Girl on the Net

As per this post, I’m still hiding a bit and not able to live any new stories right now. So instead, please enjoy this piece of humiliation erotica which was inspired by suggestions from Patreons. For this piece, the prompts I had to work into the story were: humiliation/teasing, pier, ice cream. 

Sunburn – humiliation erotica

She’s been teasing him all day for the shirt that he’s wearing, and now all her friends have joined in. It’s a blisteringly hot day, and they’re lounging by the boarded-up shops at the end of the pier – all the others in the group have stripped off as much as they dare. To bikinis or bare skin, not a care for what anyone thinks of their bodies, as it should be: just a desire to soak up the end-of-summer sun. They share jokes about his buttoned-up shirt. It may be loose white linen, but it’s still soaked through with his sweat.

“Aren’t you gonna take it off?” she asks him for the fourth time, a gleeful smile twitching at the corner of her lips.

“No, I’m fine,” he replies, burning even redder as he remembers why she wants him to. He can feel the fabric of his shorts pressing ever so slightly tighter against his crotch, and he shifts position so none of the others can see. He reaches into her bag to grab a bottle of water, trying to affect an air of nonchalance. Trying to remember how he’d act if he weren’t ashamed to take his shirt off, or desperately trying to hide a semi.

“What’s the matter?” asks one of his friends with a knowing look. “Worried about that sunburn?”

They all laugh at this, and he gives a shy smile of acknowledgement. You can see it peeking from the collar of his shirt – flaming red after yesterday’s disaster. He fell asleep on his stomach in the garden, dreaming of the way she had teased him earlier, with her bare foot snaking up into his loose shorts and gently massaging his cock.

Never fall asleep in the sun, though: a lesson he might learn one day. When she finally finished her phone call and realised he hadn’t come inside, she’d shaken him awake and scolded him for being careless. He took his telling-off with good grace (and delight), then submitted to iced tea and aloe vera and more prickteasing until he was kneeling happily at her feet. With his nose buried deep in the slit of her cunt.

“Take it off now, there’s a good boy.” She says it softly in his ear. Too softly for anyone else to overhear, because they’ve moved the topic on now – to ice cream. Staring eagerly at the van that’s parked where the pier meets the road, they one-up each other’s suggestions of lollies, Cornettos, Soleros, cold cans of Coke.

“Take it off,” she whispers again, and brushes the back of her hand against his stiffening cock. Plants a soft kiss on the red skin at the nape of his neck. Checks no one’s looking. Squeezes the part of him that aches.

He bites back a groan.

When one of her friends turns to them, she moves her hand swiftly and smoothly away.

“We’re thinking ice creams, mate. What do you reckon?”

He shakes his head. Ice cream is the last thing on his mind.

She, on the other hand, could really murder a Mr Whippy.

“I love the idea of ice cream,” she announces to the group. “I just don’t think I can really be bothered to get it.” And as she reaches into her bag to grab her purse, suddenly something clicks in the back of his mind. He spots that sly, sexy smile as she pulls cash out and surveys the group, and knows in that moment exactly what she has in store.

“They’re on me,” she tells them “and he’ll go and get them.”

A rush of panic floods his brain, followed swiftly by a rush of extra blood to his dick. He’s now fully erect, and awkward, sitting hunched over so his t-shirt covers his shame. He picks up a towel in anticipation of what she’ll say next, because he knows now. He knows what she’ll ask of him.

He knows he will eagerly do it.

“You’ll go get them for us, won’t you?” She says. A question that’s really an order. Smiling sweetly, teasingly – knowing he will never refuse. “But you should take your shirt off first, it’s so hot.”

She’s unbuttoning it now, and their friends cotton on. Giggling and smiling at this game they know so well. This game they’re only too happy to spectate.

One by one she undoes the buttons, and his dick throbs with each one she releases. When she slips the shirt from his shoulders he winces at the way the wet cotton sticks to his sunburn, but is surprised to find that when it finally goes he feels happier – freer. Hornier.

He takes their orders for ice creams, and she slips twenty pounds into his hand. With the towel in the other to cover his crotch, he overcomes his nerves and stands up.

Turns his back.

Their circle of friends explodes into laughter as he starts the long walk to the ice cream van. Head held high, sunburn on display. And across his shoulders, written in skin as pale as milk, four bold capital letters that spell out the word ‘SLUT.’

If you liked this humiliation erotica, come support me on Patreon where you can find all the other improv erotica stories, which cover a pretty broad spectrum from electro training for naughty sub guys to snake-based fear torture and tentacle porn. Your money goes towards keeping this blog running and helping me create/commission more delightful smut for the audio porn hub.