The lovely @WolfishBadger took up the challenge to write a 300 word story based on one of the images in this tweet and he very much came up with the goods. As he doesn’t (yet!) have a blog of his own, you can read the story here:
He bought it as a joke. Something he thought she’d roll her eyes at. But ever since he bought that…thing into the house it’s like she’s obsessed. Sex used to be, well…fine. Ok. A release but nothing more than that. Now she’s dragging him from the bedroom to fuck like teenagers in their living room, always facing the massive, ugly ornament, ‘Tears of a Clown’.
The first time, he thought it was funny. She’d marched him to the sofa, facing the bay windows and yanking at his jeans, commanded him to fuck her there and then. He’d assumed she was feeling daring, half wanting the neighbours to see. She faced away and straddled his thighs and as she eased her (unusually soaking) cunt down on him he noticed that her eyes were fixed on the statue. Her jaw was clenched as if she was focusing on the monstrosity, like it was controlling her hips slamming down onto him and making him yelp. When he came in her she snapped out of her trance and strode away to the shower.
Every time they fucked it was the same. Sometimes he’d fuck her while her head dangled over the end of the table, sometimes from behind on the rug, but always with the same intense stare at the statue and the low, guttural moans as she clenched his cock inside her. He’d never made her come til now.
He passed it off as a phase, impressed at his own improving performance. Bragging to his friends how his girlfriend was now insatiable, never knowing in her head she was picturing the clown as him. Weeping and not daring to look as she was fucked by someone better. Someone bigger. Someone rougher.
Someone who wouldn’t have brought that fucking ridiculous thing in the house.