Lust Connection

An erotic flash fiction at 1000 words. Because there's a word limit there's missing exposition and pieces of dramatic structure. Will you like it? Can't say really. I think it's cool though.

Tags: trans, threesome, oral, anal, incest

“Ready to fuck?” Sasha sauntered into her study, a camcorder in one hand and wrenching her banana-like cock methodically with the other. She paused behind Yolanda at the computer desk, turning the camera on the back of her head. Sasha lowered the camcorder and leaned over Yolanda's shoulder, squinting at the flat panel illuminating the darkness. “Letter writing is a lost art.”

“Email is quicker.” Yolanda clicked out the browser.

Turning her chair, Yolanda's eyes locked onto Sasha's aroused t-girl cock. It'd only been four months since they 'worked' together, but her dick looked more magnificent. Her cock curved at a delectable 9½ inches, same as Yolanda's, and was impressively thick.

Yolanda fucked women for pleasure or paycheck. When she dealt with dick that wasn't her own—she had eyes only for Sasha's masterpiece—if the numerals were correct. And it was correct enough to coax her out of retirement for another last hurrah. The duo were slated to fuck some eighteen year old slut for Wanton Hustle's web exclusive series: 'SISTAHSCREWBITCHES'.

Sasha raised the camera and squinted at Yolanda through its lens. Smirking, she said, “Send another love letter to an adoring fan? Don't they know I'm the production's face now? The much prettier face now?”

“I'm always gonna be head bitch,” Yolanda said, turning on the lamp beside the computer monitor. “One: You ain't never gonna be prettier. Two: I was emailing my daughter. She's going through shit with her mother and is running here to live with me until she gets her own place.”

“She don't know how you living now, right?”

Yolanda exhaled then shook her head. “Her mom is too embarrassed and I never had the heart. Can't tell her no since the email was dated yesterday. I'm just now seeing it.”

“She know where you live?”

“Yeah.” Yolanda nodded. “Before she showed me how email worked—we kept in touch via the 'lost arts'. I replied to her e