Home for the Summer, Chapt. 4

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Home for the Summer

Chapter 4

I barely notice the cramps in my fingers as they fly across the keyboard. Never before has writing been as effortless, as seamless as it’s been since Italy. And while the sabbatical was the excuse I’d given him for wanting to relocate for the summer, it is an added bonus that all the pieces are falling into place, as far as the manuscript is concerned.

Home for the Summer, Chapt. 3

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Home for the Summer

Chapter 3

The theatre fills as we take our seats in the private box. Her eyes take everything in as they sweep the cavernous room — the contrast of modern and traditional — from the rich, gleaming wooden balconies and seats covered with their vibrant upholstery to the recessed lighting overhead. Seeing her face so expressive, so receptive, tells me how relaxed and delighted she is, and the tense muscles between my shoulders ease.

Home for the Summer, Chapt. 2

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Home for the Summer

Chapter 2

I come awake slowly, easily; content for the moment to nestle in his arms, his warm stomach pressed into my back and his leg tucked between mine. I open my eyes and watch through the bedroom window the first, weak rays of sun scare away the last edges of night. It is the cool sea breeze that woke me, and I smile as the gauzy curtains flutter like delicate fingers waggling hello.

Home for the Summer, Chapt. 1

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Home for the Summer

Chapter 1

 The breeze has been competing with the humidity all morning and is finally winning. Standing on the balcony, my hips pressed against the black iron railing, I let the cool air tip my head back. With my dress swirling around my ankles, tickling my skin, I breathe in the sweet air, smiling into the breeze. We’re finally here, on Italy’s sunny coast, for the next three months.

Home for the Summer

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Home for the Summer

 

Chapter 1

 The breeze has been competing with the humidity all morning and is finally winning. Standing on the balcony, my hips pressed against the black iron railing, I let the cool air tip my head back. With my dress swirling around my ankles, tickling my skin, I breathe in the sweet air, smiling into the breeze. We’re finally here, on Italy’s sunny coast, for the next three months.

Virgin Territory

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Virgin Territory

I ask you to lie back on the pillows, and I settle myself between your legs.

“I’m not going to do anything you don’t want me to,” I assure you again as a small smile forms.
I begin by licking your semi-hard cock, nuzzling you with my cheek and nose, breathing warm air over your skin, and you twitch from the contact. I move slowly, gently, taking my time.  I finally have you to myself, and I refuse to rush this. It will be a new experience for us, and I want to savor each new taste, each intake of breath, each small gasp of surprise.

I take you fully in my mouth, sucking and pulling you to hardness. You respond slowly, your nervousness is a distraction. I start moving over you in earnest, determined to make you stiff in fascination and passion.  After long strokes of my mouth and tongue, I slowly release you and inch downward to your balls that are covered in soft hair. I bury my nose where your leg meets your groin and brush slightly upwards. You flinch as if I’ve tickled you, but my mouth is too busy to form a smile. I lick your soft, round sac then draw first one, then the other globe into my mouth.  I’ve not done this before, you’ve never let me leave your cock to explore further, but tonight is my opportunity. You’ve already fucked me for an hour and had given me my fourth, and most mind-shattering, orgasm. It is my turn to have what I want, and tonight, I want your ass.

I take my time, and I keep my tongue flat as I lick from underneath your balls to the base of your cock. With each swipe I move a little lower, until I give a tiny flick to that small span of flesh between your genitals and your anus. I don’t stay long; I don’t want your nervousness to return. I want you to want my warm, wet tongue touching you, dancing over your sensitive flesh. With another delicate lick, you raise your hips off the bed, granting me access to your most private area.

I slide my hands under your ass and palm your bottom before continuing, moving downward with every few traces of my tongue. I inhale deeply.  I smell your scents, the muskiness of your balls and cock is mixed with my own scent from our early fucking, but there is more. Your skin is clean, but I can smell your odor. It does not turn me away; but quite the opposite. That you would allow me this close to your most secret, virginal place, spurs me on.  When your hand moves to your cock and you begin stroking, I am lightheaded and giddy. I refrain from speaking, from telling you how good you taste, how it feels to have you open and exposed before me, afraid to break the moment. You lift your ass higher off the bed, silently telling me you are ready for more.

I slide my thumb alongside your hole, not to spread you, but so that you become comfortable with my touches. I lick the warm, soft skin next to my finger, nibbling and kissing before turning my cheek back to center. The tip of my tongue brushes the edge of your tight ring, and you moan softly. That you would grant me this, what I’ve teased you about and asked for but never pursued opens my heart. Your trust, your want matches that which I gave you long ago.  I feel your balls pushing down onto my eyebrows with each stroke to your cock. You raise your bent knee, exposing yourself even more, and I take advantage, moving my shoulders closer to your body. I press my flat tongue fully against your anus, pushing slightly until you gasp and pump harder. Your other hand reaches down to stroke my cheek, and your need to touch me drives me on. I want to make you dizzy with want, dizzy for my tongue against your tender flesh.

I begin sweeping my tongue from your ass to the top of your balls then pull them gently into my mouth before releasing them with a soft “pop.”  Your heavy breathing tells me you are close, so I continue, faster and harder now. The tip of my tongue traces your entire virginal opening then begin flick randomly.

After lapping at you, I move once more to your cock, gagging as you thrust hard into my mouth. Your hand moves to the back of my head, and it holds my head in place as you continue to fuck my mouth. With a loud grunt you come, and I gag slightly as the hot fluid hits the back of my throat. I push back against your hand, and you relax slightly so that I can swallow your semen. I suck hard, milking you. I want to swallow every drop, savor every grunt and groan as you continue to unload your mess in my mouth. I ease off as you begin to shudder, knowing the sensations are now too strong and I need to gentle my mouth.  My tongue swirls around your now softening dick as your chest continues to heave.

As your breathing slows, I move up your body and lay my head on your stomach.  You stretch your body and wrap your arm around me to run your fingers down my spine. I smile into your warm skin, content and fulfilled.

I break the silence finally as I wrap my arm around you and place my hand on your ribs.

“I knew you would like my tongue.”

My Girl

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My Girl

The air conditioner is humming so loudly in the window I almost didn't hear the knock on the door. It's been so unrealistically hot for this time of the year that I was able to coerce the landlord into putting in the ancient machine. Living in the attic of an old house that's been converted into student apartments means that I'm never too cold in the winter, but the end of spring term can't come fast enough.

The Letter

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Note: Special thanks to The Expert for information I wouldn't otherwise have found. This story is the sequel, of sorts, to The Panties.

The Letter

Hey my baby,

First, I hope all is okay with you and work is going alright. I know things are difficult there right now. Chin up, I’ll be back in a few months, and things will get easier. I’m missing you too, can’t wait to crawl into our bed and next to that luscious body of yours.

Panties

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Panties

The day had been hotter than hell; the kind of day I love. I spent the afternoon at the pool, soaking up the burning rays of the sun so now, walking in the house, I smell like coconut suntan oil and chlorine. I wish they made a perfume combining these two smells.  I go into the kitchen and over to the fridge, grabbing a couple bottles of beer. I open one immediately, taking several mouthfuls before I finally lower the bottle and continue on to the bathroom for a shower.  If it weren’t for having to get the chlorine out of my hair, I wouldn’t bother with a shower at all.

I begin to strip as I walk through the house, pulling the soft white cotton shirt over my head.  I throw my towels and shirt in the hamper in the bathroom and turn the shower on before peeling off my swimsuit.  I hang the suit up for now; I’ll rinse it later. I take a few more swigs of beer. I’m not much of a beer drinker; normally, I only drink it during the summer at block parties and cookouts. But after an afternoon at the pool and what I have planned for later, one or two beers are perfect.

Black Stockings

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Black Stockings

She heard him unlock the door to her apartment. She’d dropped off her key that afternoon, telling him to stop by after ten. This was not his first time at her place, but they'd never talked about exchanging keys, much less offer one. It was a new development, one to be taken slowly.

They'd met a few months ago through friends. Neither were looking for a relationship or a change in relationship status, but there was no denying they clicked. They met for conversation and sex, brilliant and erotic, always varied and, more often than not, a test to their stamina.

Switch

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Switch

We’ve been talking about this for weeks, about the switch. I know what you want to do, what you want me to do. I never agreed or declined the request, but I’ve been thinking and planning; and while I’ve been doing that, I’ve also been fantasizing about what it would be like to be the one in control for once, to take charge and have you willingly submit to me.

A Night to Celebrate

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A Night to Celebrate

The sweat is dripping off my chin as we finish up the last song in the set. The five of us thrash out the last few measures of our newest song when the audience starts screaming. We finish big - Dan pounds on the drums while I let out one last wail on my guitar. I raise my head and look around, my eyes scanning the huge crowd that had come out to hear us tonight. Danni is usually up front, away from the blaring speakers but always close. Tonight I’m scanning the edges of the crowd for her.

The Ride

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The Ride

We’re going out for a ride on your bike. You’ve been threatening me for weeks with a ride on your Harley. I know what a Harley is, of course, and you told me about your ’93 Wide Glide. I’ve no clue what it looks like. I’m sure it’s nice. I’ve put this off for as long as possible, given you every excuse I could think of, but the day has finally come, wrapped in sunny skies and a cool breeze.

His Turn

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His Turn

He was taking his time in the shower. He doesn’t often, so I suppose I can’t begrudge him taking extra minutes under the endless supply of hot water. What the hell was he doing, though? He stands in front of the sink to shave. He does not deep condition or moisturize, nor does he exfoliate. I want my shower. There is another bathroom, but this is my bathroom he’s currently occupying, where my shampoo and conditioner and body wash and exfoliating cream and body sponge and all the rest are waiting for me. I’d had a long day, as well. I deserved a shower as much as him. I am curious to know what is taking him so long; the idea of him standing amidst the steam and water is delicious.

---

I rest my forehead against the white bathroom door and close my eyes. Is he standing under the showerhead with the water streaming through his hair and down his strong back, or is he standing directly under the pulsing jets, the water rushing down his chest and stomach? Is he letting the water ease the aches and pains of a long day at work? In my mind I see him, gathering lather in his hands from the plain bar of soap. He’s running his hands over the wide expanse of his chest that’s covered in coarse hair. His shoulders and arms are thick with toned muscles, and they are bunching and shifting as his fingers move over his skin. Water is running down the plain of his back and over the taught muscles of his ass. I feel my cheeks flush and my breathing is shallow as I see his hands running over those round, perfect muscles, skimming over the sensitive patch of skin where thigh and buttocks meet, my favorite place to nibble and lick as I make my way up the back of his body.

I turn the knob as quietly as possible, carefully opening the door as little as possible so the heat does not escape. I squeeze through the narrow gap and into the steam-filled room. The room is a sauna, and he is barely visible through the sheer shower curtain. He groans, a familiar, sexy sound that tilts my lips into a smile. I see his outline, his forearm is resting against the shower wall, his head resting against his arm as the water pelts his back.

I slip off my robe while my eyes never leave his outline. I open the shower curtain and slip inside. For a moment, I stand on the other side of the water, not interrupting the steady stream pelting against his back. I step closer until I am sharing the spray with him, brushing against his back as my arms wrap around his waist. He leans back slightly so that his back is pressed against my chest. His hand reaches back to caress the curve of my hip and the swell of my bottom.

I turn slightly and reach for the bar of soap he favors. Building lather quickly, I start at his neck, gently massaging the knotted muscles. When he rolls his neck in appreciation, I slide my hands to his shoulders and down his arms, spreading lather over the hot, wet skin. His muscles twitch beneath my fingertips as I trail them through the bubbles up once more to his back. Grabbing the soap again, I rub the bar between my hands then press both my hands and the soap to his back, spreading and smearing lather and bubbles across his shoulder blades and down his spine. My fingers reach his sides and the muscles stretched over his ribs. It is then he reaches back with his other arm so that both of his large, wide hands cover my bottom, cupping me and pulling me closer. The top of my sex brushes against the bottom of his firm cheeks, and my hands slide over his stomach and up his chest. I rub myself against him, my breasts and stomach slip and slide against his back and our wet slick skin is growing hotter than the water and steam. I stroke his chest, running my fingers through the coarse hair scattered across the hard surface and trails down his belly. His fingers grip me tighter for a moment, then his touch turns gentle, and he begins running his fingertips gently underneath the round globes of flesh, knowing I’m ticklish. Turning playful, I let my hand casually drop down to his cock, already hard and jutting. I rub the lather into his wiry pubic hair then lower, massaging gently, letting my fingers roll his balls gently in my hand and covering them in the slick bubbles.

His hand tickles me as it makes its way around my hip. Fingers slip expertly between my folds, seeking my wetness and heat. He knows just how to touch, just how much pressure to use for maximum pleasure. He circles my clit gently, once, twice, before seeking my hot channel. I press my breasts against his back for support as he plunges two fingers inside me, and the force and fullness of his possession takes me by surprise.

My cheek is pressed to his shoulder blade, and I’m panting with excitement. I press my sex into his hand, silently urging for more. My hand reaches for his cock, stiff and eager for attention, and my hand begins pumping slowly. I twist my wrist slightly as I near his glans, just as he likes, and his guttural groan shoots straight to my clit. I speed the movements of my hand, the soap acting like lubrication, and he begins thrusting. With my other hand I find his nipple. I rub and flick each in turn, occasionally pinching lightly, and he becomes impatient. He thrusts a third finger inside me as his thumb rubs relentlessly at my clit, and I shriek. I rub my thumb across the head of his cock, and in turn his thumb presses against my clit forcefully.

He pivots quickly, his hand never leaving my pussy, and leans down to kiss me. Our lips rub together eagerly, our tongues find each other, rubbing and tasting. My hand is still wrapped around him, my other is now draped around his neck. His free arm snakes around my waist and lifts me, raising me to his chest. I wrap my legs around his lean hips.

He falls against the back wall of the shower, bracing himself and planting his feet wide on the shower floor. He removes his fingers from my wetness as I guide his cock inside. He thrusts sharp and deep, catching my breath in the back of my throat. My head falls back and he wraps his arms around my back and hips. We stand motionless for a moment, our bodies adjusting and welcoming. I lift my head and look into his eyes, and with a quick smile, his mouth is on mine, his tongue dipping into my mouth over and over as he begins moving me forcefully up and down on his cock.

I plant my feet against the shower wall so that I may spread my knees a bit wider, taking him deeper. With a flex of his hips, he’s buried to the hilt, and I whimper as he bumps up against my cervix over and over. My hand reaches out to grab the metal shower bar that had been installed by the previous owner. With my feet on the wall, his arms around my lower back and hips, and my other arm around his bulging, straining bicep, I grasp the bar with my other hand and lean back. The water is rushing over my neck and breasts, running down my stomach to where our bodies are joining.
The slapping of skin against skin is augmented with the splashing of water. The angle of which I am positioned is over whelming. Over and over his hard length rubs my G-spot, causing my muscles to quiver. He pushes my hips down onto him, and my clit gets more direct stimulation. It is too much, and I cannot hold back my orgasm. He shifts so that the water hits my clit, as well, and I yelp.

He lifts me so that I am not almost bent backwards and sets my trembling feet and legs onto the shower floor.

“On your knees,” he says, his voice almost lost under the noise of the still-falling water. He reaches above me and tilts the showerhead so that it is not raining water onto my face. Still quaking with the aftershocks of my own release, I take his engorged cock in my hand and draw it into my mouth. I lick my essence off of the head and down the sensitive underside before engulfing him with my lips and tongue. He holds still, letting my mouth and throat adjust to his length and girth, then, taking my head in his hands, he begins slowly thrusting in and out, his cock sliding over my curled tongue and pursed lips. His fingers tangle themselves in my wet hair as he begins thrusting faster and harder. He knows my limits, how much of him I can take, and yet we always strain those boundaries, each wanting more and more of the other. He pauses while I cough and gag, the ropey saliva dribbling down my chin and onto my heaving chest. I lean back, and the shower spray runs down my face and breasts, washing me clean to begin again.

I look up at him and grin eagerly, the intensity shining in his eyes tells me he is close to completion, and once more I take him in my mouth. My lips and hands now work together to drive him further and further along. I reach up and grab his balls now drawn close to his body, and gently massage his perineum with the tip of my forefinger. He grunts and thrusts powerfully into my mouth. Careful not to loosen my hold on his magnificent flesh, I run my finger lightly back and forth, working closer to his anus, knowing what drives him to the cliff and what sends him off. His fingers are almost painful in my hair, his grip on my skull tight, and yet that does not slow me down on my quest. I want to drive him mad, take away all thought and reason until he is fucking my mouth and my face with abandon. Until his cock is buried so far down my throat that neither can tell where he ends and I begin.

I reach his most sensitive place, that small puckered hole that he is ashamed to admit brings him so much pleasure. I don’t often push him so far, but tonight he is feverish and willing to submit to my carnal desire. Blindly, I reach out a hand and find the bar of soap. Working it with one hand, I add just enough soap to my palm and fingers to make my questing fingers pleasurable for him, then continue. Taking a deep breath, I let my fingers once more find his secret pleasure spot, and as I do, he thrusts deep into my mouth. I relax my throat as best as I can as I circle his sensitive skin, and as I slowly bear down, trying to gain entrance, he begins fucking my face in earnest. I clench his hip with my one hand as the other slowly applies more pressure, and as he relaxes enough for me to slip inside, he pulls out of my mouth and comes over my face. I slowly wiggle the tip of my finger inside his body, and he grunts loudly again, sending more of his white, sticky mess over my chin. He takes loud deep breaths, and I let my finger slip slowly from him.
Gently, he kneels in front of me and tilts my head back under the stream of water, softly wiping his semen from my heated flesh, then brings my face to his. He kisses me gently, but deeply.

Together, we slowly stand and he adjusts the spray once more so that the water is now washing our flushed skin. We take turns washing each others sensitive skin, and as he reaches behind me to turn off the water then opens the curtains so that we may exit, he asks, “What took you so long to get in here?”

 

Hunger

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 Hunger

Her hunger for him catches her by surprise, often when she least expects it and mostly when it is inconvenient, like when she’s grocery shopping or driving. She’ll hear his voice whisper her name, the way he does when he is in the midst of an orgasm, and heat floods her body, flushing her cheeks and catching her breath. Her nipples tingle in awareness and the feeling of heaviness settles in her pussy as her clit becoming a hard nub that rubs slightly against her soft, cotton boy shorts.

I Can't Talk

 

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I Can't Talk

 Call me when you get home. I can't talk, but I can listen.

I get his text on my way home from the grocery store.My heart begins to race. I know what the text means. I pull into my parking spot a little too fast and slam the car into Park. I almost choke myself with the seat belt in my haste to get out of the car. I thank God my groceries are in the eco-friendly mesh bags and not simple plastic ones that would have surely ripped with my rough handling of them. I quickly let myself into my house. I hang my keys on the key rack next to the door and slip my shoes off. I go through the bags, gathering the items that need to be refrigerated or placed in the freezer. The rest can wait.

Here and Now NC-17

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The night was warm, but the breeze was cool coming off the lake, and the only light came from the moon as it cast a spotlight on the black water. The grassy beach was deserted, but tucked under a stand of trees, hidden in the shadows they lay on an old, worn blanket. She was on her back, naked save for the tiny denim shorts he was desperately trying to get into. His chest covered her, hard, smooth skin pressed against her soft full breasts, and he felt her heartbeat. He wanted to go slow, but his cock was ready to explode.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him down for another kiss. Her kisses tasted better than his mom’s lemon pie and his dad’s whisky. He needed to touch her, to bury dick inside her. He rubbed the denim covering her pussy, and she lifted her hips, pressing hard against his palm. He punished himself for another long, agonizing minute until he unbuttoned her fly and slid his hand inside. His finger brushed against her swollen clit, and she whimpered in his mouth. He bit back a low growl and slowly slid a finger inside; she was so hot and wet, he almost came.  She unwrapped her arms from around his neck and frantically began pushing her shorts down her legs then reached for the snap of his jeans…

Will’s alarm wailed, and he awoke, stiff and breathing heavy.

Goddamn it, Dory.

One by Two NC-17

All works posted are original stories. As such, they may not be copied or used without author's express permission.

A/N: The idea for this story came from a conversation with a follower on Twitter. Her twin brothers are Marines stationed overseas. This is for Neal and Nolan with a million thank yous.

One by Two NC-17

The heat and sun and cloudless sky are ganging up on me, making it impossible to concentrate on the final revisions of the manuscript I am working on. I'd been lured to the patio this morning by blue skies, taking my coffee mug and The Devil's Lair, the soon-to-be NYT bestseller, outside to work. At mid-morning, the heat has me changing into a halter top and Daisy Dukes instead of the sensible blouse and capris I'd put on this morning. Lunchtime has me grabbing my sunglasses and sunscreen while calling the local deli for a turkey club and large sweet tea. I want nothing more than to toss the manuscript aside, strip down to nothing and jump in the cool, blue water of my pool, but I won't. I plod on. The final edits are due tomorrow, and if I stop now, I'll resent having to pick it up later to finish. The result will either be a half-assed ending or twice as many redlines than are needed, and neither is acceptable. The story is a classic bodice ripper - a naive, but feisty heroine, a strong but silent hero who's been wrongly accused (presumably by his evil, identical twin) and together, through a series of missteps, misunderstandings and explicit sex, they find their way to a happy ending. It is funny, poignant and incredibly arousing.

What Princess Wants, Princess Gets

All stories are original works of fiction.

What Princess Wants, Princess Gets NC-17

Once upon a time there was a very satisfied, very content Princess. Content the way only chocolate and a man can provide. Her Prince was currently in her bed, tied. Eyeing her appreciatively as she walked the room, wearing nothing but stockings and her Fuck-me pumps. He couldn't help but wonder what was in store for him. When she was this satisfied and content, it usually meant he wouldn't be.

A Little Story

Before I post another story, I thought I'd give a little background into my writing. All of my male characters are based on someone I've met online. Sounds cliched, doesn't it? I mean, how can you really know someone you've met online, enough to write them into a story?

The fact of the matter is, it's not so very hard at all. What you don't know, you make up! I got to know these wonderful gentlemen well enough to for them to recognize themselves in my stories, and that is an absolute rush, for them as well as me.

The first story I wrote and posted here, as well as on my first blog, is Sleeping Beauty, A Bedtime Story. I wrote it for someone who held a very special place in my heart.We lived in different time zones;  he would be off to bed while it was still the middle of the afternoon for me. One day, he asked me for a bedtime story. One he would read when he awoke. I wrote this story for him.

I hope you enjoy it almost as much as he did. 

Welcome

Hello lovelies,

Welcome! I am so thankful you took the time to click, and hopefully enjoy, my first post. It is merely a tease of what is to come.

For those of you who know me, please pardon me a moment while I tell a little about myself to my new visitors. I've been writing for a few years, mostly for my own enjoyment and that of my friends. I started writing to see if I could - a challenge, simple and clear.  I've been writing off and on for years, but erotica... well now, that is a different story.

I enjoy reading erotica. I suppose well-bred ladies shouldn't admit to that, but as I'm not one of those, or a liar, I'll also freely admit to enjoying, rather hedonistically, getting off to well-written sex.

I need a challenge, as I make almost everything in my life a challenge, so why should erotica (or smut, or porn, or whichever word you'd like to chose) be any different? I started writing Harry Potter fanfiction, way before smutty fanfiction was cool, a la 50 Shades of Grey, and  I'm still out there, if you're curious.I moved on to writing my own stories, because let's face it, there are way sexier men out there than Severus Snape. (Although the brain is the sexiest organ in the body...)

I digress... I enjoy writing about relationships - how they work, why they work. I consider my stories a snapshot of a good relationship, one that includes lots and lots of lovely sex. If you are looking for romantic sex, with lots of hugs and I love you's, you best leave now. You won't find that here. Feelings are implied, not verbalized. I'm not a showy romantic, not one for grand gestures or flowery declarations.

Almost all of the stories that are posted here were posted on my previous blog, with the exceptions of those I will be publishing in the near future.

For now, I hope you enjoy the offerings! If you've a suggestion for a story, please leave it in the comments. I'm currently writing a new series, one I'm almost sure will also be published (I will post the first chapter, however,  to wet your appetite). But new ideas come from everywhere, and I value your thoughts.

Happy reading!

Sleeping Beauty - A Bedtime Story NC-17

All works posted are original stories. As such, they may not be copied or used without author's express permission.

Sleeping Beauty - A Bedtime Story NC-17

Beauty had had a hard day. Between the demands of her children, her castle and her own high expectations, she was tired. And, she was missing her Prince. He was away, and while they had been exchanging emails, texts and naked pics, she missed his arms around her, holding her. She missed the feel of his hands on her body and his tongue in her mouth. Her body missed his, and he wasn't due to return for another two days. She was not happy.