Category Archives: erotica

Eliza looked up an address on her phone, and the world map in the app rolled toward her to show her where in France she was. She looked up from the front door, and Oscar stared down at her.

She rolled her eyes.

He had been looking at her since the night before, and she was over it. Their dynamic was outrageous. If she was with someone else, he was jealous. If he was with someone else? She came all the way to France because he was with someone else…

Putting her phone down, she walked out of the house and walked toward where she and Emmanuel had made love the night before. Emmanuel had been looking at her since the night before as well, and she felt like a teenage girl every time he did. He was sexy, and he had made her feel divine in the darkness.

She heard the indelicate movement of branches behind her, and she turned around.

Oscar.

She stopped to see what he would say, but he said nothing. He kissed her, and she stumbled back but he grabbed her bottom. She wrapped her arms about him to gain her balance and to lean more into his kiss.

She wanted him, when had she not wanted him since she she met him?

He pressed her to the tree and it was like deja vu from the night before, except when Oscar touched her it was so different than when Emmanuel touched her. With Emmanuel, it was about the unexpected pleasure of a new partner. with Oscar it was the warm comfort of the familar. Her body tilted toward his because she ached for him.

Every time he was with someone new, she thought he was over her. But he was not over her.

And she was clearly not over him.

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Emmanuel took Eliza deeper and deeper into the darkness. Her lips were swollen on her face and between her thighs, as she followed him. He squeezed her hand, and they were both panting. But she never thought to stop him, she never thought to let go of his hand. She just followed him literally blindly.

“Put your hands on the tree,” he breathed, and she turned around and did what he asked. 

He pressed himself to the back of her body, and she felt how hard he was—how hard she had made him. A twisted grin filled her face because she knew that he must be just as miserable as she was for something to happen.

He pulled up her dress, and then turned her to face him. His lips on her neck made her heart and between her legs pulse widly.

There was nothing easy about making love in the woods, but they still managed. The tree bark was rough against her bare ass, but the pleasure of Emmanuel pressed to the front of her body challenged it. 

The sound of him unzipping his pants almost made her come. The Pavlovian response she felt when he did that made her salivate. His grunts moved through her, and made it even more pleasurable when he entered her. Eliza felt her mouth open, but she could not hear the sound of her own moans. They were lost in the night, as he pounded into her.

They walked back toward the light after, and Alessandra and Oscar were still there.

The look on Oscar’s face.

Alessandra looked blank, as she did.  Emmanuel looked defiant.

The games they played.

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Eliza watched Bibi play with a gorgeous pendant that was a family heirloom to Alessandra. Alessandra had taken it off of her neck when her daughter pointed to it, and handed it to the little girl. The night before when they had been driven to Alessandra’s house, Eliza had not expected the house to be as historical and immense as it was. No wonder she was able to be so gracious to invite all of them to be there with her. 

Eliza got out of the car flanked by Alessandra, Oscar and him. Emmanuel still felt like him—even though she had been talking to him the entire night. She was shaking a bit as she walked toward the house, and hoped no one would notice. She was so nervous around him—she had not been that nervous around a man in a long time. All of the men in her life were men she was close to and very intimate with emotionally. Emmanuel took her hand suddenly, and she looked at him in the dark. 

He pulled her out to where the trees were as they were in the countryside now. 

“They are going to notice we are gone,” she said.

“I want to show you something,” his hoarse reply trilled between her legs. 

She could do nothing but follow him. He squeezed her hand and as it was completely dark, she held his hand tightly because he was her vision in the darkness.

Then he let go of her hand, and his lips on her mouth were her sight. Her hands searched his chest, going inside his shirt. She felt his nipple harden which she caressed softly, and he groaned muttering in Italian.

Eliza shifted as she kissed him because she was so swollen between her legs. Her lips were swollen and she could feel how wet they were like they were softly smacking against her inner thighs.

Bibi dropped the pendant, and her lips quivered. Eliza bent to pick it up and showed her daughter the pendant was not broken or damaged. Her little girl smiled and took the pendant back. 

Eliza felt herself swell again from thinking about Emmanuel.

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“So you are totally still in love with Eliza,” Alessandra smiled as she pulled off her blouse, and looked at Oscar. She picked up her phone, and took a picture of herself. She studied him as she played with the effects on Snapchat for her image. She was careful with her social media. Topless nudes and other ephemera for Snapchat. Pouty painted lips, art hers and other artists and playful commentary for her Instagram.

He looked at her, and as soon as he opened his mouth to speak she covered his lips with her fingers. She did not want to hear what he had to say, her question was rhetorical. What she wanted was his lips against hers. As she squeezed his lips, she drew closer to him and pressed her lips to his. His lips were warm and moved between her fingers. She moved her fingers away, and he kissed so she almost forgot her rhetorical question.

But not completely. 

But his kiss made her forget a lot, made her forget to ask more questions, made her forget the things that she wanted to forget why she was with him in the first place. They pulled apart for a moment to look at each other, and were drawn back into each other in the next moment like breath.

But even in his kiss, even in his arms, Alessandra was lost. His tongue in her mouth, her tongue in his was running through the forest without any idea where she was going but knowing she needed to run.

Panting and breathless like she was indeed running, she held onto him like the trunk of a redwood to steady herself.

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forest via wikipedia

Cleo needed her independence.

She went on another “adventure”–to find him.

She knew that she needed to see him again, because she was so heavy when she went to touch herself that she could barely bring herself to achieve pleasure because her labia was thick. She ached for him, and she was afraid he would know it when he touched her.

“He”—she did not even say his name in her head, she thought of him “Him,” like something reverent. She texted him, and he texted her what was she waiting for? 

He touched her like she touched ripe fruit. Between her legs heavy and wet, he caressed her until she groaned with her need and ache.

“What?” he asked, as he touched her like he was picking a mango or something. Cleo was wet and sticky to the top of her thighs. She leaned against him helplessly, and he did not stop touching her.

“You…know…what!” she was incoherent to herself, as he played with her even more. She had memorized his fingers, and he touched her like he had memorized her.

“You have to tell me, you keep coming to me but you never tell me. I need to hear what you want from me,” he semi-pleaded.
“I want you,” she said helplessly, and he stopped touching her. He took her face in his hands and she could smell herself on his fingers. He kissed her, and she nibbled his lips like she was ingesting them. So hungry she was his lips, his taste, his mouth that she did not even need him to make contact with her body in any other way but their lips.

Cadmus had asked her if she had enjoyed her adventure—this was not an adventure anymore. She wanted this man, needed him in a way she had never needed Cadmus and she did not need to want Cadmus that way.

What she felt as her lips throbbed–both sets–was something she was not expecting to feel, and she wanted to explore it as much as she could.

With Him.

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He was not someone she ordinarily would have been attracted to, or someone she even would have met. 

Cleo had been stranded and there was nowhere else for her to occupy herself as a client had cancelled at last minute. Feeling the way that she had been at the time, she easily sat at the dive bar right at the barren midday bar. Since the only wine on the menu was a miniature bottle of a wine she did not like, she wanted to see if the bartender had Campari.

He was sitting diagonal from her and his acumen about wine left her breathless. Looking at him she would not have guessed that he was an expert. He was actually the sommelier for a restaurant nearby, and this was his favorite dive bar in the neighborhood.

He of course invited her to his restaurant and ordered their food—and of course their wine pairings. Cleo was intoxicated from the scent and taste of the wine, even before she was tipsy. Even after he had her just taste a few and spit it out.

Sitting close to her he smelled like leather and cigarette smoke, which was her ultimate masculine scent and even more intoxicating to her clouding her focus. He had random piercings—one she would not find out about until later that evening—and a tattoo peeking from under his leather jacket.

Wanting him had been dictated by time and place. If she had not been stood up by her client, she never would have met him. She would not be on her side now looking at him. He reached between his legs to cup himself. He told her it lulled him to sleep, and he did it while he was asleep unconsciously sometimes.

His tattoo in plain sight now, was a line from a Pablo Neruda poem, and she wondered who he was fucking out of his mind through fucking her? Hopefully fucking each other was enough of a form of magic to make their demons disappear…

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There was nothing that she had read in any of her Women’s Studies books that would approve of what she was doing. But Cleo had needed to do what she had done. 

Clarissa her best friend in most of those classes was a staunch feminist, and would have been particularly appalled, but naked except for her leopard print matching bra and thong? Cleo was satiated and heavy, curled in a half fetal position on the strange bed.

She did not know the name of the man who had a towel about his waist and let her sleep in his bed. From the stickiness of drool she felt dried on her cheek, she supposed she had slept hard. She watched his reflection in the bathroom mirror shaving, and she felt herself throb inside from where he had entered her body.

She needed him, her nipples hardened and she threw the covers off of her and leaned naked against his bathroom door. He took his time with the process of his grooming, and she was completely absorbed until he spoke to her.

“Your nipples are hard,” he said, after a while of her watching him. 

“They are not alone…” 

He put down his aftershave, and touched himself. He touched himself, and she felt like he had touched her. She touched herself mirroring him, and he stalked her. The darkness in his eyes, and the darkness she knew he was capable enveloped her. That was what Cleo had wanted. Someone who was not Oscar or Cadmus. A man who like herself, just wanted to be covered in the night with another person. Someone who was a blank canvas albeit dark to paint with passion.

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