Your heart rate runs a little faster than usual as you sit on the bed waiting quietly, mind racing to places you want to ignore as you try to keep a level head. The sound of the door swinging open makes you jump a little as i back through it carrying our drinks, the only sound around is the gentle clinking of the ice in the glasses. Pleasantries exchange as I hand you the cool glass and sit beside you, watching your lips moisten as they meet with the glass, leaning closer without even thinking about it and having to snap back to reality before you realise. I take a sip to try and cool my thoughts down, next to a woman like yourself though I may as well have been tackling a wildfire with an ice cube. Awkwardness passes as I feign normality, setting up a standard horror movie as we start to get comfortable. I barely know whats happening in the movie, too aware that you're here next to me, wanting too much, needing to kiss bite and lick. The sound of eerie musics grows louder until you jump with fear puling my mind from the gutter back to the bedroom, your arm clinging onto mine, i seize the opportunity and pull you in close, sitting you between my legs and wrapping my arms around you, resting my head on your shoulder as we continue to watch the poorly crafted film. Your fingers run over my hands, back and forth sending thrills through my body as if it had been electrified, are you teasing? are you just fidgety? do I tease back? Fuck it.
Tag: Straight
Hotel Hook-up with a Stranger [MF] Intro chapter
'I must have been crazy, agreeing to this,' I told myself as I paced between the window and the nightstand. I was four glasses in, with another bottle standing nearby just in case after having come up to a room from the bar downstairs. My friends had coerced me into this, dressing me up to their specifications and scanning the bar’s occupants for a suitable hook-up. Their justification was that I seriously needed to get over my six month-long dry spell which had been affecting my mood as of late. With a snarl I drained the considerable amount of what was left in my glass and tried to convince myself they were wrong.
This was stupid, not to mention risky. They were going to send some man, some stranger up here to have sex with me. And for what? So I would stop getting that crinkle between my eyebrows and have the endless Snickers jokes finally stop? As I poured another glass full of rich red wine I could have spat on the floor remembering those jokes. “Hey __________, do you want a Snickers? You turn into kind of a bitch when you’re ‘hungry’.”
A fantasy I texted my boyfriend (FMF)
My boyfriend asked me to text him a fantasy of mine, he later asked me to share it here:
I was going to this party with one of my girlfriends, I had known her for some years and we had a very open and honest relationship – we could talk about everything. My boyfriend and I had fantasized about me being intimate with a girl for quite some time and had joked about my girlfriend being a possible person for the job. Back to the party my girlfriend, let's call her Amy, and I had settled in and gotten the first glasses of wine. The music was playing and we hit the dance floor, shaking and grinding, having fun.
Between us doing some dancing we drink some more and the alcohol starts taking effect on my body and head. We start dancing closer and touching each other on the hips and ass, pulling us closer and closer. Suddenly I find myself putting my lips in hers, kissing her soft and quickly. I pull my head back slowly while looking into her eyes. She smiles at me and all of a sudden she pulls me back in for yet another kiss.
A Night on the Town [MF]
The night was dark and rainy, like many are in October in the bustling metropolis of London. It had been a long day at work for Amanda, but thankfully, it was Friday. She had nothing to do the next day, except perhaps sleep late and pamper herself with a bath. As darkness fell, the gloominess of the day was banished by the lights of the city. Like any other Friday, the city had a buzz of cheer and excitement as people made their way home for the weekend, despite the chill and rain. Amanda took the tube back to her small apartment. She had been invited out by her best friend Sarah, for a night on the town, and the prospect excited her. The 26 year old marketing associate was glad to strip off her low heel shoes, fitted black slacks and jacket. She took a second to look over her body while undoing the white cotton shirt that covered her upper body.
Love Making from Start to Finish [oral] [sex] [MF]
I’m kissing you for what seems like hours as I softly press my knee in between your legs applying enough pressure to add a level of discomfort yet provide clitoral stimulation. Then I start kissing you more wildly as our bodies get in tune with one another and I slip my long fingers into your panties which are already damp. You want to tell me to stop but you’re so horny that the only sound your body can produce in your ecstasy are your moans that you can’t hold back. I keep rubbing my fingers on your pussy, playing with it, toying with it, and poking at it so I could get to learn every cubic inch of your dripping lips all while making sure to pleasure you. You keep grabbing at my hard back as if you were going to fall off a cliff, but that only makes me want to finger you harder and faster. Your moans turn into screams and as my fingers are dancing inside your hot and wet pussy I find new ways to get you going. I press up against your walls, stick in three fingers, and play with your clit.
Elbows Pointed Outwards [MF] [Fdom] [Msub] [mast]
For myself, I dance whenever I get the chance. It is my arty and my passion, on the weekends from 6pm – 12am it is my gift to the boys. My name is Amnésia, but the men with the rings on their fingers know me only by how much money they “blew” on me after meeting me once. When I wasn’t dancing, how much they blew on me matched how long I blew them. Pleasuring others never satisfied me, fuck them. The men who give me slaps on my ass or treat my nipples as eyes only remind me of other men I’m glad have left my life. I don’t only blame men, I tried women too, but they are too sensual and caring when they make love. I live on the stage not as an entertainer, but as a woman waiting to be entertained. The stress my job gives is worth it when I finally get to dance for myself and my fingers get to dance inside me. I thought I’d have to keep dancing alone until one guy walked out of the workplace and into my life. Him walking out on my performance was a huge offense to me, didn’t care what woman this little shit had to run along to. I left my “office” and flagged him down. “Yo, white boy!” I screamed.
Under the dim computer light [MF]
Hello everyone. I've recently taken a liking to erotic literature, but I'm very picky with it so I decided to try to write a short story.
The story is more focused on the act itself rather than the setting, so keep that in mind.
Again, this is the first thing I've ever written and I would like honest feedback, whether it be related to character, setting, narrative, grammar, detail, descriptions… I think you get it.
Seriously, I know it is not very great, so by being honest you're only helping me.
Thank you in advance for your help, and I hope you enjoy.
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She yawns. You look over your shoulder to see her lying on the bed on top of her stomach, feet up in the hair and hands supporting her head. She has been quietly watching you work on your computer for about one hour now. She is absolutely beautiful.
She is a tall girl, about 1.80 meters. Deep, brown eyes and dark red, straight long hair which, had her been standing, would reach to about the level of her nipples. She has a very attractive, slender build and her breasts are small and cute. Her skin is very white.
My first attempt at writing anything ever. Should I continue this story? What would you like to happen next?
As it seems to have become a habit of sorts, I was completely absorbed in my current project when I realized I had been working for 6 hours straight. I loved my job but this was too much, I silently thought to myself.
My silent thoughts were jolted shut by the sudden realization that it was 945 already and Trader Joe’s would close in 15 minutes. I had been here before – I made a split second decision on whether to make a run for it, or to look at other options, and sprang up to the bedroom to get dressed. I had been working in my comfy boxers and tank top all day. Of all that the HR types will tell you, the biggest proponent of working from home is being bra-less all day. I grabbed the first thing that I could wear the quickest and still call myself appropriately dressed – my gym clothes and sprang out of the apartment. The light worked in my favor and saved me a full minute, and before I knew it, I was making the daily thai-or-indian choice in the frozen meals section.
Spring Break (The Adventures of Dennis part 4)
Spring Break is, ideally, a gigantic powwow of not-yet-adults baring their bodies and rubbing their skin together as it drips with clear ocean water like they are in a Gatorade commercial (and maybe they are), while muffled hip hop surrounds their souls like an ecstatic Stockholm Syndrome and colors flash in the sunlight that never goes away and beer cascades through the air in slow-motion. But that isn’t what my spring break was, exactly. By the time my bud Dirk and I arrived at the beach in Miami, large swaths of it were closed off, most people had packed up and left, and it was colder than you’d ever think, all because our college lets out for spring about a week and a half later than everywhere else. By the time we got to the beach, we just stood there, staring. Dirk said; “Let’s go to the hotel.” We did, and we slept. The next day was a little more interesting. We stood in a Tiki bar talking with two girls. One of them was Adrienne, who was a senior at Florida State University, where she studied creative writing. The other was Anjali. She was doing an internship with a law firm down here in Miami. Her college was in California. She was originally from India, but she had no accent, so she must have moved here at a young age. She wore a blue blouse and bluer jeans, with a tear on one leg. I recognized the tear in her jeans was a desperate plea for male attention. Her hair was black enough to create dark contours against the tacky brown oak of the bar. Whenever a drink flashed in the light, her hair countered it. I was playing it low-key. I started off with Adrienne, but Dirk consistently elbowed his way in there, and ultimately I gave him the ground. While I sipped my Jack and Coke (don’t even ask if they bother checking IDs in Florida), Anjali said to me; “So, like, do you get free passes to concerts and stuff?” I’d told her I was a roadie for The Dave Matthews Band. She loved it. I’d guessed she would. “No,” I said. “Not really. Dave and I don’t get along too great.” “Why’s that?” I sighed while I came up with something. “Oh, you know, me and his daughter,” I said. “We may or may not have had something going on. It’s all good now and me and her are totally friends. It’s just, when her Dad found out, you know…” Her eyes bugged out enough to stick to the ceiling. “Oh my God,” she said. “You can’t be serious.” I nodded. “Let’s just say I keep a bat in my apartment.” The more I told her about Dave Matthews being a deranged psycho, the closer she moved toward me. As soon as it got to the point where I came back from the bar with two drinks and slid my hand down her shoulder after handing her drink over, I could see the deal was sealed. At around this time, Dirk and Adrienne split. Dirk’s a pro.
Swim Coach M/f, spank, reluctant
I've had several similar fantasies for years and am starting to write them down for the first time. I welcome comments and messages.
Coach Barry is our school's assistant swim coach. He is also my friend(enemy), Nicole's step-father. She is away for the summer at swim camp and Coach Barry said I could come over whenever I wanted to use their pool and get a head start on our last high school season.
Coach B is a little intimidating. He is very tall and really muscular. I wish guys my age had chests and abs like his. Not that guys my age really look twice at me. My body is straight as a board, except for my bottom, which is sculpted from all our kicking drills, and I have barely any breasts. Plus I always smell like chlorine. Coach B is also the strict coach, the one who assigns drills, the one who criticizes, and the all around bad cop next to our head coach.