Cupid Has Lost My Address


“Cupid has lost my address, I’m sure.”

“Oh, cheer up. Bad enough that you were all ‘bah humbug’ at Christmas time. Now it’s about to be Valentine’s Day. You know that your biggest problem is loneliness. This is the perfect time to do something about it.”

“Or just accept the fact that I’m unlovable.”

“A big teddy bear like you? Of course you are lovable…”

“…yeah, sure, I know, I ‘just need to find the right woman’. Well, I’m no misogynist, I respect women, but I’m pretty sure that I’ve had my innings in that game.”

“Not only do you respect women, but you are the biggest, sloppiest, romantic guy I know.”

“Assuming you are right, then it is only in rom coms that women really end up with that sort of guy. In real life, they seem to end up with real jerks, or those “bro” guys who end up after the wedding going back spending all their time with their buddies and ignoring them. Guys like me end up in the ‘friend zone’. I’m so tired of being told ‘I love you like a brother.’ Fuck, forgive my cynicism. I don’t want to rain on your parade if you like roses and chocolate and all that shit that’s all great. Just no longer for me.”

“I get why you feel that way. Even Hollywood doesn’t do rom coms like they used to. But since when is real life like the movies?”

“Gee, thanks for the sort of pep talk.”

“I give up! It is impossible to help you if you refuse to open your mind and your heart.”

“If this was a rom com, you would leave and I would suddenly realize that you were trying to tell me that you love me, and the solution to my being love lorn has been right in front of my nose all the time, I’m just too dumb to see it. I would spend the rest of the movie trying to get together with you, as various obstacles get in our way.”

“Ending in you racing through an airport, no doubt.”

“On Valentine’s Day. Except that’s been done to death.”

“No doubt someone said that about Shakespeare’s stolen plots too. Like him you just need to add the poetry.”

“Roses, chocolate AND poetry – you don’t ask for much, do you?”

“Maybe you just have a lot to give. To the right woman.”

“Now we get back to the core of it – the ‘right woman’- meaning, not to you.”

“Now who’s sending mixed messages? What would you do if I suddenly suggested that I think I AM the right woman for you, that I may have secretly loved you from the day that we met, or maybe I’ve just been in denial of my true feelings all these years. That my dozen boyfriends, two failed marriages, and uncountable random one night stands have all just been searching for what has been right in front of me the whole time?”

“I’d think that you were parroting bad lines from a thousand rom coms. That no matter how much you might want it to be true, because for some strange reason you want me to be happy, it isn’t real. But I’m not enough of an asshat to actually say that. Or to act on it. I know you love me like a brother, and brothers don’t do that to sisters. Pull their pigtails, sure, but not ruin their lives.”

“You’ve never even seen me with pigtails, asshat.”

“There you are – the real you. Not some fake rom com imitation.”

“And the real me still believes in cupid and his arrows.”

“After all your misadventures in love?”

“More like looking for love.”

“I think that lyric ends with ‘in all the wrong places’.”

“Don’t you know it. Heck, you were there for me through all of them. My shoulder to cry on. My holder of hands. My bringer of tea and sympathy. Not once did you laugh at me or tell me ‘told you so’. But each of them served a specific purpose, even though I didn’t realize it at the time. Like if I hadn’t married Harry, I would never have become preggers with Hannah, the real light of my life. And Ralph was the world’s greatest stepdad. Too bad he lost interest in sex so fast. Though of course that was mostly because he lost interest in me. I think he should just have admitted that it was Hannah he truly loved – not in a creepy incest way, but like a kind gentle Dad.”

“You are awfully generous talking about him like that — he left you for a grad student who was Hannah’s babysitter.”

“And didn’t even fight me for custody. Even though I was her bio mom, and he was just the stepdad, he was by far the better parent. Especially when I went off the deep end, started fucking every guy in sight, like somehow that would make us even.”

“You still never fucked me, even then. I think that tells us all we need to know about whether you find me attractive or not.”

“You were my rock, my anchor. I couldn’t afford to fuck that part up.”

“I was right there, if you had wanted me.”

“Oh, so you admit that you would like to fuck me?”

“Pigtails or not, you have always been the hottest woman I have ever known.”

“I’m waiting for the but…”

“The butt? You want me to fuck you in the ass?”

“No, silly, I mean the part where you say ‘but it would be too much like fucking my sister’.”

“Hey, you’re the one who loves me like a brother. I would never compare you to my sister. You are way nicer.”

“Also hotter I hope?”

“A deep freeze is hotter than MY sister.”

“Not much of a compliment there. Anyway, I don’t have a brother to compare you to.”

“Which is why you treasure me as a surrogate? The brother you never had?”

“Maybe I’ve come to realize that you are the lover I’ve never had. And Lord knows, I’ve had a few.” She giggled. “More than a few.”

“So, I’d just be another notch in your bedpost?”

“No one has bedposts anymore, silly. Unless you’re thinking that you’d like to tie me to them.”

“Then posts could suddenly appear?”

“Sure, I’m a witch. I’ll just twitch my clit and they’ll magically appear.”

“You have a clit that twitches?”

“Just like all good witches.”

“Now I feel like I’ve wandered into a Literotica Halloween contest entry.”

“Silly, it’s Valentine’s Contest season.”

“Which is where we started – no way I can write an entry this year. Cupid has…”

“…lost your address, yeah, I get it. But Lit readers don’t care how you really feel. You can just fake it.”

“No, I think only women can fake it.”

“Ouch, I walked into that one. But you must be thinking of some other lover.”

“Other lover? For a lover to be ‘other’, we would also need to be lovers.”

“I’m trying to seduce you, so you get inspired to write that Valentine’s entry, silly. And maybe, just maybe, to show you how much I love you, hoping that you love me back. So, yes, we should be lovers.”

In spite of my bitterness about the whole concept of love, something warmed up inside my chest, and I felt the heat travel through my belly, stiffening my ancient aching cock.

“Oh, something likes that idea,” she laughed. “But you better tell it I mean ‘lovers’ in the ‘whole lotta love’ way, not just some cheap fuck.”

Without another word, she dropped to her knees and fished my half hard cock free from my pants. As her warm breath bathed my flesh, she turned it slowly, examining it.

“After all these years, you’d think I would have seen this monster at least once, but you never shared. If you really were my brother, I probably would have had a glance when you got out of the shower or something.”

“I think that too only happens in Literotica land.”

I suppose that you think this is also the stuff of fiction.”

Her tongue teased the slit. When she pulled her face back and smiled up at me, I saw that her lips were glistening with a trace of precum. The spongy cock head was coated, until she licked it clean. She had the most gorgeous full lips. How had I never noticed that before?

“I love how you taste,” she moaned as she paused, the underside of my helmet still poised on her lower lip. “But I think it would be even better to taste you after we fuck.”

“Shouldn’t you woo me first? Chocolates? Roses?”

“I’ve spent decades trying to woo you, silly, now shut up and enjoy this.”

She used my cock like a lollipop, licking all around the head as she fisted the shaft. Her tongue traced along the vein on the underside. The tip teased my balls and curled up toward my taint. A finger reached underneath me, probing my anus.

My hips responded, thrusting my cock over that pendulous lip into her cheek. She closed her mouth loosely around my shaft, allowing me to stuff my cock into her throat. Her fingers were cupping my balls, rolling them in their sack. She took each testicle in turn into her cheek, making them dance with her talented tongue.

Her oral skills were different than anything I had experienced before. The phrase ‘a loving touch’ cut through the cynicism in my brain. My cock throbbed in appreciation.

She smiled up at me briefly as she came up for air, then dropped her chin, swallowing me whole in one gulp, lips closing around my root as my pubes tickled her nose.

Without warning, a spurt of splodge erupted from deep within, flooding up through my shaft, out my slit, and filling her mouth. She swallowed without pause or protest, until the last splash of seed seeped out from her lips, dribbling down her chin. She spat my cock out, wiped her chin with the back of her hand, and then licked that clean.

My cream coated her tongue and glistened on her teeth as she grinned up at me.

“Your turn,” she suggested.

“I even wore special lingerie for Valentine’s Day.” she giggled, “because, silly, I dressed and came here with the intent to seduce you. I was getting tired of waiting for you to notice what you truly should desire.”

Her fingers undid the top button of her dress, red for the occasion of course. She slowly undressed, pausing after each button before undoing the next. The hesitation built the suspense until with a simple shrug of her shoulders, the dress fell to the floor, exposing her near nakedness, which was so much more sensual for being not complete nudity.

The lingerie lived up to her description of being special. The red lace panties were cut high, so her athletic hips were bare. Although her quim was well covered, the V shape of the sheer fabric emphasized what awaited beneath. The black lace trim matched the bra, which supported her breasts, but barely covered the nipples, exposing half the areolae, and an eyeful or two of succulent firm bosom, including the entire curve of cleavage, accentuated by the way the bra pushed the two tits together and up, almost screaming with their desire to have me bury my face between them.

“Oh, somebody is happy to see me. Here I was afraid that you might have trouble recovering enough to fuck me after coming in my mouth.”

She took hold of my hardness and led me over beside the kitchen island. With her free hand she released the bra clasp, shrugging her shoulders and allowing it to fall free. She giggled again.

“I’ve never seen a guy’s eyes look so hungry. Like you’ve been walking across a dessert, and my tits are the oasis.”

She grasped the sides of her dainty panties and nudged them into a puddle on the floor. With balletic grace, she hooked them on a toe and sent them flying.

“You can keep those as a souvenir when you find them later.”

She leaned back against the counter, feet spread wide. I could smell the scent of her sex, and a few droplets dripped onto the hardwood.

“Show me how you really do love me.”

That command startled me and I stopped for a moment. Then she giggled, reached up, and pulled my face to hers. Our lips met, her tongue thrust past my teeth, sharing my own flavour with me. She held me there until I pulled back panting for breath.

“Show me,” she whispered.

I fell to my knees. She took two handfuls of my hair and pressed my nose against her belly. First, I kissed her navel then I ran my flattened tongue down her downy tummy, stopping just above the opening of her gash, where just a trace of neatly trimmed hair sparkled from her seepage. I felt her fingers release their grip. A quick upward glance showed that she was kneading two firm handfuls of breasts, topped by erect dark reddish brown nipples.

“Do me,” she moaned.

I kissed her outer labia, leaning back to watch her gash spread open like the petals of a flower. One finger then two spread her further as I breathed softly on her clit, which stood out proudly and stiffly. A shiver ran through her entire body. Wetness coated her thighs. Her scent took on a musky tone.

My fingers found that nubbin, twisting and twirling it playfully.

She groaned.

Another glance revealed that she was tugging on her nipples, much more fiercely than I was teasing her love button.

“Harder, more.”

I slid my fingers lower, but used my thumb to bobble her nubbin. The fingers I thrust deep into her opening, until they were buried almost to my wrist. The force bumped her against the wall, making her cry out.

I paused again.

“More damn it.”

Flattening my tongue, I slurped all up her slit, enjoying the spunkiness. Her clit danced as the flat of my tongue passed along it, but I did not want to focus there just yet. Instead, I licked along her swollen labia, teasing them with my teeth, continuing to gingerly fuck her as she writhed in ecstasy.

“Stop teasing,” she begged. “Show me how much you love me.”

I was too far along to stop and protest. I just closed my lips around her pearl, sucking it into my cheek until her passions softened to purring. Then I started to bobble it with just the tip of my tongue. After a moment, or an hour, who knew, time was irrelevant, I began teasing it gently with my teeth.

All that time, I continued finger fucking her twat, which was making squishing sounds.

Suddenly, she cried out. I bit her bobbin a bit harder just for good measure.

“Commmiiinnng. OHIFUCKINGGAWD, you must really love me to make me climax this fucking hard, without even fucking me.”

I could feel the waves of her orgasm flooding her body until her knees weakened and she slumped in stillness against the drywall.

As much as I wanted to say she was confusing love with lust, I just could not bring myself to ruin the moment.

Just as my poor old knees were beginning to ache, she grabbed handfuls of hair again, but this time it was to pull me upright, drawing my face to hers, kissing me deeply, her tongue hungrily tasting her own juices inside my cheeks. My unexpected erection was throbbing against her hip, unrestrained since I had neglected to tuck my cock back into my pants.

She ran her hand down between our bodies, palm pressing against my hardness. More blood surged to my loins until I was solidly stiff. Her erect nipples threatened to penetrate my flesh as she squirmed against me. The scent of sex surrounded us like a cloud.

“Is that Cupid’s arrow trying to pierce me?”

I felt her fist try to encircle my shaft, but her dainty fingers could not quite reach around my circumference. She gave it a single pump.

“This thing feels fully loaded.”

“It does seem to like you.”

“Like a heat seeking missile likes a blast furnace. Hurry up and fuck me. Fuck me like you love me. Fuck me with Cupid’s arrow.”

“Something tells me that you’ve got this backwards – if I’m Cupid, how do I get to be the one to fall in love? It seems like you already are.”

“Shut up and kiss me.”

Her tongue pierced between my lips, and past my teeth, stabbing – just like Cupid’s arrow.

My hands found her buttocks. She leaned her hips back against the wall, making it easy for me to lift her, and lower her soaked gash right down onto my stiff cock, piercing her pudendum in a single stroke. Then I held her there for a few heart beats, feeling my prick pulsating within her depths, the tip teasing her clit. Her muscles clenched my meat tightly, and then released their grip.

She groaned as I broke our kiss and nibbled her left earlobe. My tongue ran from there down the side of neck, and then along the line of her collarbone, out to the tip of her shoulder, which I chewed slowly while I felt her beginning to lever herself against the wall, fucking me.

I licked back across her chest, pausing to pay attention to the divot at the base of her throat. She groaned as she grabbed two handfuls of my hair and pushed my nose down into her cleavage. She shook her tits around my face, seeming to enjoy the friction created by my beard – at least, the way that she started to hump up and down along my shaft suggested that I was doing something she liked.

One hand ran down her flank, following her well toned curves past her waist along her hip, and then pausing to squeeze a buttock. That allowed my fingers to roam down into her anal cleavage. My thumb probed her rosebud. There was nothing reluctant about her sphincter – her anus opened eagerly, welcoming the intrusion. Her whole body shuddered.

“Oh yessss,” she moaned, fingers twisting my hair fiercely, abdominal muscles clenching around my cock. “Do more of that, please. I love a man who isn’t intimidated by anal play. After you recover from filling up my cunt, will you fuck me up the ass?”

I was too busy plunging my cock deep into her womb, while adding a couple of more digits into her anus, to answer right away, but eventually promised, of sort.

“First, though, I want to eat the cream pie.”

Her ass was clamping around my invading fingers as tightly as her cunt was kneading my shaft. Her groans had turned into grunts as she levered harder against my groin.

Suddenly, she stiffened.

“About to…come… again..’ she gasped at the same moment that I felt the waves of her climax ripple through her body and through my cock into my core. We were frozen there for a moment, which was odd, because that usually only happens to me when I shoot great gobs of goo. That had not happened yet.

She seemed to have noticed that.

“Pump your cream into me. Fill me up.”

She paused, giggled.

“Sorry, I’m just a greedy little slut. Your greedy little slut.”

Another giggle.

“I hope you like it slutty. That’s just how I am. How I’ve always been. I was always so shocked that you never noticed it. I used to put on my sexiest lingerie under my ordinary student street clothes before our study dates, just in case. I made me feel so horny acting the part of a ‘nice girl’ while secretly being a slut. I would get so wet in anticipation that they would soak right through, and I’d worry about my jeans getting wet, but still you were oblivious. I was wishing that you would rip my clothes off, but sometimes I was tempted to just rip your clothes off and get right to it. I wish that I had. I love your cock inside of me almost as much as I love your mind. All that time that we missed when we could have been fucking.”

Another pause, as she thrust her groin hard against me, grunting.

“Now we need to make up for lost time.”

She grabbed my hair and dragged my mouth to her lips. Our tongues twisted together hungrily, our teeth clacking together as we mashed mouths. Our groins remained locked tightly, my cock throbbing inside of her while her muscles clenched and relaxed around my shaft then repeated. Her nipples pressed hard against my chest. I felt my balls tighten up against my taint.

I slid my fingers harder and faster into her anus, fucking her from both ends. She pulled my head back, our mouths parted just enough that she could gasp for air as she screamed again. I could feel the strength of this climax flow through our joined flesh. Her energy seemed to run through my cock up into my spine, and then exploded in my brain.

Each aftershock thumped inside my skull, as I thought about the fact that I had not yet shot my load. In metaphoric terms, if my cock was Cupid’s Arrow, it had pierced her flesh, and caused her what the French call “la petite mort”- the little death – but still had not completed its mission. Probably because it pointed in the wrong direction. If she was to be believed, she had hidden her love for me for a long time, just choosing this fake holiday to let me in on it.

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