I’d like to announce a free copy of my horror/erotica novel “The Curse of Albrecht Manor” is going to be given away right here. All you have to do to qualify is to go to the excerpts page on this site, perurse what it offers and leave a comment with your email address. This offer expires on May 1st and the winner will be chosen at random. Good luck!
AUTHOR’S NOTE: The following is a work of erotic fiction containing adult situations, graphic language and sexual scenes. If you are under the age of eighteen LEAVE NOW!
The sun rises, but I’m already up, stretched out, and on the street running. Having gotten eight hours sleep I’m ready to go, my feet pounding the pavement as I hit the half-mile mark. Sweat pours down my back, arms, and legs as I fly by the cars, buses, and SUVs stuck in the early morning traffic. I’m built for speed, my long arms and legs pump relentlessly as I turn the corner and whip past a group of tables sitting outside a coffee shop. I hear the Maruichi music and notice the appreciative stares of the dark skinned women as I rush past, but I have no time for them, I’m in training. There is only one woman on my mind, and she is why I’m working so hard.
I hit the three-quarter mile mark and begin to make my push to finish strong. Speeding down an alleyway my burst of speed is fueled by my jealously hoarded reserves, makes the bricks on the buildings on either side blur into vertical lines. I cut to the left as I exit the alley and push myself even harder as my lungs and legs burn from exertion. Up ahead I see the steps to the seedy tenement apartment complex I live in and it makes me work my legs to the point of exhaustion. I hit the chalk mark I’ve made on the sidewalk and slow to a jog, glancing at my stolen digital watch to see what my time was. I’m disappointed, it could’ve been better. I’m just seconds over four minutes, not my personal best and I feel the hot shame redden my already flushed face.
Today’s the last day I can train, tomorrow morning the race begins in earnest at nine o’clock sharp. She’ll be there, expecting my run to victory. I berate myself harshly as my jog is reduced to a walk. My chest heaves, the sweat from my short black hair drips down my back and I can smell the distinct aroma of failure. I must try harder tomorrow since so much depends on it.
I stroll back to the steps on shaky legs ignoring the catcalls from my new neighbor Serena. She’s a Latino single mother whose been trying to get me into her bed for weeks now. She came over with a plate full of chicken enchiladas, tight shorts, and a halter-top. Her ample breasts strained against the cheap outfit as she tried to worm her way inside, but I had to decline both of her generous offers. I can’t, I’m still in training. Women are bad for the legs.
“Lookin’ sexy Ramone,” she yells out with a lewd wink.
“Thank you Serena,” I reply without really being all that interested in her assessment of my body. As I’ve said before, there’s only one woman on my mind and if I don’t win tomorrow she’s going to lose interest in me. Worse yet, as my sponsor in the race, she’ll probably drop her endorsement. I’m not sure which would hurt my feelings worse. Never seeing Patricia’s beautiful face again, or having to find a new sponsor.
I go upstairs and hit the treadmill; I have to keep up my training regime. As my feet slam onto the moving rubber I keep my sponsor’s face in front of me and push myself harder.
After thirty more minutes at a steady pace I move to my weight room and begin my lifting and toning exercises. Deep squats with two hundred pounds, leg extensions, crunches, push-ups, and many others keep me in perfect physical condition. My abs flex, my thighs bulge, and my arms swell with veins. After an hour I hit the shower and get cleaned up.
The doorbell rings, I already know who it is. She’s never going to give up on me. Serena’s dark, smoldering face is strangely warped in the eyehole like I’m looking at her through a fish’s eye lens. She’s got a plate full of Spanish rice and a couple of pork chops. This isn’t the meal I need, I pretend to be in the shower and she goes away after several long minutes. I return to eat my Spartan breakfast, protein shake, and a glass of water. I can’t get bogged down on rich food, I’m in training. I spend the rest of the day the same as all those before. Another two miles, more weights, and stretching out complete my last day of preparation. I go to bed early, I have to be at my best for the big race.
I’m up early, meditating, and preparing mentally for the race. I get dressed in street clothes and pack my gear after calling a cab. I wait outside, ignoring Serena and her pouting face as she does all she can to get me to come up for a quickie. Her kids are off to school and her Mom has gone to the deli she keeps saying. I just nod and wait for the taxi, which arrives too late for me to keep from hurting her feelings.
I jump into the cab and tell the driver where I want to go. He smiles and begins to drive off, talking all the while in his Arabic-accented words about the Giants or the Forty-niners. I continue to ready my mind for the big race and still keep the cabbie thinking I’m listening to him. We arrive safely at the private country club and I tip him five dollars and walk off.
I flash my ID card and get ushered inside to the men’s locker room. I dress in my blue and yellow silk shorts, my white top, and my black track shoes. All of this expensive stuff was paid for by my sponsor, I keep this in mind as I stretch out with a little yoga. Other runners start filing in, but nobody speaks. They too are preparing themselves for the once-a-year event. Too much is on the line for idle chitchat.
The event judges and physicians have come and gone, I’ve passed all the standards and requirements and have been found to not have violated any rules. We are escorted out onto the field greeted by a roar from the crowd. I look around; they are all dressed in resplendent finery for the race. Blue bloods, entrepreneurs, and the idle rich are sitting in the stands sipping cocktails and dining on fine gourmet foods. I spot my sponsor; she is sitting with her well-groomed date in the front row of the stands. I hate his handsome face, aristocratic features, and fine attire. But she gives me a wave and a smile and my heart swells as I now have even more motivation to win. The race people tell me I’m in the last heat which suits me just fine. I’ll know what time I have to beat in order to win the gold and perhaps the love of my patron. I sit down on the benches and watch as the races are run until it is my turn. Meanwhile I keep limber by stretching out and doing quick sprints.
It’s the last heat. I dig into the blocks ready to run and win. I lean forward and see beside me is the tall black man who I’ve contested against for the crown last year. He only beat me by a one-hundredth of a second and he grins at me trying to get into my head. I smile back, and even shoot him a quick wink. He frowns; perhaps I’ve gained an advantage. I fix my stare on the lane I’m in. I hear the command to get ready… set… and the gun sounds!
I shoot off the blocks and keep my pace steady but fast. Already several of the other runners have pulled ahead of me but I’m not concerned. I stay in the middle of the pack around the first turn and then begin to increase my speed. I pull away from most of them, but the black man is right in step with me.
Into the second turn, I’ve shot by the early leaders and have hit my full stride. Still, in the lane next to me, is my opponent from last year. He’s hardly breaking a sweat as he gains a slight lead. I concentrate and make the third turn pushing myself a bit more than I wanted to.
I spot the fourth curve coming up, the ebony skinned man ahead of me pours on the speed and I duplicate his actions. My breath is rapid; my heart is racing, and my legs and lung burn from my exertion. Out of the last turn I see a chance to take the lead, he stumbled briefly, but it’s all the opening I will get. I tap into my reserves and lean forward driving my legs with all my might.
We’re neck-and-neck halfway to the finish line and I see the clock in the field and note quickly that we’re going to beat the best time of the day. I give all I have to my body, every ounce of energy, I shunt into it until my lungs seem to catch fire and my feet blur beneath me. I pull ahead of him, he’s huffing loudly as I pass. The yellow tape stretches out in front of me as I lean to break it. It hits me high across the chest as the flashbulbs go off and the crowd goes wild. I’ve done it! I’ve won!
I’m led to the three-tier podium and escorted to the top. A garland of olive leaves is placed upon my sweaty and matted hair as a gold metal with multicolored ribbon is put around my neck. I see the black man has finished second but is hanging his head low. I know that feeling it was the same one I had a year ago. The crowd roars once more when my name is called, I glance down at the medal; it is the second most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. As we come off the dais I see the first thing I find more attractive than my award. My sponsor is nearly running, her date, to my delight, is nowhere to be seen.
“You ran magnificently Ramone!” she cheers as she gives me a hug that warms me more than the heat from my race. She kisses me chastely on the cheek and I can only smile wider at her actions. She leads me off to the winner’s locker room, a special place I have longed to be taken to. I see the black man who defeated me last year being chastised verbally by his male sponsor and enjoy in the humiliation as he burns with being beaten by some illegal Mexican runner.
We enter and I strip quickly and so does she. Her alabaster skin, ample breasts capped with pert pink nipples, shaven cleft, and voluptuous body makes my cock erect and ready. Her gorgeous face, framed with the golden cascade of her hair makes me whimper with anticipation. Her crystal blue eyes twinkle with heated need. My cheeks darken with a deep blush. She pushes me into the shower with a laugh as she kids me about my shyness.
I turn on the shower, letting the hot water pour down my aching body as she comes over to help scrub me down after setting down a black leather bag and sets it just outside the spray of the misting water. She lathers my hair with perfumed shampoo and I let her do as she wants. It is her right as my sponsor. She washes my trembling body with scented soap and I contort my body as she requests. She finishes up quickly and stares longingly at my deeply tanned figure with a coy smirk.
“Lean over, hands against the wall, please.” she tells me and I obey, spreading my legs wide the water running down my body. I see her adjust the strap-on that she has stepped into after taking it from the leather bag she brought into the shower. The smaller back end is quickly stuffed into her beautiful, delicate pussy and I admire the way the straps wind around her narrow hips and tight ass. She lubes up the pink, flesh colored cock and parts my quivering ass-cheeks with both hands. I gasp in pleasure as she penetrates my virginal anus to the very hilt and reaches around to stroke my cock. I feel her soft skin against my bottom, the girth of the dildo filling me and tearing the breath away from my lungs. My face turns red and tight as my body begins to shake as she continues to slide it in and out between my buttocks. My snug anal opening is pulled and pushed until I sob out with joy.
“Yes, take it Ramone,” she cries out as she sodomizes me. “You’re such a stud… I can’t wait for you to come live with me!”
“Patricia! I love you!” I yell as my climax nears mostly from the admission she will take me in.
I begin to sob in joy as she tugs frantically on my rampant shaft as the water pours off of the tip of it. The softness of her palm and fingers drive me insanely crazy. I call out her name repeatedly and she builds to a rhythm that soon steals my words away. Her breath quickens and I feel her orgasm it causes her hips to go wild as she cums with a loud, solitary scream. My rectum is filled to the brim and it dances on the thick shaft. Her gyrations ignite my own climax, my mouth opens widely, and I paint the tiled wall in front of me with thick jets of my seed.
The strap-on leaves my bottom cold and empty as I watch my sperm circle the drain between my feet. She turns of the deluge of the shower. I turn and kneel at her feet and hug her knees happily in a submissive pose. She pats my head and produces a wide leather collar that says “Patricia’s Slave” in rhinestones from the black bag and snaps it around my neck. I begin to cry as she makes me hers. She leads me back into the winner’s locker room and I note for the first time the video cameras that are placed all inside here and the shower. The rest of the crowd has probably gone to private booths to witness my buggering at the hands of my beautiful mistress. Their slaves undoubtedly knelt between their legs sucking and licking them to completion as I orgasmed with my ass totally filled.
It makes me feel proud and lucky; all my hard work has paid off. No longer will I have to live in my vermin-filled apartment, forced to work three jobs to pay my landlord, and to daily dodge the Immigration officials who don’t know I haven’t a green card.
“You’re things will be brought to my mansion in Malibu,” she tells me in a soft voice. “Is there anything else you need?”
“Being your slave is all I require, Mistress,” I answer forgetting all about Serena and her fleshy and easy offer of sex.
As she allows me to don clothing I realize my fondest dream has come true. I have won more than just a race. Patricia is my new owner and I will do anything I can to please her until the day I die.