~My Erotica~
Mmmmhmm, that's right, these stories were all written by no one other than myself. I have signed away my rights to sell them again, which means that another entity legally owns them and plagiarism would be a super bad idea..., but I can publish them for your reading pleasure!
The Orchestrator
Damon had always been there for me in my time of need. Patient, empathetic, receptive—he had a way of making a woman feel like everything beyond her body mattered to him. Having known one another since high school I could easily claim that no one I have encountered has ever been of the same caliber. He adored my stretch marks—called them tiger stripes—and would tell me that I would look ravishing in a burlap sack. I always thought that he should lead seminars on how to please a woman.
He was also a pheromone junkie, which is why on this particular night he specifically requested that I not bathe or change my clothes before arriving at his apartment after helping my friend move into her new apartment. This request alone was enough to preoccupy my thoughts for the entire day, but added to it was the six month long yearning for the man that I had endured. My last relationship… did not work out.
Taking in my essence was the first endeavor on his list after he opened his front door to greet me. “You look just as captivating as ever, Amber,” he said, signaling me to fold into his embrace. He held me close to his chest, guiding my body along with his gentle sway while we breathed in unison. Feeling his arousal slowly begin to swell from beneath his belt buckle I clasped the side loops of his jeans and drew him further into me, my mouth instantly beginning to salivate. He nuzzled his chin then nose into the crown of my head, releasing a low, blissful hum as his fingers traced the contour of my spine. “Are you about to feast on me, Damon,” I giggled into his chest, “right here for all of your neighbors to see?” He stepped back, mischievously smiled down upon me, and suggested that we find more cozy surroundings. During the proceeding walk up a flight of stairs he remained four or so steps behind me—the flesh on the exposed portion of my lower back feeling the weight of his stare.
Stepping into his room I realized how much I missed his bed, how many past acrobatic feats I had performed on its jungle gym-like frame. This time he had sheer, brick red fabric clothing the top poles, cascading down to make fanciful sidewalls. The stylish, womb-like contraption begged to be slept in. After unfastening my restrictive, musky bra and unbinding my feet from my shoes I jumped onto his duvet and made myself comfortable. While he lit what seemed to be dozens of votive candles around the room I laid on my back, fiddling with the only object other than pillows on his perfectly-made bed.
“Open it, Amber.” Prying one side of the lid I revealed a shiny metal implement, glided one finger tip across the engraved handle, then lifted it from its casing. “Be careful, it is sharp,” he said, kneeling down to join me on the bed. Taking the knife from my hands, he shifted one panel of the draping fabric aside and placed it on the nightstand. “I would never want anything to harm that stunning body of yours,” he assured, moving back over me.
Playfully nudging his forehead into mine he spurted sweet, soft sentences of adoration while our closeness awakened the latent force within our bodies. “I can almost hear your body demanding me to take it from under that over-sized t-shirt,” he chuckled, sliding his hand beneath the obstacle then slowly peeling it upward from my waist. Upon reaching my mounds of soft flesh he raised his fingers and drifted them from one peak to the other—barely grazing the hardened tips. “Damon, I wish for nothing more than to feel all of you,” I eagerly gasped. “You will, beautiful woman, he promised, sitting upright and shifting to the edge of the bed. His hand moved the nightstand and picked up the knife, admiring it for a few seconds, then opened the top drawer. “I bought these a few months back specifically with you in mind,” he said, retrieving five scarlet silk scarves. As he turned back to me an excited grin drifted over my face.
“...you want me to please you, don’t you, Natasha?”
“That is kind of a silly question. Do you want to use those scarves on me, Damon?”
I sensed that he could feel the heat rising from my body as he knelt down to kiss me, fastening one of my wrists to the bed post then delivering gentle nibbles to my ear lobes and a trail of kisses across my face. Imagining how damp my panties must have been, wondering if anything had already surfaced through to my black tights, I parted my thighs to their furthest extent. Slowly he traversed his mouth over my navel, the only flesh exposed of my form, down to my dribbling crevice.
Weaving two more silk scarves intricately about my ankles, he then bound my feet to the lower bed posts. I softly chuckled, biting my lip and writhing into the bed. No, I did not have any qualms about being completely vulnerable to him. “You have...become very...creative, Damon, in the time that we have been apart,” I quipped. “You have become even more ravishing, sweet woman,” he purred, smiling down upon me and wrapping the final piece of silk around the palm of one hand. “What shall I do with this last one?” Fluttering the fabric over my exposed belly his other hand searched for evidence of my arousal.
He lowered his body closer, delivering one last playful kiss. Upon opening my eyes all that I saw before them were woven red strands. Continuing to nibble on my lower lip, he carefully tied a knot at the back of my head. Tracing the tip of his tongue from my hip to my exposed chest, one hand proceeded to my throbbing mound and nestled the fabric between my hidden folds. I knew that he wanted them fully-revealed—open...to him. I sensed his movement back to the night stand. My belly quivered at the thought of the cold steel on its surface.
He quickly lifted the cotton tights away from one inner thigh, slid the knife into the fabric, and ripped it from my aching region. I jumped, shook my head a couple of times, immediately becoming short-winded. He waited, and after a few long moments my body calmed only to become tense again to the sound of the gusset of my panties ripping. The slack on the scarves allowed my knees only slight inward movement. My lips trembled somewhat. He gently massaged my hips until my breathing slowed.
Starting at the base of one puffy fold, he fervently lapped upward, stopped, then granted the same attention to the other side, repeatedly, increasing with intensity with each passing. I imagined him fondly observing my reddish passageway caving inward with each breath that I took. He continued, his four ‘o clock shadow grazing my inner thighs until my sweet moans filled the room.
The cold blade returned and in one swift movement it ripped my shirt from the bottom seam cutting it all the way to the neckline. He rested on my barren, erratically-rising chest, and held me close to him. With every dip of his pelvis nectar seeping from my fleshy flower flowed around his engorged member. Resting his head upon my shoulder he whispered into my ear. “Would you like for me to be inside of you?” I merely sighed in affirmation. …another silly question. Caressing the nape of my neck, he lifted the cold metal implement to one cheek, and paused. My chest rose furiously beneath him, my mind vacillating between fear and ardent passion. He drifted the steel piece down my throat then circled my chest. I released a long, beckoning cry. Abruptly, he moved inside of me. The hours of anticipation causing my body to convulse,...around him,…onto him. For hours our mingling forms shifted from fervently fucking to gentle love-making, until our mouths were numb and the sheets were soaked with our fusion.
After unbinding my limbs and unveiling my eyes we laid on our sides, drifting our fingers through each other’s hair. Although the sun had not yet risen the birds were beginning to welcome it.
“I have never experienced anything like that before in my entire life. You have definitely evolved since we were together last. I must say that I was scared when you held the blade to my face and throat.”
“Why didn’t you ask me to stop?”
“I trusted that you knew what you were doing and would not cut me”
“My dear, it would take a considerable amount of pressure to slice you with this,” he said, sliding a metallic envelope opener from beneath one of the pillows.
Taste Test
She came out of the bathroom with only a sheer white thong on and a fluffy towel wrapped around her head. I had seen her scantly-clad at the beach many times in the past but was, in no way, prepared to see her nearly naked. Over the years I had watched her evolve from a teen to a mother so very gracefully. After having the child her body not only bounced back, she seemed to have developed an intense emanation of sexual energy—a stunning degree of confidence and playfulness, though she remained as sweet and humble as she had always been. I was not sure if my perceptions were colored by my own latent inner curiosities, but she seemed to have mastered those bedroom eyes. For nearly 15 years I wondered what it would be like to be intimate with a woman, but for whatever reason had never found myself in such a situation and when I would daydream it would involve a fictitious female. But, about a year ago, she became captivating to me—filling my fantasies. Her parents named her properly—Nani, “beautiful.”
“I am sorry that I left you out here, in a foreign place, while I took my time in the shower,” she apologized, standing only feet in front of me. “It’s alright, I am in no hurry. Last call is at 1:45, and your dog is a pretty entertaining character,” I nervously replied, still playing with Nalu’s floppy ears, too embarrassed to look her in the eyes. I was fearful that the moment I tried I would fixate on her well-endowed chest, as it had always both intimidated and excited me. I had always been curious as to what they looked like out of a bikini top. I felt something from her that was begging me to indulge my senses. “I am so thankful that Rodney took little Ashley to her Aunties’ house today. It feels great to be able to have an opportunity to be ‘Nani’ every once in a while.” I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks as I held back a sincere compliment.
She turned her back and began moving toward her vanity. Taking the opportunity to marvel at her form I studied the backside of her thong as she opened the bottom drawer and retrieved lotion. Her rear had always been well-concealed under her bathing suit, as she preferred full-coverage. It was just as I imagined it would be—supple-looking, radiant, olive-toned skin with prominent tan lines. My heart began racing. The room felt stuffy. Nalu could no longer be used as a diversion as he had taken interest in his bone.
Through the vanity mirror she glanced back at me as she closed the drawer and lifted one leg onto the chair. I quickly moved my eyes to her hands in hopes that she did not see me admiring her. “You know, I have been meaning to connect with you for years but after having Ashley I found it hard to do so with most people. Now that she is getting older it has become easier to find free time,” she said, flipping the cap of the bottle back. She continued to inform me of her daughter’s preschool adventures as she slathered the cream around her feet and ankles. The scent of jasmine filled the room once the moisture hit her skin. It somehow melded well with the visual of crisp whiteness up against her deep complexion. Again, my eyes were drawn in to her flawless figure, this time her fleshy flower was peeking through her sheer mesh panties. This time, when I looked back into her reflection in the mirror, it was clear that I had been caught. She simply smiled, lifted her other foot onto the chair, and continued to talk while pampering her other stem.
Beads of sweat began forming at my hair line. I had known how to handle propositions from men and was a little disturbed and bewildered by my reactions when it came to an encounter with a woman. I knew that she saw my nervousness—my beet-red face, my eyes bouncing from the floor beside her to what was on display before me. She stood upright, piled another load of scented moisture onto one hand, pushed her delectable mounds outward, lifted the back of her thong, and proceeded to slather under and around the tiny piece of cloth. Wide-eyed, I listened while she continued her story. It was apparent that she knew what she was doing.
A part of me wanted to run—not knowing what to do or how to react—and another was telling me to relax and let the situation flow. After the lower portion of her body was gleaming she turned away from the vanity and approached me. She was speaking very quickly, using her hands for emphasis—her breasts bouncing and swaying back and forth. The sensual aroma seemed to surface from her skin and smother me.
At once she stopped speaking, sat beside me at the foot of her bed, looked me straight in the eye, and paused. That sweet, warm, genuine smile drifted across her lips as she raised two fingers to a few strands of hair dangling from my crown and proceeded to tuck them behind my ear. “Is everything alright, Amber,” she asked, in a low, seductive voice. I took a hard swallow and softly peeped “Yes.” She lifted my hand, placed the bottle of lotion inside, and turned her back to me. I did as she requested with a slight sense of relief, as it felt less like I was on the spot not having all of her tantalizing body revealed before me. As I spread the first stream from her neck to the base of her shoulder blade I felt, for the first time in my life, blissful softness. It was precisely as I thought it would be in the years that she had filled my fantasies. In circular motions I continued stroking to the other side of her toned back, all the way down the length of her spine. All of my apprehension had faded; I began to be in somewhat of a meditative state. After her flesh was sufficiently moistened I flowed with what came naturally—pressing the palm of my hands into her firm muscles, the towel unraveling and falling from her head as she tilted her head back. Her coconut-scented, perfectly-straight hair spilled onto her shoulders.
I collected her mane in a tight pony tail at her heads mid-section and tugged upward, causing her shoulders to relax. Shifting her head slightly to one side, I gazed at the contours along the peach fuzz-laden nape of her neck, her tiny supple earlobes beckoning for attention. I lifted my tongue to it, barely making contact, my heavy breath releasing into her ears. In the reflection of the vanity mirror I saw her gaping mouth form a subtle, long moan. My entire face began tingling, from that tiny region of contact outward. Opening my mouth, I tilted my head so that it may envelope the crest between the back of her ear and hairline. I delivered a gentle, intent peck, and she leaned farther back into me. One of my arms wrapped around her torso, and held her closely. Conflicting thoughts of wanting to cuddle and devour her danced in my mind, although the later overcame. In a slow, drawn out motion I sank my teeth into her open flesh, causing her to jump and somewhat hiss and arch her back. “I can feel that in my nipples,” she gasped. Switching the grip of her long mane to my other hand, I repeated the advance on the untouched side of her neck. It was far more sensitive than the other—causing her to squirm, though she tried hard to sit still.
“Would you mind helping me moisturize the front of my body,” she purred, slowly shifting her body on the bed until we were face-to-face. She squirted a puddle onto my hand and guided it to her cleavage. I slowly traversed every curve, marveling at their shape, texture, and…responsiveness—her contagious smile assuring me to continue. After becoming well-acquainted with every inch, she stopped my motions. “You still have an awful lot of clothes on. At least take of this top,” she urged, lifting the bottom seam of my tank top. She stopped to admire my black lace bra, running her finger tips over the surface. “We might as well get rid of this, too,” she added, sliding her thumb under one of the straps. “I have always wondered what it would be like to have hand-fulls. I have always felt that mine were a burden,” she said, cupping one of my breasts, lifting its weight upward.
“Now come closer and wrap your legs around my waist, like this,” she said, throwing hers over mine as an example. Sitting upright, top-less, our lips effortlessly connected, our dancing tongues gently flicking at one another. We sat entwined, licking, kissing, and exploring—me mimicking her movements. Her hand rose to my nipple, grasping it between two fingers. In a mix of subtle shakes and rounded, deep strokes, we heightened one another’s sensitivities. “They look like chocolate kisses, begging to be savored and melted in my mouth, Nani,” She placed one hand at the back of my head and urged that I follow through with that notion. I moistened the skin about one nipple—slowly, so that she may feel the warmth of my breath—then gently clasped my teeth around the erect peak. “You just bit into it,” she giggled, cradling my head closely. I continued to lap, ...nibble, ending in a firm caress of her lips.
Her hands moved to the waistband of my skirt and massaged my hip before two of her fingers nestled under the side seam of my panties. I disengaged my lips from hers and watched as she fondled my fleshy protrusions; I saw her own from beneath the fabric—begging me to follow her lead. Lifting the bright mesh from her flesh, I nuzzled the backside of two fingers against her warm, welcoming folds. We both were attempting to move our hips inward, but our sitting position was prohibiting the movement. I suggested that we lie on our backs, entangled in somewhat of an l-shape. All of the focus from that point forward was at our pleasure epicenters. We worked one another’s panties into the moistened crevices—our glazed eyes smiling, our coos of enchantment rising from within.
Our fingers wiggled inward, traversing the warm, wet, walls—legs splayed to their widest extent. We cleaned the nectar from one another’s fingers,…then dove back into the feminine depths—our bodies writhing, moans filling the room. Her warmed fluid was intoxicating, making me propel forward, grinding into while I cleaned it from her flesh. We found the sweet spots in the midst of the damp muscular folds, but would stop once approaching completion—ingesting all of one another that we could. The tiny pieces of fabric could no longer hold all that seeped from our furrows, the excess trickling downward onto our rarely-explored caverns. Massaging the slippery wetness around the puckered surface, we teased one finger tip in and out. Our buttons were hardened—neglected and craving amenity—but the moment that we began messaging them…we heard the sound of thick-treaded tires pull into the gravel driveway.
Nani shifted the alarm clock next to her bed. “Well, I guess it is easy to loose track of time. We have been playing for nearly two and a half hours.” Immediately she headed to her closet, fetched a sundress, and grabbed a hairbrush from her vanity. I gathered my clothing and nervously began covering myself back up. I had just put my tank top on when Rodney came to the doorway of the bedroom, holding little Ashley held on one hip. He stood there for a long moment, with a devious grin. “I promised Ashley ice cream in return for being a good girl on the way home,” he said, turning his back and heading toward the kitchen. Nani came closer to me, still detangling the ends of her hair.
“I feel so ashamed, Nani, but from the looks of it Rodney does not seem to feel threatened at all.”
“No, actually, he had known of my crush on you for some time and urged me to finally follow through with my desires. He was the one to suggest this…taste test.”
How Spicy?
We sit down amongst a restaurant full of city dwellers to do some catching up on one another's hectic lives. The hostess hands us our menus, lights the votive candle, and briefly primps the orchid arrangement atop the glass. “Your waitress right with you,” she lightly speaks in a thick foreign accent and with a bow of her head and coy smile scuttles back to the hostess stand. We briefly glance at the colorful top page then look up at one another. “What will...,” I begin, realizing that there is little chance of him hearing me over the music, the various voices attempting to compete with it, and clanking dishware. Moving my setting across the table I then scoot to the space next to him on the booth seat.
“I love my food as spicy as possible,” I explain as the waitress leaves our table and heads towards the swinging kitchen doors.
“So, tell me Amber, what is it that you have been doing with yourself over the past month or so since we’ve last spoken. Are there any potential...suitors?”
“To be quite honest, I have given up looking. Besides, work takes up most of my time and energy and it would be unrealistic for me to take on any other such responsibility,” I explain, fiddling with my fingernails while images of my life’s reality dance through my head—night after night of watching sitcoms and overindulging in dark chocolate.
“That sounds a lot like my story. Do you ever get lonely? You know, do you ever just wish there were a warm body to lie beside?”
“Well, there is always pinky—all 10 pounds of him.” The attempt at humor does not go unnoticed, but he sits and awaits a genuine response. “I am, Mike, but what can I do? I just keep myself busy and try to forget about it.”
“Aside from intimacy, do you have any...physical cravings,” he questions, with a deep, probing glare.
“Let’s just say that one can only have so many rabbit, wand, and bullet sessions before it begins to lose its appeal.” He chuckles, sensing my wish for a change in subject matter and inquires about the happenings at my workplace just as the waitress returns with our wine.
Through the appetizers we sip and chat—the affects of the alcohol increasing and internal temperatures rising. He politely assists with the task of removing my cardigan. With it being the peak time in the bustling establishment, and the kitchen seeming to have a difficult time keeping up, we decide to order a full bottle of wine. His playful, humorous remarks increase. Our cheeks are fully flushed. I mention that getting out of the house and enjoying such delightful company should become a weekly adventure, to which he offers not one word in response. Instead, he tilts his head and rests his chin on one hand and raises the other. As I finish my sip of wine and return my glass to the table I feel his fingertips delicately drifting across my collar bone, then down my arm. I close my eyes, and for a brief moment it seems as if the surrounding commotion disappears. His hand moves to the small of my back then gently massages up my spine. As he moves closer to me I can smell the sweet wine wafting from his mouth—the heat of his breath on the nape of my neck.
“I think that it should be me that has the honor of awaking your ardent desires,” he whispers, moving his hands underneath the thick, vibrant table cloth. He opened his mouth as if to lick the lobe of my ear, stopping—and breathing—before making contact. Inside I beg for the release of his moist muscle.
“Mmmmike...,” I begin, halting once his hand traverses to my inner thigh. Somewhat startled, I open my eyes and scan the room to see if anyone is taking notice the activity. As I am about to close my eyes again I notice one woman purposefully viewing the happenings at our table. She smiles then proceeds to twist noodles onto her fork.
“You have no idea how many times I’ve smelled and wanted to devour you,” he breathes, delivering a gentle kiss to my cheek. Shivers radiate from the point of contact across my entire face. I uncross my legs, to which he promptly responds by lifting my skirt and gently scratching my skin. My eyes fixate across the room again to the female onlooker. From the expression on her face it seems as if she is aware of every movement and vicariously wishes for him to proceed.
Backing away from my face he leans back against the seat then slides one finger along the side seam of my panties—examining the softness of the black satin. He too scans the room and finds that we have a one woman audience and as their eyes meet the same expression surfaces on their faces. His wandering suddenly changes from easeful glides to direct, intent fondling. The panties are moved aside and he wiggles two fingers inside to gather my slippery nectar. I coo as he moves it onto my engorged button—somewhat embarrassed by my peep but already feeling myself so very close to the pinnacle and wanting to reach it. This he senses then slides his fingers back into my warm, wanting cleft. I wish for just one long moment for everyone in the room to disappear...but for our naughty fan, now biting her lip in suspense, to remain and view the finale. I lean back into the chair, splay my legs wide, and lock onto her eyes—not caring if my moans are heard by every patron. Two of the four in her party turn to see what has her so mesmerized at the precise moment our waitress returns to the table.
“I so sorry. Kitchen have many orders. I can get more wine,” she asks. He does not answer nor do his fingers stop.—as if to put me on the spot. So close to erupting and displeased that I cannot I involuntarily stomp one heel onto the tile floor. “Miss...,” she begins, now noticing my reddened cheeks and somewhat gaping mouth. “W...we are...fine, thanks,” I stutter, hoping that she will sense that I wish for her to leave, but she does not. “We will be right back,” I blurt, grabbing his hand from between my legs and standing up. Hastily I guide him by his wrist away from the table and head towards the front door.
Nearly running through the parking lot to seek a safe haven in my car, I see someone fiddling with their broken trunk latch in the space beside mine. “...Figures,” I grunt, stopping to think of an alternate plan. He...just giggles. On the far side of the building I see the entrance to a dimly lit alley and I quickly take his hand and move towards it. Once past the open chain link gate I notice a small dumpster and proceed to the wall beside it—backing myself onto the rough, cold brick and bringing his body close to mine. We kiss feverishly; I direct his hand between my legs and begin investigating his arousal.
“I believe that such a delectable tart should be savored, dear,” he teases, dropping to his knees before me.
“I want you inside me, Mike,” I gasp. He ignores my request, lifts one leg over his shoulders, and pries the saturated fabric from my flesh. I relent, fully lean back into the wall, and close my eyes. Continuing with the same momentum as where we left off in the booth his tongue dives and laps what has yet to surface, then furiously flicks my hardened protrusion. My moans fill the empty alley—the brick poking into my exposed skin going unnoticed. In response to my tightening muscles he repeatedly alters his rhythm and course. I grab him by the crown of his head, pull, and hold him at the precise spot. As he wiggles two fingers inside me I feel the mingling fluids slide down my supporting leg. My convulsing muscles grip onto his fingers as I loudly moan his name...for what seems to be many minutes. After it becomes apparent that I can no longer hold myself up he rises, brings my head to his chest, and firmly embraces my weakened, satiated body.
You have a talent, there, sir,” I mutter into his shirt. Consider it a friendly gift from someone you trust,” he chuckles, cradling my head.
After recuperating for a few minutes we head back to our abandoned table. Once rounding the corner we encounter the female onlooker, leaning against the wall with her after dinner cigarette. “I love the sound of the city,” she says, smirking.