The world’s next beloved sexy erotic masterpiece — finale

Swéta Rana
6 min readNov 16, 2018

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Johnny leads me to a nearby hotel. As he’s had everyone kicked out of Belgium, we’re able to saunter in unchallenged.

We roam the corridors, bursting with confident authority. Johnny takes several expensive ornaments and flings them out of the windows; the constant shatter of glass seems to make my heart swoon with longing. At one moment, I think I hear the startled shriek of a struck animal outside.

Oh Johnny, you really are incorrigible.

“This, Norma,” he croons as we arrive at the presidential suite, “is my favourite place in all the world. Perhaps I was being a bit assumptive, thinking you’d wind up here with me, but I prepared it specially for the two of us. I hope you’ll forgive my torrid arrogance.”

“Wow, Johnny…” I breathe, falling to the floor in awe.

The walls and floor are covered in leopard skin, dyed a lurid purple. The bedsheets, furniture and curtains are similarly adorned. It’s the fourth most wonderful presidential suite I’ve ever seen.

In the middle of the room is a locked wooden chest, four feet wide, with gilded edges.

“What’s that?” I whisper, trembling.

That,” Johnny says, a slow suggestive seductive sultry slinky sibilant smirk spreading sensually, “is my toy box.”

“Oh, I had one of those growing up!” I reminisce fondly, still cowered on the floor, overwhelmed by the room’s palpable eroticism. “It was full of lovely fun toys — spinning tops and dolls and farmyard animals…”

Johnny bellows with laughter and points at my immense ignorance with glee.

“No, Norma!” he sighs deliriously. “This toy box is different. This one has… adult toys.”

“Adult toys…?” I echo feebly, my pathetic tiny woman brain unable to comprehend his words.

He yanks me up by the hand and gently pushes me towards the box. “C’mon, c’mon, open it.”

“It’s locked,” I reply, wondering what sort of tantalising game he has in store. Perhaps the key is hidden somewhere in this room — or on his person…

“Oh, shit.” He rolls his eyes. “I forgot — hold on.” He reaches into his jacket pocket and brings out a colossal bunch of keys.

“Woah…” I say, stunned. “There must be a hundred keys on there at least.”

“Yeah, well. I bring a lot of girls to a lot of rooms with a lot of toy boxes.”

What?

“I said I sing a lot of swirls to a lot of grooms with a lot of boy foxes.”

“Oh, okay.” I’m glad for the reasonable explanation, then chide myself for being so paranoid. I know I’m the only woman who matters to Johnny Maverick. Blushing with pride, I wonder if I might be the only woman he’s ever met.

Forty-five minutes and several expletives later, after I’ve drunk the entirety of the only bottle of champagne Johnny didn’t throw out of the window, I suddenly hear a satisfying click.

“I found it!” Johnny cries with relief. “I found the key!”

“What key?” I murmur, and promptly pass out.

***

“Norma… Norma… Are you awake?”

“WE’RE OUT OF CREAM!” I scream, as is customary whenever I wake up.

You may be, but I have plenty of cream… An unlimited supply, you might say…”

I open my eyes, then pass out again from the incredible splendid charm of the purple leopard room. When I come to and warn the world about the woeful dearth of cream once more, I see Johnny propped up on the bed next to me, smiling down at my pathetic tiny woman face.

“Really, don’t worry about it,” he says smoothly. “Plenty of cream in the mini fridge. Now,” and his voice takes a deliciously tempting turn, “are you ready for my adult toys?”

In all honesty, part of me worries that I’m not ready — that I will never be ready. This is a new world, of games and desire and release, to which I have never been privy before. I worry it’s too much for me.

But another part of me worries it’s not enough.

Johnny Maverick has changed me. I’m no longer the innocent lamb I once was. I want deeper things, darker things.

“YES!!!!!!!!” I reply with subtly alluring huskiness. “I’M READY, JOHNNY!!!!!!!!!”

“Great,” he smiles, his eyes flashing dangerously. “Well, first of all…” He reaches into his toy box and pulls out a soft pouch. “Have you heard of Tantrix, Norma?”

“T-Tantrix?” I stutter, enticed and wary all at once. “No. It sounds like fun…”

“It’s a lot of fun.”

“Maybe not something for beginners…?”

“Maybe not, but I have faith in you, Norma.”

“Sounds like there’s a lot of bending involved, perhaps…?”

“Oh, there is!” he confirms keenly. “Mind bending, that is!” He zips open the pouch and tips out a bunch of hexagonal puzzle pieces. “You have to connect them so you get a loop all the way round of the right colour. The numbers tell you which colour the loop has to be. Honestly Norma, I tried this as a kid all the time but could never get past level ten or eleven. Now, we’re two adults, and I think together we could get to level thirty or even forty. This is why I keep Tantrix in the adult toy box — I don’t want it getting mixed up with my Playmobil collection. That’s for kids.”

“Oh… okay.” I am stunned, but not a little intrigued.

Several days later, Johnny is raging — we’ve made a red loop, but there’s one leftover piece.

“I HATE THIS!!!” yelps Johnny in dismay. “WHY ARE WE SO SHIT?!”

“Johnny…” I begin carefully. “Maybe that’s enough Tantrix for tonight.”

“No — no! If we put our wits together, we can do this.”

“I don’t want to put our wits together!!!” I burst in abrupt fury. “I WANT TO PUT OUR BITS TOGETHER!!!”

Johnny stares in bewilderment.

“Johnny…” I meet his gaze pleadingly. “I thought you brought me here to introduce me to… sex. You said you were going to show me what sex was.”

“Ohhh, yeah,” he says, a mild dawn of recognition on his face. “Er, yeah, okay. Let’s do it then, come on.”

He unzips his trousers and pulls a little mass of flesh out. In all honesty, it’s quite underwhelming — in fact it’s a bit gross.

“Well.” He gazes down nonchalantly. “Here’s my dick.”

Looking at it doesn’t feel as good as looking at the purple leopard print, so I gaze up at the ceiling.

“Come on then, lie back properly, take those panties off.”

As he thrusts on top of me I initially feel a short burst of pain. But then it subsides.

And now I feel… now it’s… I’ve never before… oh, this really is… this is the absolute…

It’s over after fourteen seconds, so I barely have time to register what it was I was experiencing. Now all I feel is a potent stickiness between my thighs.

Wow,” he pants. “That was something else… Was it good for you too, Norma?”

“Well… at the start it hurt a bit.”

“I’m so sorry, Norma — I hope you’re okay. I think that’ll be because it was your first time.”

“That’s okay, I know. But then after that… after that I felt this… this… all-encompassing…”

“Hmm?” He grins knowingly. “I believe you’ll find that’s called an orgas–”

“Complete and total nothingness. All I felt was a yawning chasm of dissatisfaction. In fact, I’d call it disappointment. You could’ve made more out of it, like talked to me, or we could’ve tried some kind of role play, maybe. Maybe I should’ve said so, but you knew it was my first time, so I would’ve appreciated some direction, some authority — some attention at all, really. But nope. You gave me nothing. So that’s what I felt — nothing. Just complete emptiness, which is especially weird seeing as you were literally filling me up. Seriously, right now you’re oozing out of me. It’s kind of unpleasant. But I barely even had time to focus on that, because it was over as soon as it started. Seems like you had fun, though.”

Johnny shrugs. “Well. Sounds about right to me. Welcome to heterosexual sex, Norma.”

As I shower, dress, and make my way towards Johnny Maverick’s private helicopter which will take me back to the warm confines of my pathetic tiny woman home, I think: Does all this mean I truly am a woman now? No longer a girl, but a real, fully-fledged woman?

And does that mean I can be a lesbian?

Dear God, I hope so.

Thank you for everything you taught me about what it truly means to be a woman in this world, Johnny Maverick. I’ll never forget you.

THE END

P.S. It’s genuinely really fun guys

Read part 1.

Read part 2.

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Swéta Rana

Raised on a diet of Enid Blyton and American comedy. Naturally I’m incredibly confused. @s_rana_