With middle-aged menopausal women well catered for by kinky fiction, it was presented to my attention that nobody is catering to the middle-aged menopausal gamer. This why I put pen to paper to write my first ever erotic masterpiece: 50 Shades of Yellow, of which I present an extract here.
So go ahead - lick the tips of your fingers, and flick open my lewd hardback. I can promise you a voyage of retro gaming raunch that you'll never quite recover from.
There was a noise that sounded like a 'ding'. This was to indicate that we had reached the top storey of the very tall building. The elevator doors parted, swooshing open with a sort of swooshing noise that went like this: 'swoooooosh!'. I stepped out into the penthouse. The floor was very shiny. It was one of the shiniest floors I had ever seen.
"Hello?" I enquired. "Is there anybody in this penthouse, only it looks empty?".
My voice echoed a bit in the sparse, but modern, apartment.
"I'm in here," came a voice, that was soft yet commanding, confirming that the penthouse wasn't empty like I thought it was when I first entered. "I've been waiting for you."
He was on the sofa, his large, spherical yellow body making it difficult to tell if he was sitting or reclining. I chose to perceive it as the latter, that he was reclining, awaiting me, his gaping citrine wedge of a mouth open and ready for whatever I might decide to deposit into it. His eyes were turned to the ceiling, but closed.
"Do you like my floor?" he asked. "I had it polished, so that it's very shiny."
"I noticed," I replied, my voice trembling slightly like I was nervous which I was. "It's one of the most very shiny floors I've ever seen."
I wasn't lying. It really was very, very shiny. He opened an eye, and regarded me, rolling forwards so that he could get a better look.
"Waka waka," he purred, pursing his bright flavescent lips. "You're quite the sight for sore eyes. Would you like a pill?"
"I don't do that sort of thing," I said, which was mostly true, unless you count anti-psychotic drugs to control the feeling that there are cats living under my skin.
He rolled from side to side, in a motion that I presumed was a shrug, before tipping forward to consume a large, blue pill that had been hovering above the coffee table.
"Ah! That's better," he gasped, with a moan, as his spheroidal body quivered a little. "That will keep the ghosts at bay. Now why don't you turn around and pull your trousers down in a sexy way so that I can see your bum and stuff?"
I did as ordered. I turned my back to him, and dropped my hands to my belt buckle. They shook as I undid the belt, and let gravity take hold of my trousers. I wasn't wearing pants and I had shaved my bum and stuff, as requested in the text he'd sent me earlier, which I mentioned in the previous chapter.
"Don't turn around," he barked. "I want this to be a surprise."
There was a pause, and then I could feel his breath on the backs of my legs, heard the soft trill of his breath. I sensed his gaze taking in what I hoped was a magnificent view. And it was then that I felt the first nibble on my ankle. Soft, damp, tender. He worked his way upwards, over my calves, the backs of my knees, his broad, toothless maw chomping away at my haunches.
"Mmmmm!" I heard him mumble, as he reached my fat arse. "I'm biting your bum and I've decided that I really love it."
I felt his drool running down my thighs. I looked over my shoulder, and was surprised to see that his drool was the same colour as his skin. My legs looked like I'd smeared them in a cold custard...
TO BE CONTINUED...