I don’t normally care to write erotic *fiction,* but I had this incredibly vivid dream that I just can’t get out of my head. I remember this cute, petite blonde sitting cross-legged next to me on my old futon, which was folded into a couch. It seemed like we were having a great evening because the two of us were cackling over whatever funny thing must have happened on tv. Honestly, I didn’t realize any of this was a dream until I woke up. It was so real to me that I could feel the good vibes and excited energy that swirled around the room and I genuinely felt I knew this Stephanie person. I turned, starting to say something, and her bright smile caught my eye. Before I realized it, my eyes were wandering. First to her pale neck, scanning over her collar bone, and then down towards her slightly revealed cleavage. She was wearing a thin powder-blue tank top and tight denim shorts. I hadn’t noticed before, but it showed off her tiny figure well. My eyes started to work their way back up to her face, noting how soft and shiny her light-blonde braid of hair looked. She looked over as my eyes met hers. I quickly looked away, refocusing on the television across the room and tried to deflect the awkwardness with a joke about our show. It worked.
Category: eroticliterature
Brimstone Series Book 2 – Episode 5
**Christopher**
‘You’re back again?’ Luke mumbled with annoyance. ‘Dude, don’t I see you enough already?’
‘Shut up,’ I replied, glancing over at Stacey. I may as well be a ghost, her eyes firmly glued to her laptop and her quick fingers reminding me that this was a working space, not a high school drama.
‘Well?’ Luke sighed. ‘What is it this time?’
‘Never mind.’ I left with clenched fists, breathing out an acrid exhale.
This was fucking torture. I haven’t slept more than four hours a night in the past week and a half, and I’ve been falling behind on my cases. Running low on sanity too.
My mind was fucking scrambled, the only silver lining my incessant need for more associates to cover for my lack of productivity. Yeah, that’s the highlight of my day now. I used that need as a valid excuse to talk to Stacey as often as I could, but if I thought she was cold before, this was a fucking Russian winter.
Whoever said hell was hot didn’t know this kind of freezing.
*Good night Chris.*
Some Honest Erotica [MC]
It’s a Friday afternoon. The New England snow is falling gently outside of my office window. The heater beneath it flutters the plastic vertical shades intended to keep my curiosity to a minimum.
I’m a woman in Corporate America. What do I matter? I’m curious, you know and these blinds really can’t shutter my curiosity. I grew up in suburban Iowa, goddammit. I was lead trumpet in the high school band. I played on the sidelines during the bowl game in ’99. I came here for school, and graduate Cum Laude. Do you know how many men made a joke out of that?
I *sigh* to myself. It’s Corporate America – who am I to challenge that? A woman’s degree from Harvard and an MBA to match is really just a plaque on the wall here. I’ll never make as much as Brian does.
This snow is really coming down hard now. Working in New England is nice – snow days are nice. At the very least, it’s good to be able to relax, in an office, alone, on a Friday afternoon. And just think.
*knock* *knock*
“yep?”
*enter Brian*
I am a Set of Holes [Rape fantasy]
The following story is written in a new style I haven’t really worked with before, but I wanted to try something new. Let me know what you think. That being said, this story is a story about rape, degradation, and the breaking of a woman. I do not condone rape at all, and this story is written as a fantasy for a fan who commissioned it, but in the story it’s self “Melissa” shares her experience being gang raped and broken. So if rape fantasy is not your thing, then it is bet to avoid this one. That being said, if you do read it, I hope you enjoy! And feel free to message me about getting your own story written. Thanks!
My name is Melissa, and I am a set of holes. I used to be a woman, I had a car, my own place, and I liked to hang out with friends and go on dates. That’s how I met him, the man who changed me. That’s how I met Kevin. I had been on a few dating sites and he messaged me. He seemed like a proper gentleman, ruggedly handsome with broad shoulders and a nice haircut, how could I resist? So, we went out on a date and it was lovely. We kissed for the first time that night, and I couldn’t wait for the next time I got to see him. What I didn’t realize was that the next time I saw him would be the last time anyone saw me.
Amelia and Lucile: Part One
**Girl’s night in gets interesting when a frank discussion of financial woes turns into heavy petting for strangers.**
—–
“Lucile!” Amelia called from her tiny apartment kitchen decorated with yellow tinged walls thanks to a previous smoking tenant.
“Girl, you’ve known me for months, please call me Lucy!”
“More wine, Lucy” laughter audible from under Amelia’s words. She didn’t need to hear the answer. It was always ‘yes’. She walked into her sparingly furnished living room and set the wine down on the coffee table. It clinked off the glass surface and the noise echoed.
“Shhhh. Don’t wake the monsters” Lucy whispered. Both of the girls enjoyed their wine nights together. What started as a way to get to know each other had turned into a night of venting, laughter, and far too much wine. Now, wine night called for bringing along the kids and having a sleepover.
Lucy aimlessly surfed the channels with the remote. She wasn’t focused on the television. “I am just so sick of working this dead end serving job to only afford a crappy two bedroom apartment and debt. When will we meet rich men and get to quit?”
Her new skirt
Everyone looked as Paula walked through the bar. And with good reason. She was a natural redhead, about five foot ten, with a beautiful heart-shaped ass and a pair of really beautiful tits. But tonight, as she walked by my table, I noticed something different about her. She was wearing a thin white blouse, and I could see her purple bra through it. But it was her skirt that caught my attention – this shiny black miniskirt, riding so high on her thighs I could see the curve of her ass cheeks. She wasn’t wearing panties.
“Fancy meeting you here,” Paula said, stopping at my table. She smiled at me. I reached out to touch her skirt. Smooth leather. My dick shot up like an arrow.
“It’s been a long time,” I said. We’d broken up about six months ago, but she looked even better now. “You look fucking incredible.”
Paula removed my hand from her ass. “I know,” she said, and walked away. I stared at her ass twitching under the shiny black of her skirt, her long muscular legs ending in black spike heels. I stood up and walked after her.
Paula went into the ladies’ room. I followed, locking the door behind me. She was leaning against the sink, one ankle crossed over the other, her arms folded under her delicious tits. I walked over towards her, and without saying a word, I grabbed her ass and kissed her roughly, pressing my hard cock against her stomach.
She groaned and wrapped her arms around my neck, moving her leg up my thigh, pulling me in closer. I caressed her firm ass, sliding my hands up and down the slick, dry fabric, listening to my sweaty palms squeak against it. “This skirt is so hot,” I muttered, kissing my way down her neck to her cleavage. I slipped my tongue under the lace of her bra and licked her tit.
“I knew you’d like it,” she laughed, arching her hips up towards me, fumbling at the buttons on my jeans. She undid them and reached in for my cock, her long, slender fingers stroking up and down my shaft. I shuddered and slid my hands under her skirt, pushing it up so I could squeeze her ass as she jerked my cock.
Moving one hand to her blouse, I quickly unbuttoned it and pushed her bra down so I could suck on her nipples. Paula moaned and pushed her tits anxiously towards my mouth. The light brown nipples were hard on my tongue. My hand crept back down to her luscious ass, stroking the skirt and her skin at the same time. “I’ve got to fuck you,” I said, before biting her nipples softly.
“Yes,” Paula moaned, pushing her cunt against my thigh. I could feel a wet spot on my pants from her dripping snatch. “Fuck me hard.”
I reluctantly pulled my mouth off her breast and turned her around. She bent over the sink, pushing her hands up against the wall and offered her ass to me. I groaned and pressed my cock between her ass-cheeks, sliding it up and down, feeling the friction on my hot stick. My fingers kept roaming over her skirt, exploring the slick, tight fabric.
“Now,” Paula groaned. “I want your cock in my pussy!” I slid my cock down between her legs and grabbed onto her waistband, bunching the skirt in my hands.
“Then I’m going to give you my cock, baby,” I said, and drove forward into her wet slit. My cockhead spread her lips wide open and my shaft followed. I watched us in the mirror as I pumped my cock in and out of her snatch. Her eyes were closed and she bit her lip every time my balls slapped against her clit. Her tits jiggled back and forth.
“Oh fuck me, yes, keep fucking me just like that,” Paula cried out. I clenched my teeth and jerked my hips rapidly, feeling my throbbing prick pushing against her slick cunt.
“You love it when I fuck you, don’t you, you little fuck? Look at this skirt you’re wearing,” I grunted, pulling at the black material with my hands as I drilled her. “This is a slut skirt, and you look so damn hot in it.”
Paula moaned, pushing her ass back at me. I was humping her at a fever-pitch now, my balls jiggling up and down against her clit. “Fuck, fuck, I’m coming,” she howled, moving back and grinding her clit against the base of my cock. I shoved into her and grunted, letting her cunt grip my cock.
Pulling out, I turned her around and set her on the sink. I pressed my hands on her creamy thighs as I pushed forward, shoving my cock into her steaming pussy again, and pounded some more. Paula hooked her arm around my neck and hung on for dear life as I screwed her, running my hands from her thighs to her stomach, stroking the material on her skirt. “Oh yeah,” I groaned, pulling out and pointing my cock at her tits, shooting spurts of white cum all over them.
She lifted her hands to her tits and rubbed my cream into her skin before pulling her bra back up over her tits. “So does this mean we’re back together?” I asked, panting.
“Nope,” Paula said, buttoning up her blouse and then hopping off the sink, pulling her skirt back down over her thighs. “I just wanted you to see my new skirt.” She unlocked the door and left.
Her
In the dim light of your room, you gaze at her, mesmerized by her smile, the way her dark brown eyes crinkle into crescent moons when she laughs. As she composes herself, she diverts her attention to your mouth, and lightly traces it with her fingertips as she bites her lip. Her touch alone electrifies you, and you shift your body closer to hers as you lay facing each other. Without thinking, you find your hand leaving the curve of her waist to the crook of her elbow, slowly traveling to where her fingers rest on your cheek, and gently kiss the palm of her hand. Her mouth opens slightly, aroused by this simple act, and finally musters the courage to look into your eyes.
God, she’s beautiful, you say to yourself.
In one swift motion, you’re on top of her, gently grasping her soft hair, her hands cupping either side of your waist. When you lean down to kiss her, you’re overwhelmed by the way she tastes, how her tongue moves in sync with yours. Gasping together, your bodies already move as one.
Creative Housing Solution Part 4
Emma stood in the bathroom for what felt like hours. she felt the hot cum drip out of her swollen cunt. she had been used by past boyfriends for a quick fuck before hitting the beach, or work, but this was different. This was less of an interaction, and more of an exchange. She expected to feel remorse, or anxiety, but instead she felt pride. the way he looked at her, the way he thrust into her, she was suddenly the most valuable thing, in a multimillion dollar beach house. She knew should have been repulsed, but she felt oddly satisfied, but physically and emotionally. she slide the squishy panties off, the wet fabric sticking to her lips as she pulls them down. next goes the t shirt and she hops in the shower, enjoying the warm jets on her tan skin. she washes her first payment off her skin, running two of her nimble fingers in her leaking slit to clean the last bit of the morning exchange out of her.
Stacy’s Night Out Pt.1 (FF)
For the second time in the evening Stacy felt a hand on her knee. Her brain was a little fuzzy after downing a margarita and a beer within the first half hour of arriving at the bar but she needed something to strengthen her resolve. After some badgering she had accepted the invitation from the office cool kids for a night at their favorite watering hole.
Working with people that were 10 or even 20 years younger was taxing at times, sometimes Stacy felt like an anthropologist observing a strange new tribe. She had heard bits and pieces about their Friday outings around the office but she had dismissed it as youthful bragging and one-upmanship. “These kids have no idea the things I’ve seen,” she frequently thought to herself.
The first hand on her knee was from Vanessa, the queen bee of the group. Stacy had written it off as the overfamiliarity of the sorority girl type. It seemed to go along with the effusive greetings and constant hugging. The hand never went anywhere and Vanessa moved on soon to flit about some other beautiful person.
Creative housing solutions part 3
She wakes up to the morning sun, and the sound of the waves crashing on the shore. The window was open, but she know she closed it before bed. The first feeling of vulnerability creeps in. Tom had been in her room. Her things were gone through, bra and panties laid out on the dresser. A matching set she brought from home. She shakes it off, not that bad she tells hetself as she gets out of bed, walking to her bathroom she yelps as shge see him sitting on the large granite vanity top. “Morning Jes” he says, looking over his phone screen as he eats a piece of toast. She catches her breath and slow her heart down. “Umm good morning sir” she says, awkwardly fidgeting infront of the stranger in her bathroom.