1. A Twist of Sex


    Date: 8/2/2015, Categories: Dark Fantasy, BDSM, Consensual Sex, Incest, Oral Sex, Young, Author: Liv Beornwulf, Rating: 54.5, Source: sexstories.com

    SWEET CRANDON I am having a speck of trouble preparing myself for the party I am supposed to attend with Kati tomorrow night. I have not made up my mind on what I will wear; I am nervous. Whom do we get to invite with us? Crandon? Plain no! I don’t want to tempt bad reputation another time. I’ve had enough public embarrassment thanks to him. There is no mute girl to fuck him at Alicia’s—is there? I am afraid I will look Barbie weird. There must be a magical way to do this. I can doll myself up like brown-hair Barbie and look commonplace, but first-class. I am not convinced still. Four o’clock has hit when I get back from Pinker Spinner. I find Crandon seated in our living room, watching TV quietly. I grin at him and head on to award him a peck on his forehead. He splits his lips and moans out in satisfaction. “I will be back,” I notify him. “I must make a cup of tea for each one of us, chocolate.” Crandon’s is chocolate dark skin which clothes him from head to toe. He is beyond question irresistible and a genius too. I adopted him in Africa. It must have been in Kenya. The first time I laid my eyes on him, he struck me with such fascination I had never felt before. Crandon knows how to use the toilet and furthermore flush his shit; he knows how to make Chinese tea and fry eggs and smear butter on slices of bread. He can sweep the living room using a vacuum cleaner; he can place 2 kilograms of laundry inside the washing machine; he can play the guitar and dance naked; I ...
    often take him out for shopping and picnics. His favorite clothes are baggy jeans and football-supporting shirts. It is gradually getting cold but fast darkening when we set off to play football at my backyard. I like this place. It is calm and soundless—almost like we don’t stay in a deafening town dubbed ‘Sin City.’ Every time I am here, I don’t refuse to ogle Mother Nature, clad in her most beautiful attire. There are squealing birds, squawking frogs, squeaking crickets, hopping grasshoppers, mewling cats. To be frank, I am not in the mood to play football. I am forcing myself to do this—for Crandon’s sake. He enjoys this sport like nothing else. I can’t stand to let him down. In the meantime, I am the goalkeeper. This post suits Crandon, not me! When he is lying on the ground, he moves at a snail’s pace, hardly able to pull himself. If you should see him diving at a flying ball—you will assuredly pass out. I am idly lightening up when he kicks the ball at me. I don’t expect him to score. Playing this role doesn’t suit him. He will fail seriously. I am not expecting it. Out of nowhere, he boots the ball with such might I don’t even believe an adult mute guy would possess. I watch in horror as the ball wings like lightning. Too late, I realize I have belittled his efforts. He is going to score this time. I rush speedily after the jetting ball, launching my feet into the air. Happily enough, my hands brush the ball—but sadly miss to grab hold of it. Someone knocks my back from ...
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