The amount of writerly talent out there is immeasurable. With an endless sea of writers, each bringing with them their own individual styles and personalities, I was particularly struck by Landon Dixon’s…unusual language. His contributing tale, Breasted made me laugh until my face cracked. (I may have even cackled.) Today, I want to highlight Landon Dixon’s ability to make me laugh, snort, and smile ridiculously big as he clearly revels in disrupting the literary norm with his use of elaborate, artistic, knee-slapping erotic prose. I hope you enjoy today’s #SexySnippet, and this dab of #WriterlyWisdom by Landon Dixon.
“Make A List”
by Landon Dixon
This is how I always write, and talk, and act.
Just kidding. Breasted was originally written for a magazine that specialized in women’s large breasts; but, unfortunately, they’d stopped using fiction by the time I sent in the story. Since I’d sold other stories to this magazine, and other bra-busters like it, I’d, yes, actually compiled a three-page list of synonyms for breasts, about 100 or more in total; everything from ‘lung warts’ to ‘laden saddlebags’. The style of story-telling reflects my love of pulp magazines and paperback hardboiled crime fiction, as well, and the prose used therein. Frankly, I enjoy writing in this style, with a tongue-in-cheek (and between bazongas) humorous slant, and find it very easy to do so.
by Landon Dixon
I clutched Samantha’s huge, creamy-white tits. Squeezed them. Kneaded them. Sucked on the rigidly pointing pink nipples—filled my hands and my face. The babe was stretched flat on her back, on the bed—me on top of her, all over her tits. I’ve got a raging penchant for stacked broads, and this one was double-decker material.
“Fuck me, Jake!” she pleaded, writhing her blonde head around on the pillow. “Please, stick your cock inside me and fuck me!”
We were both naked, my molten rod branding her sodden pussy fur. “Not yet, baby!” I gritted. “Not ‘til I’ve worked over your luscious boobs to my heart’s content.”
I’ve been a breast man since my days back in the orphanage with the volunteer wet nurses, and Samantha had two of the biggest, boldest, firmest jugs I’d ever laid eyes or hands or lips on.
I slammed Samantha’s knockers together so that her chest and the bed shook. Then I splayed my tongue across both of her rubbery jutters at once, clenching the meat and teasing the tips.
She moaned, squirmed. Her giant breasts were sensitive as I dug my fingernails into the thick, hot masses and sucked on the pressurized caps—mouthing one nipple and tugging the other. They tasted just as delicious as they looked, I realized then that the woman’s pink pebbled areolas spanned as wide as my four fingers.
Her eyelids fluttered and her mouth gaped open. “Please, Jake! Fuck my pussy!”
My dick was more than willing and able. But it needed a little more greasing than the grinding her moist, matted pussy fur was providing. I jumped up onto my knees, straddled her heaving, heaped chest and sat down on her wet, handled tits. I rode high, soft and hot, teetering as she sucked air into her overdeveloped lungs in large gasps. Then I tilted downwards and stuck my cock into her mouth.
Samantha’s squirming red lips sealed tight around my swollen veined shaft quickly, and she started sucking. She eagerly bobbed her beautiful head forward, gobbling up more of my prong. I was stretched out and pointed downward, throbbing to my full length, and she fully consumed me with an appetite as big as her jugs.
I reveled in the wanton wet heat of her mouth and throat for a while, staring down at her bulged cheeks and flared nostrils, the wild look in her eyes. Then I pulled out. “Easy, baby,” I said, dripping into her canyonesque cleavage. “Give me a chance to get a good seat on your knockers.”
Angry impatience, rapacious hunger filled her glaring blue eyes. As I adjusted my bare butt on her more than ample chest cushions, wholly enjoying the velvety feel of the rounded smooth jug skins against my bristled buttocks, her over-engorged nipples tickled against my big, hairy, hanging balls. I found the sweet prop spot, settled in, riding high on her hooters, cock pronging skyward.
“Back in the saddle,” I sang. Then angled my thick rope of dick downward again, reentering the plush, heated confines of the babe’s mouth.
She instantly sucked, ravenously, wet-vaccing my dong like she’d bite it off if I dared try to jerk it out of her mouth again. I thrust my hips back and forth, helping her take me still deeper, along her wet, budded tongue and down past her fat tonsils. I grabbed onto her hair to steady myself, riding her tits at a trot, canting cock down her throat, using her silky blonde strands as a bridle.
She urgently sucked forward and back, shoved her mountainous mambas together so that I shot up still higher, her ultra-stiff nipples pressing into either side of my sack. I bucked, yelped, flung my head back, riding roughshod.
The woman’s maw was wet wanton heaven, her tongue a smooth sliding snake. My nipple-teased balls boiled with tension.
#ComingSoon to #Audible!
Come Again: Sex Toy Erotica
Edited by Rachel Kramer Bussel
Narrated by Rose Caraway
We are celebrating the release of our latest audiobook!
Rachel Kramer Bussel’s, “Come Again: Sex Toy Erotica“. There’s a new episode up on the podcast. Malin James returns to the KMQ with her contributing story, “The Prototype”.
Come Again #Giveaway
If you want to enter the drawing to win either a copy of the “Come Again” anthology, autographed by editor Rachel Kramer Bussel, or the audiobook, narrated by me, just email me at: thekissmequicks (at) gmail (dot) com. Type ‘Come Again Giveaway‘ in the subject line, and let us know which you’d like to win! *This giveaway ends October 24th.