Romance and Erotica
this page is meant for mature readers only! 18+
Untitled
I took a deep breath, letting the sun-warmed salt air penetrate my very core. Exhilarated and calmed at the same time I sink down into the heated sand, burying my feet in the hot powder. Lying back I let the sun bake my bare skin. The sound of the waves crashing onto the beach fills my head, as the ocean wind sweeps over my naked body.
Alone on the sandy white beach. My senses tingling, I find the heat and the wind bringing my body to life.
The sun laps at my skin – a penetrating heat that warms my soul. I shiver as the wind races over me. I spread wide, letting the salt air rush over my open pussy. It flows over me in waves; in and out like sweet lovemaking, teasing my nipples into hardness. I reach down into the velvety wet softness between my legs and find my clit that is aching to be touched. I shudder with delight as I run my fingers over its delicious heat. Teasing myself, forcing my fingers to be gentle. I writhe with pleasure.
Something has eclipsed the sun. A body stretched over me, sending waves of panic through me. My eyes spring open. I try to make out the shadowy face looming over me, disturbing my solitude.
My love stands over me, smiling his sweet, sexy smile. I laugh out loud at being caught. He makes no move to join me, but instead moves a few feet away and sits down in the hot sand, never taking his eyes from me. He begins to stroke himself. I can see how hard he is and it makes my pussy throb. I think of all the times he has been inside me, loving me; my sweet sexy man… I stroke my pussy harder at the thought.
I am tingling and my body is electric. He is so hard. I can imagine him plunging inside me and filling me; intense burning passion, loving, hard and wet. I am desperate to feel him!
He crawls over on hands and knees, grinning. I close my eyes. I turn my face to the sky, to the sun.
As his mouth descends upon me, I am dripping with heat and lust. I feel the warm hardness of his tongue. The softness of his moist lips as they envelop me. My clit is on fire; my mind is whirling. Harder! Harder! Please harder! I thrust into his mouth as he ravishes me. Mouth. Tongue. Hot, wet, burning - aching with desire. I am on the edge. My mind spinning; my legs shaking from the intensity. Harder! Harder! Sucking, licking, nibbling. Hot! Harder! Don’t stop! Don’t stop!
I explode, my body quakes, the angels sing….and my love smiles his sweet, sexy smile.
BY: N.E. Burns
[Flirting into Sex]
She rolled onto her stomach and propped her chin
up on her elbows, blonde hair falling down her back.
Letting her chin slid out to one side, she looked
at him lying next to her with slanted blue eyes.
He stretched the arm closest to her up over his tousled blonde head
and sighed. Tempted, she leaned down and kissed the pale undersid
of his upper arm. He jerked it away.
"That tickles," he said, rubbing the gooseflesh off his skin.
"Whiner," she complained, and rolled onto her side, facing the other way.
As an apology, an arm came around her middle and a warm
stomach pressed against her back. His lips brushed the downy
nape of her neck, and she turtled at the sensation.
"Okay," she said, turning in his arms.
"That was dirty pool."
He grinned at her, one cheek dimpling.
"You deserved it, fair and square."
She grabbed the pillow from under her head, and swung it out,
connecting with his shoulder hard. He laughed and fell back
onto the mattress. She rolled up and straddled him, continuing
to assault his upper body with the pillow. Arms up to protect
his face, he yelled, "Truce! Truce!"
She paused. "You mean I win?"
He sighed a "Yes" at her.
She pouted. "Well, that was no fun. It was too easy."
She tossed the pillow back into its place on the bed, and looked
down at him. He put down his arms, and looked back up at her
with bright blue eyes. They stared at one another for a moment,
and then she broke the silence. "You don’t look so fat from this angle,
" she said, biting her bottom lip.
He grabbed the pillow from where she had put it beside his
head and brought it up to meet her arm. She blocked, and
jumped up laughing. He followed her, and chased her naked
frame around the room. Coming back to the bed, he waited for
her to come to him, and when she did, he tripped her and let
her fall back onto the mattress, pinning down her arms with
strong hands. "Surrender yet?"
"Not a chance, tubby," she replied, laughing and squirming
under his menacing frame.
He leaned in close to her face, and whispered, "Don’t
you even want to know what your prize was?" His knee
forced its way between hers, and his lips began to trace
the outline of her collarbone, lightly dipping into the
hollow of creamy skin at her throat. Half-aroused, he
pressed into her soft abdomen.
Her smooth inner thighs slid along his leg in response,
pressing him closer. Her feet played in the back of his knee,
down the back of his calf, along the arch of his foot. She
slowly stopped squirming and began to writhe with
anticipation instead. "No," she said in a very weak
voice, contradicting her tingling flesh.
"I think you do," he breathed into her ear as he nuzzled
behind it with his nose. One of his hands let go of her arm,
and he traced it down the side of her body, curving in with
her curves, thumb sweeping in front, fingers trailing
behind, catching every nerve on the way down.
She giggled. "That tickles," she said, unconvincingly.
"Whiner," he said into her mouth, and then kissed
her open lips hard. Her knee moved up the edge of his
leg to his waist, toes to the back of his thigh, arm reaching
around to tangle fingers in his hair.
His hand cupped the curve of her ass, bringing her
to him, bringing them together, bringing flirting
into sex.
Author: K.J. Hunt
Stop for a moment and think about the passion inside you. Think of it as a bubbling pot of soul, emotion, that substance inside you that only exists externally when prompted by a percussion beat you can't help but dance to.
Imagine yourself dancing.
Now think of this passion dripping out the ends of your fingers, sweating out your pores, beating itself out of your gyrating hips and becoming a cloud around you, becoming an aura, becoming a second skin.
Dance. Dance and burn passion, burn soul, burn and spread that flame to the others around you. Spread it among the other dancers, enveloping them in your passion. Let it burn them, let it shake them and let them burn blue, red, passionate.
This is how the dance floor looked when Shae was on it.
This is how the bedroom felt when Shae was in it.
Mornings burned blue, nights turned hues of red, and when Shae was in my bed, life boiled down to percussion. Slow, fast, fluttering or strong, the beat never stopped, and neither did we.
One thing you have to understand about Shae is that there was passion in her blood, her skin and her smile. She left a trail of it when she walked, and I followed in the afterglow like a ghost, feeling the flick of her flames and loving how much they hurt.
She didn't believe in monogamy. She said it didn't fit her beat, that a steady rhythm was not what she was looking for in a dance partner. All she wanted was quick feet, great hips, and tricky fingers. She wanted someone to trade flames with, to feel the heat and build a fire to the sky, to make the stars envious from their distant perches in the sky.
She was so passionate you could get a suntan from spending the day with her.
Romance, to Shae, was a dead art. She was famous for saying that there was a reason the Romantic period was so long ago. It was no use trying to convince her that it was a different meaning of "romantic"; she had no use for intelligence, only a smouldering look and the occasional wry comment. As long as you fed her fire, she burnt around and inside you, consuming your passion with her own.
When your rhythm became so fused with hers that there was no longer two distinct beats, when she had consumed your flame and made it her own, she would move on, just like a real fire moves to fresh fuel. From partner to partner, through beats of all kinds, she burned at opposite ends of the colour spectrum.
She sought a challenge. She once took up with a man who could not keep a rhythm, just to see if she could teach him. Like all of her partners, Shae used him up quickly, and moved on. She never did teach him how to feel rhythm. She just left him, without rhythm and now without passion, and moved on. Whenever she had finished a man, taken his beat from him, you could find him haunting pubs, proper establishments without music, and you could always find her on the dance floor, seeking the next soul, licking his skin with her passion and melting it off his body later.
Shae was a fire hazard.
Our relationship lasted three days. That's how long I lasted under the heat of her flame. She shook me of my rhythm, she seared my life with her passion, and left me scorched, washing my sorrows away with pints of stout ale. She left me bland. I felt like a Pop n' Fresh, like a dumpling, like I had been battered and fried. She consumed every peppered thought I had ever had. She boiled my memories and fantasies dry, and left an itch simmering under my skin.
With me, it was like she was fire and ice and eight percussion instruments playing at once. When I watch her on the dance floor, she still is. I can see her from the shadows, from where I'm sitting tonight, from where I have sat for quite some time now. I can't dance anymore. I just watch her burn it blue all night long, and leave on the arm of someone else. I wonder if he'll last longer than I did. I wonder if she'll remember his name a month from now. I wonder if he will be left with the same hollow feeling I have in my veins.
When Shae was with me, I saw blue dawns and red twilights. Now that she's burnt what I had to give, all I see is a charcoal outline of something that may be my life.
Author: K.J.Hunt