Author: veylih

I slid my hand up her thigh,  “You wanna do something?” I questioned, batting my eyes at her. She glanced up from her phone screen, our eyes peered into each other’s.

“No,” she replied. “I’m okay with what I’m doing, right now.” She continued scrolling through her phone. I furrowed my brows at her response, not satisfied with it. I could tell she could sense my distaste for her answer, but she didn’t look up again. I swung my leg over hers, straddling them. Both of my hands were placed flat on her hips.

I traced her hip bones with my fingers, sliding them over the hem of her pants. I scoffed when she gave me no response. “Seriously?” I grumbled. “You’re such a bummer,” I complained while sliding off of her, landing flat on my back. I tucked my hands behind my head and let out a sigh. As soon as I closed my eyes I could feel her stare holes into my skin. Her soft hand grabbed my wrist gently, her finger traced up and down it. I peaked my eyes open, hers were still glued to her screen. Read more »

I dipped my hair in the sudsy water, rinsing the soap from it. My fingers drained through, pulling any leftover bubbles out. The water splashed up to my noste until I went fully under. My hair floated around my face, framing all of its edges.

I took small gasps of air when I emerged my head from the water, as I went under the water again I heard a soft knock on the door. I poked my head out of the water. “Hello?” I questioned to the door, propping myself upright. “Come in.”

The door squeaked open, she leaned her shoulder against the frame of the door. I wrapped my arms around my chest, covering myself. she had a soft smile on her face if she slowly walks towards me. I leaned my elbows on the front ledge of the tub, pulling myself closer to her.

She reached a hand down and caressed the side of my cheek, her cold finger ran smoothly against my face. I watched as her eyes traced down my body. “Perv,” I scoffed, re-situating my arms to where they covered my chest. I pulled away from her finger. Read more »

Is it wrong of me to want the touch of a woman? To want to feel her body pressed against mine. I don’t want to feel a woman in an innocent way, I want to feel her in the way a man feels a woman. Her breasts, her ass, her mouth and tongue. The touch of a woman always looks warmer than a mans. A mans touch is rough. His hair is sharp, his mouth is rough, and his grip is hard. I want a woman’s soft touch. I want her to touch my waist softly with her tongue. I want her warm spit to caress the sensitive parts of me. I want a woman’s touch to fill me, fill the inside of my body in a way a man could never. The touch of a woman is what I crave, inside and outside of my womanly body.

(Erotic literature)