All she could hear was the music. A deep, pulsing beat. Coming from the back of the house. The room was dark, a tinge of light coming from an open door down the hall.
The chair was wooden, high-backed. She wore black lace panties and a matching bra and nothing else. Her hands were tied tightly behind her back and fastened to the chair. Her ankles were knotted to the legs of the chair.
And all she could hear was the music.
She remembered him tying her up, then walking away. Then the music started.
She didn't know how long he'd been gone. Thirty minutes, maybe an hour.
The music didn't stop. Loud. Pulsing. Beating. Like her heart.
She felt beads of sweat on her head. The anticipation of what was next made her wet between her legs.
She didn't hear as he walked behind her, but she saw more light from the candle he carried.
He placed the candle on a table behind her chair. She saw his shadow to the side of her.
He was in front of her now. No shirt, only a well-fitting pair of boxer briefs. His body lean and hungry.
She watched as he massaged his cock through his briefs. Watched the way his eyes took all of her in. Watched as the cotton grew tighter around his stiffening member. Watched as pre-cum stained through the dark shorts. All the while, the music continued. Loud. Relentless. Her desire building.
She watched as his shorts dropped to the floor. Admired the strong, hard, pulsing cock as he stroked it. He let it go, let her see the full length and thickness of him.
He walked behind her, grabbed her throat, and brought her lips to his, taking an angry, hungry kiss -- taking her breath away. His hands wandered, down to her breasts, down to her aching pussy. His fingers beneath lace, teasing moist folds, opening her. A finger pressed in, a second joined. He stroked her, teased her clit, and she moaned in expectant delight.
One hand on her neck, his pussy-soaked fingers in her mouth as she licked every single drop of her desire.
He was in front of her now, his cock even stiffer than before.
He grabbed the back of her head, a handful of her hair. Shoved his cock over her lips, into her mouth, into her throat. Held it there as her eyes began to water. Pulled it out a bit... rubbed it on her lips, rubbed between her breasts. Then back into her mouth. In and out. Fucking her face, taking what he wanted.
His grip on her hair grew tighter and his cock moved faster. Over her lips, on her tongue, to her throat. Sometimes slipping completely out, then shoved back in. He was lost in the pleasure of her.
He pulled her down, all the way down his shaft, held her there and she felt the pulsing, the throbbing. His explosion was exquisite. He grunted, moaned her name. Thick, hot semen filled her throat and she took all she could.
He pulled back, his cock still semi-hard. He took her in, noticed the tears down her face, the cum dripping from her used mouth. Warm drops forming on her bra and breasts.
He walked behind her, whispered to her. She just smiled.
The music. Pulsing. Loud.
Her body aching. Hungry. Wanting more.
Showing posts with label Andrew Smith stories. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Andrew Smith stories. Show all posts
Wednesday, October 4, 2017
Thursday, September 1, 2016
Big and Loud
The boys are big and loud.
They ride barefoot in the back of the jeep because one of them said "Let's Go!"
The amble about in careless, heavy steps, knocking one another and pointing and laughing.
They hit each other to show affection.
He is neither big nor loud.
He is quiet, thoughtful, doesn't enjoy being knocked into.
He marvels at the attention paid to the big and loud boys by the girls he considers "nice."
He wonders why it's ok to hit each other, why that's funny.
He wonders what is wrong with him, and why he's the one whose behavior is suspect. After all, THEY are aggressive, hurtful, cruel. And Big. and Loud.
When he speaks, they all listen. Even the big and loud boys. Sometimes, a note or kind word will follow. From a quiet girl. A pretty one.
Later, he'll see her. With the big and loud boys.
Once, at a movie, a particularly smart girl whom he'd admired was there. With a big and loud boy.
He was alone. And wondered what he'd done to claim her attention.
Was being big and loud all it took?
The big and loud boys made no sense. They still make no sense.
With their light beers and their laughter.
They huddle in groups in button down shirts and slap each others backs and make fart noises and laugh and point at the pretty girls. Women, now.
They pushed and cajoled and blew past the quiet one.
They sometimes listened, often pursued a path he laid out. But after, he wasn't invited for beers.
Beer was gross, anyway, he surmised.
Or maybe he was gross.
Was missing something. Missed a lot of somethings.
Could he make himself big and loud?
A drink or two at an event had this effect: He wasn't as bothered by the big and loud boys. Or men. You wouldn't say he was big. Or loud. But he engaged more freely.
Still, he spent most of his time watching. And really, it felt like often he was watching himself. He saw the image of him standing there, was aware of others who engaged him. But he was about two steps behind and slightly above his physical presence. He watched interactions unfold.
Oh, also, the boys smelled. Either sweaty smells or the smell of too much cologne. Their smells were big and loud as they ambled in big, slow steps and walked into people and didn't care and hit each other and laughed for no apparent reason.
Big and loud.
He was not.
But the boys were big and loud. They turned to men. Big and loud men. And this puzzled him, even as he aged, became a man, gained experience.
The men are big and loud.
He is not.
And never will be.
They ride barefoot in the back of the jeep because one of them said "Let's Go!"
The amble about in careless, heavy steps, knocking one another and pointing and laughing.
They hit each other to show affection.
He is neither big nor loud.
He is quiet, thoughtful, doesn't enjoy being knocked into.
He marvels at the attention paid to the big and loud boys by the girls he considers "nice."
He wonders why it's ok to hit each other, why that's funny.
He wonders what is wrong with him, and why he's the one whose behavior is suspect. After all, THEY are aggressive, hurtful, cruel. And Big. and Loud.
When he speaks, they all listen. Even the big and loud boys. Sometimes, a note or kind word will follow. From a quiet girl. A pretty one.
Later, he'll see her. With the big and loud boys.
Once, at a movie, a particularly smart girl whom he'd admired was there. With a big and loud boy.
He was alone. And wondered what he'd done to claim her attention.
Was being big and loud all it took?
The big and loud boys made no sense. They still make no sense.
With their light beers and their laughter.
They huddle in groups in button down shirts and slap each others backs and make fart noises and laugh and point at the pretty girls. Women, now.
They pushed and cajoled and blew past the quiet one.
They sometimes listened, often pursued a path he laid out. But after, he wasn't invited for beers.
Beer was gross, anyway, he surmised.
Or maybe he was gross.
Was missing something. Missed a lot of somethings.
Could he make himself big and loud?
A drink or two at an event had this effect: He wasn't as bothered by the big and loud boys. Or men. You wouldn't say he was big. Or loud. But he engaged more freely.
Still, he spent most of his time watching. And really, it felt like often he was watching himself. He saw the image of him standing there, was aware of others who engaged him. But he was about two steps behind and slightly above his physical presence. He watched interactions unfold.
Oh, also, the boys smelled. Either sweaty smells or the smell of too much cologne. Their smells were big and loud as they ambled in big, slow steps and walked into people and didn't care and hit each other and laughed for no apparent reason.
Big and loud.
He was not.
But the boys were big and loud. They turned to men. Big and loud men. And this puzzled him, even as he aged, became a man, gained experience.
The men are big and loud.
He is not.
And never will be.
Wednesday, August 31, 2016
The Edge
And now she was on the edge of the desk, her ass barely on, her panties off, her skirt up over her stomach.
He was sitting in a chair watching. Watching her fingers delicately dance on her clit. His hand on his cock, though his pants were still on.
She spread her legs and he could see the pink of her pussy, the thin strip of red hair just above.
His pants were down, his cock was out. He used his precum to lube himself.
He stood and kissed her and his hot cock pressed into her thigh.
Now, he was standing straight, his cock moving up.
He held it against her, looked into her eyes.
He rubbed the raging member against her clit. Used it to part her folds. The thickness and heat of him felt good against her aching clit. He rubbed back and forth, up and down. Never penetrating, just teasing.
He held his cock at the base, pushed it into her wetness, watched her watching him.
He made circles around the outline of her pussy, back to her clit, to her thigh. He was driving her wild. She wanted him inside her. A gift he would not give. Not today.
He pressed against her clit, held himself between delicate lips, stroked and then held himself near the head... he looked directly into her blue eyes as he shot hot cum onto her clit and thigh. He rubbed it into her stomach.
On his knees now, licking his cum, tasting the mixture of their fluids. Fingers inside a sopping wet pussy, tongue against her clit. She arched back, back... legs embracing him as she climaxed.
As she left, she asked, "When will you fuck me?"
"When I'm ready..."
He was sitting in a chair watching. Watching her fingers delicately dance on her clit. His hand on his cock, though his pants were still on.
She spread her legs and he could see the pink of her pussy, the thin strip of red hair just above.
His pants were down, his cock was out. He used his precum to lube himself.
He stood and kissed her and his hot cock pressed into her thigh.
Now, he was standing straight, his cock moving up.
He held it against her, looked into her eyes.
He rubbed the raging member against her clit. Used it to part her folds. The thickness and heat of him felt good against her aching clit. He rubbed back and forth, up and down. Never penetrating, just teasing.
He held his cock at the base, pushed it into her wetness, watched her watching him.
He made circles around the outline of her pussy, back to her clit, to her thigh. He was driving her wild. She wanted him inside her. A gift he would not give. Not today.
He pressed against her clit, held himself between delicate lips, stroked and then held himself near the head... he looked directly into her blue eyes as he shot hot cum onto her clit and thigh. He rubbed it into her stomach.
On his knees now, licking his cum, tasting the mixture of their fluids. Fingers inside a sopping wet pussy, tongue against her clit. She arched back, back... legs embracing him as she climaxed.
As she left, she asked, "When will you fuck me?"
"When I'm ready..."
Tuesday, May 17, 2016
Opposing Forces
Another guest post from K. If you are interested in writing a guest post, contact me: mrsterling2010@gmail.com
This was the most intense assignment of their careers…and they were both sleeping with the enemy…sleeping with each other. Lead media liaisons for two viciously opposing political candidates. How they would maintain their anonymity, they had no idea, but the heat between them emanated from somewhere deep, and foreboding.
He slid her conservative sheath dress over her thighs, and onto her hips…just enough to allow him to grip her ass in his strong hands; possessing her body. She loathed and lusted after this sensation of being the object of his desire. The dissonance…the dichotomy… made her body clench in ways that begged him for more. He reciprocated, so determined to make her succumb, and so earnest to please her; to control her orgasm with his essence. He was so enamored by her, by her relentlessness to achieve and lead. She was at odds with everything he considered attractive and appropriate, but oh how he wanted her.
Raising her to him, he pressed her back into the wall and thrust into her, feeling her inner walls clench his rigid member. If anyone caught them here, in this dark supply closet at a very public debate, their careers would be over, and their clients’ rivalry would be cast into ridicule. How can men be entrusted with high office and lack the ability to maintain the loyalty of their most prominent team members? This alliance was doomed. But perhaps that was the exhilaration they both craved in this overly politically correct, charade, of government process.
Her nipples hardened against his chest. She could hardly contain her screams. He filled her, stretched her, and her body craved more. As if he could sense her coming apart in his hands, he pressed into her more firmly, held her to him with one arm, and reached to place one hand over her throat. She could barely breath, her screams were stifled. He pounded faster, and faster, maintaining pressure on her neck. Suddenly, he tilted his head down and bit her nipple through her dress. She lost control. On the brink of losing consciousness, she released, soaking him in her desire. He barely slowed himself, pulsing into her until she hung limply onto his shoulders, and came as her body milked his, as if it were only natural.
He lowered her with a kiss. Her knees were still weak. Clothes disheveled, ties and cuffs undone, they had mere moments to make themselves presentable before they returned to their stations. These minutes felt like hours, and walking into the light of day felt surreal after such risqué encounters. In these moments, they did not feel like bitter rivals, but perfect complements. Perhaps this was a lesson they could draw from these dark places.
Wednesday, September 9, 2015
Unrequited
We lived in the basement at a mission in Baltimore.
We lived in a small apartment near the college where I taught in Ohio.
We practically shared her tiny dorm room.
We were together. Sometimes. Never. Always?
Never.
Touching her hand, I saw it, though. Saw it all.
That no matter where we were, we'd be together. We'd be in love.
Her face sunk when she found out I had a girlfriend. Perhaps I shouldn't have told her ... and gotten rid of the girl.
She sent a concerned email when she met my soon-to-be-wife. Was everything ok, she wondered?
No. Clearly, it wasn't. Because a wedding was planned, but it was not with her.
I'm not even sure I can write this. Or that I should.
I'd open an email from her, and all would melt away.
I'd see her and my heart would leap.
With the benefit of time, I can see events that would have happened.
I can see a future.
And I can see that after I let her go, my life took a path. One I desperately tried to escape. Those attempts at escape. They hurt the most. Leading me in unfamiliar directions -- away from the man who loved (still loves) her.
10 years ago, I had it all worked out. I'd move away. I'd start all over. Even go back to college.
I'd find a way to bring her along. Or, invite her out once I'd been established.
And wasn't that always the problem? Instead of taking a the moment when it came, I had to create the circumstances to make it perfect...and then, the moment never came.
Instead of asking her to marry me right then, the moment I knew, I waited. It wasn't right. It couldn't be right.
I've felt that intensity ...or something very close one other time. Since she left. Just once. There are probably maybe one or two or three in the world for whom each of us has such a connection. So, I've met my second.
But instead of using the lesson of M to guide me... I've become more guarded, more afraid. More careful in my execution of life.
I don't really know why I'm doing this. Writing this. But I keep thinking it. And it haunts me.
Not just because I may have saved her...but because I could have saved myself. Could have been the me I needed to be. Could have been me.
I think she loved me. I feel like she did. Maybe that's what causes the pain. I can never know, now. I could ask her sister, but I don't want to bring up that topic. Though I want to hear those words: M loved you.
But that's selfish. And painful. And won't change the reality.
All I can do now is this: Monica, I love you.
Can she hear me? Does she know?
We lived in a small apartment near the college where I taught in Ohio.
We practically shared her tiny dorm room.
We were together. Sometimes. Never. Always?
Never.
Touching her hand, I saw it, though. Saw it all.
That no matter where we were, we'd be together. We'd be in love.
Her face sunk when she found out I had a girlfriend. Perhaps I shouldn't have told her ... and gotten rid of the girl.
She sent a concerned email when she met my soon-to-be-wife. Was everything ok, she wondered?
No. Clearly, it wasn't. Because a wedding was planned, but it was not with her.
I'm not even sure I can write this. Or that I should.
I'd open an email from her, and all would melt away.
I'd see her and my heart would leap.
With the benefit of time, I can see events that would have happened.
I can see a future.
And I can see that after I let her go, my life took a path. One I desperately tried to escape. Those attempts at escape. They hurt the most. Leading me in unfamiliar directions -- away from the man who loved (still loves) her.
10 years ago, I had it all worked out. I'd move away. I'd start all over. Even go back to college.
I'd find a way to bring her along. Or, invite her out once I'd been established.
And wasn't that always the problem? Instead of taking a the moment when it came, I had to create the circumstances to make it perfect...and then, the moment never came.
Instead of asking her to marry me right then, the moment I knew, I waited. It wasn't right. It couldn't be right.
I've felt that intensity ...or something very close one other time. Since she left. Just once. There are probably maybe one or two or three in the world for whom each of us has such a connection. So, I've met my second.
But instead of using the lesson of M to guide me... I've become more guarded, more afraid. More careful in my execution of life.
I don't really know why I'm doing this. Writing this. But I keep thinking it. And it haunts me.
Not just because I may have saved her...but because I could have saved myself. Could have been the me I needed to be. Could have been me.
I think she loved me. I feel like she did. Maybe that's what causes the pain. I can never know, now. I could ask her sister, but I don't want to bring up that topic. Though I want to hear those words: M loved you.
But that's selfish. And painful. And won't change the reality.
All I can do now is this: Monica, I love you.
Can she hear me? Does she know?
Wednesday, July 22, 2015
Sydney and Thalia
Guest blogger Lexi writes about an attraction that can't be denied:
Sydney never considered herself a lesbian, even bi-curious. Maybe it was Thalia’s androgyny. Maybe it was her insistence. Maybe it was the way she looked at her like she was starving every time their eyes met.
But part of it... most of it, in fact, …was the sex.
Long after their attempt at monogamy ended, their trysts continued. Neither of them could get enough. As women, they knew exactly what women wanted... and how to stimulate just the right places at the right times. Sydney could only reason that it was a woman's innate knowledge of how another woman's body operated that allowed the two of them to achieve earth shattering multiple orgasms ... Every. Single. Time.
When Thalia texted her, there was always an insistence.
“Come get me when you’re free.”
Unlike a man, everything about her was soft. So the aggressive, brusque passion Sydney experienced with a man was replaced with an equally powerful sensuality that naturally permeates within a woman. Thalia’s skin was soft as her hands ran up Sydney’s ribcage to cup her breasts briefly before giving her a ravenous kiss and pulling her shirt over her head.
She showered soft kisses along Sydney’s neck, from earlobe to clavicle, gently embracing her waist as her lips traveled south to her navel. Goosebumps rose on Sydney’s skin in anticipation when Thalia looked up at her through her eyelashes. She deftly released the button on her jeans with one hand and leaned down to kiss the sensitive spot on Sydneys hip, close enough to her pubis to make her muscles clench. Thalia hooked her fingers into Syd's jeans and panties and swiftly forced them both down and off her feet.
Wearing only a blue silk bra, Sydney lay exposed under Thalia, who looked upon her body as one would look upon Aphrodite. Lust crackled in the air like electricity between them. Almost entranced, Thalia's fingers slid between Sydney’s legs, immediately finding her wet and swollen clit. Sydney released a sigh of relief as her head tipped back and her hips lifted in response to the touch she came to relish.
Thalia circled her bud with skillful fingers, occasionally leaning down to suck softly, coaxing Syd’s body into her own before inserting two fingers inside her. Syd was ready for this; she moaned and moved into her, begging for release already. Thalia paused, her fingers still buried inside Syd’s softness. Her free hand grabbed Sydney’s forearm and gently pulled, suggesting she straddle her. Sydney looked into her eyes, excitedly biting her lip. With a smirk, Thalia began a rapid come hither motion, catching Syd completely off guard.
“Oh fuck” Syd breathed. She threw her leg across Thalia's groin and ground her pussy against her hand. Thalia took Syd's nipple into her mouth and sucked hard, gently twisting her other nipple between her fingers. Syd was lost in ecstasy, writhing against the exquisite friction of bodies and Thalia's relentless stroking of her sweetest spot. The combination sent her over the edge. She was coming apart as Thalia released her, pressed her body down into the seat, and ravenously pushed her knees to either side, wrapping her body underneath Sydney. Abruptly she pounded her fingers into Syd's pussy and pumped, stroking and tapping her g spot each time. She pressed on Sydney's mound as she sucked and licked tight circles around her clit, feeling her core tighten with her mounting orgasm.
Sydney came with a scream, sweat covering her in a sheen across her body. She convulsed as the orgasms rippled through her being; Thalia coaxing and milking her body for its entirety. There was never an abrupt stop, making it all the more savory as she took her lovers' body to the brink, and tenderly cajoled her back. So unlike a man, but oh so satisfying.
For more from Andrew Smith, follow @ASmithTweets
Want to write a guest post? Get in touch on Twitter!
Monday, April 27, 2015
The Dark Places
I am attracted to the dark places.
The places others won't go.
The buildings in the back of the alley.
The homes with broken windows.
The mold along the baseboards.
I'm attracted to the dark places.
The people they attract.
The nod from the man at the coffee shop.
Who knows where I start my morning.
Who lives alone in a hotel room.
I am attracted to the dark places.
The chipped paint. The broken boards.
The swing set falling apart.
The smell of mildew.
The cracks in the linoleum.
The room in the back.
The bed downstairs.
I may look like I've escaped.
May appear finished, sophisticated, and of another world.
But the dark places.
That's where I'm from.
That's where I'm home.
The dark places are my escape.
To a world I know and understand.
To people who know not to ask.
Anything.
They know why you're there.
They know you belong.
At least for that moment.
Maybe forever.
You never leave the dark places.
Once you've been.
They make a mark.
You can't erase it.
And if you're from those places.
If the darkness is your home.
No matter where you go
No matter what you see
You belong to the dark places
You seek them out
And they find you.
I'm attracted to the dark places.
The places others won't go.
The buildings in the back of the alley.
The homes with broken windows.
The mold along the baseboards.
I'm attracted to the dark places.
The people they attract.
The nod from the man at the coffee shop.
Who knows where I start my morning.
Who lives alone in a hotel room.
I am attracted to the dark places.
The chipped paint. The broken boards.
The swing set falling apart.
The smell of mildew.
The cracks in the linoleum.
The room in the back.
The bed downstairs.
I may look like I've escaped.
May appear finished, sophisticated, and of another world.
But the dark places.
That's where I'm from.
That's where I'm home.
The dark places are my escape.
To a world I know and understand.
To people who know not to ask.
Anything.
They know why you're there.
They know you belong.
At least for that moment.
Maybe forever.
You never leave the dark places.
Once you've been.
They make a mark.
You can't erase it.
And if you're from those places.
If the darkness is your home.
No matter where you go
No matter what you see
You belong to the dark places
You seek them out
And they find you.
I'm attracted to the dark places.
Tuesday, April 21, 2015
Angels....
That Ed Sheeran song.
The one about crack.
About the angel.
I sat in the parking lot of the public library... the dark, damp garage
And I cried.
I was the strange man who'd left my scent, who'd achieved a release
I was on top of her
And then I was not
And there was an envelope and a smile
I don't know what she needed
I don't think it was drugs
It didn't matter
she was always clean and had a job
But she needed something
And invited me in once a week
I guess there were probably others
I was an 11 AM on Thursday
Maybe it was just me
Maybe what was in the envelope once a week was enough
I cried
Because rather than connect with a real human... rather than dig in and open up
I paid for time
for the use of her
she was generous with her time... there wasn't a limit once I arrived
Except one time when her roommate texted to say she was leaving class early
Then I had to go
I learned from her
And she said it helped
The envelopes
And she seemed to enjoy our time
But when she messaged me once and said: "I just want to fuck you."
I thought: she needs some money.
And it became messy in my mind...
More than a transaction but less than a friend
She had a boyfriend.
A guy I'd known a few years back, but hadn't seen in some time
We talked about him once
And about how important it was for this to be quiet
A secret
A day in the week that was our time
And I wondered if they did the things we did -- she and her boyfriend
And I wondered if she liked his fucking better than mine
And I wondered what it would be like ... to be her boyfriend instead of a day on her calendar
And I cried
Because I couldn't imagine this being what she really wanted... a boyfriend and a man who met her once a week
That her need was so bad she'd provide this service no matter what else
Or was she lonely, too?
Was there more than a transaction for her after a time?
She moved.
On with her life.
Miles away.
I wished her a Merry Christmas... she wished me a Happy New Year
And that was the last we corresponded
But one day. After we were together.
I went to the library
And I heard that damn song
And I cried
The one about crack.
About the angel.
I sat in the parking lot of the public library... the dark, damp garage
And I cried.
I was the strange man who'd left my scent, who'd achieved a release
I was on top of her
And then I was not
And there was an envelope and a smile
I don't know what she needed
I don't think it was drugs
It didn't matter
she was always clean and had a job
But she needed something
And invited me in once a week
I guess there were probably others
I was an 11 AM on Thursday
Maybe it was just me
Maybe what was in the envelope once a week was enough
I cried
Because rather than connect with a real human... rather than dig in and open up
I paid for time
for the use of her
she was generous with her time... there wasn't a limit once I arrived
Except one time when her roommate texted to say she was leaving class early
Then I had to go
I learned from her
And she said it helped
The envelopes
And she seemed to enjoy our time
But when she messaged me once and said: "I just want to fuck you."
I thought: she needs some money.
And it became messy in my mind...
More than a transaction but less than a friend
She had a boyfriend.
A guy I'd known a few years back, but hadn't seen in some time
We talked about him once
And about how important it was for this to be quiet
A secret
A day in the week that was our time
And I wondered if they did the things we did -- she and her boyfriend
And I wondered if she liked his fucking better than mine
And I wondered what it would be like ... to be her boyfriend instead of a day on her calendar
And I cried
Because I couldn't imagine this being what she really wanted... a boyfriend and a man who met her once a week
That her need was so bad she'd provide this service no matter what else
Or was she lonely, too?
Was there more than a transaction for her after a time?
She moved.
On with her life.
Miles away.
I wished her a Merry Christmas... she wished me a Happy New Year
And that was the last we corresponded
But one day. After we were together.
I went to the library
And I heard that damn song
And I cried
Monday, April 20, 2015
Almost Carried Away
My heart was almost carried away.
I was almost lost in a cloud of love.
A haze of newness and desire.
I stood there. On the tile floor of a grocery store. I stood there.
And my heart stopped.
We talked. M and I.
We knew each other from a club on campus.
She was new, I'd been in it the whole time I was in college.
I was in grad school, she was a sophomore.
Her hair dark, her eyes even darker.
Her skin a delicate olive. About 5'4"
A swimmer and so incredibly fit.
I had just picked up a diamond engagement ring.
It was sitting in my car. I spent more than half of what I made in a semester from my grad assistantship on that ring.
In 6 months, I would be married.
But right then. As I saw M, I knew.
Knew that I should ask her. That I should get on my knee and propose...which was silly, because the ring was in my car and I'd have to explain that ... but it was what I knew I should do.
There was a connection I could not explain.
I would see her again. And again. And again. Even after I was married, we corresponded.
And I wondered.
What would have happened had I been carried away... Had I asked her to marry me on the floor of that grocery store. Or at the very least, asked her for coffee. Forgotten about the ring for a bit.
My heart was carried away. But not too far.
And one day, I received a message. An email. From M's mother, who was using M's email. Because.
Because M had died. In a fire in her apartment. And her mother said there were a handful of people with whom M had corresponded regularly. That she'd even talked with her family about me. And that the only way to get in touch was this email, which they hadn't accessed until after the funeral.
Had I taken her to coffee, would my life be different? Would she be alive?
Or would it have been just one more moment... my heart slightly more carried away... our lives continuing on their inevitable paths?
If I'd asked her to marry me, what would she have said?
My heart was (almost) carried away. Once.
I was almost lost in a cloud of love.
A haze of newness and desire.
I stood there. On the tile floor of a grocery store. I stood there.
And my heart stopped.
We talked. M and I.
We knew each other from a club on campus.
She was new, I'd been in it the whole time I was in college.
I was in grad school, she was a sophomore.
Her hair dark, her eyes even darker.
Her skin a delicate olive. About 5'4"
A swimmer and so incredibly fit.
I had just picked up a diamond engagement ring.
It was sitting in my car. I spent more than half of what I made in a semester from my grad assistantship on that ring.
In 6 months, I would be married.
But right then. As I saw M, I knew.
Knew that I should ask her. That I should get on my knee and propose...which was silly, because the ring was in my car and I'd have to explain that ... but it was what I knew I should do.
There was a connection I could not explain.
I would see her again. And again. And again. Even after I was married, we corresponded.
And I wondered.
What would have happened had I been carried away... Had I asked her to marry me on the floor of that grocery store. Or at the very least, asked her for coffee. Forgotten about the ring for a bit.
My heart was carried away. But not too far.
And one day, I received a message. An email. From M's mother, who was using M's email. Because.
Because M had died. In a fire in her apartment. And her mother said there were a handful of people with whom M had corresponded regularly. That she'd even talked with her family about me. And that the only way to get in touch was this email, which they hadn't accessed until after the funeral.
Had I taken her to coffee, would my life be different? Would she be alive?
Or would it have been just one more moment... my heart slightly more carried away... our lives continuing on their inevitable paths?
If I'd asked her to marry me, what would she have said?
My heart was (almost) carried away. Once.
Monday, February 23, 2015
Guest Post: Art Gallery Threesome
This fantasy was submitted by a reader:
We're at an art gallery but both of us are not feeling it and want to leave...
I spot a beautiful woman...tall brunette wearing a sexy red dress that is very form-fitting...
I walk up to her and we don't say a word but look deeply into each other's eyes...
I pull into a dark corner and kiss her mouth exactly the way I like to be kissed...slow at first, nibbling her lower lip...then tracing my tongue all the way around the inside of her open mouth...
I hold her hands behind her as I continue to kiss her...we're both using our tongues now and our mouths get warmer and wetter...
I use one of my hands to hold both of her hands while my other hand reaches under one of her ass cheeks to lift up a bit of soft round flesh...
I whisper in her ear, "Do you want me?" and she responds, "I want all of you"...I tell her that there are two of us and she smiles...
I take her hand and lead her to our limo...we all get in the back...(she's in the middle)...
Each of us have a side...we share a 3-way kiss as both of us use our fingers to explore her...
I reach inside her dress and fondle her breasts while you trace your fingers under her dress to see how excited she is...
We get to our hotel room and lead her up to the room...as soon as the door closes behind her, we remove her dress and lay her on a large table...
She's on her back and I'm kissing her upside down while using my hands to circle her breasts and tickle her belly...
You come up to her other end and immediately start licking her wet clit...your big fat tongue drives her crazy because you know exactly how to please a woman...
I reach down to touch her clit while you grab each of her hands and stick your tongue further inside her...
You stand up to put your gorgeous cock inside her pussy...using only the head to circle around the outside to tease her...
She making some very sexy noises and she gets louder when you push yourself inside her further and further...
She's really tight because she's so excited...you can't help but fuck her harder...hard enough for her to cum all over your cock...
I look up at you and you can see that I want you inside me too...so you come around behind me as I climb on top of her to lick her myself and let her lick me too...
Grabbing each other's hips firmly, we both moan is sheer delight because a woman knows best how to lick another woman...
You take me by my hips and start fucking my very wet pussy while she's licking me from underneath...
I tell you to "fuck me harder" and you fully satisfy...you feel so good inside me...
She wants to get fucked again so you come back on her side...
My fingers are now inside her and pulling her ass cheeks away from each other...
She's so juicy now that she's dripping wet...you can't help with want to fuck her in the ass so you test her by sticking one of your fingers there...
You can tell by the way she responds that she can barely wait for you to stick your hard cock inside her ready asshole...
As you stick the tip of your cock inside her, she immediately starts cumming and screaming...
You don't stop until you get your fill...pushing yourself inside her slowly and steadily...
She keeps cumming and now you're fucking her ass exactly the way you want to...
We're all so fucking turned on and you cum inside her at exactly the right moment...
All of us are in awe of what just happened and we don't even know her name yet...
Want to submit your fantasy? Email me at mrsterling2010@gmail.com
Wednesday, February 11, 2015
My Guest Post on Christina Harding
Recently, I had the privilege of writing a guest post at Christina Harding's fantastic blog on erotica.
I write erotic short fiction. I've been doing it for about 10 years now. I blog my writing and share it for anyone who wants to read it and enjoy it. I am sometimes asked how I create my stories. Where do they come from? Today, I hope to answer that question.
I'm going to take a story I wrote, Mustard on His Tie, and explain how I came to create the erotic scene.
I get story ideas from all sorts of places. Sometimes, I'll be sitting waiting for my coffee and see someone in an interesting outfit or a great pair of shoes and my mind will wander. If I can feel a complete story coming on, I'll write it down.
READ MORE
I write erotic short fiction. I've been doing it for about 10 years now. I blog my writing and share it for anyone who wants to read it and enjoy it. I am sometimes asked how I create my stories. Where do they come from? Today, I hope to answer that question.
I'm going to take a story I wrote, Mustard on His Tie, and explain how I came to create the erotic scene.
I get story ideas from all sorts of places. Sometimes, I'll be sitting waiting for my coffee and see someone in an interesting outfit or a great pair of shoes and my mind will wander. If I can feel a complete story coming on, I'll write it down.
READ MORE
Monday, September 29, 2014
Zippers and Buckles
She wore black boots, small ones, size six. With gold buckles on the ankle and at the calf. A long gold zipper up the back. Thigh high stockings. A black skirt and white oxford. Her dark hair cascaded onto the white shirt in soft, welcoming waves. Her eyes a deep brown, mysterious and intense. Her skin pleasantly tan, even as the first cool days of autumn took hold.
Crisp, almost cold mornings and cool, inviting evenings. Warm sunny days. A favorite, fleeting time.
She worked in a basement office with a window at the ceiling so she could see the street, see the feet of the passersby, now mostly clad in boots or closed-toe shoes, reflecting the transition in the season. Now and then, some sandals still holding on to summer's warmth would pass, and she'd remember the feel of the warm sun on her own toes.
At 10 AM she had a coffee meeting. A friend from years gone by. A man she might have loved had they lived nearer or had either one made the slightest move. Instead, they played at being lovers, sharing writing and occasional texts.
They would always meet when one was in the other's town, have coffee, make mental love over pastries. Eyes would burn as they sat. Texts would fly as they parted. But never more than a hug or a touch of the hand between them.
He was nursing his coffee as she walked in. Wearing a simple blue oxford, khaki pants, and some smart brown lace ups. Like hers, his eyes were dark and intense.
He smiled as she walked toward him. They hugged, and she went to the counter to get her coffee. He relished the scent she left behind, light outside sweat mixed with the perfection that was her chosen perfume. The blend was exquisite.
As she ordered, he admired her boots, the zipper, imagined taking them off and ...
She was back before him now. Beautiful, in simple black and white. Steam mixing with her thick locks to create a dream-like image of pure beauty.
Nearing forty, he wondered why he hadn't before. Hadn't made a move. Hadn't invited her out to his home for a weekend. Hadn't happened into her town and taken her out. They clearly had a connection, but always seemed otherwise connected.
Both creative types, but both also very concerned with being proper and appropriate, not raising suspicion.
They each talked about their work. What they'd done in the months since they'd last met. What was ahead.
As she got up to leave after almost two hours at coffee, he asked if he could ... see her work.
She did have some new designs, she said. And her office was just a few blocks away. Was he sure he had time?
He was, he assured her.
As she got up and headed toward the door, he opened it for her. Admiring her scent and taking in the look of her boots as she walked out into the now warm mid-day air.
They entered the old brick building, took the wooden stairs down. White painted brick surrounded them, and the street level windows let in the noon-time light.
She walked to a table and showed him one of her drawings and then another. He stood right next to her, absorbing her words and her being and feeling oddly enchanted.
As she bent down to move another drawing over, he leaned-in behind her, and when she moved her body up to show him, he placed a hand on her cheek and pulled her to him, his lips grazing hers, then enveloping them. She gave in. Instantly. Kissing him back with the force of a decade of desire.
His mouth was on her neck as her hands explored his body. Buttons coming undone on her shirt... warm, sweet-smelling flesh exposed. He tasted her collarbone, her shoulder. His hands on her still firm ass.
She worked his belt loose. Unzipped his pants. Her hand warm around the heat of his throbbing member.
His kisses grew more intense, his desire apparently growing with them.
She pushed down his boxer briefs. Her shirt now off, she knelt before him, lace bra, black skirt, and those incredible boots.
She smiled at him and he melted when he saw her dark eyes glance up at him as her hand held his flesh.
Tongue tasting salty beginnings. Tracing down his shaft. Lips leaving a crimson stain on the thickness of his head. Lips and tongue up and down, and all the while, he's admiring her boots. Her legs. Her ass. Her warm skin and lovely breasts.
He wants her now. Now more than he ever has. Now or never, he surmises.
His hand on her chin, he guides her up.
Now, hands on her waist, placing her on the table.
Removing lace panties.
The head of his now slick, hot cock against her warm, wet opening.
Inside. Inside. The sweet pleasure of her flesh urging him further in. Her own moan exquisite.
He can see the shoes above them, through the window. He wonders if anyone will notice. And then he is lost. Lost inside her, his lips on hers as their bodies rock together, as the years of mind-fucking become the real thing.
He feels himself growing harder, hungrier inside her. She feels full, feels the pressure of him, feels a desire like no other. She wants nothing more than his full attention, his desire to be satisfied.
He tells her he wants her, has wanted her for so long. She tells him to take her, to take her now and forever.
He can't stop kissing her, tasting her skin, rejoicing the in the feel of her lips on his, the smell of coffee and perfume surrounding them as their bodies grow closer and closer.
One flesh, one passion. Her boots now around his waist as she begs him to go harder, to get closer, to not stop.
His thrusts harder, faster, urgent.
He grunts... again.. once more. He looks at her face, kisses her soft lips. And holds her, his cock semi-hard and still inside.
He tells her he can't believe it took this long. She tells him not to make her wait this long ever again.
She picks up her panties, puts her shirt on, and walks to the ladies' room. He adjusts his pants, buckles, and watches those tiny, sexy boots as they walk away. This time, though, they'll be coming back.
Crisp, almost cold mornings and cool, inviting evenings. Warm sunny days. A favorite, fleeting time.
She worked in a basement office with a window at the ceiling so she could see the street, see the feet of the passersby, now mostly clad in boots or closed-toe shoes, reflecting the transition in the season. Now and then, some sandals still holding on to summer's warmth would pass, and she'd remember the feel of the warm sun on her own toes.
At 10 AM she had a coffee meeting. A friend from years gone by. A man she might have loved had they lived nearer or had either one made the slightest move. Instead, they played at being lovers, sharing writing and occasional texts.
They would always meet when one was in the other's town, have coffee, make mental love over pastries. Eyes would burn as they sat. Texts would fly as they parted. But never more than a hug or a touch of the hand between them.
He was nursing his coffee as she walked in. Wearing a simple blue oxford, khaki pants, and some smart brown lace ups. Like hers, his eyes were dark and intense.
He smiled as she walked toward him. They hugged, and she went to the counter to get her coffee. He relished the scent she left behind, light outside sweat mixed with the perfection that was her chosen perfume. The blend was exquisite.
As she ordered, he admired her boots, the zipper, imagined taking them off and ...
She was back before him now. Beautiful, in simple black and white. Steam mixing with her thick locks to create a dream-like image of pure beauty.
Nearing forty, he wondered why he hadn't before. Hadn't made a move. Hadn't invited her out to his home for a weekend. Hadn't happened into her town and taken her out. They clearly had a connection, but always seemed otherwise connected.
Both creative types, but both also very concerned with being proper and appropriate, not raising suspicion.
They each talked about their work. What they'd done in the months since they'd last met. What was ahead.
As she got up to leave after almost two hours at coffee, he asked if he could ... see her work.
She did have some new designs, she said. And her office was just a few blocks away. Was he sure he had time?
He was, he assured her.
As she got up and headed toward the door, he opened it for her. Admiring her scent and taking in the look of her boots as she walked out into the now warm mid-day air.
They entered the old brick building, took the wooden stairs down. White painted brick surrounded them, and the street level windows let in the noon-time light.
She walked to a table and showed him one of her drawings and then another. He stood right next to her, absorbing her words and her being and feeling oddly enchanted.
As she bent down to move another drawing over, he leaned-in behind her, and when she moved her body up to show him, he placed a hand on her cheek and pulled her to him, his lips grazing hers, then enveloping them. She gave in. Instantly. Kissing him back with the force of a decade of desire.
His mouth was on her neck as her hands explored his body. Buttons coming undone on her shirt... warm, sweet-smelling flesh exposed. He tasted her collarbone, her shoulder. His hands on her still firm ass.
She worked his belt loose. Unzipped his pants. Her hand warm around the heat of his throbbing member.
His kisses grew more intense, his desire apparently growing with them.
She pushed down his boxer briefs. Her shirt now off, she knelt before him, lace bra, black skirt, and those incredible boots.
She smiled at him and he melted when he saw her dark eyes glance up at him as her hand held his flesh.
Tongue tasting salty beginnings. Tracing down his shaft. Lips leaving a crimson stain on the thickness of his head. Lips and tongue up and down, and all the while, he's admiring her boots. Her legs. Her ass. Her warm skin and lovely breasts.
He wants her now. Now more than he ever has. Now or never, he surmises.
His hand on her chin, he guides her up.
Now, hands on her waist, placing her on the table.
Removing lace panties.
The head of his now slick, hot cock against her warm, wet opening.
Inside. Inside. The sweet pleasure of her flesh urging him further in. Her own moan exquisite.
He can see the shoes above them, through the window. He wonders if anyone will notice. And then he is lost. Lost inside her, his lips on hers as their bodies rock together, as the years of mind-fucking become the real thing.
He feels himself growing harder, hungrier inside her. She feels full, feels the pressure of him, feels a desire like no other. She wants nothing more than his full attention, his desire to be satisfied.
He tells her he wants her, has wanted her for so long. She tells him to take her, to take her now and forever.
He can't stop kissing her, tasting her skin, rejoicing the in the feel of her lips on his, the smell of coffee and perfume surrounding them as their bodies grow closer and closer.
One flesh, one passion. Her boots now around his waist as she begs him to go harder, to get closer, to not stop.
His thrusts harder, faster, urgent.
He grunts... again.. once more. He looks at her face, kisses her soft lips. And holds her, his cock semi-hard and still inside.
He tells her he can't believe it took this long. She tells him not to make her wait this long ever again.
She picks up her panties, puts her shirt on, and walks to the ladies' room. He adjusts his pants, buckles, and watches those tiny, sexy boots as they walk away. This time, though, they'll be coming back.
Thursday, July 24, 2014
One Summer Day
Her pale skin glistened with the wet heat of a July day. 101 degrees.
The *click* of the door was all the permission I needed. My lips met hers for the first time.
Trapped in desire now... a heat that had been building for months over coffee and clandestine texts.
My cock was hard, harder, harder still in just an instant. I couldn't remember feeling this much lust. This much raw desire.
I led her to the couch so we were out of view of the front windows.
I kissed the back of her neck, nibbled at it... as hands unzipped her dark pants, noting the beads of sweat on her pale thighs
Two fingers entered her beneath black cotton panties...
Her moan was desperate
She felt the cool of my belt buckle, felt the zipper press into her ass...
I unzipped... and freed the aching cock from cotton boxer briefs
against her ass now, between her cheeks as she begged "fuck me"
I could wait no more
Inside
the sweet heat of her wet pussy searing my own hot flesh
her body arched back, she fucked me as I fucked her
hard, angry, bodies wondering why this hadn't already happened
I didn't want to cum, but i knew it would happen...and soon. This was the heaven I had wanted.
I thrust myself inside her, held myself there, relishing the feel of us finally together. Relishing her deep moan as I inched closer, closer
"I want to possess you" I said.
And she nearly screamed...
I thrust out and in... and in and came
nearly collapsing with her over the arm of the couch
I kissed her immediately... I wanted her even more
the first release was sweet...but we had an afternoon and an empty house
The *click* of the door was all the permission I needed. My lips met hers for the first time.
Trapped in desire now... a heat that had been building for months over coffee and clandestine texts.
My cock was hard, harder, harder still in just an instant. I couldn't remember feeling this much lust. This much raw desire.
I led her to the couch so we were out of view of the front windows.
I kissed the back of her neck, nibbled at it... as hands unzipped her dark pants, noting the beads of sweat on her pale thighs
Two fingers entered her beneath black cotton panties...
Her moan was desperate
She felt the cool of my belt buckle, felt the zipper press into her ass...
I unzipped... and freed the aching cock from cotton boxer briefs
against her ass now, between her cheeks as she begged "fuck me"
I could wait no more
Inside
the sweet heat of her wet pussy searing my own hot flesh
her body arched back, she fucked me as I fucked her
hard, angry, bodies wondering why this hadn't already happened
I didn't want to cum, but i knew it would happen...and soon. This was the heaven I had wanted.
I thrust myself inside her, held myself there, relishing the feel of us finally together. Relishing her deep moan as I inched closer, closer
"I want to possess you" I said.
And she nearly screamed...
I thrust out and in... and in and came
nearly collapsing with her over the arm of the couch
I kissed her immediately... I wanted her even more
the first release was sweet...but we had an afternoon and an empty house
Wednesday, June 11, 2014
Morning Visit
They had met a couple times before. Had talked about an arrangement. Had talked around the issue.
She was young and had blonde, curly hair. Her breasts were large and full and her hips and ass were perfectly round and wonderful in his mind.
But, more than her figure, her voice turned him on. He had invited her back the second time just to be sure he was right. And he was. Within in minutes of her telling him a story about her day, he felt his cock stiffen. She was clearly smart, but something about her voice hit him in just the right spot.
This time, she had messaged him. She let him know she wanted to see him. To make it work.
He would be at the office by 9:30 that morning, he told her.
He came in and got organized, opened his laptop, checked his email and responded to those needing his thoughts and attention.
He wore a dark suit, white shirt, and silver tie. Black and silver cuff links.
He heard a knock at the door.
She walked in and sat down smiling. And he asked how she'd been. And then he just listened.
She was in a dress, low cut, showing off her ample cleavage.
But he was soon entranced in her voice. And his cock was responding, too.
He pointed to the desk at the back of his office. Told her he had something for her. She looked back and saw a beautiful pair of nude pumps. She tried them on and they fit perfectly. He smiled at the delight she took in her new possession.
She asked him if he wanted to have some fun.
Of course, he said. Sure.
She walked around his desk and looked at him. She noticed the bulge in his dark suit pants.
She took off her new shoes and knelt before him. Her hands rubbed his thighs as he began to smile and admire her with his dark eyes.
He felt himself growing harder and he unbuckled his belt. Her fingers worked his button open and moved his zipper down.
He reached down and pushed his boxer briefs down a bit ... her hand reaching in and grabbing his now throbbing cock.
He watched as her tongue flicked the glistening head of his hard member.
He stood up to allow her to have access to the full length of him.
As she worked her lips and mouth down on his cock, his silver tie tickled her nose... she looked up at him and smiled, the head of his cock still in her mouth.
He pushed the tie over his shoulder.
She stroked his shaft with her hand.
His hand in her curly hair, down to her shoulder.... rubbing her breast over the dress... then beneath it, the warm, soft flesh sending him deeper into pleasure...
As his fingers teased her nipples, she moaned lightly -- his balls cupped in her hand, his cock under her mouth's masterful control.
He wanted more, but didn't want to push it. This felt amazing. And it wasn't even 10 AM yet.
She looked up at him and told him he had a great cock.
Then went back to work sucking and stroking it.
He was losing control, but held back for a minute.
His hands both on her head now, he was controlling her mouth. Pushing her down, letting her pull back. Fucking her mouth with intensity. Begging for release.
He felt it coming and pulled back just a bit. She felt the tension of his cock, felt it pulsing... and then a strong shot of hot cream against her throat. Another thrust. And then a thickness filling her mouth. Salty, warm, coating and falling down.
She swallowed it all and help him there, in her mouth. Then licked up the remaining semen from his cock.
She smiled and got up. Put on her shoes and sat in the chair across from him. He put his semi-hard cock back in his boxer briefs. Zipped, buttoned, buckled.
He told her this would work nicely. She agreed. She put on her new shoes and walked out the door.
She was young and had blonde, curly hair. Her breasts were large and full and her hips and ass were perfectly round and wonderful in his mind.
But, more than her figure, her voice turned him on. He had invited her back the second time just to be sure he was right. And he was. Within in minutes of her telling him a story about her day, he felt his cock stiffen. She was clearly smart, but something about her voice hit him in just the right spot.
This time, she had messaged him. She let him know she wanted to see him. To make it work.
He would be at the office by 9:30 that morning, he told her.
He came in and got organized, opened his laptop, checked his email and responded to those needing his thoughts and attention.
He wore a dark suit, white shirt, and silver tie. Black and silver cuff links.
He heard a knock at the door.
She walked in and sat down smiling. And he asked how she'd been. And then he just listened.
She was in a dress, low cut, showing off her ample cleavage.
But he was soon entranced in her voice. And his cock was responding, too.
He pointed to the desk at the back of his office. Told her he had something for her. She looked back and saw a beautiful pair of nude pumps. She tried them on and they fit perfectly. He smiled at the delight she took in her new possession.
She asked him if he wanted to have some fun.
Of course, he said. Sure.
She walked around his desk and looked at him. She noticed the bulge in his dark suit pants.
She took off her new shoes and knelt before him. Her hands rubbed his thighs as he began to smile and admire her with his dark eyes.
He felt himself growing harder and he unbuckled his belt. Her fingers worked his button open and moved his zipper down.
He reached down and pushed his boxer briefs down a bit ... her hand reaching in and grabbing his now throbbing cock.
He watched as her tongue flicked the glistening head of his hard member.
He stood up to allow her to have access to the full length of him.
As she worked her lips and mouth down on his cock, his silver tie tickled her nose... she looked up at him and smiled, the head of his cock still in her mouth.
He pushed the tie over his shoulder.
She stroked his shaft with her hand.
His hand in her curly hair, down to her shoulder.... rubbing her breast over the dress... then beneath it, the warm, soft flesh sending him deeper into pleasure...
As his fingers teased her nipples, she moaned lightly -- his balls cupped in her hand, his cock under her mouth's masterful control.
He wanted more, but didn't want to push it. This felt amazing. And it wasn't even 10 AM yet.
She looked up at him and told him he had a great cock.
Then went back to work sucking and stroking it.
He was losing control, but held back for a minute.
His hands both on her head now, he was controlling her mouth. Pushing her down, letting her pull back. Fucking her mouth with intensity. Begging for release.
He felt it coming and pulled back just a bit. She felt the tension of his cock, felt it pulsing... and then a strong shot of hot cream against her throat. Another thrust. And then a thickness filling her mouth. Salty, warm, coating and falling down.
She swallowed it all and help him there, in her mouth. Then licked up the remaining semen from his cock.
She smiled and got up. Put on her shoes and sat in the chair across from him. He put his semi-hard cock back in his boxer briefs. Zipped, buttoned, buckled.
He told her this would work nicely. She agreed. She put on her new shoes and walked out the door.
Tuesday, February 11, 2014
The Interview
she was tall... lean ... fit.
Her hair a deep red, her skin a tempting olive tan
Her legs long, sleek, amazing.
Her feet inside 4-inch heels, black, accenting her perfect arches and freshly manicured toes...
She wore a black dress cut high... with a neckline inviting attention
She checked her phone, then checked it again. Found the office number where they were to meet.
His office. A strange town. A red brick building over 100 years old.
Dimly lit elevator, dark hallway.
She knocked on the door.
The door opened and she saw him. In her heels, she was a bit taller...more than a bit taller than he was.
He was fit and lean as well, attired in a dark suit, white shirt, blue tie.
He closed the door as she eased in...
She felt his arm on her back... felt his body as his lips grazed her neck.
She was against the wall ... and his lips were on her shoulders.
His hand held her arms against her waist...
He delighted in the scent of her perfume...soft, subtle, enveloping the room
She felt his hardness against her... felt his body close on hers
The zipper to her dress went down... and his tongue and lips followed, tracing her spine
His hands on her waist, now her legs... discovering their firm feel...
He traces a line back up, bites her neck... his hands easing the dress off her shoulders...
He rests his hands on her soft stomach... lets them linger... then up to her breasts as his kisses on her back and neck grow more intense...
He traces back down... his kisses on the firm, wonderful flesh of her ass... admiring the lacy thong... his hand removing it and noting her warmth, her moisture...
He dives into her... tongue against her anal opening... her moans clearly audible beyond the wooden door
his fingers against her clit as his mouth teases and taunts her ass...
with the other hand, a finger penetrates her anus... and his mouth finds the sweet, delicate flavor of her pussy...
the sensation makes her moan deeply and he is entranced...focused... massaging her clit with his tongue, two fingers inside her, rocking in a gentle rhythm...
he won't stop... tongue fucking her, tasting her very essence... diving inside and licking up and down, side to side.. licking the inside of her pink flesh
her eyes are closed, her head back... he keeps going, licking, sucking, taking her clit in his mouth as his fingers go up and in, finding that just so sensitive spot...
Again and again he hits her pleasure center... and finally, her hands on his slightly moist hair, she screams... says his name over and over...
Her weak legs seem to collapse... and he directs her to the nearby chair... her juices seeping onto the cloth seat...
her long, lithe arms reach out, and he embraces her...and for the first time, they kiss...their lips on fire as they dance
Her other hand finds his belt, unbuckles, unzips... reaches in to find throbbing heat against soft cotton
Reaching past elastic, she finds the head of his raging cock... notes the pre-cum and rubs just under the head, circles...
He stands and she pulls him close... Her lips gently caress the tip of his head... her tongue traces down his shaft, all the way to his balls...and back up... and down again...
and then he is fully in her mouth. she is devouring him, he is fucking her lips, her tongue... admiring her incredible body... his tie against her deep red locks...
He savors the moment, savors her... enjoys the sound of his cock against the flesh of her mouth... he nearly explodes as she looks up at him, practically begging him for more...
He places a hand on her head, tugs gently ...pulls her back...
He tells her to stand up... and he takes a seat... takes his shirt off...
and there he is... naked, sweaty, cock huge with desire...
and she straddles him... the wet lips of her pussy against his chest... working down
he holds his cock in his hand... teases her clit with the head...and she can't take it, she sits on him... all the way down... all the way, taking every inch of his cock inside
she looks at him, leans down, the lips meet as their bodies find a rhythm...
his hands on her waist, he guides her up and down, at the right speed... lips on her breasts, her neck... squeezing as he nears orgasm...
he thrusts deep, deeper, harder... she is begging his cock to take her ... faster... harder...
He wants more, all of her...
in, out... all the way out.. .plunging back in...holding her down as he grinds against her...
as they kiss again, lips still hot with desire, he feels the head of his cock grow larger... feels the tingling sensation... and lets go...
his hot, white liquid fills her... one, two, three...more thrusts... she is still fucking him, his cock semi-hard... wanting more
their bodies sticky, the air thick with the scent of sex...
smiles
a warm embrace... she on his lap, his cock resting... her body just warming up...
Her hair a deep red, her skin a tempting olive tan
Her legs long, sleek, amazing.
Her feet inside 4-inch heels, black, accenting her perfect arches and freshly manicured toes...
She wore a black dress cut high... with a neckline inviting attention
She checked her phone, then checked it again. Found the office number where they were to meet.
His office. A strange town. A red brick building over 100 years old.
Dimly lit elevator, dark hallway.
She knocked on the door.
The door opened and she saw him. In her heels, she was a bit taller...more than a bit taller than he was.
He was fit and lean as well, attired in a dark suit, white shirt, blue tie.
He closed the door as she eased in...
She felt his arm on her back... felt his body as his lips grazed her neck.
She was against the wall ... and his lips were on her shoulders.
His hand held her arms against her waist...
He delighted in the scent of her perfume...soft, subtle, enveloping the room
She felt his hardness against her... felt his body close on hers
The zipper to her dress went down... and his tongue and lips followed, tracing her spine
His hands on her waist, now her legs... discovering their firm feel...
He traces a line back up, bites her neck... his hands easing the dress off her shoulders...
He rests his hands on her soft stomach... lets them linger... then up to her breasts as his kisses on her back and neck grow more intense...
He traces back down... his kisses on the firm, wonderful flesh of her ass... admiring the lacy thong... his hand removing it and noting her warmth, her moisture...
He dives into her... tongue against her anal opening... her moans clearly audible beyond the wooden door
his fingers against her clit as his mouth teases and taunts her ass...
with the other hand, a finger penetrates her anus... and his mouth finds the sweet, delicate flavor of her pussy...
the sensation makes her moan deeply and he is entranced...focused... massaging her clit with his tongue, two fingers inside her, rocking in a gentle rhythm...
he won't stop... tongue fucking her, tasting her very essence... diving inside and licking up and down, side to side.. licking the inside of her pink flesh
her eyes are closed, her head back... he keeps going, licking, sucking, taking her clit in his mouth as his fingers go up and in, finding that just so sensitive spot...
Again and again he hits her pleasure center... and finally, her hands on his slightly moist hair, she screams... says his name over and over...
Her weak legs seem to collapse... and he directs her to the nearby chair... her juices seeping onto the cloth seat...
her long, lithe arms reach out, and he embraces her...and for the first time, they kiss...their lips on fire as they dance
Her other hand finds his belt, unbuckles, unzips... reaches in to find throbbing heat against soft cotton
Reaching past elastic, she finds the head of his raging cock... notes the pre-cum and rubs just under the head, circles...
He stands and she pulls him close... Her lips gently caress the tip of his head... her tongue traces down his shaft, all the way to his balls...and back up... and down again...
and then he is fully in her mouth. she is devouring him, he is fucking her lips, her tongue... admiring her incredible body... his tie against her deep red locks...
He savors the moment, savors her... enjoys the sound of his cock against the flesh of her mouth... he nearly explodes as she looks up at him, practically begging him for more...
He places a hand on her head, tugs gently ...pulls her back...
He tells her to stand up... and he takes a seat... takes his shirt off...
and there he is... naked, sweaty, cock huge with desire...
and she straddles him... the wet lips of her pussy against his chest... working down
he holds his cock in his hand... teases her clit with the head...and she can't take it, she sits on him... all the way down... all the way, taking every inch of his cock inside
she looks at him, leans down, the lips meet as their bodies find a rhythm...
his hands on her waist, he guides her up and down, at the right speed... lips on her breasts, her neck... squeezing as he nears orgasm...
he thrusts deep, deeper, harder... she is begging his cock to take her ... faster... harder...
He wants more, all of her...
in, out... all the way out.. .plunging back in...holding her down as he grinds against her...
as they kiss again, lips still hot with desire, he feels the head of his cock grow larger... feels the tingling sensation... and lets go...
his hot, white liquid fills her... one, two, three...more thrusts... she is still fucking him, his cock semi-hard... wanting more
their bodies sticky, the air thick with the scent of sex...
smiles
a warm embrace... she on his lap, his cock resting... her body just warming up...
Wednesday, February 5, 2014
Guest Lecture
her khaki cargo pants and thick belt hit the floor
orange thong hugs a tight, small ass
my hands run under her polo shirt
warm skin meets cool control
she is short, thin, but her hips are amazing and her B size breasts beg to be touched
her hair in a bun exposes soft neck, angling for a touch
my tongue obliges as fingers work her nipples to perfect hardness
pants unzip and cock meets her thigh
fingers pry her open as i thrust in
her deep moan awakens my senses
and i thrust again
one hand on her hips pulling her to me
one hand against toned stomach, up to firm breasts
my hot mouth on her neck and back
teeth grazing
she is mine
all mine
but i'm also hers
lost inside her
forgetting that we are in the back of classroom in a 3rd floor college building
forgetting that just minutes ago i was wrapping up my presentation
forgetting that someone could walk back in
forgetting my next appointment, just 15 minutes from now
all i can think of is her
how she feels, how she moves beneath me
i love her body's response to my touch
i love the instant connection we created
harder now, faster
her hands grip down against the desk
she struggles to muffle a scream as i pull out all the way and then thrust deelpy inside, grinding now, using my hand on her clit
i feel her clamp down, her breathing changes, and i can't hold back, i cum, shoot hard and deep
and then kneel down to taste her, to savor our juices mixed together, to lick each drop of her orgasm, to keep her going
she is heavenly, searing hot, and luscious
now i'm zipped
and i remember her deep brown eyes as she walked in, her clothes, hiding an amazing and small body
her pants back up, thong now gone -- a tragedy of my eagerness to have her -- and she is neat, and ready to meet some friends at the library
the sweat at the small of my back reminds me of our encounter
and we discuss the next time i'll be on campus
the work to do between now and then
and we part ways
a meeting
a night of studying
and an incredible ending to a presentation
orange thong hugs a tight, small ass
my hands run under her polo shirt
warm skin meets cool control
she is short, thin, but her hips are amazing and her B size breasts beg to be touched
her hair in a bun exposes soft neck, angling for a touch
my tongue obliges as fingers work her nipples to perfect hardness
pants unzip and cock meets her thigh
fingers pry her open as i thrust in
her deep moan awakens my senses
and i thrust again
one hand on her hips pulling her to me
one hand against toned stomach, up to firm breasts
my hot mouth on her neck and back
teeth grazing
she is mine
all mine
but i'm also hers
lost inside her
forgetting that we are in the back of classroom in a 3rd floor college building
forgetting that just minutes ago i was wrapping up my presentation
forgetting that someone could walk back in
forgetting my next appointment, just 15 minutes from now
all i can think of is her
how she feels, how she moves beneath me
i love her body's response to my touch
i love the instant connection we created
harder now, faster
her hands grip down against the desk
she struggles to muffle a scream as i pull out all the way and then thrust deelpy inside, grinding now, using my hand on her clit
i feel her clamp down, her breathing changes, and i can't hold back, i cum, shoot hard and deep
and then kneel down to taste her, to savor our juices mixed together, to lick each drop of her orgasm, to keep her going
she is heavenly, searing hot, and luscious
now i'm zipped
and i remember her deep brown eyes as she walked in, her clothes, hiding an amazing and small body
her pants back up, thong now gone -- a tragedy of my eagerness to have her -- and she is neat, and ready to meet some friends at the library
the sweat at the small of my back reminds me of our encounter
and we discuss the next time i'll be on campus
the work to do between now and then
and we part ways
a meeting
a night of studying
and an incredible ending to a presentation
Tuesday, January 14, 2014
The Shower
She walks through the door at nearly 9 pm ... it has been a long, crazy day and she is frazzled and fried.
her frame is small... a little over 5 feet tall and her skin delightfully alive ... her hair, curly and inviting, surrounds fragile face that hides her darkest desires..
her brilliant hazel eyes often catch the attention of men who pass her by -- today, those eyes are watery, worn, weary.
she wears a black skirt, simple white blouse now unbuttoned below her perky C-cup breasts. her legs are bare and simple, black cotton panties protect an area that has received far too little attention in the past months
her small feet with amazingly high arches are tucked into 4 inch high steve maddens with a tantalizing ankle strap -- she kicks them off and reveals toes with dark paint that badly need to relax
she enters her bedroom and discards her blouse. into the bathroom, she turns the shower on ... full blast, full heat...
she removes her clothes completely and stands there, completely nude, feeling a chill come over her.
he was supposed to have been there when she got home ... but maybe his day was crazy, too
she returns to the bathroom and is embraced by the warmth of a fog of steam. moisture beads up on her pale skin.
she steps into the shower and closes the door .. the heat stings, and she adds a touch of cool water to take the edge off. her body is relaxing. her eyes close as she wets her hair. and her mind wanders.
he arrives. he can't believe he's late. his meeting in the city had gone way too long. he is in a navy pin-striped suit, pink shirt with french cuffs, and a patterned pink tie.
he hears the shower. sees the shoes and trail of clothes.
he walks into the bedroom and removes his suit. takes all of his clothes off. he is not tall, but his body shows he has been in the gym -- toned, but not bulky. he removes his dark rimmed glasses and stands in the room, completely nude ... his cock grows as he approaches the door
the steam hits him and he can just make out rita's outline through the opaque glass door
he is now standing at full attention, blood throbbing and coarsing through him...
she jumps as he opens the door... startled out of an imaginary world. her shock is replaced with a boisterous smile and he grabs her and pulls her to him as their bodies are sprayed with steam and pounding water.
his kiss electrifies her ... sets her on fire. she returns his passion ten-fold. he feels her need to his core. her hair is dark and wet and shiny and wonderful
his cock rubs against her stomach... and she feels the sting of his heat.
his kisses find her neck, her collarbone... trace down to her shoulders
hands explore her glorious skin as his tongue teases her nipples, his mouth enveleoping a luscious breast
he finds the line between her breasts... his tongue traces down to her belly button... to her body's center.
a thin strip of now-darkened hair, matted wet, stands above an apparently aroused pussy. his tongue and lips place kisses on her inner thigh as her hands fall upon his head, then brace against the shower wall as first one, then a second finger thrusts inside her... she is aching, longing for this touch... quick flicks of the tongue delight her clit .. .then stop, teasing and tasting her sweetness.. probing inside warm, velvety folds...
her release is quick, almost painful... she can't remember when the last time a man did that for her...
as she nearly collapses upon him, he guides her out of the shower and wraps her in a towel
he cradles her in his arms and lays her now steamy, relaxed body on the bed... as he opens the towel, he places a kiss on her toe, his tongue tracing her long arch and his lips embracing her ankle...
all the way up her toned calves... behind her knee as she giggles ... to her warm thighs
he finds her center again, wakes up the already aroused pussy
and as his lips meet hers, he is inside her... slowly, carefully, deeply inside
he keeps kissing her... his eyes meet hers as their bodies join together -- they are perfectly matched in height and he licks just behind her ear as his hands pull her body into his... his thrusts are slow, long, and his dick is harder than she remembers ever feeling.. seemingly growing and bulging inside her
he arches back and plunges deeper... she screams in a slight tinge of pain and then they find a rhythm...
then he stops... holds himself as far inside as he can... "kiss me" ... and she does... "kiss me" and again... he's holding himself there... holding them together... and their kiss becomes so intense, so rich, textured and their bodies so still ... a perfect togetherness
he feels her getting closer... and as they kiss, his hand rubs her engorged clit... her pulsating rhythm makes him explode and he shouts breathlessly... "kiss me"... all his force musters a whisper and their lips lock as their bodies rejoice together
Friday, December 13, 2013
Midnight
It is 7:45 PM.
I sit alone in a crowded parking lot.
Neon lights stare in as human eyes ignore.
Carts rush by and clank and clatter and crash and stop.
I taste and close my eyes.
And it is midnight.
For one second. For two. Three seconds. Five.
I open my eyes and it is 7:46 turning to :47.
The sweetness on my lips.
In my mind, it is midnight.
Dark chocolate sends the message of pleasure my brain so desperately needs.
I recall an earlier time.
Quiet, lonely nights.
Comfort found in food alone. Checks bounced to buy whole pizzas.
Tonight, it's midnight. For exactly 1 minute and 33 seconds, it is midnight.
The rest of the chocolate provides only momentary delight.
And midnight is gone.
By 8:03 PM I am home.
But for almost two full minutes that day, I felt pure pleasure.
I sit alone in a crowded parking lot.
Neon lights stare in as human eyes ignore.
Carts rush by and clank and clatter and crash and stop.
I taste and close my eyes.
And it is midnight.
For one second. For two. Three seconds. Five.
I open my eyes and it is 7:46 turning to :47.
The sweetness on my lips.
In my mind, it is midnight.
Dark chocolate sends the message of pleasure my brain so desperately needs.
I recall an earlier time.
Quiet, lonely nights.
Comfort found in food alone. Checks bounced to buy whole pizzas.
Tonight, it's midnight. For exactly 1 minute and 33 seconds, it is midnight.
The rest of the chocolate provides only momentary delight.
And midnight is gone.
By 8:03 PM I am home.
But for almost two full minutes that day, I felt pure pleasure.
Monday, November 18, 2013
Empty
He wore a simple shirt and chinos everyday. He had four such shirts and two pairs of pants
and the laundrymat was just under a mile away.
His house was a small box – an entrance right into the “living area”
behind which sat a kitchen and eating area.
Two rooms and a bathroom down a small hallway. At 6 AM sharp on Monday-Friday he opened the
door to usually crisp, cool air. His
car, the aging Mercury Monarch, was serviceable and clean and he arrived at
work in 45 minutes or less. He dreamed
of moving to the city. Of a simple
apartment and a walk to work. Of a White
Owl on the way home on cool nights.
Never on the way in, he doesn’t want to smell of cigar when he
arrives. On the way home. He rarely sees anyone immediately after work,
and even if he does manage to grab a fast-food dinner, so what? If he were to see someone or have a date or
event, he’d shower first, anyway.
It concerned him that no one really was out downtown after
about 6PM unless there was an event or something. Kind of odd, really. A big city with mostly empty buildings for
12, 14, 16 hours a day.
Friday, November 15, 2013
On the Stairs
He met her on the concrete stairs in the building. Dark.
There were lights but they never seemed to work or they would flicker in
that last gasp of fluorescent life. The
concrete was cool and the halls smelled moldy.
Her scent was bright, fresh, slightly citrus. The contrast was intense. The two of them, well-dressed, clean,
fresh. The building old and worn and
tired. A low-rent office space for 3rd-rate
businesses finds two professionals – young, hungry, desperate for a touch. Her heels cost two months of his office
rent. Her deep brown eyes lingered on
his body…taking all of him in. The
slight, well-defined frame of his body … not large, not excessive…but
commanding attention and respect. Her
tiny hands deftly unbuckle his belt…slip beneath the wool of his suit, the
cotton of his best-of-both-worlds boxer briefs.
Firm, searing hot, of decent proportion.
His lips meet hers and the two of them nearly lift-off,
explode. Neither really likes to be
touched. While appearing appropriate and
kind, they’re not truly friendly. And
yet, in these moments, they can’t help but devour each other. Immerse in one another’s scent, touch,
taste. It’s as if they save every
sensual need for these 10 or 15 minutes of sweet escape.
Her skirt is navy, light blue button-down, hair curled and
cascading about her shoulders… she’s a hummingbird… dainty, delicate, tan. In
4-inch heels she’s still looking up at him.
Her energy is what he noticed.
And the way she looked amazing at 7:30 AM – perfect, everything in
place…and yet, still just as perfect at 6 or 7 PM when their days as co-workers
would end. This was before now…before they
had realized their mutual need for each other.
She stepped out of her skirt, turned to the rail. He nearly climbed her, his need so
desperate. Bodies now joined, pure
bliss. The feel of him inside her was
almost too much, too perfect. Their
bodies made for this. One of his hands
on her mouth, her teeth gritting closely to muffle the sound… deep, urgent
moans from within that sounded as soft whimpers in the cool stairwell.
This was what… the fifth or sixth meeting they’d had like
this? It started as a coffee meeting one
morning with the pretense of a job he could offer her. Then another
coffee. Then lunch. At that first meeting, her hand brushed his
and their eyes met and lights went on.
At the second, a knowing dance around evident desire.
At the third, she thanked him with a hug that became a kiss
that she said she shouldn’t have given…but that he gladly accepted.
Now, this. He thought
he heard a door open from a lower floor.
No real danger, but an annoyance.
And then lost. Totally gone. A SWAT team could enter the building now and
they wouldn’t be able to stop. In
sync. His teeth grazing her neck. Hand around her waist. She clinches down, down. Harder. Sweet hot heaven.
Her skirt back on, she turns to him. He is zipped, tie straight. Perfect.
He catches a glimpse of her ankle.
Then her eyes.
Two professionals open the door to the 90+ degree heat and
the glaring sun and walk in separate ways to different meetings where they will
be stars.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)