SELECTS FROM SMUTBARD’S CUSTOM EROTICA
Excerpt from
“Of the Third Amendment to the Constitution of the United States of America”
A sudden rap on the door nearly caused her to spill ink into her lap. She exhaled, glad not to have wet her womanhood with her wordsmithery, wondering who could possibly be soliciting her at this hour. Donning her bonnet, she glided over to the door and raised her stature. No man would see her slouching! Nay, he would witness only her fortitude, her independent nature. She opened the door.
…
The soldier took off his hat, and Sarah believed her eyes to be tricked by God, for long locks fell down from his head. The soft flesh she regarded before her could not belong to a man, but—indeed!— must belong to a woman.
“Am I not at war with this country? Am I not at war with myself?” the soldier said quietly. Words escaped Sarah, for she was agape at this transfiguration. The soldier continued, “I have no way in this world but as a man. And there is no way in this world as a man but as a soldier. And yet I seek refuge from the ‘tyranny of man,’ as you put it.”
“Come in,” Sarah relented. Relief flooding her face, the soldier strode into her home and straight to the warmth of the hearth. She needed no invitation to warm herself, as she kicked off her boots, shrugged off her jacket, and stripped layer after layer, tossing them to a heap. Sarah watched as she tugged at the strip of cloth wrapped around her chest, unwinding herself like a spool of thread. Her breasts spilled out, nipples perked as if reaching to the fire in the stove.
“What… indecency is this?” Sarah stammered.
The soldier glanced up, unfazed by Sarah’s halfhearted attempt to stop the disrobing. She took her in, smiling. “I’ve had my eye on you, Sarah Grimke, ever since you published Letters on the Equality of Sexes and the Condition of Women,” the soldier said, beckoning her over. “Take off your bonnet.” Sarah felt herself glide towards the woman, felt her hands reach for the ties under her chin, saw herself offer the bonnet to the nymph in her home. The soldier took the bonnet in one hand and pulled her down with the other, leading her to the ground. Sarah released herself into the floor as the soldier knelt over her. Her breast pressed into her, and her breath quickened at the touch. How long had it been, to feel another woman’s curves against her own?
Sarah’s vision went dark. The soldier was looping the bonnet around her head, covering her eyes. With slow, confident maneuvers, the soldier lifted Sarah’s skirt and drew down her knickers. She gushed and she gasped as the soldier’s mouth latched onto her Venus honeypot.
Excerpt from
“127 Weenises"
In the haze of seduction, Blake began breathing big, eyeballs bouncing between bugs and breasts. They filled him with desire, and he knew he was like the ants: strong, hungry, persistent, endlessly energetic. He would show Cassie what an ant he was.
Suddenly, swept away by his sexy, sweaty seductress, his foot slipped, and his entire body jolted. He slammed into the rock face. A searing pain shot from his elbow, and he looked up to inspect his hinge. It was his weenis. His beloved weenis was wedged into a wee part of the crack, his skin the ants’ new bedfellow! How could this be? He had wetted his weenis with copious amounts of lotion just before this climb. He kept his weenis so moist and supple, he was certain it would slide right out of any dusty old rock. But it wouldn’t budge, and he was dangling from his carabiner, helpless.
“Blake!” cried Cassie. “Your weenis is stuck!”
“I know!” he gasped, stunned at this turn of events for his weenis. The trail of white down his arm was a dead giveaway: he had gone ham with the chalk, and it had spilled onto his weenis, drying it out. What was once succulent was now desiccated. “You have to moisten my weenis to set me free!” he called down to her.
Well, this was throwing a wrench into Cassie’s seduction. Or maybe… his bondage to the rock was just the circumstances she needed to execute her grandest seduction of all. “Belay me, Blake!” she yelled. “Belay me hard!” She pulled herself up the crack as fast as she could. She could feel her own crack begin to moisten, and it wasn’t just sweat. Moments later, she was at his feet. Cassie slowed down, taking in the sight of his dangling ankles. Gingerly, she touched his skin, tracing the line of his leg. She dipped her fingers under the hem of his shorts, continuing this small dance upwards.
“Wha- what are you doing?” Blake asked. Cassie locked eyes with him, retreated her hand, and slowly pulled herself a bit higher.
“I’m going to give you the release you asked for,” she whispered. Her face was now level with his harness. With one hand holding onto the crack, she unzipped his shorts and took in his climber scent: earth, chalk, the musk of his cock. He was already growing hard as the mountain from which he swung. She took him into her mouth and tasted the sweet-salty juice oozing from the tip. As he dangled from his rope, weenis still wedged, his harness was digging into his ass cheeks. Normally this would cause discomfort, but with Cassie sucking him off on the side of this cliff, the harness made him feel his blood pumping like never before.