Demolition Lovers
Common People
Stormi's POV
I let out the most menacing growl I could muster towards Frank to show him that he was about to be in shit, and deep. Unfortunately, he interpreted it as a moan and a signal to continue unwanted PDA with me. Smirking and grabbing me by the waist, he dragged me into a nearby alley. He shoved me into the brick wall roughly, but not enough to hurt. I tried to push him away but he took my wrists in his left hand and pinned them above my head, immobilizing me. I rocked my hips from side to side, attempting to dodge his attempts at grinding, only to help the process. "Hold still." He growled.
I nodded weakly, looking down. I had a plan. I felt his crotch rub up against my own denim-clad one, his was bulging obviously and the material was straining to contain his seeming large package. I tried to ignore how good it felt, as I bit back a moan. He locked lips with me, desperately. I tried to move my lips as expertly on his as he was on mine. He released my arms from his strong grip and I began raking my stubby, black-polished nails down his back until I heard him let out a surprisingly high groan. It was my turn to smirk now, and he obviously felt it against his admittedly soft lips, responding by trapping my arms once more.
Once he decided that grinding wasn't enough anymore, he trailed his moistened finger from my jawbone, down my neck and into my now-displayed cleavage. He began unzipping my skeleton hoodie, painfully slowly. No. This has gone too far.
I bit his bottom lip, pulling it out as I drew my head back. He shut his eyes, and I felt his body tremble against mine. Following his lead from the past few days, I dragged my tongue lightly up his neck until I reached his strong jawbone. My lips latched on violently and I began sucking like my life depended on it, hoping it had a similar effect on him. He mewled, quite cutely, and his grip on me faltered. I took his moment of vulnerability to my advantage and slipped under his arm. He quickly regained his composure, grasping at my shoulder tightly. I whipped around and did something that I'm sure I'll never forget.
I watched as my steel-toed combat boot connected with Frank's manhood. He fell to his knees with a pained look on his reddened face. If looks could kill, I'd be six feet under and judging by the murderous expression he was currently wearing, I probably would be soon, anyways. Still, I marched over to his crumpled figure and unzipped his matching, skeleton sweater. I carefully lifted it off and placed it on, over top of my own. His was far larger and hung down nearly to my knees, and thus, far warmer. "Thanks Frankie, I was cold." I said sickeningly sweet, with a wink as I turned on my heels and began walking away. Just when I was about to turn the corner, I heard the sound of scraping on concrete and I turned back to see Frank stumbling towards me, still partially bent over. And I noticed, that his black, skeleton trackpants, weren't really black, skeleton trackpants at all.
Frankie Anthony Iero was actually wearing a full, footies and all, onesie in public. Holding my stomach as I shook crazily from silent laughs, I turned on my heels again, leaving him in a sketchy alleyway, wearing nothing but a boner and a onesie.
&&&
I let my eyes drift open as the credits of Tim Burton's The Nightmare Before Christmas rolled. "Ugh." I whined, I couldn't believe that I had fallen asleep and missed the movie. I went to sit up. Maybe I should find Frank and apologize. My thoughts were consumed as I fell back onto the sofa. I sat up again, noticing that I couldn't fully lean forwards, there was some force there stopping me. Just then, Common People by Pulp broke the silence. I grabbed my phone off the table and answered it.
"Hello?" I chimed, curiously. "Hey, sweetie. It's me." A familiar, sweet voice crackled through the bad connection a second time. "Oh hey, mom! What's up?" "I'm really kind of in a hurry right now, Tori. I'll call you later, though. I just wanted to let you know that Mrs. Darby from next door is coming to pick up her recipe book that we borrowed and she offered to check in on you. So, she'll be stopping by." I shrugged, knowing she couldn't see me. It wouldn't be a big deal, just a brief exchange of words. "Okay mom, thanks." "No problem hon, bye." "Bye, mom."
I resumed my attempt to sit up once more, becoming curious and sort of concerned. I looked down slowly, a moderately large lump under the blanket became apparent. Right by the uh, general fanny area. It twitched and I felt something smooth and wet graze me, just above my belly button. It felt just like a--no. It felt just like a tongue.
I squealed. Honestly, terrified at this point. A large hand was placed over my stomach and shoved me back down. I had a feeling that I knew exactly who's hand it was. "F-Frank?" I called out. "Yes, Stormi?" His mocking voice replied, his lips pressed to my hipbone, sending a shockwave of pleasant vibrations through me. "Um, our neighbour is stopping by.." "Mmhmm." He answered dumbly. "M-mind getting o-out?" I stuttered, while his teeth nipped dangerously low. Just then the front door bursted open, no knock or anything, to reveal our, outgoing, 75-year-old neighbour.
A presence I recognized as Frank's unrealistically large thumb began pawing and rubbing at me through my underwear, I glanced towards the ground at the jeans I didn't remember taking off. That sly little fucker. He flicked the inside of my thighs as if to say, put up your legs. I obeyed, not wanting to set him off in the presence of Mrs. Darby. Propping my legs up on the sofa so that my legs were bent and my feet were flat down, I concealed his head between my legs, the massive comforter doing the job with the rest of his curled up body.
"Oh! Tori, how have you been?" "G-good thanks, Miss. H-how h-have y-you been?" I replied, having trouble forming coherent sentences as I held back moans and Frank picked up his pace. She gave me a concerned look. I didn't blame her, I probably looked on the verge of a stroke. I felt Frank's sharp teeth take hold of my underwear jerking them down and sliding them off. Oh, Shit.
"Fine. Are you feeling alright, sweetie?" Her concerned voice rung in my ears. "Yeah, I'm alright. Thanks. I think I may be coming down with something." I replied, faking a sniff. All signs of Frank had just disappeared, his presence and touch had seemed to have stopped completely. I was relieved, and Mrs. Darby began approaching me. Her wrinkled, aged hand rested on my forehead. She pulled a puzzled look. "You don't feel hot." She stated. "Uh, um yeah. I know. I think it's more of a stomach bug. Nothing too serious." I tried to cover.
She leaned in to give me a hug. She locked me in one of her embraces, they usually lasted up to five minutes at a time. "Well feel b--" I felt a long, thick finger plunge into me and I interrupted her with a very loud, porn-starish, groan. I started to lamely cover it with a cough as she pulled away abruptly, I tried to ignore the wandering finger still exploring the extremities of my lady parts. "Oh uh--" I began with my explanation when I felt his finger curl inside of me. "Hnnngggghhhh." "Oh uh, I mean sorry. My stomach really hurts right now." She gave my a disbelieving look, soon replaced by a pitying one. "I'll go make you some of my famous vegetable broth. Still a vegan, right?" I nodded in response to her question, "No, thank you, Mrs. Darby. I'm really okay." "Oh shush up. You won't get better if you don't make an effort. Now I'm going to go make you some soup. Now where are your lentils…" She wandered off, leaving me with an obviously demonic Frank.
I felt him trying to fit in another finger, and I squirmed in protest. Once in, he began scissoring them roughly, against my innards. He picked up pace and intensity with every practised slice, hitting a rather pleasant spot each time. I began whimpering, trying not to be too loud a his opposite hand held my body still by my hip. Along with his fingers, I felt his tongue beginning to play with the nub above my ever-slickening hole. Annoyance was replaced by want and I fought the urge to call out to him, to beg him to go harder. "Frank?" I whispered. No response. "Fraankie…" I mewled weakly. His fingers slammed vertically in response. "Mmmmm… harder…" I mumbled, my face burning crimson.
He flicked around my clit teasingly in response and I grabbed him by his hair and shoved him in as much as I could, forgetting about Mrs. Darby. I began moaning wildly, making a string of awkward noises as his fingers and tongue twisted, and pumped against my insides powerfully. With every push, he hit my burning insides increasingly harder, curling them a little each time. He hit a spot with such aptitude that I arched my back on reflex and bucked my hips against him. I heard a low chuckle, and for once didn't care. He repeated his actions, slamming into the same spot, except this time with a third finger, creating the perfect mix of pleasure and pain. I moaned so loudly, I could've won the envy of a Kardashian. I felt a strange building up of warmth and pent-up, concentrated pleasure rising and exploding in the pit of my stomach and chest. My moans and groans were more often now, a constant string of profanities were accompanying them.
"Ughh. Oh yes. Yeah. Fuck yes, Frank." My euphoric state was disrupted by a coffee cup smashing on the ground. I looked up in horror as I saw Mrs. Darby running out of the house as fast as her 75-year-old legs would allow.
Oh shit.
I let out the most menacing growl I could muster towards Frank to show him that he was about to be in shit, and deep. Unfortunately, he interpreted it as a moan and a signal to continue unwanted PDA with me. Smirking and grabbing me by the waist, he dragged me into a nearby alley. He shoved me into the brick wall roughly, but not enough to hurt. I tried to push him away but he took my wrists in his left hand and pinned them above my head, immobilizing me. I rocked my hips from side to side, attempting to dodge his attempts at grinding, only to help the process. "Hold still." He growled.
I nodded weakly, looking down. I had a plan. I felt his crotch rub up against my own denim-clad one, his was bulging obviously and the material was straining to contain his seeming large package. I tried to ignore how good it felt, as I bit back a moan. He locked lips with me, desperately. I tried to move my lips as expertly on his as he was on mine. He released my arms from his strong grip and I began raking my stubby, black-polished nails down his back until I heard him let out a surprisingly high groan. It was my turn to smirk now, and he obviously felt it against his admittedly soft lips, responding by trapping my arms once more.
Once he decided that grinding wasn't enough anymore, he trailed his moistened finger from my jawbone, down my neck and into my now-displayed cleavage. He began unzipping my skeleton hoodie, painfully slowly. No. This has gone too far.
I bit his bottom lip, pulling it out as I drew my head back. He shut his eyes, and I felt his body tremble against mine. Following his lead from the past few days, I dragged my tongue lightly up his neck until I reached his strong jawbone. My lips latched on violently and I began sucking like my life depended on it, hoping it had a similar effect on him. He mewled, quite cutely, and his grip on me faltered. I took his moment of vulnerability to my advantage and slipped under his arm. He quickly regained his composure, grasping at my shoulder tightly. I whipped around and did something that I'm sure I'll never forget.
I watched as my steel-toed combat boot connected with Frank's manhood. He fell to his knees with a pained look on his reddened face. If looks could kill, I'd be six feet under and judging by the murderous expression he was currently wearing, I probably would be soon, anyways. Still, I marched over to his crumpled figure and unzipped his matching, skeleton sweater. I carefully lifted it off and placed it on, over top of my own. His was far larger and hung down nearly to my knees, and thus, far warmer. "Thanks Frankie, I was cold." I said sickeningly sweet, with a wink as I turned on my heels and began walking away. Just when I was about to turn the corner, I heard the sound of scraping on concrete and I turned back to see Frank stumbling towards me, still partially bent over. And I noticed, that his black, skeleton trackpants, weren't really black, skeleton trackpants at all.
Frankie Anthony Iero was actually wearing a full, footies and all, onesie in public. Holding my stomach as I shook crazily from silent laughs, I turned on my heels again, leaving him in a sketchy alleyway, wearing nothing but a boner and a onesie.
&&&
I let my eyes drift open as the credits of Tim Burton's The Nightmare Before Christmas rolled. "Ugh." I whined, I couldn't believe that I had fallen asleep and missed the movie. I went to sit up. Maybe I should find Frank and apologize. My thoughts were consumed as I fell back onto the sofa. I sat up again, noticing that I couldn't fully lean forwards, there was some force there stopping me. Just then, Common People by Pulp broke the silence. I grabbed my phone off the table and answered it.
"Hello?" I chimed, curiously. "Hey, sweetie. It's me." A familiar, sweet voice crackled through the bad connection a second time. "Oh hey, mom! What's up?" "I'm really kind of in a hurry right now, Tori. I'll call you later, though. I just wanted to let you know that Mrs. Darby from next door is coming to pick up her recipe book that we borrowed and she offered to check in on you. So, she'll be stopping by." I shrugged, knowing she couldn't see me. It wouldn't be a big deal, just a brief exchange of words. "Okay mom, thanks." "No problem hon, bye." "Bye, mom."
I resumed my attempt to sit up once more, becoming curious and sort of concerned. I looked down slowly, a moderately large lump under the blanket became apparent. Right by the uh, general fanny area. It twitched and I felt something smooth and wet graze me, just above my belly button. It felt just like a--no. It felt just like a tongue.
I squealed. Honestly, terrified at this point. A large hand was placed over my stomach and shoved me back down. I had a feeling that I knew exactly who's hand it was. "F-Frank?" I called out. "Yes, Stormi?" His mocking voice replied, his lips pressed to my hipbone, sending a shockwave of pleasant vibrations through me. "Um, our neighbour is stopping by.." "Mmhmm." He answered dumbly. "M-mind getting o-out?" I stuttered, while his teeth nipped dangerously low. Just then the front door bursted open, no knock or anything, to reveal our, outgoing, 75-year-old neighbour.
A presence I recognized as Frank's unrealistically large thumb began pawing and rubbing at me through my underwear, I glanced towards the ground at the jeans I didn't remember taking off. That sly little fucker. He flicked the inside of my thighs as if to say, put up your legs. I obeyed, not wanting to set him off in the presence of Mrs. Darby. Propping my legs up on the sofa so that my legs were bent and my feet were flat down, I concealed his head between my legs, the massive comforter doing the job with the rest of his curled up body.
"Oh! Tori, how have you been?" "G-good thanks, Miss. H-how h-have y-you been?" I replied, having trouble forming coherent sentences as I held back moans and Frank picked up his pace. She gave me a concerned look. I didn't blame her, I probably looked on the verge of a stroke. I felt Frank's sharp teeth take hold of my underwear jerking them down and sliding them off. Oh, Shit.
"Fine. Are you feeling alright, sweetie?" Her concerned voice rung in my ears. "Yeah, I'm alright. Thanks. I think I may be coming down with something." I replied, faking a sniff. All signs of Frank had just disappeared, his presence and touch had seemed to have stopped completely. I was relieved, and Mrs. Darby began approaching me. Her wrinkled, aged hand rested on my forehead. She pulled a puzzled look. "You don't feel hot." She stated. "Uh, um yeah. I know. I think it's more of a stomach bug. Nothing too serious." I tried to cover.
She leaned in to give me a hug. She locked me in one of her embraces, they usually lasted up to five minutes at a time. "Well feel b--" I felt a long, thick finger plunge into me and I interrupted her with a very loud, porn-starish, groan. I started to lamely cover it with a cough as she pulled away abruptly, I tried to ignore the wandering finger still exploring the extremities of my lady parts. "Oh uh--" I began with my explanation when I felt his finger curl inside of me. "Hnnngggghhhh." "Oh uh, I mean sorry. My stomach really hurts right now." She gave my a disbelieving look, soon replaced by a pitying one. "I'll go make you some of my famous vegetable broth. Still a vegan, right?" I nodded in response to her question, "No, thank you, Mrs. Darby. I'm really okay." "Oh shush up. You won't get better if you don't make an effort. Now I'm going to go make you some soup. Now where are your lentils…" She wandered off, leaving me with an obviously demonic Frank.
I felt him trying to fit in another finger, and I squirmed in protest. Once in, he began scissoring them roughly, against my innards. He picked up pace and intensity with every practised slice, hitting a rather pleasant spot each time. I began whimpering, trying not to be too loud a his opposite hand held my body still by my hip. Along with his fingers, I felt his tongue beginning to play with the nub above my ever-slickening hole. Annoyance was replaced by want and I fought the urge to call out to him, to beg him to go harder. "Frank?" I whispered. No response. "Fraankie…" I mewled weakly. His fingers slammed vertically in response. "Mmmmm… harder…" I mumbled, my face burning crimson.
He flicked around my clit teasingly in response and I grabbed him by his hair and shoved him in as much as I could, forgetting about Mrs. Darby. I began moaning wildly, making a string of awkward noises as his fingers and tongue twisted, and pumped against my insides powerfully. With every push, he hit my burning insides increasingly harder, curling them a little each time. He hit a spot with such aptitude that I arched my back on reflex and bucked my hips against him. I heard a low chuckle, and for once didn't care. He repeated his actions, slamming into the same spot, except this time with a third finger, creating the perfect mix of pleasure and pain. I moaned so loudly, I could've won the envy of a Kardashian. I felt a strange building up of warmth and pent-up, concentrated pleasure rising and exploding in the pit of my stomach and chest. My moans and groans were more often now, a constant string of profanities were accompanying them.
"Ughh. Oh yes. Yeah. Fuck yes, Frank." My euphoric state was disrupted by a coffee cup smashing on the ground. I looked up in horror as I saw Mrs. Darby running out of the house as fast as her 75-year-old legs would allow.
Oh shit.
Notes
So, there ya go! It wasn't exactly the best smut but I kinda wanted to test the waters here and get some feedback to see if you think there should be more and like… hotter. Was it okay? Should there be more? I'd love to take suggestions to improve my writing and the story so just lemme know what you think and what you want for the future of their sex-lation-ship. Like, kinks? Or kinds of sex? All that jazz. Thanks for reading and putting up with my experiments! :) Please vomment, rate and subscribe!
Oh and Common People by Pulp (The music video is just perfect ahahah): http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yuTMWgOduFM
Emily
Pleaseeeeeeee update
9/26/14