you are. Now suck it up or get out," I said, pulling up my skirt all the way to my stomach, pushing my pelvis out against her face until my wet pubic hair was brushing against her lips, the stench of piss still strong from my drenched, dripping labia.
She recoiled at the sensation, falling over backwards in her chair and scrambled on the floor towards the door, among everyone's laughter. "Good," I said when she had left, walking back to the desk where Vella was still waiting for me underneath. "Now that we're all on the same page, let me tell you the story of how I shared two piss whores with my boyfriend." This time I didn't hold back, and when it came to the part where Karissa was peeing on me on the table, I illustrated it by taking the glass of water that sat on the desk and pouring it slowly down on my face as I tilted my head back, feeling it run down my throat and between my tits, soaking the dress until it clung wet against my skin.
In the audience I could hear louder moans and I thought I could see a few women getting down on one another, as discretely as they could. As I read on, Vella began fingering my holes at the appropriate times, pushing into whatever orifice was penetrated in the story. I had to pause more often and barely made it through the story, feeling about to explode.
The audience didn't seem to mind, most of them occupied with themselves. I hastily looked for a good follow-up story to keep the momentum going and smiled when I found the ones about my holiday with my friend Martina. "The next story," I said, "is about a dear friend of mine who not only shares all my kinks, but also likes to be used as my fuck whore."
I began at the part where we went to the receptionist at the hotel, thinking of Vella as she was squatted underneath my desk. My left hand wandered down under the table and ran through her hair, grabbing her and holding her between my crotch. She was licking me fast, her tongue flicking my clit rapidly, warm and wet, until, at the point in the story where I made the receptionist pee, I just let go.
I pissed, loud and hard, down on Novella, hearing her gasp in surprise. Leaning back with my eyes closed, I just let my pee run out, not caring where it hit her or how she'd clean it up. I heard her gulp a little, but for the most part she just seemed to bathe in it, getting it sprinkled all over her nice tunic and pretty face.
The stream was so loud I was sure everyone in the audience must've heard what was going on, but I didn't care anymore. I read on, frantically, almost breathless, rubbing my tits with one hand through the damp, clinging fabric. I pushed myself up, bending forward across the table until I felt the dress get pulled under my breasts, exposing them. Behind me, Vella was still at work between my legs, sucking my pussy hard.
Finally, when the young girl in the story began to push her fingers into me, one by one, Novella did the same. Her short, stubby fingers pushed hard up my sopping, piss-drenched cunt, fisting me hard from behind as I was bend across the table, reading to an audience of horny dykes.
They cheered as her hand filled me, pushing hard up my insides, stretching my cunt wide just as I like it while many of the audience were now masturbating openly, almost provocatively. I couldn't finish the story, just screaming out the words as I came: "OH. YOU. WHORES. YOU FUCKING CUNT SLUT BITCHES!"
My whole body shook from the orgasm, my pussy contracting around Novella's hand, holding it firmly in its grip. I was savouring the feeling, not wanting to let go yet, until I couldn't anymore and my knees gave in underneath me. I felt her hand slide out of me, and wet liquid run down my thighs, slow and cold, as I held onto the table, afraid to fall down.
For a while I was lost in a muted cocoon of bliss and orgasm, but when I regained my senses, the first thing I heard was applause, coupled with a few ecstatic screams. I sank back down onto the chair, unable to stand. "Thank you," I said, quiet and exhausted. "You're the best audience I could've asked for."
Vella smiled at me, holding me tight, her tunic soaking wet and smelling of pee, her right hand felt slippery on my shoulder, covered in pussy slime. "Real fans love everything you do," she whispered into my ear, then kissed me softly.
Kierra
- 08.07.2021
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- Category:
- Watersports
