Erotic – Hot Stories

June 10, 2010

Erotic Hot Stories – An Arabian Night

He shuffled into the room, eyes downcast. He was stripped to his waist and barefoot. The cool night air caressed his naked chest causing his nipples to stiffen. His state of undress made him nervous and only added to his confusion. Yesterday, he had been just an American on holiday in the Middle East. Then, for merely dared to look upon the sultan’s wife, he found himself a guest in the sultan’s dungeon. He found it almost laughable and absurd that dungeons existed in this day and age. He was given no contact with the American embassy. No representation whatsoever. He fell asleep, cold and hungry, fearing that the next day would be his last. He awoke in a lavishly furnished room with several other men. None of them would speak to him, if indeed spoke any English at all, and his Arabic was comical. They all just smiled at him and went back to their conversations. It was a little after nightfall when they came for him. Now, a hulking guardsman paced, bull-like in front of him, a wickedly glint to the pistol holstered on his belt. The American was starting to fear that his roving eyes would be his death sentence. The mammoth guardsman stopped and stood directly in front of him. He could almost feel the hatred in the guardsmen’s scowl. “Stand straight! Head up!”

He got his first real look at the room. The walls were adorned with tapestries and the floor was covered with giant cushions and pillows in shades of satiny red. Several candles cast the room in a mercurial flame hue and the air was laced with a sweet and pungent smoke wafting from several incense burners. A large table stood in the middle of the room set with fresh fruit and wine.

“Wait here!” With that final command the guardsman stalked from the room and slammed the door behind him. He immediately turned his attention to the table. Even through the heavy aroma from the incense, he could smell the fruit. The smell made his stomach growl loudly.

Looking around the room, he cautiously stepped to the table and grabbed a handful of grapes. He popped one into his mouth. The pale green orb burst spilling its sweet juices over his tongue. Immediately, he was ravenous and all rational though abandoned him. His hands picked through the fruit tasting it all. He poured a glass of wine and drained it in one gulp.

“Isn’t it considered polite to wait for a lady before you eat?”

He whirled around to see the sultan’s wife standing in the doorway. In his famished state, he had not heard the door open. The seething guardsmen stood behind her, hand on the handle of his pistol.

“You dare eat before the Mistress! Yankee dog! You will die for your indiscretions!” The guardsman strode forward, a murderous look in his eye, but the Mistress’ graceful hand caught his shoulder.

“Abdullah,” she said soothingly, “It is alright. You may leave now.” Despite his obvious disgust, Abdullah slipped quietly out of the room, closing the door behind him.

The sultan’s wife watched the guardsman go and turned to face him. She was even more beautiful up close. He had only caught a glimpse before. Like him, she was American. She had fiery red hair, alabaster skin and luminescent green eyes. He had heard many stories of American women lured into the Middle East to populate the sultan’s harem.

Her sparkling eyes looked him up and down hungrily. He was taken aback by the pure lust in them, yet despite his apprehension, he could feel the stirrings of passion deep inside him. Her near transparent, red robes flowed in waves around her body. He could see the swell of her breasts swaying as she paced around him. Her smell was near overpowering. The aroma of the incense had all but disappeared. She smelled sweet, like the fruit he had just consumed. Now he was thinking of quite a different kind of consumption.

She stopped in front of him, standing close. She was shorter than he was and he could feel her hot breath on his chest. She looked up at him with her green eyes locked on his, a look of wanton desire on her face. He felt her graceful fingers trace up his side and over his chest, lightly grazing his nipple. She ran a finger along his jaw line to the corner of his mouth and then brought the finger to her own lips. Its tip glistened with the juice of hastily devoured fruits. She slipped the digit over her ripe lips and tasted the sweetness.

“Do you know why you are here?” He eyed the sultan’s wife suspiciously. He wondered if this was the part where he died.

“I assume it has something to do with my daring to look at you.”

“It was not just any look you gave me. You looked at me with hunger in your eyes…With lust.”

“And your husband took offense,” he finished. “I can see why. You are…breathtaking. But I have heard about the way he treats women. A beautiful woman is not a possession. She should be savored…worshipped.” She smiled briefly at him and then turned and walked to the table. Her fingers ran playfully over an apple, red as her full lips.

“Let me tell you something about the sultan. He adores me. It’s true, for…political reasons he must promote certain ideals publicly, no matter how barbaric they may seem, but in private, he treats me very well. He gives me anything I want. He gave me you.”

He stood in silent amazement. Slowly realization dawned on him. He would not die this night.

“I am here for…your pleasure then?”

“Yes,” she answered brazenly. “Your sole purpose is to fuel my desires. To feed my lust. The sultan loves me, but he alone cannot satisfy me. Can you?” As she spoke, the sultan’s wife poured herself a glass of wine. She lifted the glass to her ruby lips and sipped of the sweet nectar, all the while her eyes locked with his. He was suddenly aware of his near nakedness. Goosebumps covered his skin and his nipples were stiff in the evening air. He could feel the stirrings of passion in his groin and he was sure that she could see the affect she was having on him.

She circled him again. Her fingertips trailed across his back, her fiery touch sending shivers of desire through his body. He could feel his manhood growing. Her fingers teased across his shoulder and over his chest, winding through his dark chest hair, down across his stomach and then brushing lightly over his growing erection. It throbbed at her touch, and suddenly, he was painfully aroused. She smiled wickedly at him as her fingers hooked over the waistband of his pants. She pulled him to her. He could feel her insistent nipples graze lightly across his chest. He was so close to her he could feel her hot breath on his neck. Her hands were gently running over his body. Over his hips and up his side, over his chest, and along his broad shoulders. His lips just barely grazed her forehead. Her fiery hair smelled sweet. It intoxicated him.

His hands found hers. Their fingers locked for a moment. He let go and ran his fingers lightly up the backs of her arms and then over her shoulders, tracing her collar bone and then gently he lifted her face. His lips skimmed over her cheek leaving a warm moist trail behind them. Their noses brushed against each other. He could feel her eyelashes on his temple.

He softly kissed her shoulder, then her neck and her chin. Then he tasted her crimson lips. They were tangy with a hint of the wine still on them. He cradled her head and pressed her lips to his, kissing her intensely. Their bodies melted together and she could feel his manhood rubbing against her sex.

Suddenly she pulled away from him and pushed him backwards. She regarded him coolly, walked to a large pile of cushions and sat down.

“Strip.” He looked playfully at her and began to walk towards her.

“Strip!” she commanded. “You will do as I say.” He stopped in his tracks at the biting reminder of his station. Pensively, he looked up. Her luscious lips were curled into a sensual smile. Her eyes penetrated him. “Please,” she said. “It would bring me pleasure.” He hesitated for a moment then slowly unzipped his jeans. He pushed them down over his hips and stepped out of them. He wore black boxer briefs and his arousal was evident.

“Keep going,” she urged. “Don’t stop now.”

He pulled off his briefs and stood before her, blushing deeply. His arousal fully exposed, he could feel her eyes devouring his naked form. She bit her full lip and began absent-mindedly running a slender finger over it. Her face wore a mask of ravenous desire. She parted her sheer robes with one hand and began to lightly caress her swollen nipple. He hungrily drank in the sight of her bare bosom. His member, swollen and deep purple, twitched with anticipation. He could not recall ever being as aroused as he was now. The look in her eyes, and the sound of her breaths quick and labored, sent waves of wanton desire through his body.

“Touch yourself,” she breathed. Now past embarrassment, his hand moved over his pelvis, through his dark thatch of pubic hair and slid around the base of his manhood. He could feel how hard it was, like steel beneath soft velvet. He could feel the texture of his skin, the bulging veins and a sense of erotic power that surged in him when he touched himself. He began at the head and slowly stroked the length of his shaft, his hand cupping his balls before moving back up.

He watched the sultan’s wife as she slowly stroked her pink nipples. Her other hand slid down her stomach and inside her red silken panties. She let out a tiny moan. Again and again his deft fingers worked his hardness as he watched her watching him. He was close to exploding when she crooked her finger and beckoned him to her. He nearly tripped over himself in his excitement. He sat down and reached for her, but she held up a graceful hand and stopped him.

“Pleasure me,” she insisted. “Only then will you be pleasured…If you are adequate that is.”

He slowly pushed her robes over her shoulders. Her bare skin, fair and supple, beckoned to him. His gentle hand cupped her breast, the thumb slowly teasing at her swollen nipple. He bent down and took her other nipple in his mouth, his tongue swirling around it. She breathed heavily into his ear, her hand cradling his head, pulling it even closer to her breast.

He pulled his head away, a silky trail of saliva stretching between his tongue and her nipple. He left a trail of moist kisses down her stomach, his thumbs now hooked in the elastic of her panties. He nuzzled against her silken covered mound. The smell of her sex was near overpowering. She could feel the slightly rough texture of his hands as he slowly slid her panties over her thighs. He smiled wide when she was revealed before him. She was shaven and he could see that her nectar had already began to flow.

He bent close to her womanhood, breathing hot, moist breaths on it, lightly kissing her inner thighs, grazing her swollen clitoris, with the tip of his nose. The sultan’s wife whimpered slightly when she felt his tongue slide along the length of her sex. Her taste was divine. She could feel his stubble, rough on the inside of her thighs. She moaned, one hand rubbing her breast, the other pulling his head into her grinding hips. He could feel her muscles tighten and her breaths coming quicker. Her body convulsed, and crying out, she came, her body twitching in wave after wave of pleasure.

The sultan’s wife, still trying to catch her breath, grasped him and pulled him towards her. She kissed him hard tasting herself on his lips. Her searching hands made their way down his stomach and found his member still rigid with passion. Her touch on his sex sent electric shivers through him. Her hands were gentle, but hungry. She gently pushed him onto his back and knelt beside him. Her hands ran over his thighs as she gently kissed his abdomen, her soft hair falling over his stiff manhood. He watched as she took it in hand and ever so lightly kissed the swollen head. Her eyes locked with his as she began to slowly lick up and down the shaft. She savored his taste…his smell. He gave a throaty moan when she swallowed the head, her tongue running along the underside. She caressed his balls and stroked his thighs while she continued to take him deeper into her eager mouth. When she could feel his thighs tighten she pulled away from him.

He ached with an overwhelming sense of loss as his manhood slid from her warm mouth, but she straddled him then, and guided him, slick with her saliva and his precum to the entrance of her sex. He felt her silky, slickness as she rubbed his member along the length of her, then slid down over him, engulfing him inside her. She whimpered loudly and bit her lip as he entered her, then, with her hands on his chest she began to rock back and forth on top of him. His hands grabbed her hips and pulled her tightly to him as he drove inside her. She tossed her head back, her fiery hair cascading in a graceful arc over her head as the made love. She moaned loudly, and as if in reply, he pulled her to him and kissed her fiercely on her lips, and then her neck, and finally her breasts, ranging his tongue over her wanting nipples.

“Take me from behind,” she pleaded between gasping breaths. The disentangled their bodies and she knelt in front of him. He grasped his slick member and pushed it slowly into her. She moaned as he filled her, and pushed her hips backward, grinding into his. He grasped her hips again and began to push inside her in a carnal rhythm. Her body was slick with sweat now as they pulsed like a giant heart, pumping lifeblood to one another. He kissed her shoulders tasting the tang of her sweat. She turned her head and he brushed the soaked, matted red hair from her face and kissed her muffling her loud moans. His hands on her shoulders now, he drove into her feeling her body convulse with each thrust.

He moaned loudly knowing that he was close to the edge. The sounds of her whimpering beneath him sent him over. With a final thrust and an animal-like growl, his hot seed spilled inside her. Feeling his passion fill her, she cried out and came again, her body trembling beneath him. They collapsed, sweaty and spent onto the cushions. His arms encircled her and they lay there, a tangle of heaving breaths and pulsing, sweat soaked flesh. He fell asleep holding the sultan’s wife, listening to her breathe and stroking her flame-hued hair.

When he awoke, she was gone. He pulled on his jeans just as Abdullah entered the room with the rest of his clothes. The guard thrust the garments at him.

“Get dressed!”

He dressed quickly in silence, wondering if he’d ever see her again. When he finished he was led to the palace gates where he was ushered out into the harsh daylight. Abdullah tossed his bag on the ground at his feet, slamming the gate in quick succession. The American quickly snatched up the bag and rifled through it. All his possessions seemed to be there. He strapped on his wristwatch and noticed the time. His flight was leaving in less than an hour. He checked the side pocket of his bag and, relieved, he found his plane ticket.

The square was littered with people, but he managed to find a taxi quick enough. As the taxi sputtered off to the airport, he gazed at the palace through the grimy window. Her taste and smell were still embedded in his mind.

He spent the ride in silence, paid the driver, then shuffled apathetically through the airport. He sat and waited in silence for his flight to be announced, his mind filled with her fiery beauty. When they called his number, he wordlessly handed his ticket to the flight attendant.

“First class sir,” she beamed. The words took a moment to register.

“Huh? First class, but I didn’t pay for…” He smiled widely as the realization overtook him. The sultan did have deep pockets after all.

He made his way onto the plane and collapsed in the seat. He ordered a drink and sipped it calmly, gazing longingly out the window. He barely took any notice when someone sat beside him. Then he recalled the sent, and saw a flash of red in the corner of his eye, and by the time he understood she was already kissing him. When they disengaged, he could only stare at her in disbelief. She just smiled wickedly at him.

“I got a divorce.”

END

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Erotic Hot Stories – A Trip to Remember

“Why, oh why did I choose to travel Pakistan Airlines and that too from JFK, the worst airport in the Western hemisphere?” I questioned myself, as the security queue inched a bit further on towards the metal detector and then to the relative peace of the departure gates.

Well, I had taken this flight because a single aircraft would jet me home to Karachi with just two fueling stops in Manchester and Lahore, and would take 12 hours less than the trip on Emirates via Hamburg and Dubai. JFK was the obvious choice as PIA flew daily from there to Pakistan. Also the cost on this airline was significantly lower than on the Arabic carrier, and I had bought a return ticket during my last visit home.

The queue was long and painfully slow. Furthermore the pressure of people adding to the line kept forcing those ahead together and I could feel myself sandwiched between a fifty something mom in front and a thirty something South Asian looking man behind me. As the line surged behind us, I lost my footing and the he grabbed me from the waist and left arm. Without this support, I would have certainly ended up on the floor. Another push from behind meant that one of his arms was around my waist and the other was holding my left hand, and this while my body was totally melded against his.

“Careful, miss,” he said, “the people behind are pushing like animals.”

I thanked him for his help and he slowly released me. But we were unable to fully disengage and another shove meant that I had to just accept that we would be in very close proximity until the metal detector was navigated. Here was a good example of where the norms in Pakistan are a lot better, there women and children would get preference to get through such devices and would not be forced into a unisex line. It took another 10 awkward minutes or so before I finally arrived at the top of the queue. During these moments I was saved from tripping a couple more times and all the while I could feel his pelvic region right up against my ass. I could swear I felt something growing and stirring next to my behind, but was too focused on getting through to realize that the friction was probably giving him a hard on.

Add to the friction the fact that I was at the prime age of 23, having just finished college in the US. I had embraced the country and culture wholeheartedly in my four year stay. Today, given that I was an experienced traveler, I had opted on a smart mid length skirt, short heels and a T-shirt. I figured I would change to a shalwar kameez closer to Lahore. This attire, though fairly ordinary, nicely allowed me to show the curve on my legs. I was proud of the athletic regimen I had strictly followed to ensure my figure was well proportioned and maintained. The T-shirt was not buttoned all the way and let me display a fair bit of cleavage, notably if I bent over. With my hair cascading down nearly down to my waist, my fair skin and light eyes, I was quite the ideal Pakistani-Western woman. It was no surprise that the guy jammed up against me was getting turned on; he could probably feel the warmth of my skin through the light fabric of my skirt and the flimsy panties underneath.

Thanks to heaven no lights lit up as I went through the detector. I was not in the mood to be strip searched by the dyke type female security guard standing next to a close by check room. The same did not hold true for my handbag. Though I had been careful about what I had carried, I was sent to another inspector who began to look through and take out some stuff. Of course, there was nothing suspect inside and the guard mouthed a low “thank you” and allowed me to proceed. However, as I was refilling my bag, my passport and ticket dropped to the ground. I was pleasantly surprised to see the same gentlemen, who had I been squeezed up, handing the things to me.

“So you are from Pakistan too?” he queried, “are you going to Lahore on PIA by any chance?”

“No, I am on PIA but continuing to Karachi,” I replied politely.

Seeing my name on the boarding pass he responded, “I will see you on board then, Ms. Iram Mansoor”.

I thanked him again and as he went off towards the Business Class lounges, I figured I would not be running into him any more. He was a rugged and handsome guy, with features that would not easily identify him as Pakistani. He was dressed very smart casual, and carried a sizable notebook computer and expensive looking luggage.

II

After what seemed like an endless wait, given that the aircraft was delayed by two hours, boarding was finally announced. A wave of people rushed to get on quick, but they were held back by the departure lounge crew. Once order was restored, I found myself about mid way in the pack. Slowly I made my way to the counter and handed over my boarding card.

“Miss Iram,” said the gate agent, “we had a free seat in Business Class and have upgraded you all the way to Lahore. You may have to change back to Economy for the Karachi leg, but check with the staff before you do so. Have a good flight.”

That was certainly great news, given that the PIA Boeing 777 aircraft, while quite new, was pretty cramped in the economy sections. I would now have a lovely business class experience probably all the way home. Why I was upgraded was not a concern that I had, I figured I had made a good impression at the PIA check-in desk and the guys had remembered me. I did look and act memorable compared to the normal load of passengers on this particular flight. A couple of batted eyelids had melted the resolve of the check-in agent to charge me for the significant excess baggage I was carrying along. I knew I was pretty, so why be shy and coy. America had taught me to use my resources to my advantage, and beauty was something I could count on.

I had the window seat on the right side of the aircraft and in the second row. It was not that I had never been in business class before. I had just never been upgraded or flown for such a long journey. The seats looked very inviting compared to the sardine can layout in the back sections and I flopped in to mine with a smile on my face. I gratefully accepted the glass of fresh juice and the newspaper from the stewardess. As I read the paper, I felt someone take the seat next to mine. Looking up, I was surprised to see the fellow from the security line sitting there.

“Hello again Iram, I was wondering if they were going to get you into this seat,” he said.

“Hi again,” I replied, “and you are?”

“Forgive me, I am Fareed Mir from Lahore and Chicago,” he introduced himself.

It was Fareed who had talked to the PIA Station Manager about giving me the seat next to him, and since the Manager remembered me from the check-in desk, he complied. After all he was Fareed’s friend from high school and this was the least he could do for his buddy.

“So why did you ask for me?” I queried him with some suspicion.

“I’ll be frank, I would rather have a very beautiful young lady, who I believe will carry on an intelligent conversation, next to me rather than some average Joe from Pakistan,” he confessed, “I hope you do not mind my company all the way to Lahore.”

Actually I was rather hoping to have someone good to talk with also and Fareed fitted the bill, and now I was in his debt for the upgrade.

The aircraft finally departed nearly three hours behind schedule and we ascended into the night for the journey eastwards. Almost immediately the crew came to life and soon as we leveled dinner was served. I was pretty famished, since I had an early lunch and dinner was quite late compared to my routine. The food was exquisite and I wolfed it down with gusto. During the meal, Fareed nudged me and asked if I would like an alcoholic beverage. PIA does not serve booze and he had brought a bottle of Vodka on board from the Duty Free. Not being a prude as far as alcohol went, and figuring it would help me get some sleep, I accepted and soon we had polished off more than half the bottle. We did get a few stares from the other passengers, either a rebuke for drinking or an appreciation that we were having a good time. By the time dessert was done, I was fairly tipsy. The lights dimmed and I extended the sleeper seat to its fullest and dozed off.

III

Aamir and I had been introduced to each other a couple of years ago by our respective families. He was completing his Master’s level work also in the US and there was a feeling that we would make a good couple. Aamir was presentable, articulate and knew he was going places. He also was the single child of very wealthy parents, so money was not going to be an issue in his life. Just before I returned for my senior year at college, we were engaged in a lavish ceremony in Karachi.

Aamir attended university on the West Coast, while I was in College on the Eastern Seaboard. Because of the distance we would spend hours daily chatting on the phone. I had not yet experienced sexual intimacy, despite three years of college in the US, since I was at an all-girls school. However, as boys were the favourite topic of discussion at any gathering of girls, I was intrigued by the descriptions of various acts that were given by my colleagues. I often fantasized about making love to Aamir and almost always woke up with a sticky feeling down below.

Then Aamir surprised me by showing up at my dorm during Thanksgiving break. He had come to visit friends in Boston and his plan to be a bolt from the blue worked well on me. Luckily I had just finished mid-term exams or my grades would have taken a serious beating. We made plans to go for dinner at a fancy restaurant that evening and he made sure he arrived punctually. I wore stylish designer jeans and high heeled boots and topped them with a lovely blouse and short jacket. Aamir’s eyes ate me up and I could see that I had made a real impact. Dinner was lovely and we made small talk for a couple of hours as the courses were served. Aamir, like me, was not averse to having a drink, and we celebrated with a bottle of champagne.

I was quite giggly as he drove us home. Since it was a holiday, most of the girls had gone. No one challenged Aamir as he walked me over to my room. Guys were not normally allowed into the rooms, but rules could be bent if you knew the right people. Aamir pulled me close and kissed me deeply. The champagne had dulled my inhibitions and I melted into his arms, allowing him to kiss my lips, cheeks, face, neck and so on. He shut the door, sat on my desk chair and placed me on his lap, still kissing me wherever he could. As I began to get more flushed, he slid the jacket off my arms. I next felt his fingers undoing my blouse and soon he was touching the bare skin on my torso as this piece of clothing was discarded. I tensed as I felt him releasing my bra clasp and tried to push him away. Instead he stood us both up and with my back towards him, slowly took the bra off. His hands grasped my breasts and I could feel his throbbing manhood at my rear. He sat me down on the bed, unzipped my boots and set them to one side, correctly figuring I would throw a fit if my shoes were scuffed. Putting his hands to my midsection he then undid the buttons on my jeans and soon these were lying on the ground.

“No Aamir, please do not do this,” I pleaded, secretly hoping that he would ravish me that very instant.

My pleas fell on deaf ears and my panty was too slinky to survive the pull he gave, as it shredded off my legs, exposing my vagina to him.

Aamir bent over me and whispered, “now remove my clothes, Iram.”

In a flash, I had him out of his clothing. He took a condom from his jacket and rolled it on to his penis, which was the biggest I had ever seen so close up. I lay back expecting bells and whistles to go off. Instead, I felt myself being rent apart as his prick entered my virgin orifice. He slacked and pressed a few times before I felt an intense pain and then had a sense of being filled up. Aamir’s cock was firmly inside me. As a Pakistani girl, I should have kept my virginity to my wedding night, but since I was fucking my husband to be, it did not feel wrong. Aamir began breathing in a laboured fashion and soon jerked as a gasp escaped his throat. I was too focused on the pain to feel anything else. He relaxed and lay back on top of me.

Through the night we made love a few more times. Although my vagina became quite sore, I began to feel some inner pleasure from the battering Aamir gave me. I enjoyed his exploration of my body and when he licked my privates. However, I was not bold enough to agree to sucking his cock. After all it had given me so much pain when he had deflowered me, I could not fathom the hurt it could lay on my mouth. Aamir made up for his disappointment at not get a blow job by fucking me doggie style. I again drew the line at anal sex, though I allowed him to stick his finger into my back side. Finally exhausted, we cleaned up and I sneaked him out of the dorm before too many people were up and about.

I had repaid Aamir in kind during Easter by going to California with some colleagues and dropping in on his apartment late in the evening, without any prior warning. I stripped down to a rather skimpy bikini and spread myself on a deck chair by the pool. I then gave him a call to come down and help me with luggage. He was down in a flash and the sight of me in barely any clothes worked wonders on his midsection. Needless to say Easter was wonderful, but I hardly saw any of California, given I was never in enough of a clothed state to venture very far from him.

I was now on my way back, and he would be coming home soon also. Our wedding had already been planned for December the same year. In the three or so months since our last encounter, I dreamt of the moment every night. Often I would discover my fingers delving deep into the recesses of my vagina and then resulting wetness all around.

IV

I felt a hand envelop mine and help my index finger into my pussy. The pressure increased as another finger of mine and one of the stranger’s also found their way in.

“Ooh, that’s lovely Aamir,” I moaned, “rub me some more.”

The fingers began to move with a nice rhythm. I felt my blouse being unbuttoned and my breast being caressed.

“Kiss me please,” I implored, as I turned my face to one side. I felt my lips being crushed as a tongue entered my mouth.

I came mightily, and woke up shocked to see Fareed kissing me full on the mouth, while fingering my pussy and fondling my breast. My blouse was open more than half way almost releasing one breast from the cup. The skirt had ridden up, exposing my panties and our hands were under the sheer cloth, teasing my vagina. Both of us had blankets over us and it was dark in the plane, so no one could see what either of us had been up to.

“What are you doing?” I hissed, trying to get his hands off my body.

Instead he grabbed my vagina harder and pushed another finger in.

Stroking my neck with his free hand, he whispered, “you were asking me to kiss you and to do some things, I just went along with whatever you asked.”

Apparently I had audibly babbled on in my sleep, damn the vodka!

“Aren’t you ashamed trying something like this with an unmarried, virginal girl?” I responded.

“Well unmarried yes, untouched no, Iram,” he replied again, winking at me.

His fingers were moving in and out quicker and I did not want to make a noise that would bring unwanted attention from the crew and hundreds of fellow passengers. My body began to react to the stimulus and I reached another orgasm. Fareed took his fingers out and ran his hands down my legs, pulling my panties off.

“These will make a lovely souvenir,” he chuckled.

“Please give them back,” I begged, remembering that I had accidentally packed all my other panties into my bag and had not kept any spares in my hand luggage.

“Okay, but on the condition that you be nice to me on the journey,” he replied.

“All right,” I agreed, “what do I have to do?”

“Well to start with, let me please see those beautiful breasts,” he requested.

I went red in the face, but he suggested I remove my blouse and bra under the blanket. I put the blanket on my back and pulled it close as I took off my clothing. Fareed slowly dropped the front and revealed my chest.

“They are truly marvelous,” he said admiringly as he began to suck on my nipples.

I was getting aroused. He looked around and saw the restroom area was empty.

“Follow me,” he ordered.

I put my blouse back on and holding the bra in one hand entered the washroom. Fareed came in behind me and locked the door. He sat down on the commode and undid his pants to remove his cock. Turning me around, he lifted my skirt and positioned my rear over his manhood. Slowly he managed to fit his cock into my pussy.

“You are not wearing a condom,” I whined.

“It’s okay, I will not come in you, I do not want to be a dad either yet,” he responded.

I began to move up and down his shaft, which seemed larger than Aamir’s. After a few minutes, he beckoned me to get off. He now asked me to sit on the toilet and before I knew it forced his cock into my mouth. Holding my head he kept ramming it in as I gagged for breath. Thankfully he exploded within moments and I was forced to suck everything down, as he ordered, or risk it all over my clothes. He cleaned himself, kissed me on the lips and went out quickly. I heard him telling someone that the toilet was not working and he should go to the next one. I found packets of toothpaste and brushes in the washroom and was happy to clean out my mouth. I had been forced in some way, but had found the experience to my liking. I was relieved he had not come in my pussy; a pregnancy would have been something to explain to everyone in Karachi. I had also been pleasantly surprised by the blow job, it was not as awful as I had thought, rather the feeling of power over the man, given that one could bite down with gusto, was something to relish.

“Iram you were wonderful,” Fareed murmured as I returned to my seat.

I found my panties on the seat but decided to not wear them yet as my pussy was still excited and I could feel wetness oozing out of it periodically. A few moments later the lights came on and breakfast was served in anticipation of landing at Manchester. We had just finished and gotten back to our seats in time or things could really have taken a less than palatable twist.

Fareed leaned over and joked, “you’ve already eaten me, I would love to eat you, this food is not really needed!”

I nibbled at the breakfast all the same to get my mind off things. Well I had certainly had a club class experience and my fellow passenger had already entered nirvana. I did not feel violated, maybe out of a sense of debt repayment for the upgrade, but more likely for the fact that I had enjoyed the spontaneity and danger of mile high sex. And we were still just half-way to Lahore!

V

As we exited, we were told the stop was for one hour more than usual, due to some technical reason. The Manchester Station Manager was waiting at the gate passing out Club Lounge passes to the Business Class passengers. Fareed grabbed a couple and led me to the lounge in the departure area. After seating us in a relatively empty section, he went off to ostensibly visit the duty free shops. He returned a little while later and was laden with reading material and other items.

He asked me if I was grungy and would like to have a shower. After the night’s antics, I was certainly up for this. He asked me to grab my vanity kit and come with him. Soon we were at a restroom area, with signs for showers indicated. A Sikh attendant was there and Fareed gave him some money. He handed us towels and showed us into a cubicle which was attached to a shower. I had expected separate male and female showers, but Fareed had bribed the guy to let us into the same place. There was a fair sized bench and a wash basin apart from the shower.

While I was still soaking in the implications of being in the same shower, Fareed had grabbed me close and was already pulling down my skirt. Since things had already gone far enough, I did not object and he soon had me nude.

“You are gorgeous, Iram, I am so lucky to have met you,” he spoke while rubbing my breasts.

My cheeks turned red at the compliment, as he disrobed quickly and laid me down on the bench.

Pulling out a pack of condoms from his pocket and stating, “Manchester Boots Duty Free to the rescue,” he put one on.

With my legs splayed either side of the bench, he pushed his cock into my willing pussy. Fareed pumped for quite a while, giving me a couple of orgasms in the process. Finally spent in the condom, he pulled out.

“Let’s shower up,” he suggested and we proceeded to enjoy the warm water for about half an hour still playing with each others’ privates.

Cleaned and freshened up, I was looking to put my blouse and skirt on again, when he pulled a package out of the Duty Free bag. Inside was a sharp Liz Claiborne mid length dress, which covered the breasts and closed in a choker at the neck, but had the back dropping to just a couple of inches from the derriere. The hem, however, did extend six inches below the knees. Along with it was a jacket that could be worn to hide the deep back.

“You don’t mind if I keep the blouse and skirt as remembrance of our encounter?” he asked and I nodded assent.

Another box contained a sharp set of stilettos, and in my size, but I was not going to let him have the shoes I was wearing as those were personal favourites.

“Check them out and change them if they don’t look good,” he suggested.

The stilettos were an exact fit and showed off my pretty feet in good measure. Dressed to kill, I returned to the aircraft as boarding was announced. I certainly got a lot of stares, given my new dress and fresh look, but no one could have figured out how much had transpired in the past 12 or so hours since the queue at JFK.

VI

As the dress was backless, I could not put my bra on, and so my bare breasts perked up the front nicely and the nipples were clearly visible. Since I did not want to spoil the jacket by wearing it all through the flight, I had the stewardess hang it in the coat rack thereby exposing my back greatly. By now I could have cared less if anyone objected to my mode of dress. Not only was I traveling better than I had paid for, I certainly was getting serviced a great deal more. Incidentally, as the crew had changed, and I was clearly the snazziest dressed female on board, I was now receiving a lot of attention from the male attendants in particular. Backless dresses are not the norm in Pakistan and I was certainly giving many of them painful erections as they were able to see almost down to the crack of my ass. The female crew was also busy chatting about my dress and “decadent” look. One even ventured to ask if I was a model or designer, and I playfully confessed to being both, much to the enjoyment of Fareed, who was soaking in the action. Within the first hour, every crew member had been in the vicinity to stare at me.

Lunch was served and things returned to normal on the aircraft. I wonder if any of the guys had to go jerk off in the washrooms from the hard-ons they got leering at me. Sure enough, Fareed pulled out a few British ales and I enjoyed downing them with him. So they were a few calories, but they certainly make them good in that part of the world.

As I snuggled up again to catch some sleep, Fareed murmured, “you need to change into something Pakistani before we land or you know this dress will give people heart attacks if you come off the plane in it.”

We had both covered ourselves with blankets and Fareed’s fingers soon found their target. He fingered me for a pretty long time and I was worried the dress may get stained. Luckily it did not.

The flight droned on, the impact of lunch and lack of sleep made most of the passengers doze off. Fareed suggested it was time to change into a more appropriate outfit. As I went into a washroom to change, he knocked and I slipped him inside. Needless to say a quick fuck and clean up followed. We kissed for a few minutes and then he left me to make myself presentable. As the plane came over Pakistani territory, heading to Lahore, I stepped out in proper regional attire, much to the disappointment of many on the aircraft.

The plane landed in Lahore, nearly four hours behind schedule. Just as the lights were dimmed, Fareed sneaked a kiss. He bid me goodbye and talked to the chief steward on the way out. I saw him going up the gangway and wondered if I would see him again or if the past 24 hours had ever happened. The fact that the dress was in my luggage and that I could still feel his hands on my privates meant that I had truly undergone the experience.

VII

It took a while for the flight to prep up and leave for my ultimate destination, Karachi. Finally we were off the ground and the end to my journey was just an hour and a few minutes away. As I had anticipated, no one asked me to go back into Economy Class and so my trip continued in comfort. But, half an hour into the trip, the Captain came on advising of freak thunderstorms in Karachi. Since the airport had been shut down for the time being, we would be returning to Lahore to wait out the weather.

We landed and passengers were asked to go into the departure lounge. As we reached the baggage hall, I found myself looking at Fareed. He came up and told me he had heard about the storm and flight cancellations and had taken a chance to see if I was coming back. Furthermore he advised that the storm was in fact a full blown cyclone in the Arabian Sea that would mean Karachi was closed for at least half a day.

“Why Fareed, how do you know all this?” I asked, secretly relieved to see him in a city I did not really know.

“Iram, I work for the ICAO and am supposed to know what is going on with airlines and weather and so on,” was his response.

I now figured out how he was getting treated so much better all around and could pull strings with the airline. He had arranged for PIA to get me a room in the Pearl Continental Hotel, which was the premier place in town. While the bags remained on the flight, I was advised to come back after 12 hours. Meanwhile the immigration formalities for those going to Karachi were now done in Lahore as arrangements for their stays were being made. An officer delivered my stamped passport and I was soon in my room at the hotel. I would no longer need to go through customs and immigration in Karachi, thanks heaven for small mercies!

VIII

Some time after I had arrived and finished showering up to sleep, there was a knock on the door. Not surprisingly, Fareed was there with a bunch of packages in tow. I should have denied him entry, but so much water had passed under the bridge that I felt a certain friendship with him. Lovers we were, but I was also enjoying his company.

“Iram, I have brought you some of the finest foods from Lahore, it would be a travesty if you did not get to sample the cuisine while here,” he said laying out a half dozen items on the table.

“But this food is messy and you don’t want it all over yourself, so take off your dress and put some towels over yourself,” he hinted to me.

I did as he directed and enjoyed the treatment as he seated me naked in his lap and alternatively fed me tasty bits of the food and tickled my body parts. Finally I could not eat any more.

I was, however, ready for more sex and lay down on the bed. Fareed, now unclothed, opened my legs wide and sucked on my pussy until I felt an orgasm build up and dissipate. Licking my legs, midsection and breasts, he positioned himself and entered my pussy yet again. We lay entwined and he began to slowly make love to me. For once we were not having a quickie or in any danger of discovery, and the sensation was wonderful. After a while he asked me to sit on top and straddle his cock. I did so without question and began to buck as he enjoyed the sight of my breasts bouncing in their glory as his penis vanished into and emerged from my vagina. I pulled him out as he began to thrash a bit and took his cock into my mouth, peeling the condom off first. He came, but not to the extent of the first blow job, and I had no trouble swallowing the love juice down. Still, I was impressed that he had managed to fuck me repeatedly in the past day or so. Aamir had not managed more than twice a day while we were together in the States.

Fareed asked me to leave a wake up call with the front desk and we went to sleep in each others’ arms. The call got us out of deep slumber. As we had over one hour till the car was due for the airport, I began to rub his cock rhythmically. His response was automatic and he was up quickly. Rather than putting me on my back, he turned me face down. Picking up my bottle of lotion from the side table, he greased his cock. I was wondering what he was up to when his prick invaded my backside. I yelped and begged him to withdraw, but he thrust all the way in. Slowly the pain subsided and I began to enjoy his pulling in and out of my ass. He grunted as whatever sperm he could muster was deposited into my rectum. Not only had he fucked me royally, he had also introduced me to the joys of anal and oral sex.

I figured Fareed was also well and truly fucked. He bid me goodbye, before the phone rang to advise about the car waiting for the ride to the airport. I was sure this was going to be the last time I would see him and was glad that the episode was coming to an end. We had been intimate, and it had made a journey very pleasant. But it was now time to put this sojourn behind me and embark on the next part of my life with my soon to be husband. Importantly, Aamir would be glad to both get his blowjobs and to fuck my ass if he so desired, without any objections from me, as those inhibitions were now ancient history.

IX

This time the aircraft took off without incident. Fareed had brought me a designer shalwar kameez and this time I really looked like a Pakistani runway model. My business class seat was still there and so was the elevated level of attention from the flight crew. Exactly as indicated, the plane touched down at a very wet Karachi airport one hour and thirty minutes later. I had half expected to lose my bags, but sure enough they were there on the carousel.

More importantly Aasim was standing in the baggage area to receive me. We demurely shook hands as any further public display would render us liable to prosecution.

“You look smashing, Iram, I am sure you turned quite a few people on in the flight,” he ventured.

“Oh no, Aamir, I only dressed up to show what treats I have in store for you,” I teased him back, leaning in to let my still bra-less breasts brush his arm.

He was quite surprised with my boldness, and got us into the car and on to the road in record time, anticipating a good reward in the near future.

I am sure he would have been even more surprised at how many hard-ons I had actually dealt with in the past few hours, but that was my very own secret!

END

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June 7, 2010

Erotic Hot Stories – A Strange Seduction

The last rays of dusk had passed and the long shadows of darkness were settling themselves around the room as I sat on the couch and let the strains of my favorite CD wash over me. I drained the last dregs of my third glass of wine and shook my head cynically. Who would’ve ever believed I’d find myself drinking alone on Valentine’s Day swept up in a morass of unresolved emotions over my failed relationship?

Truthfully, Valentine’s Day had never ever been much of a big deal for me. Maybe I was just too much of a practical down-to-earth kind of girl. I’d always found it to be a day that typically raised all kinds of unrealistic expectations with the stores brimming with pink satin, red velvet hearts and love paraphernalia. And then of course, the biggest contradiction of all was the lingerie and chocolates! I mean, indulging in one meant steering well clear of the other.

Anyway, from my experience, most of the men I’d known hated buying that stuff, hated the pressure of having to make a big deal out of the day, hated having to play at being romantic over a delicately prepared dinner and being thoughtful on cue when they’d rather be eating a good steak, having a beer and getting down and dirty later. God, I sounded sour but I guess being alone on Valentine’s Day after losing my lover two weeks back had probably brought an extra edge of bitterness to the whole hearts and candy affair.

I wiped the beginning of a tear away furiously. Enough was enough! No more pathetic whining and self pity. He was gone. The pain still cut like a sabre through me but it was over. I’d throw the shirts he’d left in the laundry basket out with the trash in the morning and move on with my life. Two weeks of grieving and moping about was enough, but I’d hoped the wine would help to bring some relief from the tension and angst I’d been feeling. It hadn’t and I knew there was only one solution left. I needed to get off. An orgasm always relaxed me.

A fortnight without release was unusual for me but I’d not been in the mood. Every time the thought occurred to me, I’d be overwhelmed with the craving for his closeness, the warmth and heat as he slipped his hardness into me and the completion that always came with our coupling. He had walked away from what we had dammit, but I couldn’t help still wanting him.

I headed for the bedroom and caught sight of myself in the mirror as I shrugged off my clothes. Despite my gloom I was still what would be considered pretty. Not exactly the type a model agency would sign up but my dark curly hair fell softly around my shoulders and when my eyes weren’t red rimmed they were a deep green that sparkled when I laughed. I stripped off the blue jeans that clung to my long legs and mused at how lucky I was to still have a decent body given my tendency to occasionally binge on pizza and Chinese takeouts.

With my eyes closed, I lay on the bed and slowly began to stroke my breasts letting the tips of my fingertips tease the hardening nipples. Almost immediately dampness welled up in my pussy and I let my mind drift to a real nice place where I could believe that love and hope and passion were still there to reach for. Playing with my nipples was a sure fire way to get me aroused and I lowered my hand to the moistness between my thighs and stroked myself. Two fingers slid through the juice of my lust, parting the swollen pouty lips and dipped into the pooling wetness of my cunt.

In the background the phone rang and I plunged another finger inside myself. Whoever was calling could fucking wait, I was not letting go of this. Inside my pussy the three fingers stretching me were doing their work. I arched my back and thrust myself against my hand, imagining it was him. In the eye of my mind I could see his face just inches from mine, the fire in his eyes as he drove deeper and deeper into my pussy. A groan ripped from me as I recalled the way he panted with pleasure when my pussy clamped around him and he neared his moment, the smell of his musky maleness wetting my skin and the guttural sounds of his joy as he peaked.

God, I was almost there. Almost. Close. So close. The mountain of sensation grew, reaching for the peak that would burst in blissful joy. I panted as I felt my body shudder towards it. Sweat rolled down the cleavage of my breasts and the crack of my ass as I strained against my fingers that were relentlessly fucking the steaming cauldron between my thighs. The first rush of what would explode into ecstasy started somewhere in the pit of my belly and radiated out in hot waves pushing the breath from my body. I moaned and grunted rocking against my hand. My mind willed me on, frantic now on the edge of release.

The shrill sound of the phone echoed through the room shattering my concentration.

“Shit! Fuck!” I screamed in frustration as the peaking pleasure slipped from my grasp. “Oh God, nooo,” I moaned as the muscles in my abdomen quivered with tension, still desperate for orgasm. It had always been so easy to come with him.

The ringing ceased and almost immediately started up again. I grabbed the phone off the bedside table.

“Yes, dammit!” My voice was muffled, still thick with desire.

“Christ, Lucy these are the most screwed up directions, you’ve ever given me,” a strange male voice said. A note of irritation dripped from his tone, “I’ve been driving around for an hour and I still can’t find your place. Care to-”

“Excuse me,” I snapped, “There is no Lucy here. Never has been, never will be!” I was seething with annoyance and bordering on breathless rage. Whoever he was, he’d picked the wrong fucking minute to dial my number the first time he called and then he still had the gall to call again. I wanted to tell him his fucking fortune and then slam the phone down so loudly in his ear that it hurt. Asshole!

“Shit, I’ve got the wrong number, haven’t I? She actually gave me the wrong number, I can’t believe it!” I heard a loud thump and assumed he had slammed his hand down on the steering wheel. “Christ I should have known better than to get sucked in by her again. This is yet another one of her stupid mind games.”

I swallowed my retort as I listened to him. Despite the cutting edge to his words, his voice was smooth and deep. “I’m sorry to have disturbed you,” he said in a warm apologetic tone, “It sounded like I might have woken you.”

I struggled to catch my breath. It was my turn to speak, to say something, to confirm that he had indeed dialed the wrong number and then to hang up, but inexplicably I didn’t want to. The throbbing between my legs had intensified and my hand dipped into my pussy again. “It’s okay, I wasn’t sleeping,” I said as I choked back a groan of pleasure.

“Yeah well I shouldn’t have called anyway, even if it was her number,” he said bitterly. “It was a stupid whim to have tried to see her, what with it being Valentine’s Day and all.”

I impaled myself on my fingers and let my thumb slide over my clit as he rattled on. God, his voice was so good, so masculine. I needed him to keep talking. I bit my lip to cover the purring sounds in my throat and shut my eyes to block out everything but his voice. The rich male baritone continued, “…anyway this has been a good wake up call for me. I should have read the signs a month ago when she left me saying that she needed space and moved in with a friend.”

“A month ago huh?” I said my voice thick with arousal. “Too bad. Maybe she’s with my boyfriend. He left two weeks ago.”

“Hmmm, great month for relationships,” he mused. “Like I said, I’m sorry for bothering you. I’m sure you’ve got more important things to do than listen to a stranger’s sob story. Sounds like you have one of your own and I didn’t mean to interrupt whatever it was you were doing.”

I shifted on my bed trying to escape the pleas from my wetly stimulated body. It was time to hang up and finish what I had started, but there was this voice on the line that I somehow didn’t want to let go. He was in much the same situation as I was; alone on Valentine’s Day and still raw from the emotional aftermath of a broken relationship.

“Yeah,” I said hoarsely, “I was thinking about him when you interrupted…” I couldn’t believe I’d said it. It wasn’t so much the words but the inference. He knew what I was talking about. I sensed he understood perfectly well what I’d been doing. The arousal in my voice must have been a dead giveaway. It was as loud and as clear as a cat’s mating call.

He inhaled sharply, “Yeah, I know about those kinds of thoughts. I have them occasionally,” he said softly. The loneliness and hunger screamed from his tone and struck a chord with me. At least we understood each other.

“I’m in Milner Drive, where are you now?” The words spilled from my lips as if they had a mind of their own.

“Kingsway Avenue. Why?” He’d asked the question, but I couldn’t help but think it was rhetorical.

“That’s two blocks away,” I said huskily. “I’m in the third house from the corner if you want to stop by for coffee or something…” Jesus, what was I thinking; inviting a complete stranger into my home when coffee was the last thing on my mind. The throbbing heat between my legs had not cooled during our conversation. If anything the aching was more intense.

“I don’t know,” he answered drawing in an uneasy breath. “The way I’m feeling right now I probably won’t be much of a conversationalist with a woman tonight. My intentions around seeing her this evening weren’t exactly without selfish motive or even honorable…” He gave a wry laugh, “But I’ve got your number now, so maybe some other time?”

“I’m not feeling too talkative myself, so don’t worry about that,” I countered, dangling my offer in front of him like bait. “But if you change your mind it’s number six Milner Drive. I thought we could… keep each other from thinking too much tonight.”

“You’re making it difficult for me to refuse.” His voice had dropped to a low sexy drawl. “Yours wouldn’t be the white house with the green roof and the bay windows, would it? I’ve just pulled up outside.”

Reality set in quickly with his last words and I hung up the phone, grabbed my robe and rushed to the window. I tried to steady my breathing. This was total insanity; he could be anyone, dangerous even; a perverted sex fiend or a violent rapist. My mind raced even as I felt the first flicker of fear mingle with the liquid tide of hormones between my thighs. Shit, the way I was feeling right now, nobody would have to force me too much. But still, I wasn’t the kind of woman who invited strange men over.

Dammit, was I really this desperate? Maybe he would go away. I didn’t have to actually open the door and he’d get the hint and leave. At this point it could still just be a bad idea and not a serious regret. But my curiosity got the better of me. I inched the drapes aside and peered out at him standing on the curb next to his car in the dim light of the streetlamp. He ran his hand through his hair and stared at the house as if deciding whether he should venture up the driveway towards the front door.

From what I could see he was tall and well built without being overly muscular. His shoulders shifted in the loose leather jacket as he reached back into the car to retrieve something. From the distance I was, and the way he was positioned, I couldn’t make out his features and even if I could, it wouldn’t have made him less of a stranger. Maybe it was the wine I’d consumed. Perhaps it was just because I was so fucking tired of feeling miserable and alone. Maybe it was simply because it was Valentine’s Day and there was supposed to be passion and excitement in the air, I don’t know, but I acted completely out of character. A wave of recklessness washed over me as I walked straight to the front door and opened it just as he reached the doorstep.

Seeing him up close took my breath away. He was dark like a Brando biker with short well cut hair and a craggy face that pushed the word attractive to breaking point. His nose had been broken at least once and reset, but it was far from perfect and his grey eyes were big and inquisitive. They moved fast for their size, like a couple of quick boxers around a small ring. He looked like a tough guy and as if he ought to be dirty but I could see that he was scrupulously clean. Looking at a man’s hands was something I always did, and his fingers and nails were immaculate.

“Hi,” he said. “I’m Edward.” He reached across and handed me a bunch of yellow roses. “Flowers by default,” he grinned, showing good white teeth. “Hope you don’t mind.”

He didn’t strike me as the flowers kind of guy, not even on Valentine’s Day. But he’d said he had plans for Lucy or whatever her name was, tonight. Stupid girl, her loss was my gain!

“Thanks,” I said reaching for the blooms and smiling. “I’m Rachel.” I tried to keep my tone purposefully casual to deny what we both knew.

His eyes slid over me and I felt suddenly naked and exposed. The silky white robe I’d thrown on hardly covered me. It rested against the top of my thighs and was casually tied at the waist but I knew that my dark nipples were probably clearly visible to his eyes. I stood frozen there for a moment.

“I… I guess I didn’t really think you’d show up,” I stammered.

“Let’s say I was curious. You have a sexy phone voice and when you invited me over, I thought I’d take a chance and see what was behind the voice.”

“Disappointed?” I asked feeling self conscious and terribly aware of his masculine presence.

“Quite the opposite,” he drawled as his eyes drilled into me. “But I can leave, if that’s what you want.” His mouth softened at the corners as he spoke but it was still hard as nails in the middle. Fuck, he was sexy and I felt the butterflies take off in my stomach. Leaving was the last thing I wanted him to do.

“No,” I replied a little too quickly. “What I’d like, is for you to come inside.”

“I’d love to come inside…” he said as he flashed me a knowing smile.

Jesus, talk about a bad choice of words! My face flushed and the heat raced through my stomach like it does after the first sips of whisky. The front door blew shut as we stepped into the house. I dropped the flowers on the table in the hallway and tried to steady my breathing, praying that my exhale would not come out as a shuddering moan of delicious anxiety. I was inches away from a stranger and my desire for him was inexplicable, something I couldn’t begin to understand. He wanted me too, I was certain of that but there were manners, conventions, codes of conduct, things that were done and oh God, not done.

“I’ll get the coffee going and change-” I said huskily trying for some semblance of sense and decorum. “Take a seat,” I said gesturing to the living room, “I’ll be right back.”

“I’m not thirsty and what you’re wearing is fine,” His breath tickled my neck as he spoke and I shuddered in the muted light of the passage at the foot of the stairs He was following me. My heart hammered in my chest. I was afraid of what I wanted, and yet fearful that this frightening moment would pass.

My mouth was dry, but my heart was humming as the desire stewing between my legs threatened to overwhelm me. I tried to swallow but my saliva was gone. “Are you sure?” I croaked as I turned towards him flattening my back against the passage wall for safety and support.

There was sweat on his upper lip and moisture glistened in the chest hairs at the neck of his open shirt. I tried to lick at my lips as I waited for his answer, tried to smile at him as I anticipated his next move. But it was all too late. There were no manners left, no necessity for small talk. There was only naked need. Our hunger was frantic. His. Mine.

“Come here,” he whispered, pulling me towards him. He wrapped his arms around me like rope as his lips closed hungrily on mine. I kissed him back, my mouth open and wet, slippery with lust as our tongues slid together. The stubble of his beard rasped against my skin and I groaned in excitement as his lips consumed me. I wrestled his leather jacket off and let it drop to the floor. His cock still confined in his tight jeans pressed against me and I jammed my pelvis against him as my robe hiked up to expose my dripping pussy. He lowered his hand to my wetness and slipped his fingers through the matted hair into my pulsing heat.

“Oh God,” I moaned at the first delicious sensation of being touched. I drew my leg up to give him entry to my pussy and he fixed his eyes on me. They had taken on a faraway look but raw lust raged from them.

“Wait,” he groaned, moving me past him and onto the stairway. He urged me down so that I was sitting on the step that was third from the bottom and my face was line with his cock. It threatened to burst from the crushing denim fabric that was tautly stretched across it. I wanted it so badly. My mouth was watering. I needed to take his heat into my mouth and taste him. But he was in control. He sank to his knees, his eyes never leaving mine and positioned himself so he could spread my thighs open and lean in to taste me. His tongue lingered teasingly at the entrance to my swollen pussy lips and a groan of anticipation ripped from my throat when he finally plunged into the wet velvetness of my pussy.

He was a complete stranger and yet now he owned my intimacy. The realization shocked and excited me. His tongue explored with tenderness and then with passion as it slid through the folds and up to my clit. He licked and sucked it and then dipped his tongue back into my slit, pressing, drawing back, probing, driving me insane with feverish desire, making me gasp and grab at his hair as I tried to impale his tongue deep inside my cunt. I wrapped my thighs around his head and lifted up my ass to give him deeper access. “Oh Fuck,” I moaned as the sensations built. I could feel his tongue reaching deeper into me, his strong strokes exploring me. In, up higher then back to lap at my clit and all the way down my slit to the thin smooth strip that separated my pussy from my ass. For a second his tongue lingered and I knew instantly what was about to happen. He spread me wide open, and I lifted my butt off the step so that his tongue could slide between my buttocks. The thrill of indecent excitement shot through me as he pushed his tongue over the puckered ridge of my asshole and forced it inside. I screamed at the sensation and rocked against his tongue while I let my fingers slide over my clit. His movements speeded as he hungrily speared my ass.

“Oh fuck yess! Ooohh! ” I cried lost in the exquisite sensations. It was so nasty but so delicious. A moan bubbled from his throat as he replaced his tongue in my ass with a thick finger and resumed his skilled lapping and sucking of my clit, licking at my wet fingers and sweeping down into my pussy. A tight ball of ecstasy rushed from his tongue in my pussy to the drumming finger inside my ass and I bucked and reared like an animal riding his face like a saddle until the quake of pleasure crashed into me and swamped me in a storm of pure joy.

“Argghhh! God! ” I screamed as I gave myself over to orgasm. The muscles in my pussy and ass tightened and clenched around his marauding finger and tongue while juice spilled from me leaving its earthy animal scent lingering in the air above us. He moved his soaked face from between my thighs and unsteadily stood up leaning against the wall as he stripped off his sweat-soaked shirt.

“Thank you,” I gasped, still breathless. “It’s never been like that before.” He smiled and extended his hand to help me up. I felt so deliciously weak and shaky but I was still filled with the awareness of his diamond hard cock inside his jeans. “If we make it to the top of the stairs, there’s some unfinished business I want to attend to…”

By the time we reached the bedroom door, I had his jeans unbuttoned and my hand inside, reaching for him like a looter in a store, hurriedly grasping at the pulsing bulge so it wouldn’t escape from me. His cock reared against my hand pulsing like a heart as I pulled it free of its confines, and God, was he gloriously thick. My fingers were scarcely able to close around him. The taut skin of his cock was smooth and burning wet with his own excitement. He brushed against my tummy impatiently and my heart speeded up. My body was humming like a wire in the wind. I desperately wanted him inside me.

“Do it,” I groaned, “Fuck me, please.”

A slow smile spread over his face as he reached around and held the cheek of my ass, drawing my right leg up over his thigh as he guided himself to my entrance. Juice dripped from me in anticipation of the invasion and I gasped as he rubbed his cock head over my swollen lips.

For a millisecond the horror of unsafe sex crossed my mind. In a few minutes his sperm would be free inside me with all its dangers and secrets and frantic irresponsibility, but inexplicably the thought did not make me recoil. I realized with horror that this was exactly what I wanted. I’d always been so cautious, so responsible and now just once, with a desperation that bordered on the insane, I wanted to experience the basest sex of all with this strange man in my house on Valentine’s Day. I wanted to celebrate my lust and laugh in the face of lost love. I wanted to use the hugeness poling out of his jeans as a contraption for my pleasure and become a sex thing for him. For this night, I wanted to feel gloriously wantonly sexually alive.

My eyes must have screamed my thoughts because he bucked down and reared up invading me with a force that knocked the breath from my body. My feet flew off the floor and for a mind-bending second I hung there in space speared on his cock. One moment I was a void, achingly, agonizingly empty and then he was deep inside me stretching me, forcing my cunt to stretch open to take every rock hard inch of him.

“Ooohh,” I gasped as he split me wide open and reached beneath my ass to take my weight. His biceps strained and his knees buckled but he held me in front of him pressing me against the wall. He lifted me an inch or two higher as he drew his glistening meat out of me then let me down again to sink all the way to the base of him. Stars burst in my head at the depth of the penetration and the way his big cock head rammed into my core. I felt like I was being wrenched apart. My legs curled around him and I crossed my ankles in the small of his back to steady myself. There were beads of sweat on his lip as he carried me, still connected to him, to the bed where it had all begun with that phone call.

He thrust forward into me collapsing his body down onto me. The air rushed from my lungs as I clamped around him locking him in the hot whirlpool of my pussy. I kept my legs tightly hugged around him and dug my nails into his back.

‘Fuck me hard, please,” I moaned hungry for the friction and roughness of his lust. “Show me how much you want me.”

A guttural sound ripped from him as he drove back and forth fucking me in deep hard long strokes. “Jesus, you feel good,” he rasped, his breath coming in short, sharp pants. His mouth found my nipple and he latched onto it causing ripples of pleasure to race up my spine and explode in my already overloaded brain.

I groaned and twisted, writhing under him as the familiar twitches of pleasure began to grow again. Our hips slammed together and I ground my pubic bone hard up against him moaning loudly as the rhythmic spasms deep inside me built slowly and tripped over each other in quick tight convulsions that threatened to strangle him in the noose of my pussy. I shrieked with the intensity of my orgasm as a dam erupted in me. On and on it went, my quivering walls clutching at him and squeezing his steely hardness with the molten warmth flowing from inside me.

“Damn baby,” he screamed as his face contorted in a grimace of pure pleasure. “Fuck, oh fuck! God, I’m gonna come!” His hot breath fanned my face and his movements lost their coordination as his climax surged over mine. I felt his cock throb wildly as he spurted his release, spraying his cum in long ribbons deep inside me. My body rocked against his, wringing every drop of lust from him until he collapsed onto me. “Jesus,” he gasped breathlessly as his fingers traced along the sides of my body, “What a wrong number this was.”

I waited until our breathing had returned to normal and then eased myself out from under him. Satiated now, I was acutely aware again that he was a stranger.

“Should I make that coffee now, or maybe get you a drink…?” I said fumbling around for words.

He raised his head and fixed his eyes on me. “No, you don’t have to do that. I don’t want to make this any more awkward for you than it already is.”

“Awkward?” I said, trying to play it cool. “I think we passed awkward at the bottom of the stairs.”

He laughed and rolled towards me pulling me into his arms. I snuggled against his chest and inhaled his musky scent mingling with the aroma of our spent passion. “I guess, you’re right,” he replied. “But you were incredible and you saved me from being played for a fool tonight. There is something though that I am curious about,” he said sitting up and gazing intently down at me.

“What’s that?”

“If I called you again, would it be the right number?”

I took a deep breath and swallowed hard.

“Probably not,” I said softly not meeting his eyes. “Pining and falling into someone’s bed because of the end of one relationship isn’t exactly the best way to start another one.” It was time to move on with my life and I didn’t think a casual night of mind blowing sex with a stranger on Valentine’s Day qualified as the start of something new. “I’m sorry if that’s not what you wanted to hear.”

‘That’s okay, no pressure,” Edward said as he rolled off the bed. “I hope you find what you’re looking for and that things work out for you.” He buttoned up his jeans and reached for his shirt. “But if you change your mind and want to see me again, I can give you my number.”

What was I supposed to say? Would he think I was a slut if I told him I’d got what I wanted from him? That I’d stepped out of myself for one crazy night, lost myself in wanton passion but that fundamentally I was cautious and responsible, hoping to meet Prince Charming in some acceptable and conventional way. I watched him dress. “Ok, now I do feel awkward,” I said. “Are you simply trying to make me feel less guilty about tonight or do you really want me to call you?”

He shrugged as he buttoned up his shirt. “Would it matter if I did? It’s your choice. Remember, I said no pressure.” His lips curled in a half smile as he glanced passed me to the phone on the nightstand. “Serendipity, that’s what they call it, don’t they? Tonight was a fortunate accident, and who knows sweet Rachel, maybe we’ll see each other around sometime.” His grey eyes locked with mine, “Or maybe we won’t. Let’s leave it to chance. Stranger things have happened.”

I waited until I heard the front door close and his car start up before I headed down to the kitchen. The yellow roses on the table in the hall caught my attention. Propped up against them was a small business card. I read it and softly mouthed his full name then dropped it a drawer with a stash of take out menus and pizza delivery numbers. They were all numbers I used when my cravings needed to be satisfied. I shut the drawer and laughed with the exhilaration of my new found liberation and freedom. Edward was totally delicious, definitely better than chocolates could ever have been on Valentine’s Day and it couldn’t hurt to keep his number. After all, there were times when I might need a hot and fast delivery on demand.

END

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June 4, 2010

Erotic Hot Stories – A Simple Twist of Fate

Glen Thomkins smiled to himself as he stared at the screen of his computer monitor. The spell check function of his word processing program had just finished scanning his latest short story for the second time. This time it showed no errors. Glen double-checked the options on the Literotica Submit Page that he had selected. He clicked the Preview button, then after giving his story another quick read-through he submitted it for approval.

For just over a year Glen had been trying his hand at writing erotic short stories that were published online. He had read enough of them to be familiar with the tropes and machinations that many of his favourite authors used. And after reading enough of what he considered very poor attempts at writing he felt confident that he could do just as well — if not better than some. The story that Glen had just submitted was his eighth submission, and so far he was pleased that many of them had been well-liked by readers, judging by the positive feedback he had received. This was all the encouragement that he needed to keep writing. Besides, it filled a yearning or emptiness inside him that he could not quite intellectualize, but felt nonetheless.

Glen pushed himself away from his computer desk and went out to his kitchen. It was a Tuesday night and he had nothing to do now that he had submitted his latest story. He opened the fridge and ran his eyes over the contents of the shelves. After passing over a bottle of peach juice and one of Pepsi, he reached for a can of beer. It was nearly eleven-thirty and Glen thought that some beer might help him to sleep.

Returning to the living room, Glen tilted his head to the left and scanned the titles on the spines of his compact disc cases. A bittersweet smile appeared on his face when he saw Time Out of Mind. He pulled the jewel case out and placed the disc in the tray, then started it. He sat down on the couch and pulled at the tab of the beer can he was holding. It opened with a hiss and he took a gulp as he listened to Bob Dylan sing about being sick of love, yet in the thick of it.

“Amen, Zimmy,” Glen mumbled to himself as he brought the can back up to his snarling lips. He closed his damp eyes and began singing along to the music as his mind wandered back four years into the past.

###

Glen knew from experience that it took about four days for a story he submitted to Literotica to be approved. As the fourth day approached he always grew impatient to see his newest piece of writing appear on the web page. Then came the anticipation of feedback from readers. Often it was terse, but encouraging, although some of it had helpful criticism. Glen read them all and replied to all readers who provided an email address for him to contact them. To Glen, this was an integral part of contributing to the website. He had even made a few online friends as a result of it.

That Friday when he arrived home from work at Weaver’s Hardware Store Glen immediately went to his computer. He booted it up and smiled proudly when he saw that his story was listed amongst the new ones on Literotica. He quickly scanned it, then clicked one of the gold stars to rate it — giving it a 5 like he always did, and hoped others would. Next, he checked his Hotmail account to see if he had received any feedback.

When Glen saw that he had received three pieces of feedback on his story he smiled. The first reader chose to remain anonymous, so Glen couldn’t reply. The second person had given his name and email address. Glen saved that correspondence so he could reply later. Glen read the third piece of feedback, then checked the email address and name of the sender. His jaw went slack and his heart began to race. In disbelief, he read it again:

Great story. Lots of emotion for the reader to relate to, and hot, hot sex. Thanks for yet another top quality submission. Please keep writing. Stephanie

“Holy crap… Steph…?” Glen muttered to himself, his eyes riveted to his computer monitor.

After staring at the return email address to make sure his eyes weren’t deceiving him, Glen gave his head a shake. He knew that address as well as he knew his own. He had sent dozens and dozens of emails to it years ago. It belonged to Stephanie Calvi, an ex-girlfriend of his, and the one great love of his life. She was a junior high school teacher in Guilford, or at least she was when Glen last knew her. That was four years ago.

Glen pushed his chair away from his computer desk. He folded his arms across his chest and began tapping his upper lip with his forefinger as he thought. He wasn’t surprised that Stephanie was able to relate to the story he had written, or especially to the female character in it. The fact was that the female protagonist, Keri, was based entirely on Stephanie — from her physical appearance, to her taste in music. Writing that short story for Literotica had been a cathartic process for Glen. It was a way for him to hopefully exorcise some of his inner demons regarding Stephanie. In writing his story he was able to have the male character say things that he knew he would never get the opportunity to say to his ex-girlfriend. But now as he re-read Stephanie’s email he began to reconsider this long-held assumption.

A groan escaped Glen’s mouth as he weighed his options. His initial reaction was to reply to Stephanie and tell her it was he who wrote that story. But he wondered what, if anything, he had to gain by doing this. Then he asked himself what he had to lose. His relationship with Stephanie had ended amid much acrimony, and since then he’d had no contact whatsoever with her. He had thought of her countless times since then, and even allowed himself to dream about a reconciliation between them. But those dreams and longings had always vanished like smoke when he told himself that she was undoubtedly no longer single — perhaps even married. Even if she wasn’t, he could not imagine her wanting anything to do with him ever again.

Glen got up and went over to his stereo. Reaching towards the shelf of compact discs on the wall he pulled out Oh Mercy and placed the disc in the tray. The room instantly became filled with the sound of Dylan’s raspy voice. Glen paced the floor for close to fifteen minutes, thinking about Stephanie and trying to decide how to respond to her feedback, if at all. Once he grew tired he sat down on the edge of his couch.

Tears welled in Glen’s eyes as he listened to “Most of the Time”. He wiped them away with the heel of his hand, then got up and returned to his computer. He stared at the feedback email that Stephanie had sent, then began typing:

Hi Steph… This is probably going to come as a shock to you, but it’s me, Glen… Glen Thomkins. I’ve been writing these stories for a while now. Thanks for the feedback. I’m glad that you liked my story and hope that all is well with you. Take care.

Glen/epiphora79

Glen read and re-read what he had written several times before sending the email. Once he had sent it a feeling of near dread washed over him. He imagined Stephanie replying to tell him to go to fuck-off, or worse. For a while he thought that maybe the kindest thing she could do was to not reply at all. He went to the fridge and brought out a can of beer, then sank into the couch once more as he gulped it down. His mind was in turmoil as thoughts of the past and the possible future swirled inside his head. Dylan’s voice was still coming from the stereo speakers. Now he was singing about seeing a shooting star and a fire truck leaving hell. Glen felt as though he was in hell too, but one of his own design.

###

When Glen returned home from work the next day he was half-way to his computer desk even before the door closed behind him. Nervousness and apprehension filled him as he waited for his computer to boot and for his Hotmail Inbox to appear on the screen. His heart lept when he saw that Stephanie had replied to his email. The subject was simply “HI!”. Even that much seemed friendly and promising to Glen. He clicked on the link and read her email:

Hi Glen… Yes, I was shocked when I found out that it was you who’d written those stories. I’ve read them all. You’re a very good writer. I never knew you had this talent, but I hope you continue to pursue it. You could probably make a career out of it. I’m doing fine and hope that you are as well. I’d like to see you sometime, if you want. How does getting together at Joe’s Java for coffee sound? Let me know, okay? Steph

Glen smiled as he read Stephanie’s email for the third time. His heart was racing as he quickly typed a reply, thanking her for the email and saying that he did want to meet her for coffee sometime. He tried not to sound too eager or hopeful, but found it difficult because he was. Once he had sent his reply to Stephanie he made himself supper, although he did not feel much like eating.

That evening Glen watched TV, or at least stared expressionless at the screen for a few hours. He checked his email three times, hoping that Stephanie had replied. Each time he returned to the couch, disappointed. By the time eleven o’clock had passed he decided to go to bed and face yet another sleepless night, haunted by ghosts of his past. But first, he wanted to check his email one last time.

Glen’s face broke into a wide smile when he saw that Stephanie had replied to him. Her email was brief, simply asking if he could meet her the next evening at seven at the coffee shop where they had spent many weekend afternoons together. Still beaming, Glen quickly typed, telling Stephanie that he would meet her tomorrow night and was looking forward to seeing her. Then he went to bed, feeling happier and more hopeful than he had in years.

###

The smell of coffee filled Glen’s nostrils as he stepped inside Joe’s Java the next evening at fifteen minutes before seven. The room was crowded and filled with the sounds of conversation and the hiss of the espresso machine. Glen’s eyes scanned the patrons as his pulse quickened. After five or more seconds he saw Stephanie sitting towards the back of the cafe. She was wearing bluejeans and a white blouse with a tiny floral pattern. Her curly brown hair was longer than when Glen had seen her last. When her hazel eyes locked on him a smile instantly appeared on her pretty face and she waved at him.

Glen quickly walked towards the table where Stephanie was sitting. His smile widened and his heart accelerated with each step. For a few moments he stood beside her, speechless, as his eyes moved over her. She looked even more lovely and captivating than she did four years ago. Glen felt a lump in his throat.

“Hey. I’m glad you came,” Stephanie said, looking up at him.

“Me too,” he replied with a nervous laugh, then looked back towards the barista. “I’m going to get a coffee and I’ll be right back,” he told her.

As he stood at the counter waiting for his coffee Glen turned back towards Stephanie three times. Each time he saw that her dazzling eyes were still on him and her face was adorned with a smile. Glen held his mug of coffee tightly as he returned to her table and sat down opposite her.

“You’re looking good,” she said.

Glen shrugged self-consciously. “Thanks,” he said. “You look great, as always.”

Stephanie blushed and took a drink of coffee. “Thanks. It’s amazing what a little makeup and a curling iron can do,” she said with a laugh.

Glen felt his nervousness begin to wane as he listened to her voice and admired her beauty from across the table. “Your hair is longer,” he said as he ran his eyes over her curly brown tresses.

“Your’s is thinning,” she teased.

“Thanks, Steph,” he droned. “You’re a peach.”

Stephanie grinned and her hazel eyes flickered. “You used to say that I tasted like one — like the girl in that Dire Straits song about expresso,” she said.

Glen shifted uncomfortably in his chair at her mention of their intimate past. His blue eyes left hers and he stared at the coffee mug he was clutching.

“Oh, c’mon, Glen,” she said. “There’s no point in trying to pretend that stuff never happened, because it did — it was great too. At least it was for me.”

A smile slowly returned to his face. “Yeah, it was,” he said as his mind became flooded with memories.

Stephanie peered into her old lover’s blue eyes. She had forgotten how bright they were, but seeing them shine for her after many years stirred emotions in her that she had suppressed for a long time. “Are you still a big Bob Dylan and Tom Waits fan?” she asked.

Glen chuckled. “As long as I have a heart beating in my chest,” he said.

Stephanie smiled, reassured by the familiarity of him. “I bought Closing Time about six months after… after we broke up,” she confessed with a bashful smile. “Just because “Martha” reminds me of us, or at least gave me some hope.”

“I haven’t listened to that album in years,” he said with a heavy sigh.

“Because you don’t like it, or…”

“No… because I can’t stand the pain,” he told her, his eyes darting away again. “If I never hear “Lonely” ever again, it’ll be too soon.”

“Didn’t you learn to turn the pain off, like Bob Dylan?” she asked, only half-jokingly.

“If Bob really learned to turn it off, like he claims, he wouldn’t have written those songs about Sara that he did,” he scoffed. “Songs are like my stories — they’re fantasy.”

Stephanie reached across the table and gave her former lover’s hand a soft squeeze. Her brown eyes met his and she flashed him a feeble smile. “But your stories have more than a kernel of truth to them,” she reminded him. “You turned me into one of your characters, remember? I re-read them all after I found out you wrote them. I can see so much of you in them, Glen. I’m surprised I never suspected you’d written them long ago.”

“Well, like they say: write about what you know,” Glen said. He cleared his throat and straightened his back. “Did you like them?” he asked.

“Of course I liked them. But I guess you already know that,” she said. “And I liked them even more after I knew you’d written them.”

“That surprises me,” Glen replied with a nervous laugh.

“Probably about as much as I was surprised when I found out that you wrote them,” she replied. “Some of them are kind of… kinky. That one about breast bondage was really hot though. I never knew those sorts of things interested you. I feel like there’s a part of you I never got to know.”

“Well, it’s not the type of thing you always admit to, right?”

“Yeah, you’re right,” she agreed with a nod.

“It’s too bad we couldn’t have been more open about this stuff when we were together,” Stephanie mused aloud. “Things with us could have gotten a lot more… interesting.” She shot him a foxy grin as she brought the coffee mug up to her moist lips.

“It’s too bad that we couldn’t have been more open about a lot of things,” he said, then felt guilty. “No — I take that back. It’s too bad that I couldn’t have been more open about a lot of things. But I was so scared that if I was too honest regarding some of the reasons why I wanted to end it that it would only hurt you even more.” He frowned and avoided her eyes. “But that doesn’t matter anymore,” he muttered.

“It’s okay, Glen,” she said reassuringly. “And it does matter — you matter to me. You always have. I can’t imagine you not mattering to me, even if we’re not in touch with each other.”

“Thanks, and I hope you know I feel the same. I think of you so much, Steph. You wouldn’t believe some of the stupid things that remind me of you,” he said, then fell silent for a bit. “I’m glad you’re not bitter about it all either,” he added in a solemn voice.

“How could I be? We had some great times. That’s what I choose to remember,” she told him.

“Yeah, me too,” he breathed. “But, if I had to do it all over again…”

“I hope you’d do it all over me,” she interjected and let out a brassy laugh.

“You haven’t changed a bit, Steph,” he said, giving his head a shake.

“I feel like I have,” she said. “It’s been four years, Glen. You can’t tell me you haven’t changed at all. We’ll both be thirty soon. I’m beginning to feel old.”

“You don’t look it,” he told her.

“Oh… how do I look then?” she asked as she leaned back in her chair.

Glen thought for a moment as he ran his eyes over her. He felt the beginning of an erection and said “You look the same… great — lovely as ever.”

“Now I know you’ve changed — or at least your eyesight has,” she said. “I’m getting crow’s feet and my boobs are starting to sag.”

Glen let out a sharp laugh. “That’s ’cause they weigh a ton, Steph. I think I sprained my wrist holding them up one night,” he said, feeling his cock throb harder.

“You always did like my tits, didn’t you?” She giggled as she straightened her back. Her clit jumped and she could feel her cheeks getting warm.

“Yeah…” he said as his eyes moved towards her chest.

Many seconds of silence fell between the couple until Stephanie said “It’s so good to see you again. I’ve thought about you so many times, and wanted to call, but… I guess I was scared you’d hang up on me, or that a woman would answer the phone. I don’t know which would have hurt more.”

“I know what you mean. I’ve thought about you too. I even picked up the phone a few times and punched in a few numbers, but always chickened-out for the same reasons,” he said. “Even when I emailed you I was scared you’d reply and tell me to go to hell, or just not reply at all.”

“I was shocked when I read that email, but in a good way,” she said. “Thank god for Literotica.”

“Yeah, here’s to writing smut,” Glen said as he raised his coffee mug to her.

Stephanie laughed as she knocked her mug against the rim of his, then took another drink of coffee. “Can I ask you something?” she said.

Glen grew nervous and apprehensive when he heard her request, but was not going to deny it. He knew that he couldn’t deny her anything. “Of course,” he told her.

“Didn’t it feel weird writing a story about a character who was essentially me?” Stephanie gave him a puzzled look as she posed her question.

“No,” Glen said immediately, then became quiet as he thought for a moment. “This may sound weird, but it made me feel connected to you — like I was getting my one opportunity to say things I knew I’d never get a chance to say face to face.”

“Like you were writing from your soul to me from you — to paraphrase Bob,” she said with a dim smile.

“Exactly,” he said. “I’m glad you sent me that feedback, and included your email address too.”

“So am I,” she said with a grateful sigh. “I’d read your stories before, but this one really touched a nerve and I had to write to tell you how much I liked it.”

“Thanks,” he said.

“Don’t thank me,” Stephanie said. “I ended up doing myself a favour.” She glanced at her watch, then up to him again. “I should get going in a while. I’ve got test papers to correct and hand back for English class tomorrow.”

“Okay,” he said. “It was great to see you again, Steph. Can we, ah, get together again sometime for coffee?”

“Of course. You’re not going to get rid of me so easily now that I’ve found you again. Are you still living at the place on Montague St.?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he said with a quick nod.

“Alone?” she said with a sly smile.

“Yeah… I’ve been alone for four years,” he said.

“I’m single too,” she said flatly.

Silence fell as Glen and Stephanie’s minds began to race and fill with possibilities. He took a drink of coffee, gazing at her from over the rim of his mug. She gave him a shy smile and pushed her hair back over her shoulders.

“I’d like to stop in some night,” Stephanie said nervously.

Glen’s mouth tightened. “Steph, I… ah… are you sure that’s a good idea?” he said.

“I think it’s a great idea,” she said and grinned.

“I’d love that — really, but…” His voice died and his eyes left hers again.

But what?” she asked.

Glen’s lips grew tight. “Steph, we can’t relive the past,” he said.

“No, and I don’t want to; that’s over. But who knows… the future is still unwritten,” she told him.

“Yeah, you’re right,” he agreed. “I’m just so scared of screwing up again. We could have a great friendship, you know?”

“True, but you know that both of us would still want more than just that,” she countered. “We can’t be just friends. There’s too much of a spark there.”

Glen smiled. “Yeah… more like a flame, I’d say,” he said wistfully.

“So, how does tomorrow night around seven sound?” she asked.

“Like something I’ve dreamed of for years,” he said.

“Me too,” she said.

Stephanie slung her purse over her shoulder and stood up. She reached out for Glen as he got to his feet and hugged him. A shiver rippled through her as his arms went around her. She kissed his cheek and nuzzled into his neck.

“I’ll see you tomorrow night at seven,” she breathed into his ear.

“I can’t wait,” he said and kissed her pink cheek.

###

The next evening Glen had just finished washing his supper dishes and was wiping the kitchen table when he heard the knock at the door. His heart leapt and he turned around and saw Stephanie standing there. He hurried to the door to let her in.

“Hey,” she said as she stepped inside.

Glen’s eyes moved down her body. She was wearing a long purple skirt with ruffles at the hem and a light pink blouse. “Hey, it’s great to see you again,” he said.

Stephanie walked over to the kitchen table and sat her purse on it, then turned to smile at him. “Tidying-up before I got here, I see,” she teased.

“Yeah, something like that,” he said.

“How tidy is the living room?” she asked.

“Ah, not bad,” he said, a little confused by her question.

“Show me.” Stephanie took his hand in hers and guided him into the living room. When they were in front of the couch she pulled him to her and pressed her lips to his. Her hand glided up his back as their tongues danced. She could feel his hard shaft pressing against her stomach, but that wasn’t where she wanted it to be.

“Mmmm… I’d forgotten what a great kisser you are,” he said as he looked into her eyes, licking his lips.

“You too,” she purred, running her hand along his side and stealing a glance at the bulge in his jeans.

Stephanie turned towards his stereo, then back to him. “Mind if I put something on?” she asked.

“Go ahead,” he said, “As long as…”

“I know — not Closing Time,” she interjected with a grin.

“Or Blue Valentine,” he added.

Stephanie could feel the pulsing of her clit as her eyes roamed the rows of compact discs. But her heart was also racing and felt lighter than it had in years. “How about Slow Train Coming then?” she asked, turning back to him.

“That sounds great,” Glen replied.

After Stephanie had started the CD she took Glen by the hand and pulled him down on the couch beside her. She held him to her and settled into his strong arms. She closed her eyes and gave a soft moan as his hand stroked her back. Already she was quite wet, but she knew that soon she would be dripping and craving him, like years ago.

Glen slid his fingers along Stephanie’s delicate jawline and cupped her chin in his hand. He tilted her head up as his lips met hers, sucking and tugging at them. He could feel her firm breasts pressed to his chest as they kissed and her hand sliding down to his right hip. When he curled his fingers around her left breast and squeezed it she moaned and writhed slightly.

“Mmmm… play with my tits, Glen,” she moaned. “They missed you… your hands… your mouth.”

Glen’s fingers trembled as he began unbuttoning Stephanie’s blouse. Once he had it open to her navel he tugged it apart so he could cup her heavy mounds through her bra. Her thick nipples poked out at the white lace and he rubbed her left one as he kneaded her other breast.

“God, you’re beautiful, Steph,” he said as he caressed her.

“Me, or my tits?” she joked.

“You — all of you,” he said as he looked into her eyes. “I love your tits, but don’t ever think that’s all I love about you; there’s so much.”

“Thanks. I feel the same. You’re so easy to love, Glen,” Stephanie said as her hand glided up his thigh. She cupped his package, giving his shaft a slow rub through his jeans.

“Careful, it’s loaded,” he joked.

Stephanie moaned and rubbed his shaft harder. “How about you unload it on me… all over my tits and my face,” she purred.

Glen tugged at her bra and uncovered her left nipple. He wrapped his lips around her coppery nub and began sucking and pulling at it with his lips. When she arched her back he began squeezing her right breast harder and pinching her thick nipple between his fingers. His cock was throbbing as she rubbed it through his jeans. It was so hard now that it was becoming uncomfortable. He wanted to take it out, but he wanted it to be in her even more.

“You know what I find ironic?” she said as she looked down at him teasing her nipple.

“What?” he asked in a ragged voice.

“Even though we were apart, you still made me cum — with your stories,” she admitted.

Glen laughed. “I’d rather do it the old-fashioned way though,” he said as he looked up at her.

“Or maybe we could invent a few new ways,” she said. “Your stories have given me ideas… really naughty ones.”

“Mmmm… I like the sound of that,” he told her.

“How about we move this party upstairs?” she suggested as she leaned away slightly.

Glen’s smile drained from his face and his eyes shifted as he sat up. “I, ah, don’t have any condoms, Steph,” he mumbled.

“So?” she said dismissively. “We’ve done it plenty of times before without condoms; it’ll be okay, Glen.”

When Glen didn’t reply, Stephanie bristled. Her mouth tightened as she studied the compunctious expression on his face. “I know you don’t want to hear about this, but we might as well face it now,” she began. “Since you, I’ve only been with one guy, and I always played safe. I don’t want to get AIDS any more than you do. I’m not stupid, Glen.” She paused for a few moments, then added “That’s what you were worried about, isn’t it?”

“Well, it did cross my mind,” he said, feeling like a cad.

“Well, you can put it out of your mind. I’m not dying to have sex,” she assured him.

“I’m sorry, Steph. It’s just that…”

“You don’t have to explain,” she said, masking her hurt. “I understand; I can’t blame you. It’s been four years, and you don’t know what I’ve been doing.”

“Just so you know, there hasn’t been anyone for me since you,” he said.

“No one?” she blurted out as her eyes widened.

“I went on a couple of dates, but my heart just wasn’t in it,” he told her. “I kept comparing them to you and they couldn’t measure-up. They just made me miss you even more.”

Stephanie smiled and laid back against him. She held him tight as she wiggled closer, looking down at the outline of his hard cock through the denim.

“Come on,” Glen said. He leaned back a ways and looked into her sultry eyes, then to her round cleavage as he stood up.

“Where?” she asked.

“Upstairs. I want to show you something.”

Stephanie giggled as she stood up and reached for his hand. Together, they ascended the stairs and entered his bedroom. After she took a few steps beyond the threshold Stephanie stopped. A peculiar expression came over her face as she stared at the bed.

“What is it?” he asked with concern as his hand ran up her back to her right shoulder.

Stephanie turned to him, smiling again. “I was just thinking of all the times you made me cum on that bed,” she told him.

Glen began unbuttoning her blouse the rest of the way and pulled it from inside her skirt. “How about we add a few more times to the tally,” he said. He tugged her to him by her blouse and kissed her wet lips.

“Mmmm… please,” she purred. “My fingers have been no substitute for your cock.”

Glen kicked his shoes off and started unbuttoning his shirt. He watched Stephanie as she began undressing beside the bed. Her pendulous breasts swayed and her dusky nipples pointed towards him. Once he tossed his boxers aside and was naked he placed his hands on the curve of her smooth hips and eased her against his body. His hard shaft rubbed over her wet petals and she rocked her hips as they kissed.

Breaking their kiss, Stephanie tugged at his hand as she backed up towards the bed. She laid down on it, running her hands up his back as he settled between her open thighs. She wrapped her legs around his and drug her nails up his spine, making him let out a deep moan.

Glen looked down at her and smiled. He kissed her as he lowered himself on her, stroking her left thigh. He let out another moan as the head of his shaft slipped between her wet lips.

“Welcome home, Glen,” Stephanie said as she felt him push into her. She lifted her ass from the bed and gave his shaft a squeeze deep within her walls.

“God, you feel wonderful,” he groaned as he began pumping. “You’re so beautiful, Steph.” He bent down and pinched her right nipple between his lips and began sucking hard as he worked his cock in and out of her faster. He felt her grip him deep within her tight pussy and began thrusting harder as his heavy balls slapped against her. Her breasts had begun to move with their rhythm and he gripped her left one hard as he met her with each hard stab his shaft made into her.

“Oh god, Glen… fuck me hard,” she cried out. “I used to think of us doing this when I played with myself… now I want it for real.”

Stephanie’s legs were wrapped tightly around him and Glen raised up on his knees. He grabbed her hips tight, his fingertips pressing into her, and continued to piston his cock in and out. He watched her heavy round breasts jiggle and listened to her moans grow louder. His right hand moved down her stomach and he pressed his thumb to her clit. She cried out as he began rubbing her button and pressed down harder on it.

“Oh shit, Glen… I’m going to…”

Stephanie never finished her sentence before her first orgasm rushed through her. She arched her back and twisted on the bed as she cried out in ecstasy. Glen held her tighter, still pumping his thick shaft and rubbing her pink pearl with his thumb. He looked down, watching his shiny cock move in and out of her, then observed the look of pleasure on her face. Her eyes were closed and she was smiling as he took her, just as they had both longed for over the past four years.

“I’m so close, Steph,” he moaned a while later.

“Cum on me, Glen” she begged. “Shoot it all over my tits… my face… I want it everywhere.”

Glen slipped from inside her and moved up her body. He groped at her right breast, tugging and pinching her swollen nipple while he stroked his meat. Stephanie watched, running her hands over his thighs. He came with a throaty moan as the first stream of his thick cum erupted from his slit. It splashed over her left breast, running across the firm nipple.

“Oh god, Glen… cum all over me,” she moaned.

Seconds later Stephanie felt more of his cum shoot over her skin. It landed over her lips and cheek, then began to run down her face. She licked her lips and brushed her fingers over her cheek, smearing his jism over her soft, hot skin. A third, final burst landed on her upper lip. She felt it run into her mouth and she swallowed it eagerly, craving more.

Panting hard and still holding his cock in his hand, Glen lowered himself on her. He squeezed the base of his shaft and moved his tight fingers down towards the head. One last big drop of his thick cum ran from the gaping slit and he wiped it off on her tongue as she stuck it out to receive it. Stephanie moaned and sucked at the head of his cock, hoping to get every bit of his seed that she could.

Glen rolled over on his left side, facing Stephanie. He smiled at her as his hand glided down her side to her hip. Her skin felt hot and silky smooth. He pulled her closer and kissed her wet lips, tasting himself on them. “I’d almost forgotten what an amazing lover you are,” he said.

“Thanks, so are you. None of my fantasies about you even begin to compare to this,” Stephanie said, her voice still thick with arousal. “How about I remind you every day from now on how great we are together, just in case you forget.”

Stephanie giggled as she looked into his eyes. Then when she saw his expression change she understood how he felt at that moment. “What are you scared of, Glen?” she asked.

Glen let out a heavy sigh as his eyes darted about. “I’m scared of it not working out — like last time — scared of getting hurt again. But maybe more than anything, I’m scared of hurting you all over again, Steph,” he told her. “I know what you went through four years ago, and I’d hate myself if it happened again.”

Stephanie looked into his eyes and moved closer. She rested her arm over him and met his gaze. “Glen, I’m a big girl now, remember?” she said. “I know what I want and I can take care of myself.”

“I know, but…”

“No buts,” she interjected. “If you don’t want me anymore, then please tell me, but don’t act like a martyr and say you’re rejecting me for my own good.”

Glen sighed. “Okay,” he relented. “I do still want you, Steph. I never stopped wanting you. You must have known that as soon as you knew I’d written that story.”

Stephanie nodded. “Yes, but they’re just fantasy, right?” she countered with a sly grin.

“Sometimes fantasy can become reality,” he said. “And there was already a good amount of reality in that story anyway.”

Stephanie thought for a while, then began speaking. “Look. Glen, I’m not asking you to promise me forever like before. I don’t believe in forever anymore because now I know that nothing lasts forever. Life never turns out as you planned it. There’s no script,” she said. “All I ask is that you promise that you’ll be with me tomorrow. And if tomorrow comes, I’ll ask you the same thing again. And the next day… and the next… Can you do that?”

Glen smiled lovingly at Stephanie and kissed her lips again tenderly. “Yes, absolutely,” he said. “I’ll be with you tomorrow, Steph.”

“Thank-you. That’s all I want,” she said as she rested her head on his chest.

Feelings of peace and unspoken love filled Glen and Stephanie as they lay in each other’s arms. Neither of them feared the future or dwelled on the past anymore. They knew they had tomorrow together, and that was much more than they’d had in years. Each of them felt confident that the rest would happen naturally.

END

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