My Muse, A Literary Salon First [MF]

I squeezed my legs together as a shiver rippled through my body. Was I just so sex starved that his words ripped right through me or was it something more? The heat from my core was slowly spreading with a gentle persistence, my fuel his lust, my rapture his deliverance.

“My muse, let me please you, the way you have pleasured me. The words that you whisper upon my ear, let me sing you a sweet melody.”

Wondering if anyone else noticed, I glanced around. He had captivated the audience with his battle. It wasn’t just me. There were men and women whose shallow breathe and light pink glow mirrored my own enchantment. He had become the poet aphrodisiac and I, his devoted paramour.

My eyes closed and I was transformed. No longer a woman in the crowd, I became his muse, his words whispered upon my ear, uttered for my sole benefit. I could feel his heavy breath tickling my earlobe as he nibbled his way down my neck, the tempered exhalation simultaneously hot and cold, raising the skin on at least half of my body.

Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/6jls9w/my_muse_a_literary_salon_first_mf

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