Hipsters in LA’s Silverlake in a sexy fable
[https://medium.com/sensual-enchantment/sex-and-love-in-frog-town-70a540bb9e41](https://medium.com/sensual-enchantment/sex-and-love-in-frog-town-70a540bb9e41)
Category: eroticliterature
Sex and Love in Frog Town [mf]
[https://medium.com/sensual-enchantment/sex-and-love-in-frog-town-70a540bb9e41](https://medium.com/sensual-enchantment/sex-and-love-in-frog-town-70a540bb9e41)
For those that love their erotica “enchanted” or tinged with fable and fantasy.
My Slave Trainining Continued
When my mistress femdom returned I could only hear the click of her heels around me. I had stayed in place and now felt anxious about her next desire. “I want to waste no time with you pet as I am excited to mold you to my desires. You presented yourself well when we first met earlier today and now it is time that you are made to feel your new owner. I may only own you when you are here and when your Lady needs a break but when I do…it will be fully. Do you understand?”
[MF] [Rough] The Hotel
She didn’t know what she was getting in for when she begged for it.
Never mind Rose was curled up into my arms now, sleeping softly, in clean white sheets. We were in our hotel room and we had basically been in bed since “The Experience” two days ago.
She had shown up, shaken beyond belief, after we were done. Her eyes were wide with lust and her usual submissive demeanour had gone out of the window. She wanted me and so took me selfishly, riding me hard to a series of orgasms that she spent a good while recovering from. And then went for more. I let her, loving the reaction and change in her.
I’d massaged Rose down after of course, praised her, bathed her, caressed her hair and even read to her as she fell asleep. Two days had passed with me lavishing attention and pampering her in bed, kissing every part of her skin and telling her she was beautiful. And she had recovered, slowly but surely. After that level of intensity, it always takes a while.
[MFM] Center of Attention
Heads turned.
Just the way she liked it when she walked into a room: all of the attention focused on her.
She hadn’t even reached the bar before the first drink was ordered for her. When it was placed at her fingertips she looked down with disdain; it was a vodka cranberry.
The bartender motioned with her head at the buyer. He tilted his head, happy to have her attention. It wasn’t often a gorgeous woman walked into a bar alone, this near to closing, looking like her. He thought he knew what she was after.
She gave him a once over. He wasn’t wrong but he also wasn’t it. A bar fly, probably all talk and shallow moves. Expensively dressed, overly tanned, with a shit beer in his hand. She scoffed at him, at his offered drink, and turned away. He wasn’t worthy of her. She knew she deserved better.
The others of his type, the hungry and the horny, backed down at one of their own being rejected. While they collectively licked their wounds, she hunted.
Aria part 3 of 3 (More from Mr. Leppard)
*I’m fucking. No, he’s fucking me. He’s FUCKING me. No, we’re fucking. WE are fucking. Right now this instant. I am getting fucked. This is what it feels like to fuck.*
Strangely, you were not even thinking these words when you started, on top of him, riding on him like he was some great animal at a long-ago farm visit, or dome of sun-warmed metal at a playground, or unfamiliar-yet exciting vehicle at an amusement park, where foam-wrapped bars clamped all around your body to hold you pinned and trapped so the ride could do whatever it was designed to do to you.
At that time you could concentrate only on stretching and opening, holding your breath lest it take some of the precious space you needed to accommodate him, feeling your delicate skin stretch to membrane-thinness around him, the muscles stretch to and beyond their furthest extent, feel the strange pop and dark huge invasion of yourself, going up and up and up into uncharted regions, in an inch, withdrawing … in again and an inch deeper … receding again … back farther than ever … back out … deepest yet so that you gasped and cringed and he inquired close and softly in your ear if you were going to be okay …
Aria part 2 of 3 (More from Mr. Leppard)
The intervening days have been so normal. He has been pleasant and business-as-usual with you, although every time you are in his presence you feel that half of you hangs wide open and unhinged, exposed and vulnerable, hopelessly compromised. You find yourself staring at him in sweet pain, waiting for him to acknowledge what you did, what happened. He never does. Finally one night after dinner, in the kitchen, when you have finished washing the dishes and he comes in to place the empty wine bottle in the trash. He stops to gaze at you and his eyes capture yours just as surely as his hand caught your wrist that morning, so that you cannot move or escape until something is said or done. The sensation of him staring into your eyes is like falling from a cliff or facing an approaching wave at the beach, the outrushing water dragging dizzyingly on the backs of your knees and threatening to suck you down and out to sea.
He only raises a hand to the side of your face and tucks your hair behind your ear, fingers brushing your cheek. He says, so beautiful!, looks a moment more, then leaves with a slight smile while you twist and dangle in the gale, in the tumbling power of the broken wave, buffeted by water and sand, standing there in your apron.
[M]e and a [f]oxy redhead share our letters with you (genuine email exchanges) Part 3
Part 3 of our ongoing series! Please let us know what you think!
[Part 1 here](http://reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/9547i5/me_and_a_foxy_redhead_share_our_letters_with_you/)
[Part 2 here](https://www.reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/95kvoq/mf_erotic_emails_between_me_and_my_hot_redhead/)
(This is just from me today because /u/redheadbella10 wasn’t able to write anything long.)
I’m in a dreamworld. A lot of things have been happening that would seem strange in real life but it all makes sense in a dream. Flashes and images, voices. The part I remember is us lying on a blanket in a park, chatting. You’re on the your belly and I’m on my back, looking at each other. Your smiling, laughing face makes me feel good. Your arm rests affectionately across my chest. I feel content and happy.
Suddenly I’m drawn to you and we kiss, an intense, delicious kiss. I feel stirring down below. Then we chat more like nothing happened. People walk past but we ignore them. Then you kiss me again. I feel a wave of desire wash over me.. It fills me.
Forbidden fantasy
Sarah’s eyes were glued to the window. She knew his taxi should arrive soon, and with each minute that passed her breathing got shallower and shallower, her heart beat faster and faster. She couldn’t believe she had actually invited him. What was she doing? And had he really accepted? Was he really on his way there? This was all so unbelievable. Literally incredible.
Sure, they’d been flirting (online) on and off for ages, which counted for something. But this was different. She had, after all, never met him in the flesh. Since she had suggested this illicit visit her mind had kept insistently wandering back to his body.
That body – the one which had suddenly materialised on the path in front of her. He hadn’t seen Sarah yet, his eyes nervously scanning the house front as he tapped away at his phone.
“I’m outside,” her phone flashed. As she yanked the door open she flashed him a wicked grin and smiled up,
“I know.”
The next few minutes were a dream. This stranger’s hands on her skin, in her hair, under her clothes. He was murmuring to her that her tits were amazing as he grabbed them hard, too hard. Warm mouths meeting in urgent, hungry searching. Somehow they were upstairs.
[MF] The First Experience
This is a true story, my story, embellished and simplified for the sake of the writing.
Everyone expects to lose their virginity as a teenager. I actually didn’t; I didn’t push it. I had reserved parents, was nerdy and cripplingly shy, the opposite of what I am now. Hell, I didn’t go on a first date till I was 19 (it was a disaster) and didn’t get a girlfriend till I was 21. And by mean get, I mean she said, “We should date.”
She was 19, Greek, curvaceous, fair skinned, had light green eyes and curly brunette hair, which she would straighten for me because she knew I liked it that way. She loved all things Japanese and treated me well and I, as much as I could as an inexperienced guy, reciprocated.
That day, I showed up at the flat she shared with her sister. I waited in her room while she got changed. She emerged wearing a floral black and white dress. It started with a date, she found a Japanese restaurant serving okonomiyaki for us. FYI, if anyone reading this knows of a good okonomiyaki restaurant in London, I’ll buy you said okonomiyaki in thanks for helping me rediscover a milestone from my youth.