Category: Erotica

AIRPORT

Having just spent the last half day stuck in a plane I stumble out to the Arrivals gate exhausted, ready for bed. I feel greasy and sore, my butt especially is tired from being sat upon; there are only so many ways to reposition one’s butt, after all.

Waiting, searching, wondering where I should direct my gaze to find him or if I should just look for the nearest seat, I opt to wander a little bit, dragging my luggage along.

Shuffling forward, scanning my surroundings one last time I see a likely suspect, leaning against a pillar. My gaze meets the welcome sight of the promised cowboy hat and the man under the brim. His eyes meet mine and a smile comes across his smooth face as he makes his way toward me. I can hardly believe it’s been a full year since I’ve seen this man, seen his smile, heard his voice, felt his embrace. But, here he is, smiling, strutting toward me like he’s just won the lottery. My man. Read more »

San Francisco – Hotel Triton
Sandra was at the Hilton. Will was at the Hotel Triton, directly opposite the Dragon Gates of Chinatown. “Let’s stop for coffee, Sandra.”

The café was almost empty, just a few lovers talking softly in the dim light. Each table had a tiny lamp; the waitress, green hair and pierced who-knows-how-many-times, took the order, two coffees, one slice of key lime pie, and two forks, and stepped away.

Battling forks as they negotiated the pie, sipped coffee, and sat side by side in the booth, they watched the street scene outside.

Will leaned to kiss Sandra. On the neck. She paused. Shivered. And throatily whispered, almost too low for hearing, “More…”

He took her chin gently, tilted her towards him, locked eyes (“The most amazing eyes I’ve ever seen”) and teasingly brushed his lips against hers. “Yes, yes…. Much more.”

She placed her hand on his right thigh and they languidly enjoyed another cup of coffee, becoming another set of (soon-to-be) lovers talking softly in the dim light.

San Francisco – Room 644 The elevator, tiny, dim, groaned as it inched to the sixth floor. No Hyatt speed and flash here, just an old hotel, redone recently, creative designs, new fixtures, but, the old elevator refused to be rushed. Read more »

Howdy folks! This will be the last chapter of Orbital Academy posted in pieces; from here on out I'll be switching from a "every week" to "once every three weeks" release schedule, so that every chapter can be posted on its own. Enjoy!

New to Orbital Academy? You're gonna be confused if you start here! Check out the spacey sexiness from the beginning.

Are you a lover not a reader? Jump right to the sex.

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General Hunter wanted to heave his personal screen across the room, but instead he simply heaved a sigh. Newcomers to the station would often compliment him on how organized and easy it was to request resources from Orbital Pivot; few considered just how difficult it was to organize. As if in response to his frustration, his screen pinged with an incoming message.
Orbital Minera proposing higher quantity trade, more crysium for more mining drones. ~Sara
"Pull up import-export graph between Pivot and Minera," Hunter sighed, leaning back as the screens at his desk followed his command. He flicked to the next message.
Guy came in with over three thousand luxury chips, won't say where he got them, permission to do a background check? ~Timothy
"Response: Yes."
What's Pivot's policy on age of employment? The tests normally weed out youngin's, but we've got a promising thirteen year old who just rebuilt a Tanning-Spanly and wants to enlist… ~MkRathly
Hunter stared at the message for a moment, reading it several times without registering what it said. Read more »

So I was talking with a writer friend — Mary Cyn — about a story that she’s publishing. Her narrator’s name is Kat, short for Katherine. As in The Taming of the Shrew. That got me thinking about Kate and Petruchio. And (for reasons that are too boring to go into) 50 Shades of Grey.

And I had what was, for me, at least, a very peculiar brainstorm. Shakespeare’s comedy is most often framed these days as a misogynistic story of spousal abuse, which I think kind of misses the point of the play. (I wrote a paper in a graduate seminar about the ways in which Shrew has been a barometer for the sexual mores and gender politics of succeeding centuries.)

But… What if it’s not that Petruchio bullies Kate into subservience, but that they both discover that in addition to being a strong (if inflexible) woman, she is a heavy-duty submissive — someone who gets a sexual charge out of being dominated. She doesn’t know this about herself. She doesn’t even like this about herself. But it is so.

Miss Mary said that she thought that was a really interesting idea. Read more »

If you like a little bit of funny in your erotica, this might get your gears turning. I've completed the first two vignettes of my 40 part series about a woman traveling through time to bang the presidents. Hijinks (sexy hijinks, surely) ensue.

If you PM me your email address, I'll send a copy of the completed stories this weekend.

Here's a (non-sexy) taste:

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It started as a joke.

We were eating lunch at a posh spot with white cloth napkins folded into swans. Fifteen dollars a glass for house Cabernet, fifty dollar prix fixe lunch menu, you get the gist. I hadn’t seen my bestie Sandra in a long time, and she was dead set on me getting a taste of the finer things in life.

“Hey Al, what would you do if you could go back in time?” she asked. It was an innocuous question, plucked from the ether and just as quick to return to it.

“I’d probably go back and fuck every president, in succession,” I deadpanned.

“Even Taft?”

“Especially that fat bastard. And don’t ask me if Grover Cleveland would get it twice, because you know he would.” Read more »

Part I Part II

And just like that, everything which happened after was a blur. His memory could hardly put two pieces of the passion and primal need together, let alone the entire puzzle. All he knew was when he rolled over, there lay the only person he wanted. The only person he would ever want.

Lying there looking at the most beautiful man in the world, Sowen found himself absent-mindedly stroking Kyne's cheek, smiling all the while. When he realized he was doing it, he scooted closer, lowering that arm to wrap it around Kyne's waist. Bare skin on bare skin only made him want Kyne nearer, right up against him. Delicately, he pressed his lips to the other man's forehead. Pulling away enough to get a good look at that perfect man, Sowen smiled again. "I really do love you, you know," he said, sure the words were not necessary.

Kyne snuggled closer. Placing his head on Sowen's chest he replied, "I know," earning himself another light kiss on the cheek. Read more »

Part I Part III

Having Kyne's lips pressed to his own was not new. What was new was Kyne initiating it. As close as the two men were, Kyne had always made it abundantly clear they were no more than friends. Really good friends, but friends nonetheless. More times than he could count, Sowen had made his feelings and intentions known to his friend. It simply was not possible to spend an extended amount of time with Kyne and not fall in love with him. Anyone who could manage it was a far stronger person than Sowen, but he regretted none of it. He had loved the man almost from the beginning. And as long as he could remember, Kyne had spent just as much time rejecting him.

His curiosity got the better of him. Reluctantly he pushed Kyne away, sitting up straighter and damning himself as he did so. Again he asked, "What are you doing?"

In response Sowen received short chuckle. "I believe I'm attempting to shove my tongue down your throat." Read more »