Porn… in just a minute

Image by the brilliant Stuart F Taylor

If you’re not familiar with the BBC Radio 4 programme Just A Minute then this post is going to seem a bit weird. The rules are that panelists must speak for as long as they can on a certain subject without repetition, hesitation or deviation. And although I don’t have a panel of fellow pornographers with whom to play this game verbally, I thought it might be fun to give it a go when writing erotica.

I have a tendency to repetitively use the same word for ‘cock’ over and over so I thought it might be fun to test myself and maybe expand my sexual vocabulary a little. So here goes: porn without repetition (words like ‘he’ and ‘I’ don’t count, obvs), hesitation (I gave myself a 15 minute time limit) or deviation (no random sidebars to make jokes or political points. Give me the benefit of the doubt, and let’s dive in…

Porn in Just A Minute

He starts by turning me to face the wall, then roughly laying his hands on my waist. It’s like he’s preparing for a strip-search, as if I might have contraband hidden beneath the cups of my bra.

Moving up my body, grabbing flesh along the way, until he can peel down the fabric of my top and underwear to pinch my nipples with cold fingertips.

I moan. He sighs. We both shift position slightly to get closer.

I can feel his erection pushing hard into the crack of my arse through my jeans, and I want something bizarre and instantaneous to happen. I imagine an immediate loss of control – his spunk squirting in torrents through the denim. Wet patches too big to hide.

Post-fuck guilt and shame.

But that doesn’t occur.

Instead, he starts stroking his dick. Leans forward, whispers into my ear: good. Yes. Stay still.

Touching me with flat palms and rough digits, and pleasuring himself at the same time.

I reach down into my jeans to do the same and he bites my neck. Prick swollen and jerking against me, breath hot on my cheek.

Mmm. Yeah. Don’t move.

My arms are neatly positioned above my head, trembling slightly as the muscle-ache kicks in. Leaning onto the cool plaster, I give myself some rest and conveniently arch my back against his cock.

In return there’s a grunt of satisfaction. More rustling, as he quickens the pace, resting his forehead against my back. Another audible ‘unngh.’

‘Pull them down,’ he orders. I slip my trousers and knickers to just below my buttocks, and immediately feel the wet head pressed tight against me. His fist makes slapping sounds as he yanks at his hard on. I can hear his belt jingle against the buttons of his fly.

Some things feel good, but this shag is indulging a different sense. It’s the noise that I get off on today. Each gasp and shuffle. Every murmur.

I choke down the raging desire to mount him, or at least part my thighs and slide down his shaft, squeezing jizz out of him even as I cry out and come.

If I take over, I’ll be distracted by the cacophony of my own squeals, too easily missing the tiny breaths and muffled dirty talk coming from his own filthy mouth.

In lieu, I do what I am told: remain in my place. Unmoving. Obediently presenting my cunt for him to decorate with ropes of ejaculate.

Enjoying his happiness, and appreciating the opposite of silence.

 

I quite fancy the idea of challenging other people to do this, so if you are up for writing some porn with no repetition, link me and I’ll add a link to yours as I’d love to read it. 

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