The shower [Mf, dirty talk, toys, submission]

Frustrated you storm off to the shower.

Several times in the last hour you've tried to get my attention for some fun. But each time has been foiled with whatever 'work' I'm doing on the computer. How does one person play so many video games? WTF!

The first time you just walked over and gently began to rub my shoulders and whisper in my ear. Only to be shrugged off. A little bit if frustrating started just then.

The second time you came by wearing just some yoga pants and sat next to me to read in your standard seductive posture. All you really wanted was to be taken, and maybe loved a little roughly.

"I'm done with that for the day." You mutter to yourself as you start to run the shower. The water shoots out of the head and seems to take forever to warm up. You need some release and slowly you start to pull the tight pants down. Exposing yourself completely. Your mind races a bit. You feel excited and flush but not as much of a rush as if we were about to have sex. Maybe this will do. And then maybe again in a few hours.

very_existential.txt

That Sokolow woman wears the lipstick and dress and shoes. She is obvious. She’s satisfied she has not revealed any fundamental truths but you will nonetheless make a series of decisions based upon them. You are a witness to your own chain reaction possessed by a false sense of doership, where own is the illusion perpetuated by the body that is actively participating in the creation of reality that you are experiencing, and the Sokolow woman is like this too. Like an imperfect real thing of a shared fantasy just like religious apocalypse. Winter rounds out a personality. The tropics make you top heavy like a faggy palm. How to separate sexual preference from fetish and what constitutes the difference? Here we are in the unnecessary intensity of female to female exchange, like women are the charged particles of a future event drawn to one another by a quantum song. She goes to work, she walks on high shoes and puts out her hand to stop from running into you in the hallway. She is warm-handed and leans on your shoulder with intentional gentleness. Her hair comes across her face and she brushes it away as she straightens and apologizes with a very sweet way of smiling. “It’s okay, here, can I help you?” You are very sweet yourself. You have been doing these things like precious stones, collecting. She leaves an opening and your eyes are less shy to one another’s each time. The silent goodbye is charged, the silence betrays the distraction at the center. You are at a party. You have had something to drink. You see her in the kitchen getting a drink. She looks at you with sharp familiarity composed into an innocuous smile. You are friendly to each other and she asks what you are drinking. You ask each other’s names because you realize you don’t know them. Hers is soft. She says your name immediately and asks to make the next drink. You laugh and are very calm, a walking rhythm that tames the observer. She is buzzing with your closeness and you let your hands touch when you take the glass from her. You can feel her energy flow into yours and make a burning vibration inside your brain and body. You feel in total possession of yourself in physical space because your body is inflamed with this thing. You pay attention and relax into oncoming waves. You are feminine to her and she is feminine back. You are making conversation that is unusually brief and comprehended. You try the drink and you like it. You are both wearing dresses. You are wearing boots and she is wearing high heels. You are leaning on the island next to each other looking out at the people in the uneven living room where there is music and a sexual bass throb. Your arms sometimes touch. You lean across the counter to reach a bottle of liquor. She doesn’t move out of the way. Her dress is low and her skin is hot when it presses your bare shoulder. You look over your shoulder at her and she is not smiling anymore. You inhale as you kiss. You kiss with sexual intensity. She is touching with abandoned purpose. You are held by the utter blending of your selves as you pull and are pulled and push your mouths into a new shared fantasy. You draw her into a bedroom bathroom and your desperate fucking is quiet and deafening, little whimpers muffled in each other’s necks. You are girls worshipping girl. You love the smell of her soft brown hair and the fact that she is a stranger to you. You feel her climax and are magnetized when you look in her wet eyes and there is still burning there. You look down at her dress and kiss her skin like a veil. You are trapped in this shitty scene reflecting on the hopelessness of identification with the body, the thought that eats itself. She is weak-kneed and puts a wet tongue on your neck and in your mouth and pulls at your hair in a particular way. You look and are looked at in the eyes without sentimentality. There is no attachment. You take her hand and lead her out to the loudest place and dance. She is dancing with the looseness of someone currently experiencing ecstasy. She puts hands all over you and herself and you are like twins untwisted. Allow sexual transportation. Starborn. Sunbourne. Evil Speaking. Like watching a movie so many times it becomes unfamiliar again.

The Safe Word (Light BDSM)

I love reading the stories posted here, so I thought I'd contribute. Let me know what you think!

The Safe Word (Light BDSM)

Raina had driven from her dorm to this unfamiliar part of town because she wanted to try something new, and as she stepped out of her car, she reminded herself again that even though the whole weekend was blocked out for this “adventure,” it was all her idea and she could back out at any time.

“Just say the ‘safe word’ and everything ends,” she repeated to herself.

For as long as she had even known about sex, the shy, pretty coed had had shameful sexual fantasies. Alone in her room late at night, she dreamed of a faceless man taking total control of her, bringing out her hidden desires, tying her up, “forcing” her to do all the nasty, naughty things she knew she would love… but she was a nice girl, with nice friends and a nice family, so she was embarrassed to tell anyone about her secret desires. No one on earth knew how badly she needed to get fucked hard and dirty, how her pussy dripped when she even thought of a strong man taking control of her… But she decided on her 22nd birthday that the time had come to see what would happen if she actually lived out her secret desires. She was brave a few minutes ago, safe in her car, but now, as she closed the door behind her and made her way down the dark street, she was wondering if this had been such a good idea.

Wake Up [fm, bondage, facesitting]

Somewhere in between dreams I heard the shower start.

Opening my eyes some time later I found myself bathed in gray light coming through white linen curtains. Then I watched the naked legs of a woman in a towel walking back and forth in front of me as I laid on my side trying to decide whether I was awake or not. Occasionally those legs were followed by a nervous black cat who batted at the towel.

There were the distant smells of soap, shampoo, perfume, and all those sweet feminine scents I associated with her.

For a few moments sleep took me again, like an undertow dragging me into the waves.

Seconds or minutes or hours later I awoke with a start and sensed her near. She was far less nervous than the cat.

There was something remarkable about the transformation that took place when she took off her clothes. In the street she put so much thought into her style; her glasses, her stompy boots, her fishnets, and her leather. Buttons on her messenger bag proclaimed various affiliations; political, musical, sexual, and comic. From sarcastic t-shirts to exposed garter belts every detail told a story.

Want [mf]

We were going out for drinks. That was all. Just to see if we were both alright. This was after our break up and after the crying.

We eyed the subway signs as they passed the window. All the numbers going up. Our hands found each others, but she wouldn’t look me in the eye. Somehow we didn’t stand when the stop that would take us to drinks came. Somehow we were back at my apartment again.

The kissing was furious, contagious, biting, hungry. My hands on her, noticing the changes, how she was thinner, how she was a little more aggressive now, like she was showing off. Trying to prove she wasn’t that little girl anymore.

I needed a lot of things all at once and sitting next to her on the couch I wasn’t getting any of them fast enough. I pushed her down, pulled at the buttons of her jeans and slapped her hands away, though I wasn’t sure if she was trying to stop me or help me. I pulled her denim, along with her panties, down to her knees and held her down as my mouth found her cunt.

Published
Categorized as Erotica

Tribute of Flesh, Part 2 [mf][interracial, submission]

We left Paris at the Platte in separate cars. I followed Kylie to the two bedroom apartment she shared with her classmate on the other side of downtown. I must have gained the roommate’s approval, judging by expressions of shock and inaudible words of praise she covertly mouthed behind my back while I pretended not to look. It surprises me that women actually think we don’t see that. The swank little apartment was obviously too expensive for college students working on music degrees, implying that the girls were still getting help from their parents. The framed art deco pictures above the flat screen TV seemed at odds with the Hello Kitty poster hanging from Kylie’s bedroom door. Just enough innocence to convince mommy and daddy she was still their little girl; not so bold as to warrant rich girl shaming from fellow students.

Published
Categorized as Erotica Tagged

Fantasy Is More than Black and White (M/F – preview)

Here's the first part of my new story! I'd love to know what you think.

Fantasy is More than Black and White A Wedding Fantasia

Most straight guys would have considered dating a hot bisexual girl a fantasy — even if it only lasted a week and she never did get around to inviting one of her girlfriends in for the porn-requisite threesome.

Unlike most straight guys, it hadn’t ever occurred to Trey to fantasize about any of that. Besides, it had been years ago.

But when that hot bisexual ended up marrying Trey’s sister Dianne… Well, that wasn’t the stuff of fantasy at all.

Trey didn’t mind that his sister was marrying a woman. He was happy to serve as her best man. Ecstatic.

No.

What was throwing Trey for a loop through the whole ceremony wasn’t that Dianne, who’d come out to him when she was twelve, was marrying another woman. It was that she was marrying Lara. Lara Jefferson. Who had slept with everything that moved during college, and after. Including — for one very, very weird week — Trey.

[m/f] Classroom

She was the kind of girl I would never fall for. Ever. Infact, she was quite the opposite of "my sort of girl"; Too thin for my liking but with an admirable hour-glass figure, a perfect ass which would get highlighted well enough for a second look whenever she wore denims and her boobs which though were admirably big and full for her body frame seemed to sag more often than not- probably more to do with her choice of bra then anything else. Her skin tone was dusky brown which I actually liked. Her face presented a good case of, at the risk of sounding very shallow, "cover the face, fuck the base". And her hair did not help her either; too thin and of a shade of brown which made them always look dirty. All this along with the fact that she lacked the basic manners and was generally foolish made her a huge no for me. Yet, there was something about her which made me want her.

Published
Categorized as Erotica

Dave. [true story, m/f]

When I first met Dave, I was about 21 and he was probably going on 43, though you still couldn't tell. He carries himself with youthful vigour. He asked me my name, and immediately knew who my dad was. "Tonto", they called him. It seems that everyone I have met that knew my dad knew that name, and felt it necessary to tell me a few wild stories. I have grown impartial to the stories. I think Dave could tell, because he only bothered to tell me one. I was working with my common-law husband, drywalling, and at the time Dave was running his dad's company cleaning out basements and shit for insurance jobs (after floods and that kind of thing). Every morning, the c-l and I would drop our daughter off at daycare, drive to Dave's, and have a cup of coffee. He drank his coffee like tar, I swear you could nearly stand a spoon up in it. Maybe that's where he got all the hair from, fuck he was a man beast, and it made me crazy. He likely noticed my eyeing him up over coffee, sitting next to c-l. I would fiddle with my spoon, bite on it, make "eyes" and grin at him while he told his stories, and often let my eyes wander over him.

Beginning scene of a fantasy erotica series I’ve been working on, would love feedback! [m/f]

Getin leaned his broom against the wooden barn wall and wiped the sweat from his brow. His messy brown hair was dripping wet and damp patches were quickly forming on the waist of his tan trousers. In the middle of the day the barn felt more like an oven and the sickly sweet smell of hay was overpowering. Though he tried to get all his indoor work done in the early morning, he found himself stuck sweeping up the mess left by the king’s guards once again.

He grabbed his threadbare shirt off the gate and wiped down his naturally muscular body. Working as a stable boy for most of his life never allowed for much accumulation of fat. Even though he’d had his left arm amputated above the elbow when he was young, Getin’s body had only ever known the hardships of manual labour. He felt a light breeze on his cooling skin and turned to check on the animals grazing in the fields beyond. The cattle were all snoozing quietly under the shade of a few trees and all seemed well. He turned his gaze to the town beyond and tried to make out individual buildings through the haze of the day. He was concentrating so much he didn’t hear the approach of two people behind him.