Thinking of You (Erotic Short Story)

A woman reminisces on a night of loving as she awaits the return of her lover.

Source: https://plus.google.com/u/0/110593883656857839788/posts

Even though you’re gone I can still smell you. The musky scent of your cologne clings to the sheets. Even though you’re gone, your taste still lingers on my tongue. I still feel your hands on my skin, your member between my thighs. Our moans and groans still ring in my ear.

In my mind’s eyes I see you. So manly, dominant, your body blanketing mine as you fuck me slow, long and hard. I see me, eager for your dark desire, knowing I own your body, heart and soul. I see us, a perfectly imperfect pair.

My hands crest over my breasts, pinching and rolling. A swipe of my tongue and my nipple puckers, aching with the need to be sucked. Lower my hand goes, over my quavering tummy and the wet lips of my sex as I remember last night.

I gasp. The sound of my fingers repeatedly sinking into my pussy makes my shiver. My back arches as I hear your keys. The front door closes. With the heat of your gaze on me, I cum with a low moan.

I open my eyes to find you leaning against the bedroom’s entry, a bag with the logo of my favorite restaurant in one hand and a rose in the other. Your pants are bulged with arousal. Your eyes, intense blue orbs, travel from the juncture of my thighs to slowly meet mine. Your lips tilt in that sexy half smile. “Thinking about me?”

I roll onto my stomach and watch you saunter across the room. I lick my lips. “You know it.”

Placing the breakfast on the bedside table, you settle over me. Your lips coast over my shoulders and neck, the rose following in their wake. You whisper in my ear, “Let me give you the real thing.”

A zipper sounds moments before you press into me. Hands over my head, you cage me in and love me with rough, measured strokes. The rose crushed beneath a naked breast and orgasm washing over me, I have to admit the real thing is so much better.

Need (Erotic Short Story)

A romantic evening out leads to a night of passion.

Source: http://bebe5105.tumblr.com/

The night is a lesson in anticipation.

We sit across from each other at the restaurant, the romantic atmosphere shading us in candlelight and delicious scents. Our eyes catch and hold. Our fingers touch and linger. Below the table your hard thigh is pressed against mine. My toes tease any bare skin I find. The heat of your body invades mine, bringing with it your manly scent. The meal is delicious. I barely taste it. I am intoxicated but the wine has nothing to do with it.

The ride home is no less overloaded with tension. Safe behind the closed garage door, you pull me to you. Your tongue tangles with mine and I taste just a hint of the raspberry and chocolate dessert we shared. The kiss is rough. Your hand fists my hair, your control over me complete.

You pull away and nip at my lower lip. “Let’s go in.”

The door closes with a soft click and we tear at each other’s clothes, leaving a trail to the bedroom. No foreplay is needed. We tumble across the bed and you push into my heat. We fit perfectly.

I arch, my fingers digging into your back. Your thrusts push me across the bed and my head hangs off the side. One hand on my hip and the other on the floor, you keep us from falling to the floor. Your hips grind against mine even harder, finding my g-spot with gratifying accuracy. I gasp and moan at the increased depth of your penetration. Your groan and growl as your grow even larger and full me to extremities.

I hurt so good, I can hold on no longer. Neither can you.

Your eyes ensnare mine as climax pulls us both under. “I love you.”

“I love you.”

Bringing your head down, I kiss your lips and pour my affection across the trembling connection. It isn’t long before we are moving in that age old rhythm again.

The Best Sex (Erotic Short Story)

Angry that he Valentine's Day again, she confronts him only to get the surprise of a lifetime.

Source: http://adultsonlyblog.com/?tag=rough-sex&paged=3

“I can’t believe you forgot again. You fucking bastard!”

I slammed the front door shut and the bastard in question looked at me blankly. He was preparing a sandwich and looking far too good for my current mood. He was wearing only a pair of unbuttoned jeans, the golden expanse of his chest rippling with muscle.

My pussy fluttered in telltale arousal and I got even angrier. Neither his dark good looks nor a dozen roses the next day would cut it this time.

“What are you talking about?” he asked as I marched up to him and flung my present at his chest. It was an envelope with tickets to a basketball match featuring his favorite team the following week.

“It’s Valentine’s Day.”

“Oh,” he said.

“That’s all you have to say?”

When he continued to watch me blankly I turned around with an angry noise and headed toward our bedroom. I could not continue to look at him and not do bodily harm.

He grabbed me before I cleared the room and swung me around. My words were muffled beneath his kiss. His tongue stroked. His teeth nipped. His lips demanded. I only resisted for the barest second.

He bended me over the kitchen counter and proceeded to fuck my brains out. His jeans were around his ankles and most of my suit still clung to my body. Our skins slapped loudly, dirty words were said and hands touched hard enough to leave marks of ownership.

“God, you’re so fucking beautiful,” he groaned, slapping my ass.

I pushed back into his thrusts, my back arched into a sharp C. “I’m still mad at you.”

He pushed harder against me and I cried out. His teeth scraped against my bare shoulder. His breath was as harsh as mine. His hand moved from my hip and reappeared in front of me. “Maybe this will get me back in your good graces.”

It was a ring.

“Marry me. Say yes.”

Pleasure bloomed out of control.

“Yes,” I screamed with the best orgasm of my life.

The Look (Short Story)

Making love is as much about the emotional connection as the physical.

Source: http://kissinggifs.tumblr.com/tagged/lip-biting

It is my drug. An addiction so strong I will never be rid of it. And happily so.
Biting your lower lip, I descend. Your eyes follow me all the way down as I kiss and nip at your sensitive nipples and drag my tongue over those washboard abs. Lower still, I settle on my hunches, my thighs spread. My fingers touch my wetness, flicking over an engorged bud. As I take you in my mouth you close that spellbinding gaze for a second. Only a second yet I feel abandoned, alone in a wilderness of lust too strong to weather alone.
On a groan, you shine that light on me again and I bask in the warmth. I use every trick in my arsenal and soon your fingers tangle in my hair. Your hips follow the retreat of my mouth, jerking when I swallow as much of you as I can. Your eyes get that wild look, the pupils rushing to cover the lens. The harder I suck the darker they get. They are almost black when you growled, “I’m almost there, baby. Just a little more.”
Licking your length, I enticed, “Cum on my tongue, baby. I love the taste of you.” I concentrated on the underside of the mushroom head before covering you with my heat again. The first jet hits my tongue and I see you unravel. It’s all there in your eyes. The walls come crashing down and for that moment in time you are exposed, all your secrets bared to me. The good, the bad, I see it all but most alluring is your desire and love for me. The intensity of it should be frightening. I revel in it.
I can hold on no longer and I follow you into oblivion. Through it all I cling to that visual connection. I can never get enough of that look. Sometimes it’s my only reason for being. It’s my salvation.
My addiction.

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