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Eros and the Muse

Eros and the Muse

Tag Archives: masturbation

Good Grades, Part Eleven

30 Friday Nov 2012

Posted by Jennifer in Uncategorized

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

adult, coed, dry-humping, erotic fiction, erotica, frottage, masturbation, mature, professor, sex, student, teacher

“I hope I didn’t rush this,” he said, his voice low.

“Don’t worry, I’ve been ready for this all week,” she assured him, raising the hem of her already short skirt and straddling him gracefully. She settled onto his lap and unzipped the oversized hoodie that had been part of her daily uniform all week long. It fell to the floor under his desk and she smiled at his throaty murmur of appreciation as she offered him her bare breasts.

His lips parted and she gasped as her rosy nipple disappeared into his mouth. He sucked gently, rolling it over his tongue and making her squirm on his lap. Through the twill of his trousers she could feel the heat and hardness of his cock. She ground her bare pussy against him, drawing a satisfying “mmm” from the back of his throat.

He released her nipple and watched her breast bounce, licking lightly at the tip. “Are you sure you’re ready?”

“I am,” she replied, running her fingers through his close-cropped hair. “Bring it.”

He smiled, and traced soft circles around her nipple with a fingertip. “First question: name one of the primary reasons for the formation of the Confederate states.”

She smiled confidently. “Let’s see. Well, one reason was because of slavery. The Confederate states were formed to back the prospect of expanding the slave states. They felt no need to be a part of the United States federal government and didn’t agree with their moral, political, or economical view, so to preserve the practice of slavery throughout the South and with the prospect of expanding it to new states added to the Union, Southerners created their own government.”

Dr. Gilbert smiled broadly. “I’m impressed. You have been studying.” He cupped her breasts, taking the hard point into his mouth again and sucking hard. She arched into him, moaning lightly. He pulled back, stretching the skin and again, letting go with a soft pop. He took her nipples between his fingertips and stroked them gently. “Ready for the next question?”

She smiled. “Give me a hard one this time.”

He chuckled and raised his eyebrow at her. “Oh, I’ll give you a hard one. But first, question two.” He thought for a second. “Okay, tell me why European countries didn’t come to the aid of the Confederacy.”

“Please,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Why would they? For starters, the South only had cotton to offer and there were other places to get it. Plus, on paper, there was no way the Confederacy was going to win, so no one was willing to back a losing horse. And then there’s the fact that slavery had been outlawed in Europe for quite some time and morally, no one wanted to see it preserved. So Europe basically said, ‘Eh, we’ll pass’ to the South.”

He watched her while she answered, licking her hard nipples and nibbling the soft skin gently with his lips and teeth. He smiled again, clearly pleased with her answers. He ran his hands up her back and buried his face in her soft chest. His words were muffled against her smooth skin. “Very good.”

“You’re pleased with my performance so far, then?” she asked, running her nails down his back.

“Very much. Let’s speed things up. Lightning round. Where did Robert E. Lee formally surrender?”

“Appomattox.”

“Which General was known for his march to the sea and the scorched earth policy?”

“William Tecumseh Sherman.”

“What was the act that provoked the Union to declare war on the Confederacy?

“The firing on Fort Sumter.”

He twined his hands in her thick hair and pulled her head back gently, depositing a trail of kisses on her neck. “I’m convinced. You’re ready,” he said, turning his attention again to her nipples, teasing them with his tongue.

She wiggled her hips and rubbed herself on his hard cock, knowing he could feel her heat as easily as she could feel his. “So are you, sir,” she said.

He sighed and ran his hands down her back and over the soft curves of her bare ass. She inclined her head and kissed him deeply, wrapping her hands around his neck and pulling him close. She caught his lower lip gently between her teeth and pulled, finally letting him go with a soft kiss. “Should I sit in the front row to take my test, Dr. Gilbert?” she whispered, leaning back and sliding her hands down over her bare abdomen to where her dark nest of curls peeked out from beneath her hitched-up skirt. She ran her fingers lightly over her own pussy.

“Damn, woman,” he said, shaking his head.

Janie smiled. She let her fingertips wander, dancing lightly over his cock. She felt his flesh leap at her touch, and he swallowed hard, closing his eyes as she traced the ridge of the head through the fabric. “I’ll take that as a yes…?” she asked, increasing the pressure and rocking her hips, began stroking him in earnest.

“Yes,” he said, his affirmation little more than a throaty exhalation.

His cock was hard between her legs and her clit rubbed against it with each thrust of her hips. He was thrusting too, his rhythm matching hers. She leaned into him, offering him her breasts, tilting her head forward until her curls hung like a curtain around her face. “I need you inside me,” she whispered.

He opened his eyes and took her face in his hands. “Soon,” he said, kissing her again.

She leaned back, away from his kisses and his seeking mouth. “I’m not going to be able to concentrate on the Civil War like this,” she panted. “All I’ll be thinking about is your cock.”

He smiled. “Well, that won’t do.” He guided her hand to her pussy. “I want to watch. Make yourself come for me.”

She closed her eyes and tentatively sought her clit, stroking it gently, feeling his eyes on her as she rubbed the hard little nugget. She was slick and wet and fought back a moan as she slipped a finger inside her cunt.

“That’s beautiful,” he said. Her eyes fluttered open. Her finger was shining with her juices and she raised it to his lips. He drew it into his mouth, sucking it gently. “Mmm,” he said. “I love your sweet pussy.”

She leaned back against his desk, letting her head fall back. He wrapped his arms around her legs to support her, and with his help, she spread her legs wide for him. She knew her cunt was pink and wet and she slid her fingers in easily, fucking herself with abandon, spurred on by the knowledge that he was watching her, and by the feel of his body beneath hers, moving against her. If the change in his breathing was any indication, he was bringing himself to a crisis point right along with her.

She imagined a cock she had not seen, pictured it sliding inside her. He would stay dressed, his shirt buttoned and neatly tucked in, only his cock out and inside her, filling her deeply. She thrust faster, letting her palm smack against her clit harder with each stroke. He moved with her, his fingers clutching her thighs so hard as to be almost painful.

His voice was deep and husky. “Come for me,” he said. His voice acted on her like a drug, as if the vibrations carried directly to her cunt.

“I’m going to come,” she said, and before the last word was out of her mouth, she moaned, feeling the pleasure deep inside her burst forth. She sank her fingers deep, feeling the strong muscles grip her tightly as they throbbed and pulsed.

She didn’t know when he stopped moving, but when she sat up, he helped her ease her legs to the floor. She draped her arms over his shoulder and let him nuzzle her breasts while she caught her breath. He was breathing hard too, and as she sat, she felt a warmth spreading beneath her spent pussy.

She looked down, and then into his eyes with a smile. “Did you…?”

He smiled back and smacked her playfully on her bare haunch. “And now I’m going to have to change very quickly if I’m going to get downstairs to administer your exam. Now up you go.”

She got off and retrieved Zack’s sweatshirt from under Dr. Gilbert’s desk and put it back on. It still smelled like him and she sniffed gently while her back was turned. In a fleeting thought she wondered what it would be like to ride Zack that way and if he would be as skilled and forceful as Dr. Gilbert. With a blush and a secret smile, she zipped it up and pulled her skirt down.

“I have to go get a good seat,” she said, bending over to kiss him. She grinned confidently and grabbed her books off his desk. “I’m going to ace this son of a bitch. You watch.”

Keep reading…

Good Grades, Part the Fourth

14 Wednesday Nov 2012

Posted by Jennifer in Uncategorized

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

adult, bathroom, erotic fiction, erotica, lace panties, ladies' room, masturbation, mature, public, rest room, sex, writing

The door to the ladies room hissed shut as Janie made her way through the small crowded room to an empty stall near the end of the long row. She hung her backpack on the door and locked it behind her, swiftly pulling her skirt up around her waist and slipping her hand inside her white lace panties.

Women’s voices echoed all around her, their laughter bouncing off the green tile walls, punctuated by the rush of intermittent flushes and the steady trickle of streams flowing in the many sinks. She closed her eyes and tried to block out the din, parting the soft folds of her labia and seeking her aching clit. She breathed in deeply and bit her lip as she stroked the slippery little pearl, swollen and throbbing with need. Her cunt was hot and practically dripping, and the crotch of her panties was wet against the back of her hand.

She closed her eyes and pictured Professor Gilbert—she couldn’t think of his first name. What was it? Begins with a B…Bob? No. Not Bill, either…Benjamin. Yes. Ben. He smelled so good. His hands were warm and soft and strong…

She leaned her head against the edge of the stall and put her foot up on the toilet seat. She slid two fingers inside herself easily, the soft, wet, sucking sound barely audible in the cavernous echoes of the bathroom. Janie worked quickly, imagining his fingers inside her, getting her ready for his cock. She recalled the feel of him hard against her ass and the warmth of his breath on her neck. She could still feel his hand twined in her hair, pulling it back, the barest taste of what it would be like to have him bend her over that desk and fuck her hard.

God knows you could use a good fucking…

Her breath was coming harder in short gasps as the rest room cleared. She struggled to keep quiet, to keep from moaning aloud as she fucked herself, fingering her cunt with two, then three fingers, her palm smacking wetly against her mound. Knowing there were people on the other side of the door only made it hotter, the thrill that someone might hear her, or wonder why the stall was shaking slightly.

In his office, with students and faculty walking past his door…biting my lip to keep from calling his name as he makes me cum over and over…

With a strong shudder that coursed through her body, making her scalp tingle and her toes curl, she brought herself quickly to a powerful orgasm, acutely aware of the time, not daring to take too long and risk being late for class against his orders. She held her breath as she came, squeezing her eyes tightly and feeling the strong contractions pulsing through her throbbing cunt. Her hand was drenched, her panties soaked as she exhaled forcefully, reaching over and giving the toilet a flush, allowing herself to moan his name softly as she reluctantly slid her fingers out of her pussy.

Janie cleaned up as best she could with toilet paper before grabbing her backpack and exiting the stall. She was still breathing hard as she washed her shaking hands, and a glimpse in the mirror showed her the flushed cheeks and shining eyes of her spent passion.

She slipped into her seat with a few minutes to spare and got her book out, prepared to focus and concentrate. She wanted Professor Gilbert to be pleased with her.

Keep reading…

And To All a Good Night

23 Tuesday Oct 2012

Posted by Jennifer in Uncategorized

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Tags

adult, erotic fiction, erotica, explicit, fantasy, masturbation, mature, personal, self-pleasuring, sex, winter

I wrote this little piece years and years ago for a contest on Literotica.com. I didn’t win, but the story was well-received by the readers and scored pretty high for what it is, I think. With the weather turning colder, it seemed appropriate to re-post here.

*****

I’m going to be all alone later tonight, and I really don’t mind. It’s going to be cold later, and it’s already started to snow, so I’m going to get a fire started in the woodstove and devote some time to the thoughts of you that I’ve been unable to get out of my mind all week long.

The wood for the fire is dry and it doesn’t take long for it to get blazing hot, too hot in fact to wear much of anything. I sink into a comfortable chair and watch the fire, and as the coals glow redder and redder, I find it too warm for the long pants and flannel shirt I’ve had on all day. I strip, shedding my clothes in a pile and wrap up in a warm crocheted afghan that hangs over the back of the chair. There’s something so sensual and sexy to me about being naked and wrapped in a soft blanket.

I close my eyes and call up one of many, many images I have of your beautiful, big, hard cock. You’re lying on a bed watching a movie, your right hand stroking your dick with firm, powerful strokes. I think of you watching me, and I spread my legs, draping them over the arms of the deep easy chair. The heat of the fire hits my bare pussy and I reach down to find it already wet, fueled by your cock and the anticipation of my own expert touch.

I lean my head back and sink deep into the cushions, my skin ruddy in the glow of the hot fire, my fingers cool on the fevered skin. I spread myself wide, the lips opening, blooming, eager for my fingers. I dip one finger into my moist center and clutch at it, my muscles grabbing to pull it deeper inside. Two fingers go in, and I stroke the hole gently, slowly, my hips undulating with the joy of being fingered.

I run my wet fingers inside my smooth, pink slit. It’s slippery, and I tease my aching clit, rubbing it lightly–too lightly for any satisfaction. I thrust unwillingly against my hand, as if my pelvis can coerce my hand into giving away it’s pleasure.

I imagine what it would be like to have you sitting near me, hearing your breathing as you stroke your own hard cock, teasing it, watching as my shining fingers slide in and out and all over my pussy. Would you be content to watch? Would I?

Both hands toy with my cunt, and fingers thoroughly wetted, I reach for my diamond-hard nipples. One hand skims over my belly and finds the darkened points of my enlarged tits. I moan as I pinch the sensitive skin firmly and again with the other hand I plunge two fingers, three this time into my soaked hole. My tits ache as I pull the nipples, first one, then the other, stroking them firmly between my fingers. Always I’m seeing you in my head, your hips thrusting as you watch me fucking myself with my hand. Your dick is shiny, the head wet with pre-cum, and I ache to lick it clean, but I stay where I am and concentrate on my own pleasure.

My mouth is open, my lips wet, my breath coming faster. Outside the snow falls silently, but my skin is shining and damp from perspiration brought on by the scalding heat of the wood fire and my lust for you. My legs are spread as far as they’ll go, and my fingering brings me to the brink of a quick but powerful orgasm.

I cry out as my hips thrust forward, engulfing most of my hand in my pussy and swallowing it as the spasms hit, thundering deep inside. The muscles of my soaked cunt clench and unclench, and I shudder at the delightful pleasure of the orgasm shooting through every limb. I urge you to come too, willing it, watching in my mind’s eye as your eyes close, your head falls back, and you find your own silent fulfillment, your cum shooting in hot jets over your hand and legs. You shudder and breathe deeply as your grip relaxes, and your cock slips wetly against your hot, bare thigh…

From Down the Rabbit Hole

15 Monday Oct 2012

Posted by Jennifer in Uncategorized

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

Alice, Alice in Wonderland, Down the Rabbit Hole, erotic fiction, erotica, excerpt, Lewis Carroll, masturbation, novella, Victorian erotica, White Rabbit

This is the opening chapter of the novella Down the Rabbit Hole, a re-imagining of Lewis Carroll’s classic Alice in Wonderland. But with much more sex.

*****

A Warm Summer Day

Alice lay under a weeping willow tree on the riverbank. The tall grass whispered around her in the slight breeze and the sun shone brightly through the leaves, playing across her skin in golden, dappled patterns. Her long, blonde hair was fanned out beneath her head and it shone like a spun-gold halo.

The far pasture was the only place Alice knew she could be left completely alone for a time, away from the din of her crowded family home and on vacation from the cacophony of dormitory life. She sighed deeply, enjoying the peaceful solitude of the vast, rambling fields. The only noise came from the babbling of the nearby stream as it rushed over the rocks, the occasional birdsong and cricket chirp, and the gentle rustling of the grass in the warm spring wind.

Alice believed there was no better companion on such a day as a canvas bag full of books. She had chosen several volumes to keep her company: a thin book of modern poetry, a dog-eared copy of a children’s book she’d long outgrown but still loved, and a couple of the latest bestsellers to be released in affordable paperback.

None held her attention for very long, and she had opened and discarded each one in turn as unsatisfactory. Feeling restless and fidgety, she found her mind wandering from thought to thought, idea to idea, unable to concentrate fully on any of the reading material she had brought along. Her brain felt sluggish and dull, a condition aggravated by certain biological urges she’d lately been unable to assuage, due to an appalling lack of privacy at home and an equally annoying lack of time at school.

Giving up trying to rein in and focus her intellect in any meaningful way, she reclined in the shade of the massive tree with her head propped up against the roots and drew out the last book in the bag. She carefully propped the antique leather-bound illustrated anthology of Victorian erotica comfortably on her belly and let her legs splay open languidly. The breeze fluttered the hem of her blue cotton sundress and she spread her thighs slightly, allowing the skirt to slide up her bare legs and nearly expose her bare pussy. There was no need for modesty out in the middle of nowhere, and as the day had promised early on to be a hot one, she had decided—as she sometimes did—to forgo any panties beneath her full-skirted dress.

She smiled to herself and opened the old book, reading the tales of proper gentlemen seducing innocent girls. The young ladies blushed and giggled as their randy men requested favors, pushing their hands away and protesting while the young men pressed ever onward against every defense. Of course each story ended with the couple engaging in “a bout of love” and “copious spendings” and all of the walls of Victorian prudery came tumbling down. She wondered how many dark wardrobes and woolen underthings had hidden this particular volume.

Though Alice was far from being a repressed Victorian lady, the stories and elaborate woodcut illustrations—by virtue of their being once-forbidden—were still somehow deliciously naughty to her in the way modern porn so seldom was. As imaginative as any young woman that came before her, she lay beneath the tree and let her mind wander; she pretended that she was a proper Victorian English girl, full of carnal desires that both confused and aroused her. She fantasized that she had just slipped away from her stifling, rigid parents with the excuse of needing a bit of fresh air in the garden. Or perhaps she had given her martinet of a governess the slip and had thus managed to avoid an afternoon full of dull needlework or the parsing of irregular French verbs. She was a naughty girl, and her upright, staid family would consider her wanton if they knew how often she stole away to enjoy baser pursuits. Perhaps she tucked this book—a gift from her lover, maybe—in the folds of her skirts before slipping out of the house to a secluded spot by the riverbank. Away from any prying eyes, she was able to hitch up her skirts and spread her legs, letting the dirty little stories and pictures fuel her desire as she explored her body.

Lost in her fantasy, Alice slid her dress up to her waist. She ran a hand over her smooth, freshly waxed pussy, the bare lips serving as a reminder that she was a modern woman and no longer possessed of the thick nest of curls favored by her Victorian counterparts. She lazily slipped a fingertip between the smooth, plump lips and shivered as she found the hard little pearl of her clit and stroked it. She wondered what her imaginary gentleman lover would think if he found her touching herself in such a bold manner, and she spread her legs wider, hoping he would find her lustful abandon so arousing that he’d be overcome and take her right there in the tall, sweet grass.

She let the book fall to the ground with a soft thump, its leaves lightly smudged and faintly musky-scented with her own juices where she had stopped to turn the page. She slipped her hand inside the top of her dress, rubbing and pinching her hard, pink nipples. She inserted two fingers into her tight cunt and moaned a little to herself, fully enjoying the deliciousness of an outdoor frig. She was just about to close her eyes and draw out her sweet climax when an enormous white rabbit ran right past her feet.

She stopped, startled, and sat up. She jumped to her feet and looked around trying to see where it had gone, since it’s not every day a timid field hare passes by close enough to be caught. The sight of a flash of white bounding through the tall grass captivated her, and while she knew there was no way she could ever overtake it, she tore out after it anyway, determined to catch it, although if anyone had asked her (and no one did) she would have said she did not know why she left off mid-diddle to chase a wild bunny she had no hope of catching.

Her bare feet pounded against the packed earth and she was quite out of breath by the time she reached the mouth of a very large, very cave-like rabbit hole yawning from the side of an enormous hillock. Her family had owned the land as far back as anyone could remember and she knew every inch of the property like the back of her hand, but for the life of her she could not remember that particular mound ever being there before. Under other circumstances she might have given it more thought, but as it was, a giant rabbit hole appearing where none had ever existed was the least curious thing she had to consider.

She stopped short and shook her head, not quite believing her eyes. The white rabbit wasn’t a rabbit at all, but a man. He was young and handsome with very muscular thighs and fine, round buttocks. He was barefoot and wore white satin breeches, only to Alice’s surprised delight the entire crotch of the trousers had been removed. The neatly cut-out area left his manhood—which Alice noticed was heavy and impressive and quite as hairless as her own nether regions—and his soft, pink ass entirely exposed. Over his breeches he wore a white satin waistcoat that fit him like a second skin, but no jacket, shirt or tie. His chest was as bare and smooth as the rest of him, and his strong arms looked powerful. He was tow-headed and fair with eyes that were the pale, clear blue of a summer sky, though his expression was anxious and his manner somewhat twitchy.

He pulled a large, turnip-shaped pocket watch from his white waistcoat and looked at the time worriedly. “Oh dear,” he exclaimed suddenly, addressing Alice as if he’d been conversing with her all along. “I am so very, very late! The Queen is going to be most unhappy with me!” He closed the watch with a snap and slipped it back into his pocket. “Come, Mary Anne,” he commanded her. “There is much to do!”

Alice looked around for Mary Anne, and seeing no one but herself and the White Rabbit (which she had taken to calling him in her head), she said, “But…my name is Alice.”

“No time! No time!” the White Rabbit exclaimed and ran into the rabbit hole. Alice felt she had no choice but to follow him. It never occurred to her to be frightened, or even curious as to who he was or where he was leading her.

She ran behind the rabbit as fast as she could go in the dark tunnel, her eyes adjusting slowly to the dim light. She caught a blur of white up ahead of her and ran toward it, trying to catch up with the White Rabbit. Suddenly, the ground beneath her began to slope sharply downward and she scrambled as the earth rolled away underneath her feet. She flailed her arms searching for something to grab onto to slow her fall, and with a shriek she realized there was nothing. Alice felt as though she was falling down a very deep well, and for several seconds with her eyes squeezed shut she waited for the jarring impact of the ground, only none came. All she felt was the cool air rushing past her and she cautiously opened her eyes.

*****

Down the Rabbit Hole is available in paperback, for Kindle, and for Nook.

From “Deflowered”

01 Monday Oct 2012

Posted by Jennifer in Uncategorized

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

adult, depressed, emo, erotic fiction, erotica, excerpt, jacking off, lonely, mad scientist, masturbation, mature, published, sex, sexual literature, short story

Here’s a little tease from a story that is going to be published in an upcoming anthology of “Mad Scientist Erotica” by Circlet Press called For Science! It’s the tale of a shy botanist who gets very into his work. This is actually a bit that was cut from the final story, but I liked how it read in its long form, so you get to have it here. 

*****

Bill sighed and made sure the front door was tightly locked for the night before switching off the lights and heading up to bed. He made his way through the dark, empty house on instinct, knowing each tread of the staircase like the back of his hand.

The air under the eaves was close and stuffy, and he looked forward to the cooler air the impending rains were promising to leave in their wake. He opened the windows of his bedroom wide to let in any stray breeze that might be passing before he snapped on the bathroom light and readied himself for bed.

He went through the same motions he did every evening, with no adjustment or variation to his routine. He changed into clean pajama bottoms and a fresh, white t-shirt, stowing his dirty clothes neatly in the hamper. He washed his face and dried it, hanging the damp towel back on the towel bar to dry. He began to brush his teeth, squirting a glob of ice blue toothpaste on the brush and raising it to his mouth.

A thought ran through his head on tiny mouse feet, scurrying and scuttling out of the dark, littered places of his brain. It ran across the clean white surfaces of his consciousness before disappearing back into the shadows.

No woman will ever be interested in someone like you.

The man in the mirror made eye contact with him, and he stopped mid-motion. He squinted at his reflection, peering closer to the face he looked at every day, then stepped back, his toothbrush frozen in mid-air. He set it down on the sink, not caring that the blue gel slipped off the bristles and smeared on the pristine white porcelain.

He squinted again, and appraised his reflection with a critical eye and a scientist’s powers of observation, wondering where that harsh assessment of himself came from. It was certainly unlike him. In general, he was content with his appearance, and the fact that a very few women had ever succumbed to his awkward advances generally didn’t bother him that much. He was under no illusions that he was a smoldering sex god sent to drive women wild, but he certainly was far from unattractive by any measurable standard.

Sure, there were things he would change if he could. He wished, for one thing, that he looked a little closer to his actual age. When friends took him out for some beers on his fortieth birthday, the waitress insisted on checking his ID because she said he didn’t look old enough to drink. It was a fair assessment. Even with day’s growth of stubble, he still looked like a hairy fifteen-year old.

There had to be something else. He peeled off his shirt and let it drop to the floor. He flexed in the mirror, noting well-developed biceps and pecs and admitting that he was a little thicker around the middle since turning 40 than he liked. Still, he was far from doughy, and he kept himself in better-than-average shape overall for a middle-aged guy. He pulled the waistband of his cotton pants out and peered down at his genitals. He shrugged at his utter unremarkableness, and let the elastic constrict with a soft snap. There was nothing he could do about that.

He sighed and reached down for his shirt. He was about to put it back on, but decided that it was too warm and sticky for it and dropped it in the hamper. He cleaned the toothpaste off the sink and rinsed his toothbrush before reloading it and brushing his teeth for exactly two minutes.

Leaving his bathroom much as he’d found it, he turned off the light and lay down on top of the covers, taking his glasses off and setting them carefully on his nightstand. The breeze was picking up outside and he could hear the poplar trees dancing as the rain approached from the west, turning over their leaves and showing their silvery undersides. An occasional gust caused the heavy air in the room to move, and while it wasn’t yet refreshing, it did relieve some of the stuffiness. It also caused the lightweight jersey of his pants to stir and brush against him, and the sudden sensation caused him to think of a woman’s soft hand, seeking him in the dark.

He closed his eyes and thought of Maria, allowing himself to fantasize about her. He pictured her lying next to him; it was too warm and humid to make love, but in his imagination, she would want to bring him pleasure anyway.

His cock hardened with anticipation, and he reached down, stroking his hand over it through the fabric, feeling its warmth as it thickened under his light touch. Hooking his thumbs in his waistband, he slid his pants down, freeing his erection as a gust of cooler air swirled through the room. He kicked them off and stretched out again, imagining his own hand was hers wrapped around his cock.

He stroked gently at first, teasing the shaft, running his thumb over the sensitive tip. He pictured her in his mind, lying next to her, her dark curls loose and free in a dark halo around her face. She would lean on one elbow, looking at him as the pleasure he was feeling played out over his face. He smiled slightly, and he increased the pressure on his cock, moaning a little and encouraging her to continue.

In the distance, he could hear the wind blowing hard through a stand of tall pines and he could smell the rain on the air. His cock oozed a bit of precum, making it slippery in his fist and his hips twitched, thrusting as his body’s own fluid offered just the right about of lubrication.

The pleasure in him built, the aching in his balls making them hard and tight, and he could feel the need for release growing ever more urgent. He used long, firm strokes, moaning with pleasure, imagining the sound of her lilting voice in his head urging him to come for her, whispering endearments in a language he barely understood, using words that required no translation.

As the first huge drops of rain splatted against his screen, he felt his orgasm approach. He moaned aloud, knowing he had reached the breaking point, the sweet moment when he was going to come no matter what. The skies opened up, soaking the overlong grass and drowning out his deep groan of pleasure as his cock exploded in his hand, and he felt the hot jets of semen wash over his bare torso.

He lay still, listening to the rain pound against the greenhouse roof, feeling his cock throb weakly in his hand, then soften as the waves of pleasure receded. The air felt cooler and his body shone with a fine sheen of perspiration. He opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling. His body felt heavy, but so did his heart.

He rose, retrieving his pajama bottoms from the floor and going into the bathroom where he deposited them in the hamper. He showered, letting the cool water wash the sweat and slippery secretions down the drain. He stood for a long time in the stinging spray with his eyes closed, his forehead pressed against the glass shower door.

Bill slept fitfully. The voice in his head refused to be silent, mocking him as he tossed and turned alone in his bed. When dawn’s first rays were breaking over the horizon, his eyes opened, and with a groan, he gave up the battle with sleep and sat up. His corneas felt like they were coated with fine grit sandpaper and every muscle in his body ached. His sheets were tangled and rumpled, and he sighed, sitting on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands, his fingers pressed to his throbbing temples.

He had fought with the voice in his head all night, pushing back as it berated him, accusing him of being less of a man than an average 13-year-old girl, and making sure he knew that he lacked the balls to actually ask a woman out–any woman, not just a goddess like Maria. It might have been fatigue, or just the simple fact that it had been a lot of lonely years since there had been anyone’s hand on his cock besides his own, but by the time he was seated at his kitchen table, alone with a hot cup of coffee and a slice of toast with peanut butter on it, he felt as low as he had in a week.

He chewed his toast thoughtlessly, staring out the window at the grass and decided it could wait another day, the same way he had the previous Friday, the morning after thoughts of Maria had caused him to act like a horny teenager yet again. He sighed, hating the pattern he had slipped into, wanting to get out of it, but knowing deep down that the voice in his head was right: he didn’t have the balls. The only place he was truly happy was out in his greenhouse–a fragile man, alone with his fragile plants.

The worst part, he thought, as he dumped the dregs of his cold coffee down the drain and threw away his uneaten crusts, was that not only was the voice right about him, but that at this time the following Friday, he would be sitting by himself in exactly the same spot, staring out at a lawn he didn’t feel like mowing, drinking black coffee that had gone cold on him, and not tasting the toast that he wouldn’t quite finish eating, feeling dirty, depressed, and very much alone.

Home, James

27 Thursday Sep 2012

Posted by Jennifer in Uncategorized

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Tags

adult, BDSM, chauffeur, cunnilingus, driver, erotic fiction, erotica, exhibitionism, masturbation, mature, mistress, sex, sexual literature, short story, voyeurism

This is a sequel of sorts to “Tight Security,” though it really goes off on a tangent more than it continues it. I had planned to keep spinning new stories off the old ones, but never got around to it. Maybe soon…

“Jeremy.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“It seems that very handsome young security guard just ejaculated on my window.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“I will be very disappointed if his semen mars the finish.”

“Of course, Mistress. Shall I use a cloth?”

“What do you think, Jeremy.”

She watched him get out of the driver’s seat and tug on the tails of his chauffeur’s coat, putting his cap on, and shutting the door behind him. She watched as he bent and licked the congealing cum off her window, his tongue flat and pink against the gray glass.

As he worked, she spread her legs and hiked her skirt up, exposing her smooth, bare pussy. She diddled her clit lightly, feeling it spring to attention and smiled. Her cunt grew slick as she played with herself, her nipples hard and straining and very visible under the lightweight silk of her couture blouse. Jeremy swallowed mouthfuls of jism, finally licking his lips and standing at attention by her window.

She rolled it down and slowly unbuttoned her blouse, stroking her hands over the nipples that peeked out of the lace edge of her shelf bra, watching her firm, full breasts jiggle and sway with every slight move. “All done, Jeremy?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Come around to the other side of the car and join me in the backseat.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

Jeremy did as he was instructed and opened the back door, carefully putting his cap on the front seat and smoothing his hair before entering. She turned to face him, offering him her dripping pussy. “Would you like something to cleanse your palate, Jeremy?” she asked.

“Yes, Mistress,” he replied, his voice husky with desire. Knowing he wanted her, wanted to please her, sent a thrill coursing through her lithe frame and she shuddered despite herself.

“You may eat my pussy, Jeremy,” she said, and he quickly slipped to the floor beside the long bench seat. He wedged his slight frame in behind the front seat, and leaned forward, pulling her legs apart and pressing his face to her sweet, fragrant center.

She moaned as his tongue found her aching hole and she ran her hands through his dark curls, pressing his head into her cunt. He fastened his lips around her clit and sucked it, drawing it in between his teeth and applying pressure until she cried out.

“Put your fingers in me Jeremy, and make me cum,” she instructed, and he did as he was told, sliding his long fingers into her and drawing out another moan of pleasure. “Very nice,” she said, praising him as she petted his head. She closed her eyes and let Jeremy bring her to the brink of orgasm, his fingers and tongue working skillfully in all the ways she had trained him.

He knew how to hold her hips as she climaxed and how to press his lips against her to receive the copious gush of sweet, sea-funky fluid that accompanied her pleasure without letting so much as a drop touch the fine, leather seats. He swallowed her flood of juices eagerly, licking her clean until the shuddering and bucking stopped. When she lay still, she allowed him to button her blouse and straighten her skirt.

Sated, she sat up and smiled at him, still kneeling in complete supplication beside her. She raised her hand to his smooth, brown cheek and stroked it gently. “Well, done, Jeremy,” she said. “Tell me, is your cock hard?”

“Yes, Mistress,” he said, his cheeks turning slightly pink.

“How lovely,” she said. “You have my permission to step outside the car and relieve yourself,” she said. “You’ve earned it.” He nodded, still blushing, and rose. As he backed out of the car, she reminded him, “Make sure you stand right there where I can see you, and you’d better make it quick so no one sees you. Oh, and don’t forget your hat,” she finished, gesturing at the front seat.

Jeremy put his hat back on and stepped outside the car, shutting the door. Through tinted windows she smiled at his visible discomfort as he looked around nervously. He pulled his long, slender cock out and began stroking it furiously, closing his eyes and obviously concentrating on finishing the job before anyone came along.

She watched his cock bob in the air, and how his eyebrows knit together in frustration as his erection began to fail. She knew he was considering his punishment for not following her directions, and as his eyes filled with tears, she almost took pity on him for a second. Then she thought of the hours of fun she would have paddling his soft, feminine ass, fucking him with dildos for hours, and how she’d torture him to the edge of orgasm over and over until he begged for mercy.

She was so lost in the fantasy that she didn’t notice the security guard approach her car. Jeremy started suddenly and quickly tried to conceal his rapidly softening cock, but the damage had been done. This was not the young, wanton guard from before, but an older, paunchy, dough-skinned excuse for a man who was perspiring from the mere exertion of apprehending the delicate Jeremy.

She rolled down her window and addressed the security guard. “Is there a problem, Officer?” she asked.

He looked in and saw her reclining like a cat in the backseat. He tipped his hat back to reveal his receding, greasy hairline and she recoiled inwardly. “Yes, Ma’am” he replied. “I caught this pervert outside your car here.”

She smiled a cold smile. “Yes, Officer. Young Jeremy belongs to me. I apologize if he’s been a bother. I promise you he won’t get away with this…abomination.”

“I’m sorry, Ma’am,” he said, his eyes raking over her form. “I have to call this in to the local precinct. You’ll be able to pick him up in about 6 hours, after his arraignment.”

She sighed. “Very well.” Jeremy looked panic-stricken. “Jeremy, dear. Please be on your best behavior, just like I taught you. Do everything this nice officer tells you, and I’ll see you in a little while. Make me proud.” Jeremy blinked away a tear and nodded. “That’s a good boy.” She rolled up the window and watched as the fat guard led the winsome Jeremy away. She fished her cell phone out of her bag and with manicured fingers, dialed her office.

“Maria. I need a replacement driver here immediately. Yes. And call my lawyer and tell him to meet me at the local precinct for JFK. Yes, the airport, Maria.”

She ended the call with a gentle beep and waited for Jeremy’s replacement.

Tight Security

25 Tuesday Sep 2012

Posted by Jennifer in Uncategorized

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

adult, erotic fiction, erotica, exhibitionism, masturbation, mature, parking garage, public sex, security guard, sex, short story, voyeurism

So I had been out of work for what seemed like for-fucking-ever when I finally landed a job at JFK as a security guard in the parking structures. It’s not the best job in the world, but it’s a steady paycheck and it’s not like the work is hard. It’s a lot of walking around and keeping an eye out for suspicious activity. Of course anyone planning on doing anything bad is already suspicious himself, so he’s not doing it when I get there, but whatever, man. I don’t care. Money is money at this point.

The other guys who’ve been doing this a lot longer have some fucking ridiculous stories about the stuff they’ve caught people doing in the parking garage. Hot stuff, too. Seriously fucked up shit, in fact; but then if you could actually managed to get it up in that cold, gray concrete car zoo that smells like piss and exhaust fumes, you’d have to be a freak.

At least that’s what I thought up until last week.

I’m walking around, doing my usual rounds, and not seeing much of anything going on. It was chilly that day, it had been drizzling most of the morning so the wet tires were squealing more than usual as they turned the corners. If you’ve ever been in a parking garage on a wet day, you know what I mean. It sounds like someone’s stepping on a cat, and after awhile, it’s all you can hear.

The noise must be the reason I didn’t hear them at first, or why they didn’t hear me coming. I turned the corner and saw a guy out there with his lady friend. Her eyes were closed and her head was back, and at first I couldn’t quite see what was going on. But I got a step closer and caught sight of one luscious, creamy tit hanging out there in the cold. The guy leaned close and took that sweet, hard nipple in his mouth and I was all, “HELLO.”

Now, I knew I should get in there and break it up. As soon as I knew what they were up to, I should have stopped it. But her face was so beautiful. Her mouth was open slightly and she was breathing hard, and she would lick her lips making them red and shiny. I could tell that she was so turned on that she didn’t care who was looking, and before I knew it, I was rock hard. My cock was straining against my zipper and I had to reach down and adjust a bit.

I know it’s wrong, but I slipped behind one of the big, concrete support pillars and shielded myself behind a nearby Suburban. I watched the guy as he slipped a hand down her pants, and I could tell just by the way she squirmed and moaned that he found her clit and was going to town on it. He was fingering her like a violin and she was going fucking nuts.

She had her hands all over his crotch, fumbling with the button, and I have to tell you, mine throbbed in sympathy. I reached down and stroked myself through my polyester uniform pants and thought I’d cum right then and there. She was rubbing him through his pants, humping his hand, and when she opened her sweet mouth and sucked his tongue, I couldn’t stand it anymore. My mouth was dry and my cock was so hard it hurt. I went to unzip my pants and rub one out, but my nightstick banged against the side of the Suburban and made a huge, metallic bang.

Her eyes flew open and I didn’t have much of a choice at that point. I cleared my throat and walked up and hoped to hell they couldn’t see my dick was at full attention. “Everything okay over here?” I asked, trying to look imposing and not like a kid in a costume with a raging boner.

It must have worked, because he turned around, yanking his hands out of her cunt so fast I could see her pussy juice still shining on his fingers. He yanked the tails of his flannel shirt down and stuffed his hands in his pockets, but I could see that he was as hard as I was, and his cock was at least as big. When I looked up, the girl had zipped her pants and I caught sight of that beautiful, big tit as it disappeared inside her sweater. She was blushing and shaking a little and in my mind I could see how hot she’d be wrapped around my cock, her legs tight around my waist as I drilled her up against her boyfriend’s truck. Her tits would be bouncing around and she’d scream my name as she came…

I shook my head and stammered something about them having to do that somewhere else, and they nodded guiltily. I think she even called me “sir.” I walked away, but I had to look back over my shoulder. She looked every bit as hot as she had before I’d interrupted and I hoped they’d take their chances and finish up, but they caught me looking and got into his truck.

I heard them leave, and I knew they were off the floor when the tires of his truck cat-squealed on the wet concrete. I stopped walking and leaned against a minivan to catch my breath and compose myself. I couldn’t remember the last time I was that turned on. My dick felt ready to explode.

I looked around quickly, and seeing no one, I slipped between the van and a black sedan and unzipped my pants. I pulled my cock out and grabbed it, stroking it hard. “Oh God,” I said, and my voice echoed and bounced around the cars in the enclosure. I bit my lip and ran my hand through the spunk that was already drooling out of the tip and started milking my cock for all it was worth. Every shriek of tires made me jump a little and I hammered away at my dick, scared of being caught, scared of losing my job, scared of being arrested for indecent exposure, but nowhere near scared enough to stop.

I came harder than I ever had before. My balls tightened up in the cold air of the garage and I had to lean on the car so that my legs wouldn’t give out under me. My cum shot out in long, white curving arcs and splattered on the tinted windows of the shiny black car. “Oh, God,” I said again, both from the exquisite, throbbing, pounding release of my orgasm and because I realized I’d left slimy gobs of my DNA all over a brand new Mercedes.

Embarrassed and ashamed, and not having anything to clean it up with, I tucked my sticky, still-hard cock back in my pants and got the hell out of there as fast as I could, looking all around and hoping no one saw me.

I didn’t think to check inside the car, though. And in this story, that’s where the fine line between really bad luck and fortunate accident is.

The Thrill of the Hunt

10 Monday Sep 2012

Posted by Jennifer in Uncategorized

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Tags

adult, armed robbery, erotic fiction, erotica, masturbation, mature, sex, sexual literature, short story, victim

“Don’t turn around. Just hand me the money and I won’t have to hurt you.” Nick spoke calmly and quietly, pressing the muzzle of a revolver into the small of the woman’s back to make his point.

She froze. They always froze. “Hurry up,” Nick commanded, snapping his victim out of her shock. His carefully laid plans allowed for only a few minutes to get the money and get the hell out of there without getting caught. A police siren wailed in the distance and even though he knew they weren’t coming for him this time, his tension level rose perceptively. He forced himself to concentrate on his breathing and staying relaxed and focused. The cops weren’t going to arrest him just because he lost his shit at every little noise. He dug the gun harder into her back, and with a whimper she took the bills out of the ATM and held them up with shaking hands. He grabbed the cash and said, “The bag, too,” pulling her purse off of her shoulder. “Now you just keep standing right there and count to a hundred,” he ordered.

“One, two, three,” she began in a shaky voice. Nick tore out of there, shoving the gun and the twenty-dollar bills into his pocket as he ran. He rounded the corner into an alley, then slipped through an opening in the chain-link fence that surrounded the loading dock of an abandoned warehouse. He crouched down behind the crumbling concrete wall, hidden by darkness and debris, and listened for the sound of footsteps or voices. When he heard none, he took a deep breath and quickly unzipped his sweatshirt. Moving fast, he pulled a black backpack from behind a pile of rubble and quickly stuffed his hoodie into it. He shoved the purse into the backpack as well, and running his fingers through his hair, he put the backpack on and slipped through the shadows out a second opening in the fence.

Half a block to the west, the bars and clubs were packed and the night life was in full swing. Nick walked calmly and with purpose toward the music and the lights. In five minutes he had melted into the city’s sea of humanity, while less than two blocks east an angry blonde tried to give his description to the police, but had to admit that she “didn’t get a good look at the guy.”

Nick knew there were easier ways to make a few bucks, but few were as satisfying or half as exciting. Nothing got the adrenaline flowing like picking a victim, helping yourself to their stuff, all the while knowing you could get caught at any time. The first time he realized that he was in the clear, that he’d committed armed robbery and got away with it, he was both startled and amused to realize he was half-hard from the excitement of it all, a reaction he hadn’t expected but had come to crave. It wasn’t even about the money anymore.

The best nights were when, after disappearing into the crowd, he’d see a handful of uniformed cops walking around asking people if they’d seen a guy in a hooded sweatshirt come running through with a woman’s purse. Of course, no one had, but he had to hand it to them for at least trying. It was after his second or third robbery that one of the cops had approached him. His heart pounded and his mouth went dry as he was questioned and he imagined he could feel the stolen purse in his backpack burning him between his shoulder blades.

The officer’s blue eyes bored through his own and looked into his thoughts, but he didn’t look away. Without blinking, he replied, “I haven’t seen anything out of the ordinary tonight,” which was only a half-lie. The officer thanked him and moved on, repeating his questions to a couple nearby. His erection strained against his jeans and he shuddered as the thrill coursed through him. He ducked into an alley and hid in the shadows behind a dumpster. He pulled out his cock and stroked it furiously until he came, leaning against the building with one arm and splattering his seed all over the dirty bricks.

No police were on the scene tonight, so he milled around in the crowd looking in store windows for awhile, letting the ebb and flow of the foot traffic carry him along. He brushed past people, bumping them slightly and smiling in apology. “Sorry,” he’d say, and a charge would course through him as he’d be forgiven time after time. The physical contact acted on him like a drug, sharpening his senses and making his nerve endings tingle. He never failed to get aroused by the post-robbery social interaction, and the more people he could pull unwittingly into his game, the hotter it made him. He walked around until he could stand it no more; only when he was fully erect and the need for release reached the point of pain would he slip into the subway and make his way home.

Nick let himself into the empty apartment and locked the door behind him. He crossed the small studio space and pulled the backpack open, dumping the contents onto the bed. He pulled everything out of the purse and emptied the wallet. Glassy-eyed, he ran his hands through the lot of it, arranging and rearranging the driver license, credit cards, and pictures of families and pets on top of the comforter. He picked up her hairbrush and pressed it to his lips, inhaling her scent. He rubbed it against his erection through his pants before placing it back on the bed.

Finally, when he had touched everything he had stolen and had it arranged the way he wanted it, he stripped slowly and seductively, dragging out his pleasure. He lay down on the bed and stretched naked in the middle of the night’s take. He closed his eyes and wrapped his hand around his cock and replayed the images in his mind.

Give me the money…I don’t want to hurt you…count to a hundred…

He recalled how they always shuddered with his gun pressed into their backs. The women–always young, pretty women with expensive shoes and expensive bags. Women with shiny hair and slender waists, and manicured hands that trembled as they gave him what he wanted. Women with soft voices that whimpered as they surrendered to him and quivered with fear when they begged him not to hurt them.

Nick stroked his cock slowly, feeling strong and powerful as it pulsed hard and hot in his hand. He thought about how he was taking more than some cash or a few personal items. He took their security. They were going to think of him when they asked their building managers to change their locks and cut new keys for them. They were going to think of him when they called to cancel their credit cards. And they were going to think of him every time they walked past a cash machine.

He moaned as he milked the precum from his cock and used it to lube his fist. His excitement grew as he pictured a beautiful blonde with a smart, new bag approaching a well-lit ATM and shaking as she punched in her new PIN code. She’d tremble all over again as she took the cash, and then she’d look over her shoulder, feeling his presence and reliving the fear.

He could see her scared expression in his mind’s eye, as real as if she was in the room. He came with a grunt, shooting hot gobs of cum onto his smooth, bare chest, thinking of the sadness in her eyes as she walked away, willing her hands to shop shaking and her breathing to return to normal.

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