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snoggedTitle: Dopplestripper
Author: snogged
Disclaimer: Carter Bays and Craig Thomas own the cast of How I Met Your Mother. I don’t. Please don’t sue.
Pairing: Marshall/Lily/Jasmine
Word Count: 700
Rating/Warnings: FRAO/NC-17; explicit sexual situations and adult language
Setting: 5.02 – “Double Date.”
Summary: The private dance goes a little differently…
Beta: None. All mistakes are mine.
Dedicated with love to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
otempora42 and secondmezzanine.
In the dim light of the Lusty Leopard’s champagne room, Marshall wondered when the fuzzy edges of fantasy would wrap its dreamy tendrils around his brain. He wondered when the light switch would flicker, when the porn music would start. He wondered whether or not two Lilys rutting against each other would be enough to stave off the death fantasies…
Two Lilys.
God, he hoped that was enough…
His wife giggled as the strobe light bounced off the top of her creamy, perfectly sized breasts. Correction: as it bounced off the tops of two perfect sets of identical breasts and slid over soft, curvy bodies, stroking white cotton and black garters with imaginary, flickering fingers.
Marshall blinked again, breath hitching in his throat. There would be no death on his mind today. No hiccough disorders that couldn’t be cured. There would just be sex, wanton and carnal, as his wife explored the symmetry of her stripper self with curious fingers and eager smiles
When Stripper!Lily (Jasmine) wriggled her hips, grinding against Lily’s lap, Lily’s eyes widened like saucers and Marshall groaned. He was already sporting a partial and was well on his way to bust-a-hole-through-his-pants city. He couldn’t even focus on the fact that his wife was getting pleasure from someone who wasn’t him…and they were paying five-hundred buckaroos for her to do it.
Lily closed her eyes, leaning back in the soft, velvet chair as Jasmine worked her magic, twisting and turning her body to the rhythm of the music, smirking at how easily she manipulated bodies to respond to her methods of madness.
Marshall gritted his teeth as he watched his wife turn into a human stripper pole, as he watched her body tremble and shiver under the dim lights. He watched as her dress slipped from her shoulders, exposing more of her to her doppelganger and his hand “accidentally” brushed over his hardening erection, making his own body shudder and spasm.
Shit…
Lily moaned, eyes catching the look on her husband’s face before they rolled back into her skull. It turned her on to see him so horny, to see him so hot, to see him being just as into this as she was. Stripper!Her bounced against her lap, breasts jiggling and tapping against her chin.
This had to be the cure for Marshall’s fantasy dysfunction. There was no way he could imagine her dying from chronic illness after being the witness to this kind of super hot, sex appeal. She wanted him going crazy bananas over this for years to come.
Marshall’s hand slid over his crotch again, feeling the pulsing ridge push against the button fly. He was so close to exploding, right here, right now and he wasn’t even going for skin-on-skin. Of course, Lily would find it way hot that he was willing to spray right into his shorts but that’s just who she was.
Who she was…
She was his awesome, smoking hot wife who was getting grinded into fine pepper by her big-haired, Russian doppelganger. His smoking hot wife who he would be bound and wed to for the rest of his life.
That thought alone was enough to make him twitch and groan with need and lust. Enough to send him dancing along the razor edge of his climax. Lily getting dry-humped really had nothing to do with it. All he needed was Lily: wholly and completely. That was his reality and that was always enough to sate him, to send him spinning off the edge.
His back arched, body drawing up taut like a bow string, and his hand dove into his pants, eyes closing tight as his orgasm took hold, sending him rolling down the tidal waves of his bliss. In the distance, girls were giggling, whispering. By the time, he opened his eyes, Lily and Jasmine were watching him with amused expressions.
But it took him until they were back on the club’s main floor to realize that Lily wasn’t Lily and Jasmine wasn’t Jasmine.
He’d been punk’d and Ashton Kutcher wasn’t even around to see it.
Author: snogged
Disclaimer: Carter Bays and Craig Thomas own the cast of How I Met Your Mother. I don’t. Please don’t sue.
Pairing: Marshall/Lily/Jasmine
Word Count: 700
Rating/Warnings: FRAO/NC-17; explicit sexual situations and adult language
Setting: 5.02 – “Double Date.”
Summary: The private dance goes a little differently…
Beta: None. All mistakes are mine.
Dedicated with love to
otempora42 and secondmezzanine.In the dim light of the Lusty Leopard’s champagne room, Marshall wondered when the fuzzy edges of fantasy would wrap its dreamy tendrils around his brain. He wondered when the light switch would flicker, when the porn music would start. He wondered whether or not two Lilys rutting against each other would be enough to stave off the death fantasies…
Two Lilys.
God, he hoped that was enough…
His wife giggled as the strobe light bounced off the top of her creamy, perfectly sized breasts. Correction: as it bounced off the tops of two perfect sets of identical breasts and slid over soft, curvy bodies, stroking white cotton and black garters with imaginary, flickering fingers.
Marshall blinked again, breath hitching in his throat. There would be no death on his mind today. No hiccough disorders that couldn’t be cured. There would just be sex, wanton and carnal, as his wife explored the symmetry of her stripper self with curious fingers and eager smiles
When Stripper!Lily (Jasmine) wriggled her hips, grinding against Lily’s lap, Lily’s eyes widened like saucers and Marshall groaned. He was already sporting a partial and was well on his way to bust-a-hole-through-his-pants city. He couldn’t even focus on the fact that his wife was getting pleasure from someone who wasn’t him…and they were paying five-hundred buckaroos for her to do it.
Lily closed her eyes, leaning back in the soft, velvet chair as Jasmine worked her magic, twisting and turning her body to the rhythm of the music, smirking at how easily she manipulated bodies to respond to her methods of madness.
Marshall gritted his teeth as he watched his wife turn into a human stripper pole, as he watched her body tremble and shiver under the dim lights. He watched as her dress slipped from her shoulders, exposing more of her to her doppelganger and his hand “accidentally” brushed over his hardening erection, making his own body shudder and spasm.
Shit…
Lily moaned, eyes catching the look on her husband’s face before they rolled back into her skull. It turned her on to see him so horny, to see him so hot, to see him being just as into this as she was. Stripper!Her bounced against her lap, breasts jiggling and tapping against her chin.
This had to be the cure for Marshall’s fantasy dysfunction. There was no way he could imagine her dying from chronic illness after being the witness to this kind of super hot, sex appeal. She wanted him going crazy bananas over this for years to come.
Marshall’s hand slid over his crotch again, feeling the pulsing ridge push against the button fly. He was so close to exploding, right here, right now and he wasn’t even going for skin-on-skin. Of course, Lily would find it way hot that he was willing to spray right into his shorts but that’s just who she was.
Who she was…
She was his awesome, smoking hot wife who was getting grinded into fine pepper by her big-haired, Russian doppelganger. His smoking hot wife who he would be bound and wed to for the rest of his life.
That thought alone was enough to make him twitch and groan with need and lust. Enough to send him dancing along the razor edge of his climax. Lily getting dry-humped really had nothing to do with it. All he needed was Lily: wholly and completely. That was his reality and that was always enough to sate him, to send him spinning off the edge.
His back arched, body drawing up taut like a bow string, and his hand dove into his pants, eyes closing tight as his orgasm took hold, sending him rolling down the tidal waves of his bliss. In the distance, girls were giggling, whispering. By the time, he opened his eyes, Lily and Jasmine were watching him with amused expressions.
But it took him until they were back on the club’s main floor to realize that Lily wasn’t Lily and Jasmine wasn’t Jasmine.
He’d been punk’d and Ashton Kutcher wasn’t even around to see it.