Updated Frequently
July 16, 2008
Fiction
The Tower
I watched her glistening eyes come towards me, felt her tender lips against mine. I heard myself let out a little moan and felt my clit swell against my wishes. Then the kiss was over and the witch stepped quickly down the hall. I trotted after her, terrified of being left alone. She stopped at the door, her hand turning the knob. Looking back at me with an expression that seemed to be both tender and mocking, she said, "I will call, Rapunzel. Until then, be good." She stepped through the doorway, closed the door, and I heard the lock click from the outside. She was gone.
Read “The Tower”
July 01, 2008
Fiction
New Wine and Old Skins
I climb into the bath and slide myself under the stream of water, tentatively at first, then opening my legs wider and wider. I discover muscles in my pelvis I didn’t know I had, and flex them. Planting my feet against the shower wall, I hoist myself up, arching my back to meet the steady cascade. I rotate my hips faster against the torrent of water. "John," I whisper, "John." I picture his face, his bearded bristly face. I imagine running my hands through his hair, pushing his head down, down, level to my cunt, and him licking me clean.
Read “New Wine and Old Skins”
May 14, 2008
Fiction
The Scarf
“And I’ll release the security footage to the local news,” he replied. “Do you want that?”
Dani made no answer. There was no point, and she wasn’t sure if she really wanted him to stop. Methodically, he frisked her, taking his time. His hands alternately burned or chilled her; she couldn’t tell if his touch was abnormally hot, or her skin was. His hands slid under the curve of her breasts, then up; cupping, squeezing, stroking her through the lace of her bra. Her back arched before she knew it, pressed her ass and her cuffed hands back against him as he stepped forward. Her fingers traced the hard ridge of his cock through the thin fabric of his trousers, then squeezed once before he stepped back.
Read “The Scarf”
April 29, 2008
Fiction
Maze
There were other artists. Some were men, some were women, and she didn't sleep with all of them. Just most of them. The labyrinth's path extended out, twined around her body, all pieces of a path towards an unknown destination. Her own path now traveled over the southwest, as convoluted as her tattoo, from place to place, from person to person. Each of them added something to her, and she took it in, made it her own. A different woman might have lost herself on her travels, forgotten why she'd left, and why she was going. But not her.
Read “Maze”
October 03, 2007
Fiction
Cocksucker
“Yes,” he says, and I can tell by the huskiness in his throat that he means it. “It’s nasty. A girl isn’t supposed to have a cock. She isn’t supposed to get turned on watching me suck it. But baby, I can tell you’d get turned on. You like to watch me, and I want to do it for you.”
I take a step toward him. One more step, and my little purple dick will be right in his face.
Read “Cocksucker”
August 29, 2007
Fiction
Folsom
My eyes drift down to his dick. I can tell that my attention on him is arousing him. I count eleven scrotum rings, my finger almost but not quite touching them as I rattle off the numbers. This is years of stretching, the sign of a real. My pussy moistens. I reach out and tug at his homemade chain mail. It rattles. He shudders. I feel better. I whisper to him that he looks fabulous.
His face blossoms red, his hands move in agitated delight. Dyke lifts my elbow, dismay at my fascination. Just a stupid man, her face tells me emphatically. I wink at him.
Read “Folsom”
June 27, 2007
Fiction
Duet for Violin and Dancer
I came out of it doing a shoulder shimmy—and violated everything I’d learned about good taste by shaking my cleavage and about ten pounds of beaded fringe directly at Tony before I spun back to the audience. Although the highly structured bra top held my breasts firmly in place, my heated nipples brushed slightly against the soft flannel lining, galvanizing my attention.
Read “Duet for Violin and Dancer”
June 06, 2007
Fiction
Portrait
Jenna doesn’t call it love. However, she did feel a prescient twinge between her legs when he came up to her at the reception and said, Very impressive talk, Ms. Wallace.
Several chance meetings and a few planned ones later, she got herself invited back to his place, because they both agreed she could hardly show him the tattoo on her butt in the middle of Café Milano. She imagined he’d offer her sherry and try to seduce her. No sherry . . . but by evening’s end he did make love to her on his bed with the Indian print spread, surrounded by trophies of his many travels.
Read “Portrait”
May 16, 2007
Fiction
Historical Inaccuracies
“I like reenactment,” she said, spreading her legs, showing me neatly trimmed blonde pubic hair.
“So what is this?” I asked her, thinking of her Italianate gown and my hose and doublet. “Paolo and Francesca?”
“No,” she replied. “This is fucking.”
Read “Historical Inaccuracies”
March 28, 2007
Fiction
The Sound of Christmas Morning, The Smell of Summer Afternoons
Not like I thought it would be so easy—I accepted everything that could go wrong, irate family members, lawsuits, offspring, being fired—but I was there to give comfort, to help belay fear and prepare the way. I took his hands and guided them to my breasts as I swung my leg over his and straddled him and let him call me Lisa.
Read “The Sound of Christmas Morning, The Smell of Summer Afternoons”
March 02, 2007
Fiction
House of Dreams
“Holy shit,” Melody said, suddenly understanding. “You think you’re real?” This was new. “Sweetie. You’re a sexual fantasy. Tits that big with a waist that narrow? Doesn’t happen in nature without some surgical intervention. The Master made you up, just like he did all the rest of us. You’re in the mansion of his mind. It’s not a bad life. Good food, lavish apartments, all the naked volleyball you want to play. He reads a lot, so there’s a big library. You’ll —”
Read “House of Dreams”
February 07, 2007
Fiction
First Class
It’s harder for Colin to get up, what with the seat in front of him all the way back, but he manages somehow, and then he’s hurrying down the aisle after Tom. When he gets to the toilets, Tom is just stepping inside. He leaves the door unlocked and Colin waits a few minutes for a passing stewardess to leave, then joins him.
The toilet is even more crowded than their seats had been. Reaching around Colin, Tom slides the lock into place, grins at him as he grinds his cock into Colin’s hip. There’s not even room for anythingother than this, but that’s more than okay with Colin.
Read “First Class”
January 24, 2007
Fiction
17 Short Films about Hades and Persephone
He could smell her musk, almost like the mushrooms mortals ate in worship. He grasped her hips in his hands and lifted her sex to his mouth, for a few moments allowing himself to devour her melliferous petals with his tongue, sucking her tiny stamen between his lips and pressing it between his shrouded teeth. She cried out, a tiny, broken sound, like a soul trapped in Tartarus, and he would have recoiled had her fingers not sunk deeply into his hair. Then he understood, and the next cry from her tore his heart with hope.
Persephone sighed and fell limp. Hades lowered her slight form gently to the cushions and caressed her breast and her face. His hand curled softly around her cheek as he kissed her.
“I hate you,” she said.
Read “17 Short Films about Hades and Persephone”
January 10, 2007
Fiction
Horsing Around
They couldn’t fuck in the house; David got too loud and it felt strange to have Marcus on him and in him while they were in the bed where he’d spent his teenaged years. They arrived two days before Christmas. When they carried their bags upstairs, David’s mother Sara told them, “You boys take David’s old room. I made up the bunk beds for you.”
Oblivious. David wasn’t sure if that was good or bad.
Read “Horsing Around”
December 20, 2006
Fiction
Bringing Back the Light
Relieved by the change of topic—and knowing she’d relish an opportunity for spontaneous sex while Brett was safely at a friend’s house for the afternoon—I turned around my chair so I could cup her breasts. “If I liked Barbie breasts, it was because I didn’t know how much fun real ones were. Especially yours.” Gail’s weren’t exactly Barbie-proportioned, but they were lovely and full on her otherwise small frame. That was nice, but what I adored about them was their sensitivity, how even a light caress would distract her and anything more serious would turn her brains to mush.
It was always fun, and sometimes it was damn convenient. Right now I really didn’t want to talk about Christmas with her family.
Read “Bringing Back the Light”
November 22, 2006
Fiction
Low Resolution
Find her gifs first. Remember that you had your cock in her ass, and not that long ago. There has to be something left of that attraction, that affection . . .no matter what she said. You were the one crying then. Your cock wilts, then you find the folder of those old pics. There she is, come on her face, eyes closed, tongue on lip. On her knees, tits cupped and presented, a smirk on her face. She was cooperative, if not always enthusiastic. You made her come though, and a lot, and she liked that. Was 2002 that long ago? No. Call her.
Read “Low Resolution”
October 18, 2006
Fiction
The Plan
10:43 a.m. I’ve been emailing friends all morning asking for help, and so far, responses have included:
Abby: Just keep it in your mouth, look up, raise your finger and say, “Mmm mmm-mmm,” And then run run RUN to the bathroom.
PS: Balls. Get the balls.
Read “The Plan”
October 04, 2006
Fiction
The Unfamiliar
He held out warm brown hands to her. “What will you give me if I satisfy you?”
“What?” she said again. She blinked three times. Had she really seen a man appear out of smoke? Or was this some guy who’d been hiding in the study all along? Sure, a naked guy hiding in her aunt’s study, just waiting for her to say some kooky spell out loud, when the odds were she wasn’t even going to come in here at all. Hah. As if.
Read “The Unfamiliar”
September 13, 2006
Fiction
The Next You
There are people around but I do not mind shocking them a little. Your belly is warm and smooth as my cheek, and I brush my face against the soft little hairs that mark the beginning. Then somehow we are both rolled over on our sides, with you behind me, holding me. You are gay, but you never fuck in the ass, I just know this and it makes me want to hold you down and tease your asshole.
Read “The Next You”
August 30, 2006
Fiction
Red And White
“I ask that you spend this night giving me sexual pleasure. In the hour before dawn, if I’m not already dead, please kill me.” It was midnight now, and the sun would break the horizon at 7:42. That should be more than enough time. Deliberately, she scuffed her foot across the chalked line of the pentacle, breaking the binding. Whatever happened tonight, happened. She would not coerce the demon.
Read “Red And White”
August 21, 2006
Readings
Wish Girls
Fishnet is proud to present a dramatic reading of "Wish Girls," written and read by Matthew Addison.
To listen to "Wish Girls" and all of our future readings, just copy this URL into your podcatching software (iTunes or any other podcatcher):
http://www.fishnetmag.com/fishnet-literary-salon.xml
If you'd rather just download the file directly, you can do so at this link.
August 16, 2006
Fiction
Candles, Flame
I’ve watched them before, too many times. I’ve followed the line of his fingers with my own. I’ve told myself it was him rubbing his palm across my nipples, then yanking my hair back with one hand while the other curved with hard possession around my hip, opening my thighs. I’ve pushed myself open with hard rocking movements, plunged my own hand inside myself as he pushed first his fingers, then his cock in her.
Read “Candles, Flame”
August 02, 2006
Fiction
Mine Like the Rest of You
Since meeting him, I’d been spanked, flogged, caned, whipped with a singletail, fisted, decorated with hot wax, tormented with a violet wand and play-pierced until parts of me looked like a kinky porcupine. I’d had sex in public bathrooms, given a hand job on a Ferris wheel and been made to come in a convenience store.
But he’d never tried to use my ass. Not since I’d explained to him why this was an unbreakable limit.
Read “Mine Like the Rest of You”
July 19, 2006
Fiction
Mo’o and the Woman
There’s a story the people tell on Maui, about a creature called “Mo’o.” . . . You see her on the beach at dawn or dusk. She is always naked and has long black hair and big breasts and hips . . . and in the strange half-world between night and day you don’t see anything wrong with going to her and touching her. Then she will jump on your back, wham!, and ride you to her cave, where she rips off your clothes and licks you all over, getting the salt from your sweat. Her tongue is really long, like three to six feet. Her tongue is so long, she can use it as a surfboard. That’s what they say.
Read “Mo’o and the Woman”
June 30, 2006
Readings
Pieces of the Heart
Fishnet is proud to present our new podcast series of erotic readings, the Fishnet Literary Salon. Our first reading is "Pieces of the Heart," written and read by Mary Anne Mohanraj.
To listen to "Pieces of the Heart" and all of our future readings, just copy this URL into your podcatching software (iTunes or any other podcatcher):
http://www.fishnetmag.com/fishnet-literary-salon.xml
If you'd rather just download the file directly, you can do so at this link.
Fiction
Bryn Under Hill
The maid gave her ass another slap and said “Stand up. Can you be quiet if I take out the gag? We have visitors from Aelfheim tonight, and they’ll want to use your mouth, but I can fit you with a ring gag to keep you open but quiet if you can’t behave. Will you be good?”
Read “Bryn Under Hill”
June 21, 2006
Fiction
Khamaneztl
Perhaps this is why Corinne regards Khamaneztl with so little interest. Gold statues are in no short supply in the museums she’s visited, and there’s a crudeness to the lines, a faltering of artistry, that makes it suffer in comparison. The only features that really stand out are the smile the boy-god wears, mysterious and a little too knowing, and the ambitious proportions of his penis, a mighty rod for such a slender, almost girlish figure.
Read “Khamaneztl”
June 07, 2006
Fiction
Half-crown Doxy
“It’s ginger, sir.”
He cuts off a thick finger, pares it, shapes it. Like a long fat finger. Her jaw drops in horror.
“Oh please, sir. Not that. Oh sir, it hurts! Please don’t, sir. I beg you.” She begs so prettily: her tortured breasts heaving, her wide grey eyes glittering with tears.
Damn if she hasn’t got him rock-hard again. Well, let her see what a Priapus she’s made of him, the juicy little cockwhore!
Read “Half-crown Doxy”
May 23, 2006
Fiction
Quick Trips Home
I pull away and pull myself up to look at her. Her eyes seem surprised and worried at first. She momentarily forgets I’m using someone else’s body and I see a tiny panic shoot across her eyes, but in a moment it’s gone. It’s strange for the both of us, but that doesn’t stop me. I pull down on the straps of her nightgown, exposing her beautiful chest. She’s sweating and panting now . . . my lips go to her erect nipples as my hands gently squeeze her breasts. She squirms again and pulls me in as she closes her eyes. It’s easier for her to remember it’s me that way.
Read “Quick Trips Home”
May 10, 2006
Fiction
The Program
And you see this absolute babe standing next to you: miniskirt and gray tit-hugging sweater, breasts like mangoes, perfect ass, looking like a younger, shorter Cindy Crawford — way out of your league . . .
And you said, “Listen — if I did the Program — would you go on a date with me?”
And get this. She blinked. She looked you up and down — she looked you up and down — and a slow smile spread over her face, like a cat looking at a canary whose cage just popped open.
And she said, “Hell yeah.”
Man: you were hard, just like that
Read “The Program”
April 21, 2006
Fiction
What Mama Says About The War On Terror
You stand. When you reach for his collar, he smacks your hands away, thinking you’re going for his jugular. You have to fight your way in, but finally you reach your goal and rip, buttons zing. He can’t figure this strategy out and ceases fire. You battle his belt buckle, but finally manage to jerk his pants to his knees. Taking him unprepared into your mouth, you work your defenses out on his cock, stiffening it with every graze of your teeth, every foray of your tongue.
Read “What Mama Says About The War On Terror”
April 12, 2006
Fiction
Balance of Power
My brain rages with impotent fury as his hips rise and fall, rise and fall. There is so little that I can feel, so little of my body that is truly awake. My cock is on fire from his heat, his tightness, his delicious friction. But it is helpless to react on its own. Not when my hands are curled up in stiff claws, my torso flexed in a stiff arc, my mouth frozen open in a hungry, silent scream. My orgasm is trapped, beating at the taut skin of my oversensitized cock. Naram-Suen is flaying it with each stroke of his hips. This is an agony like no other.
Read “Balance of Power”
March 29, 2006
Fiction
Redemption
By the time she was seventeen, she was leading an army, with Michael, the former commander of Heaven’s armies against Satan Himself, her chief counselor and advisor.
And companion of the flesh.
Jehanne never denied the nickname of La Pucelle, for in truth she had never bedded a man, and truly was a Maid. But that did not mean that she had never experienced pleasure; it did not mean that God, through Michael, had not shown her reward for her faith and her actions that pleased Him.
Read “Redemption”
January 18, 2006
Fiction
Strangers in the Water
In my mind, it is 1937 and I am cold, afraid, and hungry for this man atop of me to commit the act of touch. I clasp the back of Todd’s neck with my hand and press my lips against his, so hard that they become numb. He forces his tongue between my lips-he tastes salty and there is rum on his breath. His fingers press into my shoulders. There will be bruises in the morning. I wrap one leg around his waist and wince as small rocks cut into my back. The water is colder now.
Read “Strangers in the Water”
November 22, 2005
Fiction
Comeback
The big shindig was at Bruce Glasser’s house in Tarzana, the only part of the Valley I don’t consider a shithole. . . . It was weird being there for a party instead of a shoot. I kept expecting the doorbell to ring and the late, great Johnny Calzone to come in dressed like that fucking pizza delivery boy from Who Ordered Sausage? I still can’t believe that’s the role that got him famous. Though I guess I’m still best known for playing a high school girl who fucks her gym teacher on the parallel bars, so maybe I shouldn’t talk.
Read “Comeback”
