The Transformation

It took him three years of meticulous patient planning and execution to be where he was now with his swollen cockhead inches from her sweet pink asshole. In a few seconds he was going to place it against her lubed anus then push the head through her tight sphincter ring and assfuck the woman at the epicenter of innumerable of his ball-draining masturbation sessions. Three years….

He joined the well-respected law firm straight after he passed the bar, quite an accomplishment in the eyes of almost anyone. Many nights and weekends were given to his drive to be an effective enough attorney to be in the running for a junior partnership at the firm. His talent was obvious from the start and his inexhaustible drive got him the notice he desired. But it did not get him the notice of one of the lead partner’s trophy wife, a woman he stroked to on a regular basis after seeing her the first time, which was at the first office Christmas function he attended. It was at the estate of the lead partner who was married to her, a gray-haired man tan and in good shape for someone in his fifties. She wore a black thigh-length dress with a neckline providing a view of a tantalizing portion of succulent breasts which swayed when she moved. Her hair was shoulder length and thick and she tossed it when she laughed. He was mesmerized. Late that night he jerked his cock with a hunger he had not experienced since highschool, cumming forcefully several times before collapsing into a deep sleep.

The Perverse Observer

He liked to observe sex. The reality of sex between regular people. Seeing and hearing their intimate sexual activity. He was a voyeur since becoming interested in sex. The feeling of invading the privacy of a woman who was completely unaware of what he was doing. Having them under his control. It didn’t always need to be acts of sex to be enjoyable. Just the invasion of their private moments. Penetrating their inner lives. Knowing their secrets. Observing what they kept hidden. The ultimate feeling of possession.

When he was 13 he spied on his older sister as she took a shower. She was 16, her body already well-developed. The closet in his room shared a wall with the bathroom she used for showering. He drilled a small hole which gave him a thorough view of the shower area. He turned off the lights in his room and waited for her at the time he knew she took her showers. Before long she entered the bathroom and turned on the light, then she closed and locked the door. She wore a robe and carried her bra, panties, and pajamas. She placed them in a neat pile on the counter next to the toilet. Then she turned on the water in the shower, which was a few steps from the toilet. She faced the sink and mirror next to where her things were neatly stacked, facing him.

The Last Sunset

You were the first person who ever understood me. You looked inside me right away. Saw my loneliness and filled it. Saw my pain and soothed it. Took me to places I had only imagined, and some I had never imagined.

You were so beautiful. Hair soft and thick, golden in sunlight. Copper highlights in sunset. A tangled and glorious mane early in the morning.

Eyes jade, and almond-shaped. Sensual. Serene. Ever seductive. Looking at me, into me, and through me; at times beyond me.

Such delicate shoulders and collarbones. The taut breasts of a young woman. Full, and swaying as you moved.

Slender waist and flat tummy. The full hips of a woman. Plush buttocks, silky smooth. Pink lips with a strip of tawny hair above them.

Off-the-shoulder black dresses and charcoal colored nylons held up by straps attached to a black garter belt. Braless nipples.

Sweater dresses with nothing underneath except tight leggings, teasing my imagination.

Form-fitting t-shirts with thin bras. Tight jeans and spiked heels that accentuated your back arch. Wearing a ponytail at times; hair coiffed with strands hanging down next to hoop earrings at other times.

The Encounter

He sat with bottle and pistol, thinking it ironic for a large man to be destroyed by a petite woman like her….

Jazz music rode the warm air like a caress on soft skin. He sat outside a small cafe, listening to the music from down the street as he toyed with his bourbon. It was a full moon night, a night that beckoned to the young women with glowing faces, and that discarded the old men with dull eyes.

She was 20 and he was 50. She was antiicipating her future; he was lamenting his past. Spring and Autumn on a July evening, an evening serenaded by jazz and seduced by moonlight.

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Categorized as Erotica