Author: Word-Weaving

Commute, Continued [M/F 30’s][Voy/Exh]

[Part I](https://www.reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/vtre0y/commute_mf/)

Regret began to consume her as she sat stationary on the edge of her seat, paralyzed for what felt like hours while contemplating the decision made as he sat only feet away. The heat rising up from her abdomen spilled into her cheeks and for a moment she wondered if she would collapse into the walkway beside him. He would undoubtedly pay attention then, but no, that isn’t how she wanted to engage him.

Quietly they rode and not once did she turn to face him, nor did he address her. She wasn’t sure if he saw her at all. And, just as she was certain the anxiety would finally overtake her, she felt the train slow and then drag to a halt. Without even a glance, her bag in hand, she vacated the car as quickly as possible.

At home that night she mulled over the entire situation, what she had done wrong, or didn’t do at all, curious if he had taken a glimpse at her that simply went unnoticed. Having a strong sense that he didn’t even notice, she wouldn’t twice make the mistake of inaction. This would take radical measures. After months of being disregarded, she knew what she had to do. Read more »

Tension [M/F 30’s][CNC]

He couldn’t remember the ride home, or much of anything after the whiskey. Only that his wife really seemed fond of this woman. They had hit it off at the restaurant bar while waiting for a table, and it was Anne who insisted she accompany them afterward. The excessive conversation didn’t suit her, but she hadn’t made a new friend in a while. Or maybe the alcohol had her, ending in behavior that fringed on being too amiable. If he were to select someone for his wife’s companionship, this one was unexpected—a complete departure into the realms of peculiarity that he accepted as an alleviation either way. The new acquaintance didn’t decline the invitation, instead, she followed them home in a taxi.

At the house, the woman steadily fed them drinks from their own liquor cabinet, and some hardened candies she said would make them feel good. Anne was already swaying after her first glass but he accepted another, knowing it to be an impulsive and terrible idea. Read more »

Commute, Continued [M/F]

[Part I](https://www.reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/vtre0y/commute_mf/?utm_medium=android_app&utm_source=share)

She remained perched on the edge of her seat, paralyzed for what felt like hours, instantly regretting the decision as he sat only feet away. The heat rising up from her abdomen spilled into her cheeks, and for a moment she wondered if she would collapse into the walkway beside him. He would undoubtedly pay attention then, but no, that isn’t how she wanted to engage him.

Quietly they rode, and not once did she turn to face him, nor did he address her. She wasn’t sure if he saw her at all. And, just as she was certain the anxiety would finally overtake her, she felt the train slowing, dragging to a halt. Without even a glance, her bag in hand, she vacated the car as quickly as possible.

At home that night she mulled over the entire situation, what she had done wrong, or didn’t do at all, curious if he had taken advantage of a peek at her that simply went unnoticed. Having a strong sense that he hadn’t, she wouldn’t twice make the mistake of inaction. This would take radical measures. After months of being disregarded, she knew what she had to do. Read more »

Diary Entry #386 [M/F]

*Stupid*. Stupid-stupid-**stupid**. *Why* did I do that? Fuck. I really fucked up this time. If you’re reading this, you’re an idiot. Why did you do that? *Why? Why-why-why?* FUCK. If you are reading this then it’s probably been like three years and you don’t even know this guy anymore because you’re so horribly embarrassed by what you just did that there’s no fucking way you could ever face him again. You probably already moved out and found a new apartment entirely.

Now you’re going to write it out to remind yourself in case you don’t remember why you don’t ever do shit like this. *You’re an idiot*. Don’t forget that. Ok, for the record, just in case this didn’t go as terribly as you thought it would, cool, maybe something rad happened for once and things worked out. But probably not. For now just write it to remind yourself…because realistically it’s going to be a long time before you even want to remember this. Read more »

Internal Affairs [M/F]

You didn’t like me when I started. A month in and I’d already claimed three of your clients. Results of your disorganized work methods. You had no one to blame but yourself.

Three months in and I got that promotion. The one you’d tried so studiously to land. I suppose you should have put in more effort. You didn’t speak to me for weeks. I didn’t care.

Six months in and we were working late. Enemies united for a common goal. You popped the top off of that bottle of wine you’d been hoarding from last New Year’s. Something to ease the tension.

Nine months in and I wonder if every time you look at that desk, you imagine me splayed out on top of it. I wonder if you try to recreate how pitiful I looked bent over, my skirt hiked crudely up my thighs, wine stains on my crisp white blouse, your cock inserted in full measure.

Competitor turned collaborator. Contender turned cohort. Foe turned friend. A new alliance was formed. A legion of lovers.

Twelve months in and now you smile at me.

Commute [M/F]

He took the number nine going north uptown, following the stop at Behringer. After that she didn’t know where he went. All she knew is that for five months now, every Tuesday and Thursday evening between the hours of 5:15 to a little past 6:45, he had become her obsession. She road the rail daily to and from work, often wondering what he did on those missed three days. Did he work part time? Possibly. Did he work at all? Maybe he didn’t, but his briefcase suggested otherwise.

His presence inferred authority — demure and reticent, signifying responsibility of some kind. He was always dressed well, rarely casual. She took note of the days he sported a polo in place of a button down, or on the even scarcer occasion, jeans and sneakers. He always took the aisle seat, three rows ahead of her on the left, and she always sat in the center row that stretched entirely across the back of the train car. She had a perfect view of him from there. Just his profile and the back of his head, but it was enough to satisfy her during that half hour ride. Read more »

A Picture of You, Me, & Coffee [M/F]

*Clink* goes the ceramic of our mugs as we toast to caffeine and corporeal pleasures. Our eyes appear almost intoxicated, drunk still from sleep and from the sensual indulgence spreading between our fused bodies.

It’s early morning, midsummer, the air unseasonably cool as it sweeps in from the open window of our bedroom, lightly fanning the waves of hair framing my face. The rain smacks heavily and relentlessly on the cedar boards of an elevated back porch that extends beyond the large aperture panes. *”Our house feels like a treehouse this time of year.”*, I comment while smiling, looking out at the expanse of the enclosing forest around us. The cup brought to my lips is steaming and I barely sip from its edge before continuing to hold it between my palms in close proximity to my bare chest, fingers laced together around its warmth.

You’re propped up on pillows stacked high against the headboard, calves and feet still covered by sheets, your hair slept on and messy the way I like, boyish, and careless. You also sample the hot liquid, turning up the mug gently, careful not to scald the lips that you know will soon be closed around the whole of my mound, tongue diligently working toward its milky reward. Read more »

Let Me Edge You [M/F]

Let me edge you. Fully clothed. It doesn’t matter, you chose the ensemble after all. Let me touch you through your pants, feeling how hard I know I make you, bringing you right to the brink of expelling every last ounce of that infatuation down your inner thigh.

Let me edge you. In my expensive lingerie. Black lace stage curtains against a pallid backdrop. Sheer stockings and ridiculous heels. Beautifully objectified. The embodiment of teenage angst in a coupling of adulthood, grinding inappropriately through our underwear. Short blonde locks a tangle in one fist, trim physique a crutch for the other.

Let me edge you. Naked. On your lap, my hands wrapped around you, top to bottom, covering every single inch with precision until you’re dimly aware that you’re about to erupt. Your balls heavy with cum, tiny beads of fluid seeping from the tip of your fully erect cock that is throbbing in anticipation of my lips around it.

Your body a god before me, and I your dutiful servant. Pleasure from obedience. Getting everything I want, a goddess of exploitation. Practiced good girl manipulation.

Let me edge you.

Some Assembly Required, Batteries Not Included – Part I [M/F]

It arrived on a Saturday, in a wooden crate larger than her. From the front pathway she watched the two heavy set men secure it onto a furniture dolly and wheel it in through the open garage.

“Lift up on that end, Steve. —No, wait wait! Hold on, yeah let me get this corner.” He struggled to rotate the large box clockwise so he could ease it down through the door frame into her duplex but it stuck on two sides. He pulled it back then pushed it forward again, it caught at the same place. Bill scratched at his head beneath his baseball cap and, with a thick, polite southern drawl asked, “Now whudda we do?”

Steve removed a little square tape measure from his front pocket and stretched the flimsy metal across the length of the crate, then measured the width of the doorway, sucking on a tooth in concentration as he did so. A quick jerk of his head indicated it wasn’t good news as he let the tape measure snap back into a roll. “Shit, it ain’t gonna fit, Bill.” Read more »

Rites of Passage [M/F]

Black silk slipped between her cupped fist top to bottom, rippling against the white button-lined cloth. “You look so..convincing this way.” Her other hand toyed with the tiny plastic circles concealing the torso beneath. “So pure.” Her mouth cocked at one corner as she tugged the tie toward herself. His neck and head were forced to follow suit.

He wanted control in that moment. He wanted to grab her, throw her down, strip her bare and take every repressed frustration from his former life out on her body. But he didn’t. The ultimate display of abstention. A good little Christian’s forte—self control. The disciplined student. He knew what she was doing, what she wanted. “I can’t believe you made me wear this.” Her bony under-surface dug into him uncomfortably, causing a slight ache in his left hip that matched the ache in his groin, but he didn’t flinch, he just laid there, savoring the mild irritation, relishing in the heat emitting from the apex between her thighs and the pressure of her body on top of him. Read more »