New Caprican Cowgirl
Just posting my bsg_pornbattle fic.
Prompts were drunk Laura, Reverse Cowgirl, mirrors, dirty dancing and jail (can I change this to gaol btw) fantasies.
Rated Very mature (obviously!) and has absolutely no plot and several errors that I never noticed because I wrote it so fast.
Not my characters (but they do live inside my head) and not making any money.
She moved so that her back was flush against his chest. Her arms swayed above her head, her fingers occasionally tickling his ear or hair. Her ass ground into his groin suggestively.
“Laura Roslin, you’re drunk,” he accused with a sigh.
He really had to get her out of here soon. Firstly, even though she was no longer the President, she was still a high profile citizen of New Caprica and she would regret making a spectacle of herself in the morning. Secondly, he was an old man and he would not be able to control his urges for much longer if she continued with her writhing against him.
He chuckled at the inappropriateness of her sexy dance movements considering the rustic melody of the current tune playing. “This is a Country and Western song, for frak’s sake,” he murmured in her ear.
She giggled. “It’s very appropriate then, Admiral. Haven’t you heard of the Reverse Cowgirl?” she asked saucily.
His cock hardened instantly at the mere thought of watching her shapely ass as she rode him until she screamed.
“Have you been hanging out with Ellen Tigh?” he asked.
“No, Bill, I’m not that drunk. I wasn’t a virgin when you met me, you know,” she taunted. “That position apparently makes a man last longer. You don’t want to last longer?” she asked innocently.
“You tell me that you let that prick Adar frak you like that and I may have to throw you in the brig again, Roslin,” he warned.
“Hmm,” she murmured. “That sounds good too. Hot brig sex. You could keep the security cameras rolling and we could watch it together afterwards.”
“That’s it! Let’s go,” he snapped and frog marched her away from the celebrations.
She slipped out of his grasp a few metres from the dance tent and twirled along, humming a vaguely familiar tune. Somewhere along the way she shed her bra, unclipping it and wriggling her arms to free herself from its restraints while still wearing her blouse, before throwing it carelessly over her shoulder in his general direction. He caught it on a reflex and added it to his bundle that already included her shoes, her glasses and a shawl.
She stopped and he nearly walked over the top of her with the abruptness of her new stationary stance.
She spun around and smiled up at him.
“Bill,” she said.
“Yes?” he asked.
“I have to just grab something out of Tory’s tent,” she said.
“What?”
“I know Tory has something I don’t. I’ll just grab it and meet you in my tent.”
He hesitated at leaving her wander the muddy lanes of New Caprica by herself. “I’ll be fine,” she reassured him with a kiss. “I will only take me five minutes. Trust me.”
*
Laura Roslin let her hands play with the hairs on her lover’s legs as she rocked gently on top of him, enjoying his hardness teasing her clit and G spot with every slow and languid thrust. His fingers alternated between massaging her back and reaching around to caress her breasts and nipples.
“Laura,” he groaned beneath her.
She hummed and enjoyed the expression of pleasure that passed over his features.
She hoped Tory wouldn’t notice her mirror missing until she could return it in the morning.