Sex and Videogames Level 1
Copyright© 2023 by MyWritingSystem
Chapter 11: Sir James
Fantasy Sex Story: Chapter 11: Sir James - A story about a young man whose life suddenly turns into a sex game
Caution: This Fantasy Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including mt/ft mt/Fa Fa ft Mult Blackmail Coercion NonConsensual Reluctant Fiction GameLit High Fantasy School Science Fiction Cheating Sister Aunt Nephew FemaleDom Humiliation Spanking White Male White Female Cream Pie Exhibitionism Masturbation Squirting Voyeurism Water Sports
Saturday...
The dusky drawing room hung heavy with musk and disorientation. James—youthful, unraveled—lay strewn across the weathered sofa, muscles still humming with the aftershocks of his encounter with Julia. She was his stepmother’s older sister, all calculated poise and cutting glances, yet the encounter had left her perfume embedded in his pores, her fingertips scorched into his memory like brand marks on parchment. The dichotomy thrilled him: how something so glacier-eyed could burn so relentlessly beneath the surface.
Julia carried herself with the effortless grace of royalty, her very presence commanding attention like a gravitational force. There was something about the way her eyes could sweep across a crowded room—an unspoken authority that hushed conversations mid-sentence. She wasn’t merely elegant; she was the living definition of it.
The act caught him off guard—that she, of all people, would initiate this. Him, the perpetually awkward introvert, a gamer addict, seemed an unlikely candidate for her fiery passion. Yet now, in hindsight, the memories burn vivid: her breath hot against his skin, murmured desires dissolving into wanton gasps, the echoes of their shared hunger lingering like a phantom touch. How naive he’d been.
The memory of her lingered—soft as crushed velvet beneath his fingertips, her desperate nails carving possessive trails down his back as he drove deeper. Her body arched to meet him, tight and trembling, pulling him in with conducting urgency. Gone was the composed mask she wore so effortlessly; in its place, wild eyes burned with unspoken hunger, as if he’d unraveled something long restrained. It was as if she had been waiting for this moment, craving it, and James had been the one to finally set her free.
And still, beneath the cacophony of the world’s relentless noise, that singular inquiry persisted—unanswered, unresolved—gnawing at the edges of his consciousness: why him? Why, when the universe sprawled infinite before her, had she tethered herself to this solitary soul? The revelation glowed back at him, luminous and inescapable, etched in pixels across the radiant cyan expanse of the vibrant ‘System’ screen.
James reeled as the truth about Julia unfurled before him—a woman renowned for her arrogance and callous disregard for others. The revelation struck him with visceral force: beneath her meticulously cultivated facade of domestic perfection lurked desires so incongruous with her public persona they bordered on absurdity. Her porcelain mask had cracked, exposing Law of Human Nature—no facade, however polished, can conceal the rot beneath forever.
After six months of enduring her relentless mistreatment—countless humiliations swallowed like bitter pills—he finally held the weight of her dirty secret in his hands.
Indeed, this was his opportunity to retaliate against her for all the anguish she had caused him. At last, fate had delivered him the perfect chance—a moment poised on the knife’s edge of retribution, where every slight, every wound she’d carved into his soul could finally be repaid in kind.
Her secret yearning for well-endowed men had been uncovered, and as silence enveloped the night, the very air seemed to whisper conspiratorially, urging him forward with unspoken promise.
The strength of this knowledge felt thrilling; it hummed through him like live current—electric, undeniable. He cataloged the subtle shifts in her demeanor: the flickering glances, the unconscious drag of her tongue across her lower lip when she believed his attention elsewhere. The knowledge settled in his bones—she craved more. And now, armed with the intimacy of her unspoken hunger, he intended to ensure there would be no retreat. Not until he’d unraveled the full depth of this obsession she tried so poorly to conceal.
The game pivoted in the silence between them. Could he harness it? Command it? The question coiled tight in his chest as Julia edged toward the door. Her stilettos struck the hardwood—sharp, staccato beats—each one a failed attempt at stealth.
“Hey! Where do you think you’re going Bitch?” he whispered, his voice heavy with desire. Julia halted in her tracks, her heels making a clink before she quickly turned around. Her face was flushed and twisted in anger. “What? What is going on? Do you even realize who you’re speaking to?”
The hissed command slithered through the dim corridor—”Hey! Where do you think you’re going, Bitch?”—laden with the thickness of pure hunger. Julia’s stilettos struck floor, arrested mid-stride. She pivoted sharply, the flush cresting her cheekbones clashing with the venom in her glare. “Excuse me?” Her voice dripped frosted steel. “ Do you even realize who you’re speaking to?”
“Yeah, a woman, who cheated on her husband just to try my big fat dick!”
James grasped his thick, heavy cock with deliberate certainty, swinging its impressive length in a slow arc through the air—a flesh-and-blood pendulum defying gravity. The absurdity of the moment struck him mid-motion; his fingers tightened reflexively around the warm shaft as self-awareness crashed in. ‘GOD..., what the hell am I doing?’ The thought flickered through his mind even as his body thrummed with the illicit thrill of exhibitionism.
“Do you honestly believe this juvenile display of dominance impresses me? Do you really think I’m just your high school girl who you can control? Listen, kid, I am Julia Boris.”
James exhaled sharply, his pulse still thrumming from their coupling mere moments ago. The audacity of this woman—her lithe body still flushed from their intimacy—now discussing her marital ties to Andrew Boris with such casual detachment. What unsettled him more was his own behavior; a coarse edge had crept into his demeanor, unbidden. While he wouldn’t hesitate to teach someone like Julia a thing or two given the right circumstances, coercion had never been his method. Had it?
“Yes, and if you truly want to maintain that fucking last name of yours, then come here and start working on this fucking dick like a good slut.”
A detached part of his consciousness recoiled—’What has come over me?’ The dissonance between his usual restraint and this sudden persona of crude dominance unsettled him profoundly. Never before had he surrendered to such primal, unbridled impulses with such shameless conviction.
Julia’s gaze lingered on the erect length before her, silvered by the lunar glow that accentuated the hunger in her expression. There was no shock in her reaction—only the slow, knowing curl of her lips as their eyes met, an unspoken desires passing between them as palpable as the night air.
The atmosphere thickened with silent complicity, charged with the sudden reversal of control between them. He had something she desired, something that could unlock the cage of propriety she had so carefully constructed around herself.
James unfolded from the sofa with the lethal elegance of a big cat after a successful hunt, every muscle coiled with barely restrained intention. His erection hanging obscenely, swaying with each predatory step toward Julia like a heavy pendulum of desire. “We’re not done here, Julia,” he purred.
Her breath hitched as he came closer, his grip on her jaw tightening ever so slightly. He knew he had her, that she wouldn’t be able to resist the siren call of his cock, not now that he knew the true extent of her craving for it. He could feel the electricity between them, a palpable force that seemed to hum in the air, urging them back to the sofa where their bodies could become one again.
She smelled it —the musk of his arousal cutting through her perfume as his calloused fingertips traced the fragile architecture of her jaw. When he tilted her head back to expose the vulnerable column of her throat, his thumbnail dug just hard enough to brand the promise of possession into her skin.
Julia’s breath hitched—half-protest, half-invitation—as his other hand slid between her thighs with proprietary confidence. “Still pretend you want to leave,” he challenged against her pulse point, tongue flicking the frantic rhythm beneath her skin, “and I’ll call your bluff right here against the wall.” Her body arched into his despite herself, breasts crushed against the hard plane of his chest as his teeth closed with deliberate pressure where her neck met her shoulder. The whimper that escaped her was all the surrender he needed.
‘FUCK! What the hell is happening? Is it even real?’ He was pretty sure he wasn’t using ‘Mr. Dom’ at the moment then how in the hell was he able to be so ... dominating?’
James’ erection swelled anew, the telltale heat and weight returning with insistent promise. “What do you mean, James?” Her earlier petulance had evaporated—replaced by a throaty, honeyed timbre that startled her own ears.
His body closed the distance between them, the heat of his breath branding her exposed neck as his voice dropped to a molten whisper—each syllable a calculated seduction. “You understand perfectly, Julia. That wasn’t just a one-time thing for you. I recognized the hunger in you, the way your body arched into mine even as you pretended to resist. This isn’t negotiable. You’ll take every inch of me, and you won’t stop trembling until you’re hoarse from crying out—until you’re reduced to nothing but raw, shuddering need.” His hand slid down with deliberate possession, fingers tightening around his erection in stroke that mirrored the precision of his threat.
Julia’s gaze dropped to the thick, veined erection clenched in his fist. Her tongue darted across her lower lip—a silent admission of the hunger darkening her pupils, the shameless want tightening her thighs.
Her eyes lingered with undisguised hunger, just as his gaze fixated on her parted lips—plump, moist, and trembling slightly with each shallow breath. The air between them crackled with tension, a current of forbidden desire pulling taut like a wire. Without warning, his hands seized her hips, fingers digging possessively into the curve of her waist as he yanked her flush against him, the heat of their bodies colliding. The scent of her arousal mingled with his cologne, dizzying, as his mouth hovered a breath away from those traitorous lips that belonged to another man.
A low, possessive growl rumbled from James’ throat as he hauled her against him, his mouth descending on hers with bruising intensity—this was no tender meeting of lips, but a fierce declaration of ownership burned into flesh.
At first she remained motionless, her lips passive against his. Then, with a slow but deliberate awakening, her mouth began to answer his touch. The kiss deepened rapidly, evolving from tentative contact to something urgent and consuming. He noted with sharp clarity how her movements differed from Nancy’s—where Nancy had been erratic and unpredictable, this woman kissed with methodical precision, each motion purposeful and timed to perfection.
She possessed an intuitive understanding of rhythm—when to yield, when to retreat, when to advance with relentless pressure. Yet this mastery did not diminish Nancy’s power; where Julia moved with calculated precision, Nancy burned with untamed ferocity, her raw intensity carving its own devastating path through any encounter.
His tongue slid between her lips with deliberate precision, mapping the heat of her mouth like a cartographer charting unknown territory. Julia arched instinctively, the kiss igniting an answering hunger that shuddered through her limbs—raw, unbidden, electric.
This had transcended petty malice or fleeting curiosity—even the primal urge to fuck for mere exploration. Something far more profound had awakened, something insidious. A hunger, long buried, now clawed its way to the surface, ravenous and unrelenting.
Their lips parted—his breath warm with the lingering taste of saliva—and the confession slipped between them, rough-edged with an authority that startled even him. “I know what you crave, Julia.” The certainty coiled around those words felt foreign, intoxicating; a version of himself he’d buried beneath hesitation now unearthed with unsettling ease. How? The answer slithered at the edges of his thoughts—somehow, tonight, the man who’d spent years second-guessing every touch had vanished. In his place? Someone who remembered. ‘Maybe he somehow activated ‘Mr. Dom’ forgot about it?’
To verify he decided to call his status screen: Status.
Julia’s face consumed his vision—impossible to look away, impossible to escape. Seconds bled into each other, yet the anticipated status screen remained absent. No flickering interface, no confirmation prompt. Then, realization struck like a blade: the ‘BUFF’s timer had vanished entirely.
A cold, visceral dread coiled through his gut.
‘Goddamn it—what the fuck happened?’ The words tore from his heart raw. No system. No warning. Just silence where there should have been order.
And that fucking BUFF—where was it now?
Panic flickered through him for only a heartbeat before two undeniable truths anchored him—first, the ‘Re-Sizer’ with ‘BUFF’ had held its effect, his erection just as formidable as when he’d activated it. Second, and far more electrifying, was Julia’s response: her blown pupils, the crimson heat blooming across her cheeks, the way her voice dropped to a husky whisper as she breathed, “Yes, James. I do.”
The paralyzing grip of fear dissolved like mist beneath morning sun as raw, unchecked hunger flooded his veins. Julia’s form—arched and luminous—became his only religion, her every curve a blasphemous psalm that rewrote his pulse.
His fingers curled possessively around the delicate fabric of her dress. With a single, deliberate motion, he tore the garment from her body, exposing the pale smoothness of her naked skin beneath.
A silent, searing scream tore through his mind—’FUCKING HELL!’—as the magnitude of his own actions struck him like a physical blow. This wasn’t just out of character; it defied every rational expectation he’d ever held about himself. His pulse hammered against his ribs as the bewildering thought clawed at him: What the hell is going on?
Her full breasts rose with each breath, dusky nipples taut beneath his hungry gaze. He drank her in—every curve, every flush of skin—and she recognized the primal intent in his eyes. Tonight wouldn’t be forgotten; it would be carved into them both, a raw and indelible claiming.
With swift, deliberate movements, his fingers traced the generous curves of her breasts, exploring their fullness with a practiced, almost artistic touch—kneading, squeezing, shaping them as if committing every contour to memory.
Each squeeze sent ripples through the heavy mounds, the softness yielding perfectly to his touch. He palmed them roughly, reveling in how they spilled over his hands—too much to fully contain. Thumbs circled stiffening peaks while his other fingers kneaded deep into the supple curves, testing their resilience with each flex of his grip. The rhythm was deliberate, alternating between slow, worshipful caresses and sudden, possessive crushes that drew sharp breaths from her parted lips. Every motion seemed calculated to wring out sensation, his hands molding her like clay—shaping, claiming, consuming.
His lips moved with agonizing slowness along the delicate ridge of her collarbone, each kiss lingering just long enough to make her arch against him. The faintest tremor ran through her as he navigated the sensitive hollow at the base of her throat, his breath hot against flushed skin. When his mouth finally closed around one taut nipple, it wasn’t the expected gentle suck—he dragged his tongue in a slow, wet circle around the stiffened peak before flicking sharply against its most sensitive underside. She gasped, fingers twisting in his hair, as he repeated the motion with deliberate cruelty, alternating between feather light licks and the sharp scrape of teeth just shy of pain.
James paused for a heartbeat, studying the flushed skin beneath his lips, the rapid flutter of her pulse at the hollow of her throat. There was something intoxicating about the way her body arched into his touch, the soft cry she made when his teeth grazed her nipple—not pain, but a startled gasp of pleasure. He’d spent years thinking himself incapable of this kind of hunger, this raw need to possess and worship in equal measure. Yet here he was, mapping every hitch of her breath with his tongue, drunk on the salt-sweet taste of her skin and the way her fingers twisted in his hair—pulling him closer, demanding more.
The dichotomy thrilled him: the power to make her whimper with a twist of his wrist, the tenderness that made him slow when she shuddered too hard. Her thighs clamped around his hips, her moans turning ragged as he switched his attention to her other breast, sucking hard enough to leave a mark. He wanted her to remember the slick heat of his mouth and the possessive grip of his hands.
The air between them hung thick with desire, charged with the electricity of skin on skin. His fingers traced the delicate curve of her thigh before slipping between her folds—slow, deliberate, savoring the resistance of her body as it yielded to him. Julia gasped, her hips arching like a bow, her fingers clutching his hairs as he pushed deeper. The slick heat of her enveloped him, her arousal coating his fingers in a way that made his own breath hitch.
Her inner walls clenched around him, pulsing with every teasing stroke he delivered—each movement practiced, patient, relentless. Julia’s back arched sharply, her mouth falling open in a soundless cry before her voice returned in a shattered moan, a stark contrast to the silence of the night. Her eyelids fluttered, her gaze unfocused, lost somewhere beyond the ceiling as pleasure ripped through her in waves. The sound she made wasn’t just a moan—it was raw, unguarded, peeling back layers of restraint until nothing remained but the trembling aftermath of sensation.
And still, he didn’t stop. His fingers curled inside her, pressing against that sweet, trembling spot until her thighs shook, until her cries grew ragged, until the house itself seemed to shudder in sympathy with her unraveling.
“Oh, Jamesss...” she moaned his name like a sweet mantra.
The room hung heavy with the scent of arousal, sweat-slick skin catching the dim light as their bodies moved together in practiced sync. His fingers worked her with slow, deliberate precision—each circling pass over her clit drawing breathy little moans from her parted lips. Meanwhile, Julia arched before him, her breasts lush and yielding against his mouth, nipples pebbled tight under his tongue.
Just as her hips began stuttering upward—as the first unmistakable tremors of her climax teased at the edges of her muscles—he withdrew suddenly. The loss of contact was brutal. Julia gasped, her eyelids fluttering open in dazed confusion. The dizzying pleasure that had coiled deep in her belly now throbbed unresolved, leaving her writhing against empty air instead of his skilled hands. A whimper escaped her before she could stop it.
“Wha—why did you—?” she managed, her voice rough with thwarted desire. His smirk told her everything. This was deliberate. Cruel in the best way.
The air between them crackled with tension, thick with the scent of arousal and the unspoken hunger that had been building for hours—or maybe days. There was no hesitation, no gentle preamble. His hand tangled in her hair, angling her face up as his mouth crashed down on hers, the kiss savage, possessive, a claiming more than a caress.
She gasped into his mouth, her fingers scrabbling against his shoulders as his other hand slid down the curve of her waist, over the swell of her hip, gripping the back of her thigh to hitch her leg around his waist.
Breaking the kiss, he nipped at her jawline, his breath scalding against her ear. “You’re going to take all of me,” he rasped, voice rough with need. His fingers tightened on her thigh, pulling her higher, tighter against him. “Every. Fucking. Inch.” The promise was a dark thrill down her spine, and she could feel the truth of it in the way he pulsed against her, thick and heavy and impatient.
Julia’s breath hitched, her pulse thundering in her veins until she was certain he could hear it, could feel it beneath her skin. She bit down on her plump lower lip, stifling a whimper, but her body betrayed her—her hips canting forward, seeking friction, seeking him. Her lashes fluttered, her pupils blown wide with want as she nodded, her voice a breathless whisper. “Yes—”
The word dissolved into a moan as he rocked against her again, the pressure deliciously cruel, teasing what they both craved. He smirked, a feral, knowing thing, and her stomach clenched in anticipation. He wouldn’t make her wait much longer.
His hips snapped forward with a single, devastating motion, sheathing himself inside her to the base in one fluid stroke.
Julia’s back arched as a ragged cry tore from her throat, raw and unfiltered. The sound reverberated off the walls, mingling with the slick slap of skin meeting skin. Her inner muscles fluttered around him in desperate, rhythmic pulses, each contraction more insistent than the last—a wordless plea for him to move, to claim, to ruin her completely.
And James? God, James was already lost. Every nerve burned white-hot where their bodies joined. The way she took him so greedily, so perfectly—it shattered his control. He groaned, low and feral, fingers biting into her hips as he pulled back just enough to drive into her again. Harder. Deeper. As if he could crawl inside her skin and stay there forever.
James’s breath hitched as his body pressed flush against hers, the heat between them unbearable yet intoxicating. His hands gripped her hips with possessive fervor, fingers digging into yielding flesh as he pulled her impossibly closer. Every thrust was deliberate—slow at first, then deeper, harder—each movement a silent promise. The rhythm built between them, a carnal crescendo that mirrored the frantic pulse of his heartbeat echoing in his ears. Skin slapped against sweat-slicked skin, the sound mingling with their ragged breaths. His muscles coiled tight with each withdrawal before surging forward again, driving into her with a hunger that bordered on desperation, yet moved with the precision of a man who knew exactly how to make her unravel.
The air between them crackled with raw, unbridled energy—every thrust of his hips a deliberate act of possession, every collision of their bodies sending tremors through the room. His rhythm was relentless, a primal cadence that spoke of something deeper than mere lust—something feral and consuming. The bedframe groaned beneath them, the sound lost beneath her shuddering gasps as pleasure coiled tighter and tighter inside her. Her fingers dug into his shoulders, nails biting into flesh as if she could fuse them together, could keep him there forever, driving into her with that same desperate hunger.
Julia’s moans grew louder, more desperate, as James’ relentless assault on her senses continued. She pushed back against him, her movements urgent, her body a symphony of need and desire. The sound of their bodies colliding filled the room, a testament to their unbridled passion. And as James felt her tighten around him, her body shuddering with the force of her climax, he knew that this was just the beginning. The power dynamic had shifted, and he was now in control. This was his moment of triumph, and he intended to savor every second of it.
Julia’s breath hitched in her throat, her moans escalating into ragged, desperate cries that echoed off the walls. Her fingers clawed at his skin, the muscles in her thighs trembling as James drove into her with ruthless precision. Every thrust was a calculated assault on her senses—the scent of their sweat mingling, the slick heat between them, the way his hands gripped her hips hard enough to leave bruises tomorrow.
She arched her back, pressing herself against him with frantic urgency, her body singing with need. The wet slap of their flesh colliding filled the room, a rhythmic counterpoint to their shared gasps and groans.
James growled low in his throat, his fingers dug into her skin, claiming her, dominating her as the power between them shifted irrevocably. He could see it in her hazy, half-lidded gaze—she was his now, completely undone by his touch. The realization sent a rush of primal satisfaction through him.
This was just the beginning. He’d savor every broken moan, every desperate whimper, every time her body yielded to his control.
The rhythm between them had escalated into something primal, an ancient dance of flesh and need that neither could resist. James’s hand traced a deliberate path down her abdomen, fingers splaying possessively across her trembling thigh before his thumb found its target—the swollen, sensitive bud of her clit. He applied pressure in just the right way, alternating between firm circles and teasing flicks, perfectly synchronized with the relentless thrusts of his hips. Each deep, measured stroke dragged a fresh gasp from Julia’s lips, her body arching violently against him as if trying to fuse their skin together.
Her cries fractured the air between them, raw and unfiltered—no longer words, just sounds of pure, desperate pleasure. Her nails scored his shoulders, leaving crescent moons in their wake, a temporary testament to how thoroughly he owned her in that moment. The muscles of her back bowed beautifully beneath his hands, her breasts swaying with each powerful impact, nipples pebbled tight from sensation and the rush of adrenaline.
James watched her unravel with predatory satisfaction. Every micro-expression played across her face like a masterpiece—the flutter of her eyelids, the parted lips gone slack with ecstasy, the way her pupils dilated until her irises were mere slivers of color. When her eyes rolled back, whites gleaming in the dim light, something dark and triumphant coiled in his gut. This was surrender. This was victory.
The memory would sear itself into his synapses forever: Julia, wild and pleading beneath him, her earlier disdain reduced to ashes by the inferno he’d stoked between her thighs. He reveled in it—the power, the control, the sheer fucking dominance of reducing her to a shuddering, incoherent mess. And when her thighs clamped around him, when her entire body tightened like a bowstring before snapping apart, he knew—she’d never look at him the same way again.
Her orgasm built like a crescendo, a wave that grew larger and more powerful with each stroke of his cock.
Julia felt the pressure mounting inside her, the slow burn of pleasure coiling tighter with every thrust of James’s cock. The sensation wasn’t just physical—it was consuming, obliterating her sense of self until all that remained was the raw, primal need to surrender. Her fingers dug into his shoulders, her thighs quivering as the wave of her approaching climax swelled larger, unstoppable, like a storm surge crashing against the shore.
Then his voice cut through the haze, low and commanding, yet laced with something darker, more forbidden: “Cum for me, Aunt Julia.”
The words struck her like a physical blow There were two things in those words: one thing, dominance that he held over her, and two, his first time ever addressing her as his Aunt, something that she had forbade him from doing since their very first meeting. Yet here it was, deliberate, calculated.
The deep timbre of his voice vibrated through her bones—not a request, not a suggestion, but a dark, guttural command that bypassed rational thought entirely. Julia’s shook as pleasure detonated through her, her thighs trembling violently around his hips. Every muscle in her body locked in exquisite tension, her fingernails carving half-moons into his shoulders as her climax ripped through her with merciless intensity.
A ragged gasp tore from her throat when she felt him react—not slowing, not soothing, but driven wild by the way her cunt convulsed around his cock. The wet slap of skin against skin turned punishing, his hips pistoning faster as he fucked her straight through the aftershocks. Her orgasm crested again, her vision whiting out as he dragged the pleasure past reason, past coherence, until time fractured. Those few seconds stretched into something endless, something brutal and sacred, their sweat-slicked bodies moving in a rhythm that felt less like sex and more like claiming.
The last cascading waves of her climax pulsed through her, each contraction of her core wringing out fading pulses of pleasure until only aftershocks remained. James slid free with a slick sound, his shaft glistening under the dim light as he stepped back to admire the aftermath. Her thighs trembled visibly, muscles still twitching—her swollen sex visibly clenching around nothing, hungry even as satisfaction weighed her limbs down.