Content Warning: This work of fiction contains graphic sexual
descriptions. If this bothers you or it is illegal for you to view
this material in your location please hit the delete key now. This
work is not intended for anyone not considered an adult in their
locality.
Subject: Long passionate sex scene.
Author’s Note: This is a second reposing of this story. Since the
previous transactions between my editor and myself resulted in
unwanted line feeds, we tried passing the as a pure word
processing document He uses Word Perfect, I use Microsoft Word and
they apparently hate each other. Well Microsoft Word hates Word
Perfect anyway, enough to drop a few words and phrases at rather
critical moments in the story. So with a critical eye I went through
and put back in the missing words. This is an example of the little
used second person point of view (actually second person slightly
omnicient), I believe it’s remarkably well suited for erotica.
Credits: I would also like to take this chance to acknowledge the
wonderful talents of the anonymous person who proofs my newest
stories. If the punctuation seems crisp and clean, if the grammar
makes sense, if all the words are just right, it is entirely the
fruits of his labors.
Subject Matter: (M/F)
Rating: (X) Not suitable for minors. May be illegal in some areas.
Author: SandMan
Copyright ( c ) 1998 sandman@bitsmart.com
Archive: ftp://asstr.ml.org/pub/Authors/sandman/index.html
Distribution Rights: May be distributed freely WITHOUT MODIFICATION on
USENET, USENET II, not-for profit web sites, not-for profit ftp sites,
and news archival services which offer free public access to archived
articles. All other rights are specifically reserved by the author.
Creation Date: 1/21/98
Distribution Date: 1/22/98 (ASS) (ASSM)
Repost Date: 1/22/98 (ASS) (ASSM) [Correction]
Review Date (Celeste: 9.5,8,5): 1/24/98
Review Link: http://www.qz.to/erotica/assm/Year98/7775.txt
(p)Your Erotica (By Sandman)
You pull into your driveway and feel your heart pound as you see the
familiar car parked there. She has been away a long time, too long.
The excitement you feel as you hurry along the sidewalk to the front
door is akin to that of a child on Christmas eve: eager anticipation,
the surging expectation of need, and desire. She rises from the sofa
as you enter and you stop, the door open behind you, unable to think
of anything other than the goddess which stands waiting for you.
She is wearing the black dress, the dress that always drives you mad
with desire, for it clings to her perfect form, revealing enough flesh
to promise more, hiding, yet, at the same time, flaunting her
luxurious soft curves. The dress is long but slit at the leg and,
noticing your gaze, she moves her leg through that slit, revealing to
your eye the shapely flesh wrapped in long dark below a
delicate garter that promises endless pleasure if it were removed.
Your eyes fall lower and note the high-heeled back shoes. You know
she has also worn these just for you, for she hates high-heels with a
passion. But you love the height it gives her, the way it arches her
feet, the way it shapes her legs and stance. You love the idea of
feeling those spikes against your flesh.
Your lips part slightly as you relish the beauty of her face, the
luxuriant curls of her long hair, the oval shape of her face,
the endless sparkling facets of her green eyes. Her cheeks are rosy,
partially from the blush she has used, and partially from the flush of
standing here in front of you the flush of seeing the naked lust on
your face. She has one finger pressed against her lower lip as if in
surprise or, maybe, anticipation at your reaction to seeing her. She
lowers her hand slowly as you approach, and she smiles warmly.
You do not speak as you near her; words fail you, and they are
unnecessary. Finally you stand before her, your chest pressing
against hers, your face so close to hers you can feel her hot breath
and hear the deep quick breaths of her anticipation. She moves her
hips forward, pressing against your flesh, making you realize the
result of your desire. Until now, the universe was her essence, her
being. But as her hips softly move against yours you feel lust
coursing through your own veins.
As you continue to gaze, you meet her longing stare and are once again
entranced by her beauty. You lower your head slowly, and she raises
hers to meet your lips. You taste her sweet lips briefly and pull
back to gaze on her once more. Her eyes soften, an unspoken plea to
continue. Your hand takes hers as you lower your head once more.
Your eyes close as your fingers weave themselves through hers. You
clinch your fist as your lips meet again, feeling
Her lips part and you lightly suck her lower lip then brush your lip
around hers. She shudders at your touch, your contact. Her breathing
increasing in pace as you feel her breath on your cheek. But with
your eyes closed all that exists is the kiss and her. You explore her
mouth tenderly with your tongue feeling her respond caressing you in
return. She has been drinking wine, it is a sweet spice to her taste,
her texture.
Her lips part and you lightly suck her lower lip, then brush your lip
around hers. She shudders at your touch, your contact. Her breathing
increases in pace as you feel her breath on your cheek. With your
eyes closed, all that exists is the kiss and her. You explore her
mouth tenderly with your tongue feeling her respond caressing you in
return. She has been drinking wine, it is a sweet spice to her taste,
her texture.
You move your free hand to the small of her back and pull her closer
to you. She responds by wrapping her arms around you, the palms of
her hands roaming freely across your back. The kiss is eternal,
consuming, renewing. The touch is exquisite beyond thought, almost
beyond feeling. Again she shudders in your embrace; she wants you,
needs you, as badly as you need her. Finally you pull back and smile
down at her. She smiles back, anticipation and need filling her face.
You reach down and sweep her off her feet and she laughs, the same way
she has always laughed when you do everything right, when you do even
more than she expected and when she loves you all the more for doing
it. You do not feel her weight when she wraps her arms around you and
nuzzles her head in your shoulder as you carry her into the bedroom.
Your passion bears her weight for you, and that passion is a strong
thing indeed.
You set her down gently on the bed and she sighs, spreading her arms
wide and arching her back as she revels in her sensuality. As you sit
lightly on the bed, she raises herself up and wraps her arms around
you again, pulling you into another deep, lingering, passionate kiss.
Her hands move to your chest, pressing against you, clenching softly,
and then she moves her hands inside your coat, pushing it off you at
the shoulders from the inside.
You oblige by lowering your arms behind you, letting the coat fall to
the floor as you feel her hands run along your back. You break away
from the kiss and smile at her as she fumbles with your tie; you are
amused at the intense concentration and determination on her face as
she works the knot free. You fell in love with that look so very long
ago; she may not even realize that when she does it she is even more
beautiful. You reach out and lightly grasp the side of her neck
behind her ear, pulling her forward into another kiss as she casts
away the tie.
You feel a gentle tug on your as she fumbles with the buttons.
Your palm quivers in excitement as you feel the soft down at the nape
of her neck and the flowing silken hairs on the back of your hand.
As she releases the last button, you reach around behind her and
fumble for the zipper beneath soft folds of fabric. The cold
metal feels foreign in her hot embrace, but you grasp the and
pull it down as she runs her hot palms over your chest, causing each
hair to register a solitary note of pleasure and excitement.
Her hand brushes lightly across your erect nipple and she knows you
well enough to know the effect her finger tracing around its base is
having on you. At the farthest point in her circle, where her finger
presses down on your nipple, your breath catches as you yield to the
unique pleasure; then, just as quickly, it is gone, replaced with the
milder sensations of her tracings.
She pulls back and smiles as her zipper reaches the end of its
journey. With a graceful movement she slips off the bed to stand
before you, her hands applying light pressure to the top of her dress.
Her smile is a bit bashful now, and she looks down, not meeting your
gaze. She is beautiful, a perfect single rose, a sunset, but she is
always so self-conscious here. Here where she presents herself, her
true self, to you.
She pulls away her hand, a simple gesture with profound consequences.
You stare in rapturous awe as the dress, in one flowing movement,
falls to land at her feet. The curves modestly before are now
revealed. Her heaving bosom is a priceless treasure to behold. She
stands before you in high-heels, stockings, and a black pair of
lingerie panties; your desire, already burning hot, becomes an
undeniable, tangible beast.
She still does not meet your gaze, standing here like this. She
cannot believe how beautiful she Is, how the sight of her makes you
feel. "You are beautiful beyond words," you say to her in a low
voice, each word carrying upon it the full weight and urgency of your
desire. And now she meets your probing gaze, her lips pulling into a
tight smile, her face saying "thank you" without a single word.
You kick off your shoes quickly, and she watches you with an amused
glance as you remove the socks. She always did say that the only
thing sillier than a with an erection was a taking off his
socks before sex. You even chuckle as you remember the quip. As you
stand up, the loose around you falls to the floor with the same
effortless ease with which she had discarded her dress.
As she climbs back onto the bed, your pants and boxers fall to the
floor around your ankles. She lays before you on the bed, watching
you, waiting for you. You ease yourself onto the bed, lying on your
side beside her, propped up on your elbow to gaze into that angelic
face. Her brow furrows slightly in longing and need. As you kiss her
sweet lips once again, you rest your hand lightly upon her breast,
pressing ever so delicately with your fingers into the hot fleshy
softness, marveling at its yielding fullness. As you kiss, you trace
a line slowly, deliberately down her stomach. Her head arches back as
you move lower, and you adjust your head to keep the contact with her
lips, relishing her aggressive responses to your own advances.
Your fingers meet the subtle line where her flesh ends and the soft
delicate lace of her lingerie begins. You press your fingers slightly
into her flesh, working them under the delicate fabric, then lifting
slightly as you feel her soft public hair. Her breath is panting now,
ripe with expectation, eager with anticipation. You feel the crease of
her outer lips, and trace the line softly with your finger,
continuing your journey down her nubile body.
As you dip lower you feel the moisture you expected and run your
finger through it, pressing just enough to penetrate the outer lips,
ever so briefly, before retreating. As your hand moves away, the
signals of her body relay the disappointment that you did not linger
longer, did not delve further. But the disappointment is replaced by
a whimper as your moistened finger begins to trace around her nipple.
The palm of your hand presses against her as your fingers
clench delicately and release, moving in leisurely circles around the
nipple.
When the exquisite kiss ends, you kiss her cheek softly, then her
throat as she arches her head. You taste the soft flesh of her chest
with your tongue and follow that with a kiss on her breast. You
linger a moment with her nipple between your lips, your tongue lightly
tracing circles. Moving lower, you alternate between kisses and licks
as you trace a line down her abdomen and stomach.
You pull back to regard her pleasingly round hips and the delicate
lacy lingerie that hides the object of your desire. As you grasp the
fabric, she raises her hips to allow you to pull it free. In seconds
it lies on the floor, but seconds are an eternity. As you crawl
between her legs, she raises them and spreads them wide; you raise
your head and smile at her, a devious and mischievous smile filled
with the promise of what you are about to do. She gasps as she sees
your expression and a trembling shudder of anticipation washes over
her. You have been here before, and she knows you never make promises
you can’t keep.
Playfully you run your tongue along the crack, from the bottom up,
experiencing the taste which is uniquely her own. On your second
pass, you press forward, letting the sides of her outer lips press
against your tongue. She sighs softly at your touch; it is time. It
has been time for far too long already. Gingerly you part her outer
lips, exk folds within. You run your tongue deliberately along
her lips, pausing to play with her inner lips, letting your tongue run
around them with a delicate firm pressure.
You know this is driving her wild, and teasing her in the worst
possible way. To provide so much stimulation, so close to the areas
best able to appreciate -- this is just as excruciatingly arousing to
her as your being so intimate with her, without satisfying that lust,
is to you. How long has it been since you walked in the door? The
door still hanging wide open, long forgotten in your passion. A
second? A minute? An hour? A day? A month? A year? A lifetime?
Maybe an eternity. All that matters is you and her; time is a concept
easily lost in rapture.
You push into her moist hot with your tongue, rolling it
gently, letting the tip play against her throbbing walls. She moans
loudly and lets her fingers run through your hair, her hips rising to
meet your tongue, as if she could encourage you to go deeper than you
already are. But deep will have to wait. You withdraw your tongue
and move up slightly.
Her clitoris is an exquisite rose newly emerged from the skin that
surrounds it. You flick your tongue against it, a light pressure, at
first, that will become harder as her pleasure grows. It is hard to
keep up the pace you’ve set, but she loves it when you go fast;
because you love her, because you are incomplete without her, you
persist. It is awkward to insert two fingers into her at this
time, but you know how very much she enjoys this oral stimulation
while you thrust into her with your fingers, taking care to ensure the
best possible contact with the roof of her vagina.
She is so very close now; you know her signals. You pull back your
tongue and suck her clitoris between your lips, harder,
coaxing it further into your mouth, letting your tongue revel in what
it can reach, grinding your lips from side to side to give her the
best possible sensations. A moment, an eternity later, she is
shuddering violently, her hips bucking, her hands pulling your head
into her, moaning as she climaxes. It is hard to keep the contact she
requires, that she needs, but somehow you manage, somehow you manage
to do it right yet again.
She is basking in the afterglow as you crawl over her, the look on her
face a mixture of love and gratitude that is profound in its
intensity. She wraps her hand around the base of your neck as she
pulls you in for a kiss, but just as you know her, she knows your
needs as well. The kiss is brief, though passionate, the most
intimate thank you she could give without words.
While you are poised above her, she runs her hands across your broad
shoulders before moving down and pressing against your chest. One
hand lingers there, just above your heart, keeping this contact
between you. Her other hand wraps itself around your throbbing cock,
so long denied the attention it demands. Tugging lightly, she sends
an electric thrill coursing through you. Your breathing stops at that
first touch, and then she guides you to her.
Your need is to plunge into her, to ravish her in your lust, to be not
gentle or slow. But that need is sated by the slow and playful way
she slips your cock through her pussy, letting the engorged head rub
against her wet, warm folds. Briefly you penetrate her, enough for
you to taste the tight warm hole, enough to feel it wrap itself around
you. And then you allow her to guide you out again. This time, when
she pulls you back in, she gazes into your eyes with a smile on her
slightly parted lips as she removes her hand.
Slowly you push in, allowing the flowing, fluid sensation to pleasure
you until your hips meet hers. You pause for a moment, and in that
pause she wraps her arms around you. Her hands roam across your back,
as she lifts her legs up around your waist so that the tips of her
shoes brush lightly across your buttocks.
You begin to move in a steady rocking motion, closing your eyes to
capture the pure essence of her touch. The feel of her is almost
overwhelming, the way her nipples brush across your chest, the way her
hands feel at the small of your back, the way her shoes bounce off
your buttocks. But, more than anything else, there is the feeling of
you inside of her, of you moving inside of her, of the gentle
contractions and motions of her around you to your thrusts.
Sometimes you can linger like this forever, but tonight it has been
too long, your passion held in check for too long. She feels your
quickening pace and drops her arms to clench your buttocks, digging in
slightly with her long fingernails. She pulls you when you thrust,
her thighs pushing against you as you retreat. You gasp as the first
wave of climax begins. For one moment, one eternity, nothing exists
but naked pleasure. When that moment ends, you thrust again and are
rewarded with a second eternity, wave after wave of unbridled,
uncontrollable pleasure, as you release your hot seed inside her
quivering hole.
And then it ends, and you laugh twice between gasps, unable to put
into words how intense the experience has been. How completely
perfect. She smiles warmly, for she knows. You linger within her
for a moment, unwilling to give up this most intimate contact, though
your once-stiff member shrinks rapidly inside her. When you roll off
to the side, you lightly stroke her sweat-beaded skin, as you begin
telling her all the reasons you fell in love with her and all the
reasons you still love her today.
--Sandman
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