Readerotica Volume II– Erotica for Your eReader
Published by Smashwords.com
Copyright 2011 PriveCo Inc.
Readerotica II– Free Erotic Stories for Your Electronic Reader
Table of Contents
About Readerotica - Vibrators.com
Chapter 1 – Oh Doctor - D. Turner
Chapter 2 – Celtic Fantasy - Ms. Peach
Chapter 3 – Sleeping Beauty - Kannan Feng
Chapter 4 - Ravenesque - Olivia London
Chapter 6 – Ride On, Cowboy - Lynn Lake
Chapter 7 – My Boss’s Husband - Eva Hore
Chapter 8 - Sam - Cheyenne Blue
Chapter 9 – Clit Lit - Lynn Lake
Chapter 10 – Wide White Sky - Cheyenne Blue
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He dressed carefully for the office. His shirt was crisp and lightly starched; his tie had personality but wasn’t loud. He slipped on his pants, enjoying the cool touch of linen along his legs, over his ass and finally closing over his dick, still faintly swollen from his morning erection. He wore no underwear. He tucked his penis neatly to the left and slipped on his loafers. Ready, he locked his front door and headed for work.
At the office, he wryly labeled his first three patients “normally crazy,” feeling slightly reproachful for mocking his patients. All the same, he listened with scant attention and wrote refills for them without much comment. A new patient came in at ten and he looked up as she came through the door.
She was at first glance a typical suburban wife and mother. He noticed her figure was trim but not exceptional; she wore jeans and a shirt that showed just a hint of cleavage. She sat on the edge of the upholstered chair by the window and spoke. Like so many people, she had problems with depression, a little anxiety, nothing hard to diagnose or really even very memorable. She twisted her wedding ring as she spoke.
“I’m sure medication will help me feel better, doctor, but what really worries me are these... things that run through my mind.”
He perked up a bit. A little psychosis would liven up his day. Then he mentally chastened himself for his flippancy. Maybe he needed a vacation.
“I imagine that I see people naked. I mean, some people.”
He made eye contact with her and nodded, encouraging her to continue.
“Like, in the waiting room just now? There was a man in his thirties, he was wearing jeans and a tight t-shirt. I could just see him, his chest, his muscular arms, and imagine that he took me by the hand and pulled me into an empty office.”
This was something he should nip in the bud, but he decided to let it ride a few more moments.
“He lifted me up to a desk, and we were kissing passionately. I could feel his cock stiffen as he pressed up against me and I reached for the zipper just as he was pulling my panties down...”
He had to interrupt. “So your libido is, ah, very active?”
She met his eyes. “Yes, doctor. Is that normal?”
He checked her chart. “You’re married, I see.” She nodded. “How is that relationship? Regular sexual activity?” He met her eyes; his libido ticked up a notch as he noticed her nipples were hard. She really did have a nice figure.
“Oh, yes, I guess so,” she shrugged. Her breasts rose and fell. “Once a week or so?”
He deliberately moved his gaze to her chart. “Some women experience an increase in sexual drive in middle age. Anything else going on in your life right now?”
They filled the rest of the session with routine questions and answers. As he stood up to walk her to the door, he couldn’t help noticing her long, slender legs. An image flashed before his eyes: her, naked, sweaty, passionate, those legs wrapped around his neck. He shook her hand and watched as she walked down the hall, with just a touch of a sexy swing to her hips. She went into the women’s room and only then did he allow himself a small shake of his head, amused with himself. She was, after talking with her, very attractive indeed.
***
She came again a week later. There was evidence her medication was helping her deal with her anxiety. Uncharacteristically nervous, he paused before his next question.
“Any signs of sexual dysfunction?”
“Oh, no, doctor. I mean, nothing outside the usual.”
She shifted in her chair. Today she was wearing a casual summer dress, not terribly short but lightweight enough to flutter with the slightest movement. Her legs were smooth and very white, like her exposed shoulders. Overall, she had the look of something precious, something to touch with care. Her dress settled on her thighs softly, like a butterfly, or a kiss, and he felt a yearning for something; he didn’t know exactly what or why.
“I’ve still been having those thoughts,” she said hesitantly. “We were at a little league game Saturday, and I was a little late. There was another parent walking to the bleachers and we spoke.”
The doctor nodded, remembering his strong attraction to this patient from her first session. He was on his guard this time.
“He wasn’t tall but he was in good shape, nice arms, nice butt. In just an instant, I pictured the two of us ducking underneath the bleachers into the cool shadows. I was wearing…” she laughed and gestured at herself. “This same dress, in fact. He slipped the strap off my shoulder and it just kind of floated to the ground. He started to kiss me and his hips pressed against mine. Since we were about the same height, I could feel his erection against me and I had to touch him.”
She paused for a breath and he knew he should re-direct her thoughts. But he was a bit short of breath himself; when he saw the strap of her dress beginning to slide off her pale shoulders he could feel an erection starting. He didn’t say anything.
“He was wearing pants, not jeans, so after I got them unbuttoned the only thing holding them up was his cock, hard as a rock and uncircumcised. I held it in my hand and felt its heat and the softness of the skin around the head and I felt like I was melting.”
Now she was talking fast, breathlessly, and the doctor was fully aroused. Her breasts rose and fell; through the soft fabric he saw her hardened nipples and a wave of intense desire swept through him. Distantly, he recalled his colleagues talking with disdain about another psychiatrist who had become involved with a patient.
“My panties, just white cotton bikinis, were soaked and his hands were rough as he pushed them aside to touch me. Two fingers stroked my slick, wet cunt and I quivered. Somehow I got out of the panties and I was standing in front of him naked. In the bleachers above us I could hear the other parents cheer and clap for a home run. In spite of the heat of the spring day, I was covered with goose bumps as the man held me by my shoulders and kissed me.”
“Stop,” the doctor whispered. “I can’t listen to this.”
She immediately ceased and folded her hands demurely in her lap. “Oh, doctor,” she said. “I’m sorry.” Her demeanor was as calm as ever; she seemed neither to be especially aroused by the fantasy nor ashamed by it.
He cleared his throat and then spoke normally. “Our time is up,” he announced, his tone matching her coolness. “I think you should come back next week.”
“Of course,” she said, rising to leave. He sat a few seconds longer, hoping his erection would shrink, or that she wouldn’t notice it. When he walked her to the door, her eyes never strayed below his chin, and he was absurdly grateful. He watched her walk down the hall to the restroom. He found himself straining to make out the lines of some little white panties, then stubbornly continued to look even after he realized what he was doing.
He wouldn’t consciously admit it, but there was really no need for her to return in a week. In fact, if he were to behave strictly by-the-book, he wouldn’t see her again at all. These thoughts hovered just below his awareness; the uneasiness was masked by his continued state of desire, and a wide streak of guilty pleasure.
***
He was eager for Tuesday, her next scheduled appointment. She wore jeans again, and her t-shirt was cut tight and low, a child’s shirt with some cartoon character on it. Her smile was warm as she shook his hand before taking her accustomed seat. As he sat down he was acutely aware of his cock, faintly hard just at the sight of her face. The cool touch of the fabric of his slacks against his skin felt intensely pleasurable and he held her hand just a little too long.
She was again serene, like a goddess, he thought, then banished that thought with a faint frisson of ridicule. What was he thinking, he wondered. He’d been in practice for more than twenty years and never been so unsettled by a patient. Her gaze was collected; he could see no trace of sexual interest or lascivious intent. He shifted in his chair and coughed. No matter what, he decided, he shouldn’t waste a moment more of their session with these outrageous musings. He must focus, and direct the session like the professional he was.
“Tell me about your week,” he asked.
“I really think the medication is useful,” she began. “I’ve felt better, really, than I have in years.”
She looked down at her lap. “I still have those intense imaginings, fantasies I guess you’d call them, but they seem so real.”
He crossed his legs. He was certain there was an appropriate therapeutic response, but his mind became entirely filled with the thought of her hair swinging over his face as she rode him. He could almost feel the soft weight of her hair brushing against his nipples as they bucked, driving his penis deeper into the soft, wet folds of her vagina. He caught himself, his body visibly startling. When he looked at her again, that soft fall of hair was framing her features.
She took his silence as encouragement.
“This time it happened while I was taking a nap. I like to sleep on my side, with one leg drawn up.” She twisted slightly to show him. Her legs nearly touched his and suddenly, he was so hard the seam of his pants cut painfully into his balls. He shifted slightly, and looked at her; he easily pictured her nude body turned to the side and stretched out on a bed, her crotch only partly exposed by her leg folded up toward her breasts.
“I imagine that I am asleep, and only gradually awake when I feel a warm hand slowly moving up my leg. I murmur like I’m waking up and the hand is still, and then I roll over on my belly, keeping my eyes closed.” He could see it; he wanted that hand to be his own hand; he fiercely, suddenly, needed to touch her soft and yielding curves.
She turned back and crossed her legs. He could almost hear the soft glide of skin against skin as she moved, and his cock throbbed again. “The room is so quiet I can hear his lips part as he sucks on his fingers to make them wet.” Her eyes became dreamy, half-closed. “It’s daytime and there are warm squares on the bed where the sun shines through the window. The heat feels so good and he slips his wet fingers underneath me, just brushing against the lips of my cunt.”
The doctor opened his mouth and tried to speak several times. If anyone had been watching, he would have appeared comical, like a fish stranded on dry land. But finally he was able to push the words through his lips, hoarsely. “Please go.” He stood up, towering over her, his crotch at her eye level. He didn’t even care if she saw his agonizing, unprecedented erection.
“I--I’m sorry,” she stammered, then turned and fled.
With great urgency he turned, too. He reached for his zipper and then he came, hugely, cum pumping out and staining his pants, his breath hard and painful. He didn’t even touch himself before he came to an orgasm, and he felt even more helpless with the thought.
He cancelled the rest of his appointments for the day, claiming a touch of a stomach bug. Feeling like a schoolboy, he held his folded jacket over his arm to hide his wet, stained crotch as he walked out of the office.
The next day he instructed his nurse to call the woman and schedule another appointment, this one in just three days. His skin practically crawled at the thought of her, not sure if he would
terminate her diabolical hold over him or fall into her spell and her arms as helpless as a fawn. With all his mind he yearned to end this weird relationship; his body told him otherwise. His mind told him one more session with this woman could be the end of his career; his cock responded instantly, rudely, to the thought of a lock of her hair sliding across his face.
The third day arrived and he felt like a teenager, like a moronic character in a sappy musical, his heart dancing to the tune of her name, beating absurdly fast as the time of her arrival came near.
He felt hot with shame, and cold with the thought of never seeing her again, and hot again with desire for her, the way she crossed her legs, how she smiled just so.
Taking a great gulp of air before she turned into his office, he managed to greet her as if everything was the same. As though watching himself from a distance, he hears himself ask her coolly, almost coldly, if she was still “troubled” by her “hallucinations.”
When she looked faintly hurt, he began to melt, and his mind immediately melded with his physical self again, with predictable results. She began to speak and he roughly interrupted her, closing the door and directing her to the chair.
“Do any of these fantasies ever play out in real life?” He hated himself for being so abrupt, but steeled himself with thoughts of surviving with his career intact, not crumbling into chaos because he made love to a patient with the intensity of worlds colliding.
She looked slightly surprised. “No, I’d never be unfaithful to my husband.”
“Tell me about him.” The doctor was nearly gasping.
She immediately became warm and animated. A chance meeting between her and her husband was followed by a series of other unplanned encounters, she said, making their relationship feel inevitable, “fated.” The physical attraction had been intense and undeniable, their relationship following a fast track that would be unthinkable by today’s standards. “He can still make me laugh,” she admitted with a small smile.
The doctor felt his tension draining slowly and was almost surprised not to see it like a thick, oily substance on the floor beneath his chair. She described falling in love, spooning beside him every night for two decades, a deep companionship of spirit and body. This was not the talk of a sexually unfulfilled woman.
Now well in control of himself, he interrupted her once more. “If you’re not unfaithful to your husband,” he said slowly, carefully. “How do you resolve these frequent, ah, fantasies?”
For the first time, his patient looked shy. “I just find a convenient private place and, um, masturbate,” she said softly. “Sometimes I only need to touch myself before I have an orgasm. A couple of times I even had an orgasm just imagining that touch.”
He closed the session by saying she need only come back in six months, unless her anxiety troubled her sooner. He watched her walk down the hall to the women’s room, saw the door close behind her, and felt only a little foolish as understanding began to bloom. Without thinking he followed quietly, stopping just outside and listening intently.
Beyond the door, he heard the hushed but unmistakable sound of a woman reaching orgasm.
###
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(continued)
We had been walking around for what seemed like hours, in and out of small stone churches, ruins, and old castles nestled in people's backyards. As we climbed the hill, the sun began to shine behind the slate gray clouds, casting mystical shadows across the Irish landscape. I was thirsty and tired but we had come here to see all things magical and I wasn't going to miss a moment. A misty rain had been falling and my red hair was wild. The sun was struggling to come out. It was quite warm despite the mist. We climbed, looking like the oddest couple in Ireland. I looked like a native with my red hair, freckles, and green eyes. Bill was dark-skinned, exotic-looking. People had looked at us as if to say, "Look at that stranger defiling a good Irish girl."
It didn't faze us. We were here to soak it all in. I wanted Bill to see where my family was from. I wanted to feel the magic of ancestry. At the top of the hill overlooking vast green fields dotted with thatched cottages, we found the ruins of what was once a monks' abbey. Grass and weeds had grown through its foundation and vines twined their way around half-standing walls. All at once, I felt a hush and a pause as I surveyed the scene. Something about those ruined abbeys and castles held for me a beautiful mysticism that swept through my whole body. I turned to face my husband. God, he looked amazing. His brown hair flowed around his shoulders in the breeze and his large brown eyes scanned the horizon.
I took out the canteen and drank long and deep, passing it to Bill, and decided that this would be the perfect place for lunch. Taking the blanket out of the knapsack and spreading it across the broken stone floor of the ruins, I sat down and beckoned Bill toward me. As he sat beside me I inhaled his warm smell: sweat, grass, and springtime air. I swooned with pleasure. My senses were heightened and I itched for his touch. Reaching out and rubbing my hand across Bill's chest, I felt the magnificent sinew beneath his shirt. As he lay back on his elbows, breathing in the sweet spring air, I touched my lips to the curve of his neck. I kissed his neck, his ears, his throat, gently, lightly. My hand strayed beneath his t-shirt, feeling the ripple of his stomach muscles. I bent down and kissed each ab, lovingly caressing his nipples.
The edge of his jeans was rough against my tongue. I was so aroused that part of me just wanted to jump on top of him and ride him like a madwoman. But I wanted to savor the moment. I peeked my head up to make sure no one was around, and I unbuttoned his jeans. I guess he was of a like mind. His erection strained against his pants and I was only too happy to free it. His cock was gorgeous—perfectly shaped and a solid 8 inches. I lowered my head to it. With my lips, I nibbled the head lightly. Bill gasped, reached forward, and grabbed the back of my head, prepared to shove it to the hilt. But I resisted, swirling my tongue tantalizingly around his head and flicking it along the shaft. I licked and kissed his cock, knowing that he was dying to be in my mouth. Starting at the bottom, I licked a long luxurious stroke to the top and just when I thought Bill couldn't stand it any longer, I took him in my mouth, pushing him as far back as I could. He groaned and pushed his hips toward me.
He fucked my mouth, occasionally pushing as deep as he could, and I took it all hungrily. Feeling him getting harder than I ever thought he could get, I hiked up my long peasant skirt, and crawled up to meet his mouth. His dick rubbed against my clit and I held it there for a moment, savoring the insane tingling that comes from being so close to the edge. Slowly, I lowered myself onto his cock. The exquisite entry made me cry out. Suddenly, I was aware my surroundings—the feel, smell, the taste, enveloped by the abbey, the landscape, the birds singing. I glanced around. We were still alone. I pulled myself down, taking him in deeply and holding it there. Then I began to ride him, rhythmically undulating, rubbing my clit against his bush of hair until I felt warmth surge through my body. I was tingling from head to toe. I was going to come. Speeding up, I was fucking him harder now. His hips rose and fell in rhythm. His breathing came in gasps and groans. I exploded, climaxing from both my clit and my g-spot at once, screaming, "Yes! Yes!" My red hair flew around me as I threw my head back.
I stood and put my hands on one of the ruined walls, jutting out my ass in invitation. A split second later, he was inside me, pumping hard. I braced myself against the ancient wall, faced into the splintered sunlight and wailed out my pleasure, coming again all over his long, hard cock. At that, Bill groaned, "Come here." He pulled out, I swung around, and knelt down in front of him. Just in time. His hot load spurted all over my face in creamy rivulets. It felt so good. A wave of ecstasy rippled through me and I came again hard. The wind caught my hair and cooled the jism on my face.
We collapsed onto the blanket and sighed. I wiped my face on a napkin from the lunch bag. Breathing in the sweet Irish air and wondering vaguely if the spirits of the monks had watched us, I snuggled onto Bill's chest and fell asleep, the magic of the day and the abbey blanketing us in magnificent bliss.
###
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(continued)
Adele turned over, burrowing deeper into the covers and burying her face in the pillow. She knew that it was Saturday; there was plenty of time to sleep, and the world could wait for a few hours. She was just beginning to fall asleep when she heard a door open and close and a kitchen chair scrape against the tiled floor.
Bryce is home from his jog, she thought drowsily. That’s nice.
Drifting in and out of a light slumber, she heard him rummaging in the bathroom before the shower spray started. With a slow smile, she imagined the sheets of hot water sleeking down his muscled body and soaking his short black hair. He was lovely naked in the shower and soaping up, and she toyed with the idea of joining him. She could imagine herself running appreciative hands over his arms and back before traveling lower.
The warm bed was simply too tempting, however, and she drifted back towards sleep. There would be plenty of time for that later, but then the door between the bathroom and the bedroom opened.
“Still asleep, sweetheart?” he asked softly, and she grumbled a response into the pillow.
He stepped closer and she could tell without opening her eyes that he was standing above her, watching her closely.
“It’s almost 11, you know.”
The bed creaked as he sat down it, and Adele turned away, burying her head under the pillow and shutting her eyes tight. If she just ignored him, maybe he would go away and let her sleep, though suddenly she wasn’t at all sure that sleep was what she wanted.
Then Bryce was curled up to her back, one strong arm thrown over her waist and she began to think that sleep might not be in the cards after all. She could smell the clean male scent of him and then she could feel his breath on the back of her neck.
“Are you sure you want to keep sleeping, Adele?” he whispered. “I’ve got plenty of things I’d love to do with you.”
“Well, go ahead and do them then,” she muttered, but instead of sounding grumpy, she sounded languorous and sensual. Bryce chuckled close to her ear, and she felt him tug the blanket up and baring her naked back. He pressed his naked body against her bare back, and she could feel his cock already half-hard against the back of her thigh. Involuntarily, she pressed back against him, letting him warm her far more deliciously than the blanket had.
“Go ahead and go to sleep, sweetheart, if you can,” he said, nibbling lightly at her ear.
That sounded like a challenge and Adele resolutely shut her eyes, determined not to give in.
He pulled aside her shoulder-length brown hair and trailed kisses down the back of her neck even as his hand stole under the blankets to stroke the side of her breast. His touch was light, not quite ticklish, and it drew goose bumps on her skin.
Adele bit back a sigh when his fingers stroked at her nipple, making it harden. She forced herself to remain still when he cupped her breast tenderly in his hand before laying a soft, wet kiss on her shoulder blade. The bed shifted as he rested his head on one bent arm, and ran his free hand down her flank and to her thigh.
She tensed when he brought his hand closer to her crotch, but he only smoothed his palm flat over her lace panties, stroking lightly at her mound before moving on to touch her stomach. Everything was so languid and gentle that she could feel herself drifting off again, but then his hand moved over the curve her buttock.
Adele kept her breath slow and even, but her resolution to stay still only seemed to make her more aware of his touch. There was something intoxicating about the way he was touching her precisely as he pleased. At some point, this had stopped being a contest about whether she would get to sleep for another hour and became something much different. It was a game, and her part was to lie as still as she could for as long as she could.
Bryce ran a gentle hand over her ass before sliding his fingers inside her panties, seeking and finding her slit. Adele lifted her knee up to accommodate him, a gesture natural enough to be that of a sleeping woman, but his soft laugh told her that he wasn’t fooled.
She was only slightly wet, but he was patient, stroking the neatly-trimmed slit with the pads of his fingers until she moistened to his touch. Adele realized that she was gently but rhythmically pushing back against him and stopped herself, clenching her hands into fists to hold them still.
He kissed the top bumps of her spine as he worked his fingers over and over her slit, waiting until her folds were nearly soaking before parting them even a little. Now Adele’s breath was rougher, and it was harder than ever to hold still.
Bryce slowly worked first one, then two fingers inside her. Slowly, he drew them in and out, making her ache for more. After a few moments, she could smell herself. Her breath was hissing between her teeth and now she couldn’t stop herself from bucking back against him. Bryce’s breath was coming faster too, and he licked her ear.
His fingers suddenly pushed into her hard and she started to moan, but then he pulled them out entirely. Adele keened in disappointment. She wanted more, she wanted so much more, and Bryce laughed.
“Beautiful, beautiful woman,” he growled in her ear. “Do you know how fucking wet you are?”
His words made her gasp and she gave up any pretense of pretending to be asleep. Her hips bucked up against him, but his arm clamped around her waist, holding her still.
“Oh you’re up now?” His low voice sent sensual shivers up her spine and she could only moan in response.
“Yes,” she murmured shakily. “I’m up, I’m up.”
“What a funny coincidence,” Bryce said. “So am I.”
Deliberately, he pushed his hips against her again, letting her feel the hard, hot length of him against her rear.
“I want you. I want you inside me now...” Her voice shook with need. She might have been embarrassed if she wasn’t so aroused.
She heard him open the bedside drawer and was momentarily confused. She was fully wet, but then she understood when he pushed her legs tight together.
His slicked cock slid between her thighs, the lubricant making the glide silken smooth. Adele’s breath caught at the feeling of his cock sliding between the sensitive skin of her inner thighs, brushing so tantalizingly against her wet cunt. His fingers tight on Adele’s generous hips, he thrust himself between her legs, drawing back and forth.
“Oh you fucking tease,” she gasped. His chuckle was strained and it warmed her how much it cost him to tease her like this, how much he wanted her.
Well, two can play that game, she thought to herself.
She pressed her legs even more tightly together and was rewarded with a surprised groan from Bryce. He moved between her thighs for another few moments, long enough for her tighten her legs around his cock several more times and then he pulled away entirely.
“You’re a goddamn brat,” he said, and Adele peeked over her shoulder mischievously.
“Really? You think?” she asked and then she yelped when he rolled her over on her stomach.
“Yes, I do think,” he retorted. “and brats get punished.”
It was on the tip of her tongue to ask him how he punished brats, but then she squawked when he landed a light, open-palmed smack to her ass. The sting traveled from her rear straight to her cunt and the tingle warmed her beautifully.
“Yes?” he asked and she made an affirmative purr.
Bryce rubbed her bottom where he had struck her for a moment, and then he landed another blow in exactly the same spot. This one was slightly heavier than the first and it made her gasp. He followed it with a series of blows spread across her ass, and she could feel her skin heat and redden under his hand.
“Oh look at that,” Bryce said. “Look at you.”
Adele was confused for a moment and then she realized that she had inched her hips up underneath his hand. Her face was still pushed into the pillow, but she was almost on her knees, raising her hips to the delicious smacks.
She blushed even as Bryce ran an appreciate hand over her stinging ass.
“Not that I mind,” he commented. “This is gorgeous.”
She started to lower herself but then his hands were on her hips, pushing them even higher.
“Also, convenient.”
Adele held her breath when she felt the head of his cock to her wet cunt. He was broad and long, and it took a moment for him to push inside. Even slick with lubricant, it was tight and when he was all the way inside her, she sighed with satisfaction.
“Is that good, honey?” he asked and she nodded.
That apparently wasn’t good enough, because he swatted her rear with her hand again. It caught her by surprise and she moaned at the sting combined with the feeling of being completely full.
“Yes!” she said. “Yes, it feels good...”
“That’s good, Adele,” he said, his voice strained. “Because I think this is going to feel even better...”
His first thrusts were slow and deliberate. She could feel his cock draw in and out of her. He was taking his time, but then she tightened around him deliberately. She knew he could feel it, because he paused for a moment, before resuming that same torturous pace. Adele did it again, a secret smile on her face, and this time she was rewarded with a gasp.
“You want it so bad then?” he asked, low and almost menacing.
She barely had time to nod when he took a tighter grip on her hips and thrust into her deeply, burying himself into her body to the hilt. Adele moaned at the deep pleasure this gave her, and then he drew back and lunged again.
Adele felt herself slip on the sheets and she grabbed handfuls of the fabric in her hands to steady herself. Bryce started fucking her fast and hard. His hands on her body were almost painful, but she didn’t care. All she could think about was his cock pushing into her, filling her completely, and the weight of his balls slapping against her.
She raised her hips even higher, opened her legs even further, and then she could push herself back against him. She was fucking him as fiercely as he was fucking her, and their cries mingled together in the room.
“Please,” she was chanting, “Please, oh god, please.”
She didn’t even know what she was asking for, but apparently Bryce did because one hand left her hip to find her clit again. He knew exactly how hard to work it, and her climax hit her with the force of a lightning bolt, making her throw her head back and wail. Her whole body shuddered with the force of her pleasure.
The powerful sensations rolled over her, leaving her shaken and weak. Adele rested her head on her crossed forearms, slowing her breathing and only distantly aware that Bryce was still pushing into her. She listened as his breath turned harsh and his hands tightened even harder on her hips for a moment. Then he groaned and she could feel him fill her.
When Bryce pulled out, she collapsed slowly on her side. He drew her close again, stroking her hair. She was aware of being slightly sore, but it was delicious. She felt well-used and well-loved and she murmured soft, sweet words to Bryce, not sure if they made sense but certain he would understand.
“Are you awake yet, Adele?” Bryce asked. She could hear the smile in his voice and she turned over to face him. His smile was sly and satisfied and she reached out languidly to trace the curve of his lips.
“What happens if I say no?” She was faintly aware that her voice was hoarse from her shouts.
“Then we start over again.”
She thought for long moment, and then she firmly closed her eyes, while Bryce laughed with surprise.
She kept her eyes closed while his hands roamed her breasts and her sides, and this time he could kiss her mouth. Adele opened her lips under his tongue’s probing and even though she sucked lightly on his tongue, she kept her eyes closed.
“Greedy, beautiful girl,” he whispered, his voice rich with approval.
His hand slid down the curve of her stomach, teasing the top of her slit. He teased her labia lightly, taking pleasure, she thought, in how soft and wet she was. He stroked her folds until they nearly parted for him, and then he found her clit again.
She flinched slightly; she was still quite tender, but he was right when he said that she was also greedy. Adele heard Bryce make an apologetic noise, and his touch eased up, taking the sensation from overly-intense to bearable. He pressed lightly, making her rock her hips. She was not as impatient as she was before and he stretched her pleasure out for her.
“Is this what my sleeping beauty wants?” Bryce muttered. “Would she like more?”
Adele murmured her approval, and he began to stroke her clit, occasionally dipping his fingers into her cunt to draw that dampness up. It was slow and gentle, perfect, and soon she was moving against him again.
There was nothing urgent about his touch or her motions. They were locked together and Adele could concentrate solely on the sensations she was feeling. She might have really been dreaming, and Bryce might have been something she imagined solely for her pleasure.
Her second orgasm built up slowly. She could feel it coming a long way off, feel it swelling inside of her.
“Oh, oh, Bryce,” she said, and then she convulsed, grasping at his shoulders. The sensations were blunter this time, but sweeter too. Adele let them carry her away as she went to a perfect blank space where she could only feel. She shook for several long moments and then she relaxed, looking up into Bryce’s bright blue eyes with a tremulous smile.
“All right,” she said softly. “I think I’m awake now.”
###
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(continued)
Ever since her halcyon college days, Raven dreamed of owning a bookstore. She made her dream come true by attending book fairs all over the world, finding great reads at bargain prices. She called her store “Raven’s Haven,” for that’s what it was, an oasis of warmth and welcome for customers to come in and browse for hours without feeling harried. Raven’s store carried an impressive array of limited editions, leather-bound classics and “quality paperbacks,” but little did her regulars know Raven had a secret cache of book for her eyes only.
These books included romance novels and self-help books on how to visualize the right man stepping through the doorway and sweeping her off her slingback heels. Night after night while reading of heroines being ravished over and over again, Raven imagined a suitor with gentle hands slowly unbuttoning her diaphanous robe while her lips searched for his in the glim of a candlelit moment.
It had been a slow week. Raven was sitting cross-legged on a stepladder reading a hot romance and showing off her shapely calves, when the doorbells jingled announcing a handsome young man who could have stepped right out of an epic tale.
She recognized him. He had been in the store many times over the past half dozen weeks or so. Never bought anything, but always smiled shyly before leaving. Maybe he was the starving artist type, though he was always well dressed. He was certainly a welcome diversion.
“You must be thinking about your husband or boyfriend,” the stranger murmured archly. He had a serious but open face and a voice which bespoke of sumptuous tastes.
“Oh, no! Though I admit you caught me with a racy romance! May I help you find something? I’m Raven, the owner.”
“Raven, I’m pleased to meet you. I’m Yale. I teach at a community college and my name is Yale. Feel free to plaster me with puns, everyone does.”
What Raven wanted to plaster him with was her tongue.
“I’m looking for a book on Paris in the 30s. It’s for a Francophile.”
“A friend?” Raven hoped he wasn’t shopping for a significant other.
“Yes, a colleague really. She and her husband are taking a sabbatical to France.”
“Bet you’d like to go.”
“Not really,” Yale said, leaning against the counter and boldly staring at her with desire. “I prefer local color. Like the deckle edge of pink I see hiding behind the gray silk of your blouse.”
Raven blushed and adjusted her camisole. She hoped he noticed how the seams of her stockings hugged the back of her legs as she hopped off the stepladder, flashing the lace tops of her thigh highs.
“I think I have just the thing,” Raven said in her flirtiest tone. “Follow me… if you dare.”
“I’m an intrepid sort.”
Raven found what she was looking for in her travel section; this book was a feast of literary lore. On the cover was a photograph of a woman sitting at a café gazing longingly into the camera. Perhaps she was waiting for a lover. She was wearing a jeweled turban, like an odalisque.
“I’ve often marveled at this photo,” the sultry bookseller said. “Here’s a gal sitting outside in what looks like a peignoir!”
When Yale pried the book away, his palm met Raven’s fingers and lingered long enough to send signals of lust. “It’s a dress of some sort. I always thought women were more glamorous in the 30s and 40s. And look at her stockings! They shimmer even in black and white.”
“I don’t suppose you noticed my stockings,” Raven pouted.
“Raven, I’ve done nothing but notice you for weeks. The way you move and carry yourself… like you’re so proud of your curves and womanly flesh. I’d be honored if you had dinner with me tomorrow night. That is, if you could close shop a little early.”
Raven looked dreamily into the green eyes of a would-be hero and knew she had to take a risk. Images of two naked bodies flashed in her mind: one round, soft and female, the other long, lean and masculine. Very masculine. She saw Yale pinching her panties between his fingers before tugging them off to explore her moist delta. She could almost feel his hands kneading her bosom before they rucked her bra over her shoulders. Her nipples were erect and tingling and she risked a quick glance at Yale’s crotch.
“Well, it is my shop. And I have just the dress to prove glamour didn’t die with Jean Harlow.”
Yale stooped like a gallant and kissed the bookseller’s hand. Suddenly, a panicky sensation hit Raven spang in the chest.
“I’m probably a bit older than you. More than a bit, I’m guessing. Is that a problem?”
“Methinks you’ll be sexy at 100. Right now, you look irresistible.”
To prove his point, Yale ran his hands down the length of Raven’s spine, pausing at the small of her back to pull her closer to his groin. He then grabbed her rear end with both hands and lightly slapped her pillowy bottom. He couldn’t resist.
Raven could just picture their first date: gentle hands, candlelight and more. Only, she hoped he wouldn’t be too gentle.
Raven had a stark, restive beauty that sometimes put men off but more often had them torquing to get a better look as she passed them by. Her glossy black tresses fell an inch or so above her shoulder blades and bounced to their own healthy rhythm. Men would lift their heads in a crowd to get a whiff of the rose or lavender shampoo Raven had used that morning. Her long, delicate neck was the perfect pedestal for a heart-shaped face. Even her mouth was provocative. Those plump, juicy lips could widen into a heartbreaking smile or collapse into a tender moue faster than a heroine can murmur: Take me.
She worried about the age difference between her and Yale.
“But women generally outlive men,” he reminded her with a chuckle. “So, when you’re a sexy septuagenarian still breaking hearts on the biblio circuit, I’ll be breaking open bottles of pills to enhance my, ahem, shelf size.
“Well, when you put it that way,” the bookseller cooed, “I feel compelled to supply you with ample storage of boinking memories to buffer your dotage.”
“Supply away, Lady Rave.” She prepared for their Friday night date with the utmost care. Even had her chevelure coiffed at a beauty parlor. Yes, she knew it was a ridiculous expense, but she left the salon with an extra push of confidence. And as everyone knows, confidence is priceless.
She could do with a little extra certitude when she went through her wardrobe and realized she had gone up a size or two. Fortunately, there was a dress shop next to the beauty salon and she found just the cocktail cutie to seal the contours of her frame.
She wondered if there would be sex right at the starting gate. She had no patience for men who judged women for wanting sex. And she had had only one lover who appreciated her fetish for fellatio.
Raven was that certain breed of female who absolutely loved giving blow jobs. It wasn’t something she liked to admit (even to herself), not wanting to be labeled bad, but… she just couldn’t help herself. When faced with a cock in need of a good coddling, she saw a chance to be creative, the way a chef gets a gleam in his eye when presented with the finest ingredients. She yearned for the current of heat passing from the base of a shaft to the head, loved every sensation she could coax along with her lips and taste buds.
She squirmed in her seat. Just the thought of going down on Yale was twisting her panties into a tussie-mussie.
When Yale arrived right on time to pick up his date, Raven opened the door and gave a little gasp. He was bearing a huge bouquet of flowers and a bottle of wine. She had never felt so much electricity coursing through her veins. She wished they didn’t have dinner reservations; she was hungry only for him.
“We still have an hour to make our reservation,” the black-haired beauty informed her date. “Shall we have a glass of wine first?”
“You look magnificent,” Yale said, caressing her shoulder. “Is this dress new?”
“Yes, I’m afraid if this new diet doesn’t stick, I’ll be buying a lot of new clothes.” She bit her bottom lip, suddenly embarrassed. “You must have a thing for Rubenesque women, eh?”
“I think an elegant woman of your stature deserves a unique qualifier. Like Ravenesque. I have a thing for one Ravenesque woman and she’s right here. How ‘bout that?”
Raven clapped her hands in approval. “I love it. Have a seat and I’ll pour us each a glass of this lovely vintage.”
Whether it was the wine or the fact she hadn’t been laid in over a year, Raven couldn’t stop eyeing her man’s crotch. And his face too, of course.
They were making the requisite small talk when Yale said, “You’re thinking about something other than the last lecture I gave. If you’re fantasizing about another bloke, I want my flowers back.”
“What? Oh, no. I’m just so attracted to you.”
That was all Yale needed to hear before making a lunge in the direction of her décolleté. They kissed and tugged at each other’s clothes. Raven pressed her palm to the heat rising in her lover’s pants and soon a glorious penis was sprung free of its zippered cage. Yale moaned as the light brush fingertips pedaled the length of his shaft. She stood in her strappy high heels and unzipped her frock. Dinner would have to wait.
She was wearing a bustier which allowed her breasts to spool over ribbons of black lace and her nipples were already tingling with anticipation. She knelt at the base of the ottoman and got comfortable. Yale ran his long fingers through her mane and lifted her face for another kiss but she twisted away, impatient for carnal fun.
She licked his cobs first, an act of pleasure that made his knees twitch and toes curl. She lavished him with her tongue. Yale reeled in ecstasy as Raven shifted her focus to the tip of his cock, letting her tongue circle the head, licking and licking as if moving a marble around a roulette wheel. She then took the length of him entire, loving the heat of his erection pulsing against the back of her throat. She saw her mouth as a flue for conveying all the feelings and hungers Yale aroused in her voluptuous body.
“Oh, baby. I want you.”
And Raven wanted him so she hiked up her dress until it was a smile of silky material girding her waist. She had “forgotten” to wear panties. She worked her wet mound around her lover’s hardness until they fit together perfectly. The contrast between her jet black bustier and marmoreal skin was something to behold, especially with her diadem of inky curls capping the bottle of her womanly body. Yale pinched her nipples as she rode him hard and as his penis pumped her to the hilt, her excitement mounted until she came with a raucous orgasm.
Yale lifted Raven by her derriere and, with his cock still stuffed inside her, carried his lovely prize to her boudoir.
They fucked with a fluid abandon. Missionary style at first so Yale could cup his lover’s face while her long legs gripped his back like a buoy. His thrusts were rhythmic and smooth until he was moving inside her with all the urgency of a safecracker committed to his last heist.
“Take me from behind,” she demanded, and so he did, the last fleet dozen or so thrusts carrying him over the edge, his hands gripping her hips tight enough to leave a palimpsest of handprints afterward.
They stayed in bed talking for a while, sweaty and spent until Yale mentioned food.
“You must be starving, love. Of course we missed our reservation. We can have something delivered but I want you to know, I fully intend on wining and dining you in the best restaurants. What are you in the mood for? Food-wise, I mean.”
“Well,” Rave murmured coyly. “It is my birthday. There’s this lovely Indian place I know that delivers great curry and they have chocolate cake for dessert.”
Yale sat up in bed, his boisterous brown curls now a charming disheveled mess. “Your birthday! Why didn’t you tell me? I would have fain entered your demesne bearing gifts.”
“Which is exactly why I didn’t tell you. You would have felt obligated to bring me something and that’s too much pressure for a first date. Plus, I didn’t want to remind you of our age difference.”
Yale tsked. “We’re not going to have that conversation again, are we?”
“Oh, Yale. Do you think your friends will like me?”
“Of course! And if they don’t, I’ll find new friends. You’re my woman now. A great, curvy, beautiful woman smelling of rampant carnal desire. Want to take a shower together?”
“Good idea,” Raven said, glad she had thought to stock the bathroom with fresh towels and bars of soap.
They took turns lathering each other in the bath, Yale’s hands soaping his sweetheart’s breasts and belly while Raven caressed those marvelous cruciform chest muscles she was already addicted to. Then, unable to resist, she began stroking her man’s cock into a full erection. She kept stroking until it was nigh ready to explode and then she took Yale’s cock into her mouth while kneeling on the tub’s daisy-shaped skid guards.
Now, here was a man who could appreciate her singular oral fixation and she would give him the full measure of her tongue.
Yale caressed the top of Raven’s head, murmuring words of endearment until he leaned back in ecstasy taking his cock with him and then he was coming in long prolific reams, anointing his lover’s breasts and sternum with the philter of his sex.
They showered again: at this rate, they’d never have dinner!
Yale used a beach-sized towel to envelop Raven’s limbs, drying her off before toweling himself.
“Had enough?” Yale asked as his lover stayed his hand.
“Touch me,” she said. “Feel how much you turn me on.”
He touched her with his fingers then with the tip of his cock. He mounted her and fucked her for all he was worth because he could tell that was what she wanted.
They came together in an explosive heap, their bodies guided by a single fulcrum of pleasure. Before the intrusion of morning light, they would possess each other again.
Raven never thought she’d be the heroine in a romance, but there she was on page one, at the beginning of a great love story. A hot, horny, erotic love story, but yes, a love story. The kind she hoped would never end.
###
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(continued)
She said her name was “Blue.” Not something more poetic like “azure” or “sky”… just Blue. A slim and sexy Chinese student from the university, she had come to the party by herself. My husband and I had already been sizing up the crowd, trying to figure out, between sips of whiskey, who we’d try to get with that night. There were a few hot couples there but we were pretty undecided. We knew, of course, that we would get lucky somehow, with someone or ones—we have the swing scene down to a science and emit a smoldering seductive vibe with ease. But Blue took me by surprise. She came up to me while my husband was refilling his drink and introduced herself. In somewhat broken English, she explained that she was new at the university and was looking for an adventure. She offered me a beer from the 6-pack she’d brought. To be polite (and because I do so enjoy a good beer), I accepted and we began talking. Blue had been in the US for about two months and saw this as her opportunity to, as she put it, to try something she’d never tried at home. I told her, “Well, you’ve come to the right place, but don’t feel like you have to do anything… we all respect the right of someone to say no.”
She blushed and lowered her eyes, nearly whispering, “I have never kissed a girl before. I think I’m scared to.”
I was about to reassure her that I actually had rather kissable lips if she’d like a try when my husband came up beside us. I introduced them to each other. I could tell by the look in her eyes, that she was trying to hide that she found my husband sexy and intriguing. We sipped and made small talk for about 5 minutes before we took her on a tour of the club. We passed couples, threesomes and foursomes who had already found rooms in which to fuck. There was one room at the end of the hall that, during the day, served as a massage parlor, complete with a massage table all set up. My husband caught my eye and cocked one eyebrow; I gave a small nod.
“Why don’t we stay here for a bit and finish our drinks?” I suggested, knowing full well that we were hoping for more than a chance to drain our glasses. After a minute or two, I asked, “So, Blue, did you want to try kissing a girl? I’m really rather gentle…”
Again, she lowered her eyes and stared into her beer. Then, with a “Hold this, please,” she passed her bottle to my husband and leaned in, kissing me delicately at first, then with more conviction. She stopped. “Your lips are so soft…”
I told her, “You have a beautiful mouth. You know who also kisses nicely? Him,” pointing to my husband who was practically salivating by this point, watching the two of us kiss. She turned to him, stood on her tip-toes and kissed him softly. I could see the bulge in his pants getting bigger. I whispered to her, “He has a luscious cock too and I love to share…”
She seemed nervous, so I told her that I would stay there and either watch or join, depending on how she felt about it. Her black eyes shifted from his gaze to mine. She said, “Well, this is why I came here, right?” and put her hand on his hardness, taking his hand and placing in on her tit. “I would like to fuck you,” she told him. To me, she said, “Please stay. Watch. I want to kiss you some more…”
“With pleasure,” I replied.
Blue stepped closer to my husband and unbuttoned his pants. He helped her out by pulling out his 10-incher and placing her hand on it. She seemed astonished at first. As she stroked him, they kissed and he guided her toward the massage table. I lay down beside her as he hiked up her skirt and removed her panties. I knew what was coming next. His head lowered and his tongue found its way to her clit. Being together as long as we have, I knew that this was going to be spectacular. I’ve never known him to go down on a woman without making her cum. Meanwhile, I had stripped down and was stroking her jet black hair as he did his tongue magic. Within moments, she was writhing with pleasure, letting out only the slightest peep of the ecstasy she felt. She turned to me, wild-eyed.
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