connecting the dots by editing & writing erotica
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Damaris knew very well what had happened that night, but she would not say a word…Her word did not mean anything anyway after what had happened with Gui–after they found out that she had lied about everything about their marriage.
She knew they would find out she had lied, but she wanted to make sure that he did not come looking for her. She did not want to be saved. Gui was a good man, he wanted to save her and there was nothing she wanted less.
She made him think that everything had been a joke, that she had not meant it anything serious when she married him.
She had…
When she came back to New York she was looking for it seedy and dark, because that was what she wanted…
…or at least what she thought she deserved. She knew that Gui would want to save her because he would want to save her the way be could not save Carole—the way none of them had been able to save her sister.
She was currently afraid to toss and turn in the guest room even, because the huge man and slight woman who watched over her seemed responsive to her every shift in the bed.
Damaris had come here because she needed some certainty in her life money-wise and Graham had always helped her. She actually was sad that Graham had died, because he had always been very kind to her…in many, many ways. Kind but removed…
She had tried to come onto him, but he was never interested in her. Again, it was because of Carole. Carole set the bar, and she was not able to raise it or get past her sister’s memory.
Even when they shared a man, Damaris was not the lead sister. They looked so much alike, but people were more drawn to Carole.
Had Harry been reminded of Carole as well when he was with her? Or was he drawn to her? At the bar had not been their first time. When she had watched him and Sabrina—Nyla now—having sex, she knew that she had opened Pandora’s Box.
“You like to watch?” he had questioned her not right after, so that when he asked her she was a bit taken aback.
Damaris looked at him.
“I could see you even from a distance,” he said coming close to her. “Wet, hot…”
Damaris opened her mouth to talk, but his lips were over hers quickly and she pulled his hand to touch her…because she was still wet, hungry.
He teased her, and ran his finger over and over the thin strip of hair just about her wet, hungry lips. Damaris squirmed because she wanted him. She knew what he could do because she had watched him–she had seen him fuck. He pressed his finger right at the tip of her divide, and she practically came from that…
She remembered very well how the night after that had unfolded, Damaris thought, her hand between her legs…but it did not matter anymore.
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still from hungry like the wolf via wikipedia
More Sinful Sunday here:
Some links included in this post are affiliate links. This means that when you click on it and make a purchase, I make a small commission.
After a plethora of technical difficulties, and losing the post that I wrote for this week…I decided to do a flashback post…the beginning of Harry’s descent into hell…
Harry felt lonely, and that was something that he never really felt. He understood why Sabrina had gone to London, and he was okay with it. But she went away a lot, and he was not one to keep her from doing what she wanted to do…but it did mean that he was alone in the couple they were in a lot.
He knew that he was allowed to do what he wanted to do. Sabrina told him everything that she did, and he had even been involved in a foursome with her, Carole and Gui.
He remembered Carole. He had been startled when she died as well. She had been stunning, there was something about her eyes that made you want to look at her. Her sister had the same thing, maybe that was why when Damaris watched him and Sabrina have sex he did not mind. Maybe he was hypnotized by them, and she looked so much like Carole.
She felt familiar.
When Harry went to the neighborhood bar that night, he was not expecting to find a familiar set of eyes. But there was Damaris, wearing a dress that meant that she wanted to be seen and she sat with her legs crossed in a come-hither fashion. She looked at him, a mildly sardonic smile on her face but he was pretty sure that it was just for show.
She got up and walked over to him. When she stood in front of him, Harry’s smile was heavily sardonic. Some of these people saw him here every night almost with Sabrina—what were they going to think of this?
“Do you have a light?” she asked and leaned toward him.
“You cannot smoke in a New York City bar,” he said to her, picking up a book of matches from the bar. “You have to go outside with it.”
“Are you going to be a gentleman and come with me?”
He followed her outside.
“It might rain,” she said, as he lit her cigarette.
“You caused a hell of shit storm in London, I would think a bit of rain would not bother you in the least.”
Damaris smiled.
“Of course it was my fault, right? A woman can tell when she is not wanted. When she is being used. But it is easy to be fooled when you think you are in love.”
Harry studied Damaris, her damp eyes still were hypnotic but sad at the same time.
He caressed her cheek.
“Do you want to tell me your side of the story?”
“I do not want to talk anymore.”
Was it more of a turn on to walk away from the window of the bar, have the strangers inside and the regulars wonder where he was going with the sexy stranger with the accent? Was that what made him follow her?
“I am staying up the street…” she said walking ahead of him, and he could not keep his eyes off of her body. She knew exactly what you do to keep you looking at her. He looked at the hotel up the street and took her hand. He and Sabrina at times had pondered going there, so they could role play.
The inside smelled like sandalwood, which mirrored Damaris’ perfume. When they walked into her room, she pulled her dress over her head.
“This is how I talk,” she said, slipping her fingers between her legs and smearing her wetness over her belly for him to see…
…her language.
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I have a brand-new post up on the Sisters In Smut blog! About when I am not able to get it up…go take a look!!!
http://www.sistersinsmut.com/f-leonora-solomon/getting-it-up/
Eliza drove with Jeanne to JFK to pick up her friend Sabrina, who was currently in a bar at the airport because her boyfriend was not able to pick her up. He was working late he told her, but he would see her in their apartment as soon as she got there.
Sabrina looked like a retro femme fatale. She wore a vintage dress, and her hair was done up in an old-fashioned style, but she looked terribly modern. With her drink in her hand, Sabrina stared at Eliza. Eliza wondered what she thought about her, before Sabrina looked at the bartender who she obviously had around her little finger and gestured to what she was drinking and the two women who approached her.
Jeanne hugged Sabrina immediately, Sabrina looked at Eliza and smiled.
“You must be Eliza,” Sabina said, and Eliza nodded as she extended her hand. Nice to meet you.”
Within moments, the three women were sitting at the bar with their Old Fashioneds
“Harry could not come pick me up because he was at work, and I understand that but I really wanted to see my man…” she said. “I was in London all of this time, comforting my friend Gui.”
“Comforting?” Jeanne said taking a sip of her Old Fashioned, and eyeing her friend closely.
Sabrina took a huge gulp of her Old Fashioned and used her form of sign language for the bartender to give her another.
“Well yes, I slept with him but it was not a big deal. It was something that happened. We have an open relationship,” Sabrina said, eyeing Eliza.
Eliza nodded.
“I had an open relationship with my husband before we were married, but at the moment neither of us is seeing anyone else. I was the last women he saw in addition to a primary woman. But he and I ended up getting married.”
“Oh,” Sabrina said, cradling her just handed to her by the whipped bartender Old Fashioned.
“Yes, we were supposed to get married for years, and then we broke up. He got engaged to another woman, and then we got back together and we got married.”
Eliza felt the warmth in her cheeks as she talked about her recent marriage. She was not sure that she and Rafe were not going to see anyone else ever again, but for now, they scorched their sheets only with each other.
The warmth came to her face, as she thought about how Rafe had made her almost late to the getting in the car with Jeanne. He had held her arms up over her head and tied her to the bedpost, while he kissed and licked her until she begged him to stop. He lapped her up like milk, and she cried out because it felt too good. When she begged him to stop, he pinched her nipples and she cried out.
“Stop please,” she purred, and he would not. She still throbbed between her legs and crossed and uncrossed them as the little vignette went through her mind…
“Well, I can tell you a story too…” Sabrina smiled, and her smile looked the cat that had lapped up all the milk…
More Masturbation Monday here, and more Wicked Wednesday here! Happy New Year! This is the first time that Eliza and Sabrina have met–read my next post for Sabrina’s saucy story!!!
image via Marie Rebelle
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“I was distracted by your reflection under the picture of the pretty woman — you are prettier.”
Damaris smiled at the man who she saw walk over from the bar, and hand her a glass of what he clearly guessed she was drinking.
“Good line,” she said, as he sat down next to her.
He was sitting beside her moments later at the AirBnb she was staying at in Brooklyn. She had had enough of Paris and its beauty, and being confused for her dead sister.
People sometimes looked at her like she was an apparition, and sometimes she believed she was.
The guy beside her, she did not know his name—was not necessary for the function he served for the night. But that did not mean that she was not going to give him something to remember. He squirmed underneath her, as she gave him a meaningful hand job.
“You’re gonna make me come,” he whimpered, and she laughed.
He wanted to come inside her, and she would let him. But she knew she was dextrous, and her hand skills would drive him crazy.
She wanted to test his stamina.
His hips bucked, and he finally placed her on his lap.
Damaris looked at him with innocent eyes.
“You are a very bad girl,” he noted.
“Are you going to punish me?”
She saw his white teeth glow in the dim room.
“Do you want me to punish you?”
She nodded vigorously, and slipped his loosened belt from around him before she pulled up her skimpy dress which she wore nothing underneath and offered her bare backside to him. He got behind her and she felt him press himself between her cheeks.
“No, the belt first…” she urged him.
He playfully tapped her a few times with it, but she was having none of it.
“Hit me!” she commanded.
And when he did hit her with force, she felt tears come to her eyes and she came with such a force of her own she was pretty sure she almost lost consciousness.
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