Incontheivable

Creative Cosplay. Forbidden Role Play. Clever Word Play.

A mutual acquaintance reunites childhood best friends: an elfin blond beauty and a lanky high school nerd who has matured into a hunky man.

The games of pretend they played based on their shared love of fantasy books and movies leads to much more adult fantasies for the young, fit couple.

A youthful misunderstanding, the wrong word spoken at the wrong time, drove them apart. When they meet again as adults they find that, besides a love of The Princess Bride, Harry Potter, Star Wars and much more, they also share a secret. Both have been looking for someone who shares a curiosity to begin exploring the roles of dominance and submission they first encountered years before in the fiction they read, but who can temper the desire with humor and trust.

Will the two overcome their doubts, and the distracting flirtations of two well-endowed beauties, in order to embrace their new-found chance at exploration, lust, and perhaps even love?

~~~~~ PG Excerpt ~~~~~

He stared at the picture she had attached, forgetting to breathe after an initial gasped inhale. If his hands shook he was as unaware of that as he was of the twin drips of sweat suddenly running down either side of his spine.

The picture features two women posing in costumes. Her caption read:

‘Harry Potter theme party — Gryffindor mashup duo wins grand prize. (I’m the tall blond).’

Maybe he was supposed to be distracted by the costumed Daphne, her large breasts pushed together and up under the skin-tight top, above an exposed, fit midriff. The blonde wig did little to disguise her distinctive face and build.

No. She knew what she was sending. It wasn’t the taller girl, in her superhero costume, that he was supposed to find ‘interesting.’ Though she was worth a prolonged second glance:

Short skirt, cropped top, boots and a maroon cape. Daphne was clearly dressed as a sexy, exaggerated Supergirl, but the colors and the sigil on her chest were wrong. Red and blue had become maroon and grey. Only the gold stayed the same — the colors of Gryffindor, the ‘house’ that both Hermione Granger and Harry Potter belonged to at Hogwarts, the famous British school for wizards. The S was a stylized, sinuous rampant lion, the symbol of the house.

Daphne was stunning in the unique, clever outfit, showing more leg below the skirt than the comic book Supergirl ever had. But his attention would not stay on her.

Her companion in the picture was shorter, less curvy. And left him staring, slack-jawed, his breath held, his heart pounding.

The thick, reddish-brown hair was a wonderful duplication of the rich color of Hermione’s hair, bound into a long braid that draped over one bare shoulder. It was obviously another wig, as he identified the face it framed, and the slight figure it crowned.

Ken would have known her delicate features anywhere, anytime. And the exposed, athlete’s body, tiny but strong, only confirmed it. Stacy Nyborg. After all these years.

She was Princess Leia as Jabba’s captive. Hermione Granger. A caricatured schoolgirl. All in one inspired, revealing costume mash-up. But it was recognizing Stacy as the beauty in the costume that set his heart to pound, his breath to catch.

Antiqued, detailed, thick metal pieces outlined the bikini, slung low on her hips and swirling under and around small breasts. Two narrow strips of tartan plaid cloth, pleated and in the same grey, maroon, and gold as ‘Supergirl,’ hung front and back from the slim hips as a floor length loincloth-skirt, without concealing any of her naked, toned legs.

The same Gryffindor plaid backed the metal framework of the bikini top. Large metal bands encircled one wrist and the opposite bicep.

Even with the wealth of exposed, flawless skin, Ken’s eyes kept returning to her slender neck, wrapped in a matching metallic collar. A sturdy chain hung from her throat, draped in a relaxed arc to end up held in Supergirl-Daphne’s hands.

The last detail completed the ‘wizarding schoolgirl’ aspect of the costume. A large lollipop, a whorl of gold and maroon, was gripped in Stacy’s small hands. He looked closely. The stick holding the over-size candy circle was wood-tone, slightly irregular in shape, not a simple cylinder. It was a slim wizard’s wand.

His body dragged in a much-needed breath, flushed, heart racing, thoughts in a whirl tighter than the Gryffindor colors of the lollipop.