Hello boys and girls!
So again not this week's post (it's coming it's coming) but a friendly note to those of you who have just stumbled onto my home away from home: there is more than one story; there will be several in fact, so don't just read the first one at the top of your screen. If you've the time and inclination, read them all! Also please be aware that the content in this blog is explicit and sexual in nature. Some of the stories are true and some are not, so if you are uncomfortable please do not continue. I thank-you for your support in stopping by but do not put yourselves in a compromising position on my behalf; the point is for people to enjoy :)
-BR
Flying High
Sean waited in the queue with the rest of the passengers to London. The plane was delayed, as if the week hadn't started out bad enough. Sean had been looking forward to this trip for 6 months. Fiona had been excited too; she'd planned most of their weekend in the city and yet here he was alone. On Wednesday evening a teary-eyed Fiona told him she couldn't do it anymore. She was confused; she cared for him but things were just moving too fast. She needed time.
'What the hell does that mean?' Sean shook his head angrily. And why had she waited days before their trip to tell him. Now he was flying off to London for a romantic weekend by himself. The speakers crackled overhead with static as the flight personnel finally made the boarding announcement. Sean handed his passport and boarding card to the young attendant:
"Have a nice flight sir." She smiled at him.
Sean merely grunted and wheeled his bag onto the plane. Quickly finding his seat, Sean lifted the suitcase into the overhead bin and settled in. Taking out his phone he contemplated texting Fiona.
Would she change her mind? Would his ardent attempt at convincing her pay off? Before he could begin composing a message a flight attendant came by and politely motioned for him to turn his mobile off. In his ire he didn't realize it was the same girl that had taken his boarding card and she was now glancing back at him curiously as she did the final check.
Sean sighed as he fastened his seatbelt and leaned back into the cushioned seat. The flight was less than two hours, but already he felt as if he'd been traveling for days. The flight attendant passed him again and Sean felt that she watched him more closely that normal.
'Women,' he thought to himself as he rolled his eyes. Looking out the window he could see that it had started to drizzle: 'fitting.' As the flight attendants went through the safety procedures the plane rolled forward on the tarmac heading towards the runway. Sean closed his eyes as it taxied and took flight. He was tired and wanted just a few moments peace before having to deal with London.
"Excuse me sir, would you like something to drink?" the melodic voice seemed to be inside Sean's head. As he opened his hazel eyes he realized that the voice was above his head and it wasn't even speaking to him, but rather the man beside him.
"Oh" the flight attended startled as Sean shifted himself upright, "I'm sorry to have woken you."
"S'ok" he mumbled back.
"Miss, I'll have a diet coke," the older man beside him impatiently tapped his fingers on the tray in front of him.
"Of course sir, " she scrambled to pour the drink; as she passed the cup over Sean, a young boy wrestled away from his mother’s grip and went careening into the flight attendants legs. The cold dark liquid spilled over the plastic rim right into Sean's lap.
"Oh dear god! I'm so sorry sir, let me just get you some towels."
The flight attendant rummaged around in the cart, wisps of her auburn hair came undone from her ponytail as she became more flustered. The child on the floor beside her began to cry and she tried to calm him while attempting to find the towels.
"Miss its fine, I'll just got to the toilet and dry off..."
“MAMAAAAAAA!!”
"But...I...well..."
"Miss my diet coke"
Sean got up off his seat, picked up the child and handed him over into the waiting arms of the embarrassed mother and walked towards the back of the plane as the flight attendant stared after him, the man in the next seat clamoring for his drink.
Sean pushed open the washroom door and snapped the lock. The fluorescent lights flickered on and he stared into the mirror. Grabbing a wad of toilet paper he began to wipe the sticky liquid from his jeans, just as he sat onto the lid of the toilet there was a knock at the door: ‘shit.” Sean unlocked the door and standing in front of him was the flight attendant:
"I brought you some club soda and towels..."
"Thanks." Sean went to take the towels, but he'd run out of space and hands in the cramped cubicle.
"Here let me." The flight attendant took the sopping wet tissue from his hands and came into the washroom with him. Dumping the sticky paper into the bin, she poured some club soda onto a towel and handed it to Sean.
Sean looked at her quizzically but he took the towel from her hand anyways and began to wipe his pants. He looked up at the young woman and saw he biting her teeth and cringing:
"It’s not going to help if you do it like that..."
"Why don't you do it then" annoyed Sean threw the towel at her. Catching it with one hand she pour a little more club soda onto the towel, knelt down and began to dab lightly at the dark stain on Sean's crotch:
"Since we're up close and personal, I'm Eva" she didn't look up at him.
"Sean"
"I know..."
"How…"
"Your boarding card."
"Right so..."
Sean shifted on the toilet cover, he was beginning to get uncomfortable; Eva's hands moved up and down the inside of Sean's leg. All of a sudden she stopped and gave Sean a smirk.
"Sorry...um, I should be ok now, thanks..." Sean stumbled over his words, embarrassed and more than a little pained. Eva looked up at him and didn't move. Instead she began to undo the snap of his jeans and pulled down the fly of his zipper.
"What..."
"Do you mind?"
"Well, I mean...I don't think..." Before he could get out the words, Eva had taken the liberty of pulling his jeans and jocks down to his ankles and had her head bent over his legs. The next thing he knew her mouth was on him slowly sucking, her tongue twirling around the growing length of him. Her hand gently rubbed and squeezed his balls creating a curious and not unpleasant sensation in the pit of his stomach.
Eva continued to nip and suckle his penis; Sean knew he wouldn't be able to control himself much longer. He pulled Eva's mouth from his crotch and brought it to his lips. He tasted salt as his tongue plundered her moist mouth. She groaned softly as his fingers unbuttoned the fitted jacket she wore. Creamy globes popped out of the tight fabric, unencumbered by a bra. A spray of freckles dotted the fair skin, the nipple dark and taut, aching to be licked. Sean obliged and took one of Eva's breasts into his mouth using his teeth and tongue to bring them to peak. Eva's mouth was against his neck kissing against his jaw line and as he suckled her other breast she whimpered against the black stubble on his chin.
Without shifting his lips from her bare chest he reached under her skirt:
"Jesus!"
Not only was Eva lacking a bra but she was also devoid of knickers and stockings. He kneaded the soft folds between his fingers, slipping one, then two into her hot flesh. Slowly he withdrew his fingers and then slipped them in again, quickening his pace until her breathing became heavy and labored. He pulled her up onto his lap and positioned himself to make them both as comfortable as possible. He slipped himself into her as she sucked in her breath. She was tight and wet; cautiously his lifted her hips up off his legs and she used he legs to keep herself balanced. Starting leisurely Eva and Sean moved against each other, the rhythm becoming more wanton and urgent as their dance of flesh and sweat reached a frenzied pace. Sean looked into Eva's eyes as she bounced against him:
"Yer eyes are like the Irish Sea misted over with rain..."
"Shut up...you Irish, always with the romance..." She untangled her long fingers from his dark and damp hair and held onto his shoulders.
"I'm not trying to be romantic; just honest." He squeezed her waist and she yelped, her nails digging into his skin. She smiled down at him; lifting her legs off the ground, she clamped them around him, allowing him to fill her deeper and harder. He reached his fingers down as she continued her ride, rubbing her clit; without warning her body tightened and she gasped as she reached her peak. The orgasm continued to roll with in her as Sean kept up the tempo, prolonging Eva's pleasure.
As Eva came down from her high, she used her tongue and teeth on Sean's nipple and reached under him to massage his balls, forcing him to get to where she'd already been faster. They were going a break neck speed, the toilet seat squeaking beneath them. Neither of them made much sound, careful of anyone outside that could be listening. Sean began to moan as Eva continued to ride his cock with all the skill of a jockey putting a thoroughbred through his paces. Just as Sean climaxed against Eva's slick and heated flesh, a tinny voice filtered through the haze of thoughts.
"Passengers the captain has indicated we'll be descending into London momentarily. Please return to your seats, fasten your seatbelts, and have your chair and tray in the upright locked position."
Eva climbed off of Sean's lap; she buttoned up the gold buttons on her fitted jacket and smoothed down her matching green skirt. She turned towards the mirror, adjusted her ponytail, licked her lips and unlocked the bathroom door:
"Welcome to the Mile High Club Mr. Casey." She blew him a kiss and headed out to begin landing procedures.
Sean stared at the now closed door. Shaking his head he pulled up his pants and splashed some cold water on his face. He quietly opened the door, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible and headed back towards his seat. The grumpy man in the next seat was asleep, mouth open and a trickle of drool sliding down his chin.
As the plane landed and pulled up to the terminal Eva passed down the aisle collecting headsets and garbage. She didn't pause, or even look at Sean. For the third time in less than 24 hours Sean was confused. The plane stopped and Sean leapt out of his seat, grabbing his suitcase from the overhead bin, wanting to get out of the plane as quickly as possible. As he waited for the other passengers to exit, he reached for his mobile phone and turned it on. When he reached the plane doors it was Eva who was wishing the passengers well. She smiled at him and held out her hand:
"I hope you had a good flight sir." He took her hand and felt a piece of paper slip into his. He walked into the terminal and unfolded the piece of paper:
447836150930
in case you get lonely before the flight back
XXX
Just as he read the final words his pocket vibrated. He pulled out the phone and saw that he'd received a text message while he was in the air; it was from Fiona:
"I'm sorry, I'm an eejit; I'll be on the next flight to London. Forgive me?"
© Briar Rose
'What the hell does that mean?' Sean shook his head angrily. And why had she waited days before their trip to tell him. Now he was flying off to London for a romantic weekend by himself. The speakers crackled overhead with static as the flight personnel finally made the boarding announcement. Sean handed his passport and boarding card to the young attendant:
"Have a nice flight sir." She smiled at him.
Sean merely grunted and wheeled his bag onto the plane. Quickly finding his seat, Sean lifted the suitcase into the overhead bin and settled in. Taking out his phone he contemplated texting Fiona.
Would she change her mind? Would his ardent attempt at convincing her pay off? Before he could begin composing a message a flight attendant came by and politely motioned for him to turn his mobile off. In his ire he didn't realize it was the same girl that had taken his boarding card and she was now glancing back at him curiously as she did the final check.
Sean sighed as he fastened his seatbelt and leaned back into the cushioned seat. The flight was less than two hours, but already he felt as if he'd been traveling for days. The flight attendant passed him again and Sean felt that she watched him more closely that normal.
'Women,' he thought to himself as he rolled his eyes. Looking out the window he could see that it had started to drizzle: 'fitting.' As the flight attendants went through the safety procedures the plane rolled forward on the tarmac heading towards the runway. Sean closed his eyes as it taxied and took flight. He was tired and wanted just a few moments peace before having to deal with London.
"Excuse me sir, would you like something to drink?" the melodic voice seemed to be inside Sean's head. As he opened his hazel eyes he realized that the voice was above his head and it wasn't even speaking to him, but rather the man beside him.
"Oh" the flight attended startled as Sean shifted himself upright, "I'm sorry to have woken you."
"S'ok" he mumbled back.
"Miss, I'll have a diet coke," the older man beside him impatiently tapped his fingers on the tray in front of him.
"Of course sir, " she scrambled to pour the drink; as she passed the cup over Sean, a young boy wrestled away from his mother’s grip and went careening into the flight attendants legs. The cold dark liquid spilled over the plastic rim right into Sean's lap.
"Oh dear god! I'm so sorry sir, let me just get you some towels."
The flight attendant rummaged around in the cart, wisps of her auburn hair came undone from her ponytail as she became more flustered. The child on the floor beside her began to cry and she tried to calm him while attempting to find the towels.
"Miss its fine, I'll just got to the toilet and dry off..."
“MAMAAAAAAA!!”
"But...I...well..."
"Miss my diet coke"
Sean got up off his seat, picked up the child and handed him over into the waiting arms of the embarrassed mother and walked towards the back of the plane as the flight attendant stared after him, the man in the next seat clamoring for his drink.
Sean pushed open the washroom door and snapped the lock. The fluorescent lights flickered on and he stared into the mirror. Grabbing a wad of toilet paper he began to wipe the sticky liquid from his jeans, just as he sat onto the lid of the toilet there was a knock at the door: ‘shit.” Sean unlocked the door and standing in front of him was the flight attendant:
"I brought you some club soda and towels..."
"Thanks." Sean went to take the towels, but he'd run out of space and hands in the cramped cubicle.
"Here let me." The flight attendant took the sopping wet tissue from his hands and came into the washroom with him. Dumping the sticky paper into the bin, she poured some club soda onto a towel and handed it to Sean.
Sean looked at her quizzically but he took the towel from her hand anyways and began to wipe his pants. He looked up at the young woman and saw he biting her teeth and cringing:
"It’s not going to help if you do it like that..."
"Why don't you do it then" annoyed Sean threw the towel at her. Catching it with one hand she pour a little more club soda onto the towel, knelt down and began to dab lightly at the dark stain on Sean's crotch:
"Since we're up close and personal, I'm Eva" she didn't look up at him.
"Sean"
"I know..."
"How…"
"Your boarding card."
"Right so..."
Sean shifted on the toilet cover, he was beginning to get uncomfortable; Eva's hands moved up and down the inside of Sean's leg. All of a sudden she stopped and gave Sean a smirk.
"Sorry...um, I should be ok now, thanks..." Sean stumbled over his words, embarrassed and more than a little pained. Eva looked up at him and didn't move. Instead she began to undo the snap of his jeans and pulled down the fly of his zipper.
"What..."
"Do you mind?"
"Well, I mean...I don't think..." Before he could get out the words, Eva had taken the liberty of pulling his jeans and jocks down to his ankles and had her head bent over his legs. The next thing he knew her mouth was on him slowly sucking, her tongue twirling around the growing length of him. Her hand gently rubbed and squeezed his balls creating a curious and not unpleasant sensation in the pit of his stomach.
Eva continued to nip and suckle his penis; Sean knew he wouldn't be able to control himself much longer. He pulled Eva's mouth from his crotch and brought it to his lips. He tasted salt as his tongue plundered her moist mouth. She groaned softly as his fingers unbuttoned the fitted jacket she wore. Creamy globes popped out of the tight fabric, unencumbered by a bra. A spray of freckles dotted the fair skin, the nipple dark and taut, aching to be licked. Sean obliged and took one of Eva's breasts into his mouth using his teeth and tongue to bring them to peak. Eva's mouth was against his neck kissing against his jaw line and as he suckled her other breast she whimpered against the black stubble on his chin.
Without shifting his lips from her bare chest he reached under her skirt:
"Jesus!"
Not only was Eva lacking a bra but she was also devoid of knickers and stockings. He kneaded the soft folds between his fingers, slipping one, then two into her hot flesh. Slowly he withdrew his fingers and then slipped them in again, quickening his pace until her breathing became heavy and labored. He pulled her up onto his lap and positioned himself to make them both as comfortable as possible. He slipped himself into her as she sucked in her breath. She was tight and wet; cautiously his lifted her hips up off his legs and she used he legs to keep herself balanced. Starting leisurely Eva and Sean moved against each other, the rhythm becoming more wanton and urgent as their dance of flesh and sweat reached a frenzied pace. Sean looked into Eva's eyes as she bounced against him:
"Yer eyes are like the Irish Sea misted over with rain..."
"Shut up...you Irish, always with the romance..." She untangled her long fingers from his dark and damp hair and held onto his shoulders.
"I'm not trying to be romantic; just honest." He squeezed her waist and she yelped, her nails digging into his skin. She smiled down at him; lifting her legs off the ground, she clamped them around him, allowing him to fill her deeper and harder. He reached his fingers down as she continued her ride, rubbing her clit; without warning her body tightened and she gasped as she reached her peak. The orgasm continued to roll with in her as Sean kept up the tempo, prolonging Eva's pleasure.
As Eva came down from her high, she used her tongue and teeth on Sean's nipple and reached under him to massage his balls, forcing him to get to where she'd already been faster. They were going a break neck speed, the toilet seat squeaking beneath them. Neither of them made much sound, careful of anyone outside that could be listening. Sean began to moan as Eva continued to ride his cock with all the skill of a jockey putting a thoroughbred through his paces. Just as Sean climaxed against Eva's slick and heated flesh, a tinny voice filtered through the haze of thoughts.
"Passengers the captain has indicated we'll be descending into London momentarily. Please return to your seats, fasten your seatbelts, and have your chair and tray in the upright locked position."
Eva climbed off of Sean's lap; she buttoned up the gold buttons on her fitted jacket and smoothed down her matching green skirt. She turned towards the mirror, adjusted her ponytail, licked her lips and unlocked the bathroom door:
"Welcome to the Mile High Club Mr. Casey." She blew him a kiss and headed out to begin landing procedures.
Sean stared at the now closed door. Shaking his head he pulled up his pants and splashed some cold water on his face. He quietly opened the door, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible and headed back towards his seat. The grumpy man in the next seat was asleep, mouth open and a trickle of drool sliding down his chin.
As the plane landed and pulled up to the terminal Eva passed down the aisle collecting headsets and garbage. She didn't pause, or even look at Sean. For the third time in less than 24 hours Sean was confused. The plane stopped and Sean leapt out of his seat, grabbing his suitcase from the overhead bin, wanting to get out of the plane as quickly as possible. As he waited for the other passengers to exit, he reached for his mobile phone and turned it on. When he reached the plane doors it was Eva who was wishing the passengers well. She smiled at him and held out her hand:
"I hope you had a good flight sir." He took her hand and felt a piece of paper slip into his. He walked into the terminal and unfolded the piece of paper:
447836150930
in case you get lonely before the flight back
XXX
Just as he read the final words his pocket vibrated. He pulled out the phone and saw that he'd received a text message while he was in the air; it was from Fiona:
"I'm sorry, I'm an eejit; I'll be on the next flight to London. Forgive me?"
© Briar Rose
© Briar Rose
The Dam
“Ye should’ve seen ‘im lads; fucking brilliant, a stallion!”
Dano described my performance in Amsterdam with relish for what seemed like the hundredth time since we’d been back. He couldn’t get enough of the reflected glory, but I was getting tired of it. None of it was true, but only I knew that. And the whore.
The Dam, land of vice and weed; we landed stoned. Dano and I and resolved to find ourselves the best little whorehouse in Denmark; we couldn’t very well come to the country with the most famous legal red-light district in the world and not enjoy its attractions. As far as we were concerned we'd be contributing to the GDP. Liberated from the oppressive nature of our homeland, blitzed and bashful, we chose to stick together in our hunt for the perfect prostitutes. We agreed that it would be prudent to choose two in the same area so we could somewhat share the experience but after an exhausting, yet enjoyable, search we found ourselves without bedmates: each time we found two would-be lucky ladies, both wanted the same one.
At the brink of failure we stumbled upon an establishment that boasted “THAI MASSAGES.” Chronic logic told us that since the girls were Thai it was a good bet they’d look the same, thus preventing any jealousy from either of us. A lovely bird answered the door and proceeded to inform us of the rules: fifty guilders for the pleasure of a suck or fuck; anything above and beyond the basics was extra. We weren’t about to argue after our long search yielded such luscious fruit so we followed her and another young lady down the dim corridor.
A sense of elation pervaded through my paranoia. 'This is a valuable life experience,' I thought; The adventure I’d been denied thus far in my short, yet varied, existence. I followed Dano & his girl into what was a pathetic excuse for a room. She turned around and proceeded to scare the shit out of me, screaming that my room was back out the passage; this would not be a two for one kind of deal.
“Where the fuck are ya goin,’ ye fool?”
Dano’s idea of encouragement left something to be desired from my shaking and startled self. ‘Things can only improve from here’ I thought to myself. My “masseuse” took me by the hand and led me, like a child, to her own room as I fought the urge to run for the door. She was tall, strange for an Asian girl, though her thigh-high boots were heeled, making it difficult to tell.
“Pay now.”
She stated with all the allure of a dick doc going in for a closer look. With the fifty gilders in hand, she introduced herself as Mimi and that she would suck and fuck for one hundred gilders. Still not fully aware and not wanting to be had I shook my head, anxious to get the deed done and be on my way. I fumbled trying to undress, still too stoned to coordinate my actions and thoughts. Mimi took me to a small sink and washed my limp member, unwontedly gentle; she cleaned her pussy with the same delicacy, a strange tribute to hygiene. Motioning for me to sit on the small bed, she began unwrapping a purple condom. The whole process was clinical almost to the point of sterility, as if I were the starring role in a low-grade porno. Mimi grabbed my dick, yanking me out of the purple haze of my thoughts and tried vainly to bring me to life; it was painful to watch as she struggled to slip the condom over my wilted cock; it would’ve been easier to convince the pope he was Protestant.
Mimi, however, proved she was worth her fifty guilders slowly coaxing dear willy out of hibernation. Not one to miss an opportunity she began to suck vigorously, hoping to quickly bring me to climax. I tried to look anywhere but at her frantically bobbing head as she continued to suck and squeeze, to no avail, for the next fifteen minutes. I felt guilty, though somewhere I knew I shouldn’t have cared since I’d paid good money to have her mouth on my dick and I’d never have to see her again. She gave up, her jaws unable to continue, informing me I could fuck her as consolation. Part of me was thrilled to be able to milk this experience, though most of me was embarrassed at my body’s lack of enthusiasm. Mimi lubed up and took up her position on the bed, eyes staring at the ceiling, thighs apart, cunt exposed. I kneeled between her legs, taking a few minutes to convince my mind and my cock to respond.
Between the blazing and the bizarreness of the whole episode, I only managed a half-erection, but at that moment it was just enough. I thrust into her slick vagina at a furious pace, slowly hardening up but still unable to finish the job. Mimi’s voice added to the slapping sound of my hips.
“You go if you no finish quickly.”
Thanks Mimi, way to make a boy feel like a man; no words of encouragement were coming from the motionless oriental. Up close and personal she wasn’t even an attractive example of the Thai race. Face haggard, breasts flaccid, pussy worn. After an eternity of plunging, Mimi, obviously wanting to move onto her next customer, began moaning energetically finally causing me to shoot my load into her used goods. Pulling myself out of the rental, I pulled off the cum-filled glove, leaving it on the bedside table. Wiping myself and dressing quickly, I gave my working girl a curt farewell and went in search of Dano
“What the fuck took ya so long? You’ve been in there over half an hour. Thought you’d left without me.”
“Gettin’ my money’s worth.”
Dano had succumbed and paid the one hundred gilders for the suck and fuck I’d gotten for fifty. The fact that I’d enjoyed an extra fifteen minutes didn’t sit well with my mate as I described, with delight and deceit, the prolonged blowjob and how I returned the favor by giving her the best bang she’d ever had. But simmering resentment turned to reluctant awe, and then finally to unrestrained glee as he recounted to the lads my vigor and virility.
I was a stallion. Only I knew the truth. And Mimi, my first whore.
Thanks to a dear friend for lending me his story to warp at will. -BR
Dano described my performance in Amsterdam with relish for what seemed like the hundredth time since we’d been back. He couldn’t get enough of the reflected glory, but I was getting tired of it. None of it was true, but only I knew that. And the whore.
The Dam, land of vice and weed; we landed stoned. Dano and I and resolved to find ourselves the best little whorehouse in Denmark; we couldn’t very well come to the country with the most famous legal red-light district in the world and not enjoy its attractions. As far as we were concerned we'd be contributing to the GDP. Liberated from the oppressive nature of our homeland, blitzed and bashful, we chose to stick together in our hunt for the perfect prostitutes. We agreed that it would be prudent to choose two in the same area so we could somewhat share the experience but after an exhausting, yet enjoyable, search we found ourselves without bedmates: each time we found two would-be lucky ladies, both wanted the same one.
At the brink of failure we stumbled upon an establishment that boasted “THAI MASSAGES.” Chronic logic told us that since the girls were Thai it was a good bet they’d look the same, thus preventing any jealousy from either of us. A lovely bird answered the door and proceeded to inform us of the rules: fifty guilders for the pleasure of a suck or fuck; anything above and beyond the basics was extra. We weren’t about to argue after our long search yielded such luscious fruit so we followed her and another young lady down the dim corridor.
A sense of elation pervaded through my paranoia. 'This is a valuable life experience,' I thought; The adventure I’d been denied thus far in my short, yet varied, existence. I followed Dano & his girl into what was a pathetic excuse for a room. She turned around and proceeded to scare the shit out of me, screaming that my room was back out the passage; this would not be a two for one kind of deal.
“Where the fuck are ya goin,’ ye fool?”
Dano’s idea of encouragement left something to be desired from my shaking and startled self. ‘Things can only improve from here’ I thought to myself. My “masseuse” took me by the hand and led me, like a child, to her own room as I fought the urge to run for the door. She was tall, strange for an Asian girl, though her thigh-high boots were heeled, making it difficult to tell.
“Pay now.”
She stated with all the allure of a dick doc going in for a closer look. With the fifty gilders in hand, she introduced herself as Mimi and that she would suck and fuck for one hundred gilders. Still not fully aware and not wanting to be had I shook my head, anxious to get the deed done and be on my way. I fumbled trying to undress, still too stoned to coordinate my actions and thoughts. Mimi took me to a small sink and washed my limp member, unwontedly gentle; she cleaned her pussy with the same delicacy, a strange tribute to hygiene. Motioning for me to sit on the small bed, she began unwrapping a purple condom. The whole process was clinical almost to the point of sterility, as if I were the starring role in a low-grade porno. Mimi grabbed my dick, yanking me out of the purple haze of my thoughts and tried vainly to bring me to life; it was painful to watch as she struggled to slip the condom over my wilted cock; it would’ve been easier to convince the pope he was Protestant.
Mimi, however, proved she was worth her fifty guilders slowly coaxing dear willy out of hibernation. Not one to miss an opportunity she began to suck vigorously, hoping to quickly bring me to climax. I tried to look anywhere but at her frantically bobbing head as she continued to suck and squeeze, to no avail, for the next fifteen minutes. I felt guilty, though somewhere I knew I shouldn’t have cared since I’d paid good money to have her mouth on my dick and I’d never have to see her again. She gave up, her jaws unable to continue, informing me I could fuck her as consolation. Part of me was thrilled to be able to milk this experience, though most of me was embarrassed at my body’s lack of enthusiasm. Mimi lubed up and took up her position on the bed, eyes staring at the ceiling, thighs apart, cunt exposed. I kneeled between her legs, taking a few minutes to convince my mind and my cock to respond.
Between the blazing and the bizarreness of the whole episode, I only managed a half-erection, but at that moment it was just enough. I thrust into her slick vagina at a furious pace, slowly hardening up but still unable to finish the job. Mimi’s voice added to the slapping sound of my hips.
“You go if you no finish quickly.”
Thanks Mimi, way to make a boy feel like a man; no words of encouragement were coming from the motionless oriental. Up close and personal she wasn’t even an attractive example of the Thai race. Face haggard, breasts flaccid, pussy worn. After an eternity of plunging, Mimi, obviously wanting to move onto her next customer, began moaning energetically finally causing me to shoot my load into her used goods. Pulling myself out of the rental, I pulled off the cum-filled glove, leaving it on the bedside table. Wiping myself and dressing quickly, I gave my working girl a curt farewell and went in search of Dano
“What the fuck took ya so long? You’ve been in there over half an hour. Thought you’d left without me.”
“Gettin’ my money’s worth.”
Dano had succumbed and paid the one hundred gilders for the suck and fuck I’d gotten for fifty. The fact that I’d enjoyed an extra fifteen minutes didn’t sit well with my mate as I described, with delight and deceit, the prolonged blowjob and how I returned the favor by giving her the best bang she’d ever had. But simmering resentment turned to reluctant awe, and then finally to unrestrained glee as he recounted to the lads my vigor and virility.
I was a stallion. Only I knew the truth. And Mimi, my first whore.
Thanks to a dear friend for lending me his story to warp at will. -BR
© Briar Rose
My Sincerest Apologies
Hello all you wonderful people! I know you're waiting with baited breath for the next installment of erotica but unfortunately I'm not happy with it as of yet. Never fear however as I promise that I will have it ready by the end of the week so please keep checking back!
-BR
-BR
Blindsided
Have you ever been taken by force?
Blackness descending over your eyelids; arms tied above you, legs pinned beneath the weight of your assailant; tongue silenced. A calloused finger running over your cheekbones tracing the path of your unheeded tears. Chapped lips kiss your exposed neck as you struggle vainly under your captor. You whimper helplessly at the violation, his thumbs softly caress your lips: "shh" he whispers. His hands travel down your body with a kind of reverence. You've stopped fighting; there isn't much use at this point, he's determined to go through with his licentious intent.
He swiftly unfastens the sash of your robe and his hot breath tickles the skin of your stomach; the feel of it should make you shudder but it doesn't feel wholly unpleasant. Your mind and body are at war with each other and your emotions the spoils. The roughened hands lift your back gently off the floor and unsnap the lace strap of your bra. You resist his advances anew but his other hand forces you down again as he pulls off the undergarment. He sighs softly, this time the air he exhales is cool on your revealed breasts. Your nipples involuntarily grow taut. He moans appreciatively and you feel his body shift down toward your bare flesh.
His mouth takes one of your breasts into his mouth and bites your hardened nipple; the feel of his lips sucking and nipping causes you to arch towards him, while still wanting to resist his ministrations. The fingers of his other hand pinch the nipple of your other breast causing conflicting sensations of pain and pleasure. He transfers his oral attention to your stomach laying kisses down your torso towards your hips; your legs struggle to remain closed, but he slips his hands between your thighs and begins to slowly stroke you through the fabric. Your body betrays you again as you feel yourself becoming slick. You hear him chuckle softly; he knows he has you.
He rips off the swatch of lace and forces your legs open putting his body in between them ensuring quick and easy access. With his thumb he rubs your clit and your breathing becomes heavy. As he rubs he inserts one finger into your wet slit, in and out, causing you to whimper. His thumb and finger begin working in tandem, a lazy rhythm that brings you to the brink but holds you there, begging for release.
Have you ever been taken by force?
Do you know what its like when your will's not your own; to be so utterly dependent on an enemy for the fulfillment of your desires? He continues to torment you, assaulting your body with nips and licks as his fingers wreak havoc on your already sensitive nerves. He slowly withdraws his hand from between your thighs and takes his fingers into his mouth, moaning as his licks your wetness from his fingertips. He then traces your lips with the same sticky digits, the juices slipping past the gag, forcing you to taste your body's betrayal.
You hear him unzip his pants as he kneels above your face, his member softly grazing your cheek, tears mingling with seed; a doubly salted stain marks your face and neck. He travels the length of your body lightly stroking every inch of you with his thickness until he stops inches from your swollen folds. Prodding carefully, barely entering; he’s planned his torment well. You struggle against your own need, ashamed and yet unsatisfied. He continues to circle his shaft around the sensitized nub of your clit until he’s sure that the moaning escaping from throat is pleading, not protesting.
In one fluid motion he fills you to the hilt while yanking your hair back, causing your body to arch, forcing him even deeper inside you. The mingling of senses is overwhelming; you’re unable to tell where the pain stops and the pleasure starts. Your body bucks with both, a heady mix, at once gratifying and mortifying. He pumps into you at a steady pace, hips thrusting with violence and possession. He owns you in this moment, body, mind and soul; you need him to bring you over the edge, and he knows it. He controls whether or not you achieve release, whether or not the ecstasy overrides the brutality. But it isn’t about you anymore and the realization strikes swiftly. Until this moment he has been attentive and solicitous, even gentle. Now it is his satisfaction that is paramount. Like a jockey putting his thoroughbred through its paces, he rides you hard and fast, with an urgency and viciousness that your body accommodates with ferocity as if its only task is to bring your attacker to his climax. As he nears this peak he lifts you off the floor, nails digging into the soft rear flesh, breaking skin, causing a fresh wave of ache to break over you. With one last stroke he spends himself into your throbbing insides, jerking you against your bonds, inflicting a cruel, yet intense end to your own orgasm.
He slips out of you tracing your thighs with fluid still trickling from his shaft, leaving a final brand on your quivering skin. He unties your hands but keeps them pinned lest you attempt to remove the blindfold and dispel the mystery. “Not until I leave…” When you’re finally calm enough to remove the blindfold and the gag, the only traces of your assailant are the dried juices on your skin and the faint lingering scent of a familiar fragrance.
© Briar Rose
Blackness descending over your eyelids; arms tied above you, legs pinned beneath the weight of your assailant; tongue silenced. A calloused finger running over your cheekbones tracing the path of your unheeded tears. Chapped lips kiss your exposed neck as you struggle vainly under your captor. You whimper helplessly at the violation, his thumbs softly caress your lips: "shh" he whispers. His hands travel down your body with a kind of reverence. You've stopped fighting; there isn't much use at this point, he's determined to go through with his licentious intent.
He swiftly unfastens the sash of your robe and his hot breath tickles the skin of your stomach; the feel of it should make you shudder but it doesn't feel wholly unpleasant. Your mind and body are at war with each other and your emotions the spoils. The roughened hands lift your back gently off the floor and unsnap the lace strap of your bra. You resist his advances anew but his other hand forces you down again as he pulls off the undergarment. He sighs softly, this time the air he exhales is cool on your revealed breasts. Your nipples involuntarily grow taut. He moans appreciatively and you feel his body shift down toward your bare flesh.
His mouth takes one of your breasts into his mouth and bites your hardened nipple; the feel of his lips sucking and nipping causes you to arch towards him, while still wanting to resist his ministrations. The fingers of his other hand pinch the nipple of your other breast causing conflicting sensations of pain and pleasure. He transfers his oral attention to your stomach laying kisses down your torso towards your hips; your legs struggle to remain closed, but he slips his hands between your thighs and begins to slowly stroke you through the fabric. Your body betrays you again as you feel yourself becoming slick. You hear him chuckle softly; he knows he has you.
He rips off the swatch of lace and forces your legs open putting his body in between them ensuring quick and easy access. With his thumb he rubs your clit and your breathing becomes heavy. As he rubs he inserts one finger into your wet slit, in and out, causing you to whimper. His thumb and finger begin working in tandem, a lazy rhythm that brings you to the brink but holds you there, begging for release.
Have you ever been taken by force?
Do you know what its like when your will's not your own; to be so utterly dependent on an enemy for the fulfillment of your desires? He continues to torment you, assaulting your body with nips and licks as his fingers wreak havoc on your already sensitive nerves. He slowly withdraws his hand from between your thighs and takes his fingers into his mouth, moaning as his licks your wetness from his fingertips. He then traces your lips with the same sticky digits, the juices slipping past the gag, forcing you to taste your body's betrayal.
You hear him unzip his pants as he kneels above your face, his member softly grazing your cheek, tears mingling with seed; a doubly salted stain marks your face and neck. He travels the length of your body lightly stroking every inch of you with his thickness until he stops inches from your swollen folds. Prodding carefully, barely entering; he’s planned his torment well. You struggle against your own need, ashamed and yet unsatisfied. He continues to circle his shaft around the sensitized nub of your clit until he’s sure that the moaning escaping from throat is pleading, not protesting.
In one fluid motion he fills you to the hilt while yanking your hair back, causing your body to arch, forcing him even deeper inside you. The mingling of senses is overwhelming; you’re unable to tell where the pain stops and the pleasure starts. Your body bucks with both, a heady mix, at once gratifying and mortifying. He pumps into you at a steady pace, hips thrusting with violence and possession. He owns you in this moment, body, mind and soul; you need him to bring you over the edge, and he knows it. He controls whether or not you achieve release, whether or not the ecstasy overrides the brutality. But it isn’t about you anymore and the realization strikes swiftly. Until this moment he has been attentive and solicitous, even gentle. Now it is his satisfaction that is paramount. Like a jockey putting his thoroughbred through its paces, he rides you hard and fast, with an urgency and viciousness that your body accommodates with ferocity as if its only task is to bring your attacker to his climax. As he nears this peak he lifts you off the floor, nails digging into the soft rear flesh, breaking skin, causing a fresh wave of ache to break over you. With one last stroke he spends himself into your throbbing insides, jerking you against your bonds, inflicting a cruel, yet intense end to your own orgasm.
He slips out of you tracing your thighs with fluid still trickling from his shaft, leaving a final brand on your quivering skin. He unties your hands but keeps them pinned lest you attempt to remove the blindfold and dispel the mystery. “Not until I leave…” When you’re finally calm enough to remove the blindfold and the gag, the only traces of your assailant are the dried juices on your skin and the faint lingering scent of a familiar fragrance.
© Briar Rose
Assistance Appreciated :)
For those of you have read the "Impressions" piece: A friend of mine mentioned that the characters personalities' seem inconsistent in that they are confident in one half and unsure the next. Part of that is because it's based on reality but I don't want either voice to sound insincere or disjointed. So I'd appreciate opinions on a) if the characters are believable and b) how to improve on the "truthfulness" of the piece. Thanks in advance :)
Also for those of you wondering when the next installation of erotica is going to be posted...since this is a venture in writing regularly expect one later tonight or first thing in the morning; I promise I am not shirking my self-imposed experiment
-BR
Also for those of you wondering when the next installation of erotica is going to be posted...since this is a venture in writing regularly expect one later tonight or first thing in the morning; I promise I am not shirking my self-imposed experiment
-BR
Impressions
"Chastity...the most unnatural of all the sexual perversions."
Aldous Huxley
She’s awakened by his snoring; for a brief moment confusion clouds her mind and then she looks at the man sleeping beside her. The night before comes rushing back to her and she shudders. Carefully she untangles herself from his arms and the blankets. As she slips out of the bed she feels stickiness between her legs; there’s blood on her thighs and the once pristine white sheets. She quickly tiptoes towards the door and slowly turns the knob. She looks back towards the bed and tastes salt on her lips. She creeps out of the room and the door closes with a deafening click.
------------
She sees him from the corner of her eye and she lifts her gaze from the rim of the glass in front of her lips.
‘Him’ she thinks to herself. His gaze shifts towards her, hazel eyes meet chocolate brown; she smiles coyly as she turns and walks out of the crowded room. She takes the stairs to the bathroom and checks herself in the mirror. Smokey lids and shiny lips, straight hair and smooth flesh; he doesn’t stand a chance. As she walks back towards the bar, she passes him and feels his eyes watch her as she moves towards her friends. She whispers into a girlfriend’s ear, making her laugh:
“Go for it!”
She winks at her friend but turns toward another guy in the group and begins to flirt unabashedly with the young man. She keeps her eyes on the one she’s interested in.
He watches her from across the room, wondering how he’s going to get her away from the baby-faced lad she’s with. He knows she’s interested; he also knows that she’s making the rules in this game they’re playing, so he bides his time waiting for an opportunity to get her alone. He’s going to take her to bed; he’s already made up his mind about that, the only question is how to get her there. And then suddenly the boy she’s with turns away from her for a moment and she leans back, elbows on the bar, and looks straight at him, issuing a challenge. It’s all the encouragement he needs, but as he walks towards her she walks away from the bar and towards the small booths in the back of the crowded pub. He shakes his head, following her and finds her sitting sipping her drink casually, her eyes bright with mischief. He sits next to her and for a small span of time neither say a word. Then she turns to him:
“Zahara”
“Sean. Yer not from Galway are ya?”
“Perceptive, aren’t we?”
“Girls from around here don’t look like ya. Ye’ve the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen.”
“I know. I have a lot of beautiful body parts.”
“I don’t doubt it. What brings ya to Ireland?”
“I wanted to be inspired.”
“Right so…”
He narrows his eyes, not sure what to say next; she laughs:
“I’m a writer; I’m doing my MA at NUI.”
“Ah, and how are we Irish doing so far at stirring your imagination?”
“Can’t complain.”
She smiles and licks her lips; she was right about this one. Smooth and charming, cute too. Maybe she will take him home, at least for a little while. It’s been a while since she felt another human’s touch. Or maybe she’ll just have her fun with him at the pub, less hassle:
“Your mind’s working away; I can see you thinking.”
“I was just wondering your place or mine?”
He’s taken aback; he’s heard American girls were forward, but this was a little much:
“So where in America are ye from?”
“I’m not from America.”
His eyebrow lifts just a bit and she has to resist the urge to snicker:
“I’m from Canada, you know the big country north of the U.S.?”
“I’m sorry, I just assumed…”
“Most people do.”
“Right, well can I get ya a drink?”
She smiles, ‘he’s nervous. Good.’ She nods towards the glass by her arm:
“I have one, but thanks.”
He picks at his shirt and shifts a little.
“Is this your first time at the Roisin?’
She shakes her head and takes a sip of her drink; he’s trying so hard, it’s adorable.
He’s frustrated; this isn’t going the way he’d planned. He figured he’d chat her up a bit, have a few drinks with her and then they’d head out. But she’s thrown him off track and he’s not sure what to do next, ‘maybe I should just forget it.’
“You never did answer my question.”
“Which question?”
“Your place or mine.”
“I was thinking maybe we could just chat a bit.”
“Why?”
“Isn’t that the way of it with most people?”
“I think we’ve established that I’m not ‘most people.’
“No, yer definitely not.”
He runs his fingers through his ginger hair as she takes another sip of her drink. She takes his hand:
“C’mon.”
“Where?”
“Dance floor.”
“I’m not a good dancer.”
“You just haven’t had the right partner.”
------------
She touches his bare shoulder as he kisses her neck.
“I want you.”
He smiles at her, and continues along her throat then to her breasts:
“I meant all of you…”
He stills and looks down into her face; slowly he rolls off of her:
“Ya need to think about this.”
“I have.”
“For more than a moment.”
“I want you; that’s not going to change.”
“Are ye sure?”
“Yes…”
He shifts his weight and lowers his body to her. Flesh touches flesh, lip touches lip. He reaches down and slips off the scrap of lace, the final barrier. Feather light fingers caress her inner thighs and she lets out an involuntary sigh. He looks up into her half-closed eyes:
“Are y’ok?”
She nods her ascent, her shaking fingers comb through his disheveled hair, silently urging him to continue. He drops down her stomach, laying butterfly kisses on her soft skin; his fingers find the warm folds between her legs. She moans as her body arches to meet his nimble fingers. Their bodies are beginning to become slick with sweat as every touch sends new waves of heat through their bodies. He replaces his fingers with his lips and tongue; she cries out, shocked and a little afraid. His hands reach for hers and he squeezes her fingers, she relaxes against his mouth as his tongue flicks in and out as if licking a melting ice cream cone. Without warning she feels a burst of warmth within her and she can’t help but scream. Her fingers clutch his broad shoulders and she digs her nails into his creamy flesh, breaking the skin. Her legs shake as she spends herself against his lips. His lifts his head and smiles up at her:
“Was that alright?”
She opens her mouth but her words are lost in her fevered breathing and all she can do is whimper. He lays a trail of kisses across her torso and when he reaches her breasts he takes each of them into his mouth, nipping and suckling. She shifts under him and her hand trails down the length of his body. She takes him into her hand as he groans against her breast. She rolls out from underneath him and begins to stroke him slowly:
“Don’t”
She looks up at him questioningly:
“I won’t be able to stop if ya keep doing that”
A slow smile plays on her lips as she continues moving her hands up and down the thick length of him, keeping her eyes on his. As his eyes begin to close she quickens the movement of her hands and feels him grow harder in her hands. She stops and slowly she traces the tip of his shaft with her tongue and he jerks against her mouth. Suddenly he flips her over and growls, eyes blazing:
“Yer a minx”
She laughs against his mouth as he crushes his lips to hers. Their tongues begin to do battle as the heat within them comes close to boiling point. Her lips are raw and her breath heavy as he lifts his face from hers:
“Do ya have…”
She reaches for the nightstand beside her and pulls out a condom and a small bottle of clear liquid:
“Just in case”
He shakes his head as he takes the foil wrapper and the plastic bottle from her shaking hands; she closes her eyes and feels him reach down. A trickle of cold liquid hits her heated flesh and she bites her lips.
He puts the condom on, careful not to rip it, and looks back up into her eyes. He kisses each of her eyelids, the lashes wet. His fingers brush away the curled auburn tendrils off her face. Softly he caresses her cheek, traces her lips with his thumbs:
“What are you waiting for?”
“Shhh”
Keeping his eyes locked onto hers he shifts himself into position. He takes each of her hands and kisses her palms, then lifts her arms around his neck. Slowly he pushes himself into her, keeping his eyes on hers, her lips tremble and he feels her muscles tighten and he stops:
“If this is really what ya want, ye need to relax.”
She nods and takes a deep breath. She wills her body to relax and she tightens her arms, bringing his head down towards her face. Softly she kisses him and feels him thrust forward. She closes her eyes against the pain ripping through her, clenching her fingers in his hair. Her body feels like its being torn apart from the inside and all she can see against her shut eyelids is a violent red haze.
------------
She leads him through the crowded bar towards the separate room at the back of the building reserved for dancing. The floor is packed; bodies writhe and squirm against each other matching the rhythm of the pounding beat emitted through the speakers. A kaleidoscope of colors flash on the people moving to the music:
“Maybe we should stay here.”
“Scared?”
“It’s just not my thing.”
“I’ve heard that the way a person moves on the dance floor is a good indicator of how they are in bed.”
She smirks at him; she knows he’s not going to be able to resist. He likes a challenge, that much is clear and he definitely wants her. She’s going to make him jump through hoops before he gets her, but in the end, he won’t mind:
“Really?”
“Mm hmm.”
He grabs her hand and pulls her onto the dance floor. She’s baiting him, but he doesn’t care. The music pulses through his body as he pulls her through the throng of people, stopping dead center. He turns around, takes her into his arms and against his flesh. She begins to move to the beat, but slower; he can’t find the rhythm she’s dancing to. She looks up at him as his arms travel down to her waist. She reaches up and brings his head towards hers stopping a mere inch away from her lips. She looks into his darkened eyes and waits:
“What kind of game are ye playing?”
“I’m not playing anymore.”
He looks down at her and sees it in her eyes. She doesn’t move, not even a whisper; His breath quickens and every muscle in his body tightens. It takes him less than a second to close the distance between their lips but the instant they touch time stops.
Her lips are soft, sweet and spicy at the same time. ‘Spiced rum’ is the last thought he has before her lips part and his mind goes blank. Her tongue sweeps across his mouth, tracing the shape of his lips but before he can react her teeth replace her tongue as she lightly nips at his lips and pulls away. She takes a step back and looks at him waiting for him to say something but his mouth is dry. He’s never been kissed like that:
“Wow.”
“Hmmm, ya…”
Before she can continue the thought he pulls her against him and crushes his lips to hers again, plundering her mouth, nipping and sucking. She entwines her arms around his neck and kisses him back with an urgency she’s never felt before. She can’t get enough of him; if she could she’d devour him whole. Her plans for stringing him along went out the window the moment her lips touched his, she wants him and only him, as soon as possible.
His arms move up her sides, to the back of her neck. His fingers run through her hair, ‘silk’ he thinks. She feels warm and sleek against him and though he tries to pull away, he can’t seem to let go of her. He holds her even closer, no longer able to tell where her skin ends and his begins. His hands travel down her back and rest at her hips, her body is petite perfection: smooth curves and soft flesh in a tiny package. He feels her shift away and breaks off the kiss, confused:
“Wha…”
She puts a finger to his mouth and the words die on his lips. He looks down at her questioningly:
“I’m only going to ask once more…your place or mine?”
“Where do ya live?”
“Five minutes from here.”
“Your place it is.”
“I’ll meet you out front.”
She turns away and he grabs her arm:
“Where are ye going?”
She giggles and twists her hand out of his; a coy smile plays on her lips:
“To tell the guy I came with I’m leaving!”
“Oh, right.”
She places a finger on his chin bringing his ear down to her mouth:
“Out front; two minutes.”
She kisses his cheek and he watches her disappear into the crowd.
------------
She pulls out her keys from her jacket pocket, quivering a little. It isn’t the cool October wind that makes her fingers shake as unlocks the door and pulls it open. She walks in and turns towards him, with her index finger she beckons him inside. The front door light shines onto her dark glossy hair, creating a halo; she licks her lips as he brushes past her into the house. She slips out of her shoes, switches off the light, and closes the door behind her.
He sits on the edge of the couch watching her take off her coat. As she stretches to put it on the hook, her shirt lifts up to reveal her curved back, a strip of lace, and black lines forming an intricate design:
“Ye have a tattoo.”
“I do”
“Can I see it?”
The corner of her lips turn up into a sly smile and she walks towards him, she stops in between his legs, tracing a finger down his freckled cheek:
“Eventually; if you’re good.”
He grabs her arms and twists himself around, placing her in between the couch and himself, his arms closing her in on both sides. He leans down towards her:
“How good?”
She lifts an eyebrow and sighs. She lifts herself off the couch so that they’re almost touching. She pokes a finger into his stomach; he jerks back and she moves out of reach, winking back at him:
“Not too good.”
He yanks her back and she stumbles into his arms. He doesn’t waste a second and presses his mouth against hers before she can get away again. She squirms in his grasp, but he just holds on tighter, she groans beneath him and her arms wind around his neck. She’s on her tiptoes and he lifts her onto the couch. His hands reach under the back of her shirt.
Cold fingers on warm flesh, she shivers under his touch. He begins to pull his hands back but she arches towards him. She breaks away from his mouth and begins trailing kisses along his collarbone, towards his ear nipping lightly along the way. She feels his fingers reach under her bra as he snaps open the clasp.
He caresses her back, slowly moving forward. She stops kissing him and looks at him. His thumbs brush against her nipples and her eyes flutter close. He rubs his fingers slowly over her breasts and watches her breathing get heavy. He moves his hands down towards her smooth stomach reaching her the front of her jeans:
“Maybe we should get more comfortable.”
Her eyes open, and she cocks her head to the side:
“I am comfortable.”
He smiles at her as he slides her off the couch. Looking towards the two doors behind her he points:
“Which one?”
She takes his hand in hers and leads him towards her bedroom. Slowly opening the door, she takes him into the darkened room, pushing him onto the bed, laughing as he tries to pull her down with him. She moves to the side of the bed, flipping the switch on the lamp on her nightstand:
“Why the light?”
“I like being able to see.”
He pulls her on top of him and lifts off the tiny excuse for a shirt she’s wearing. White silk and black lace loosely contain small perfect globes and he slips the straps off her shoulders, kissing each smooth hollow softly, he trails his fingers across her rich mocha colored skin noticing the scar along her belly:
“Its not one of those beautiful parts I mentioned.”
“Everything about ye is beautiful; flawless.”
He lifts her off of him and trails kisses along the scar, reaching down to unbutton her jeans, he pulls them off her, but as he reaches up to remove her knickers she stops him:
“I’ve never done this before.”
“Brought someone home with ya?”
She bites her lip and shakes her head, unsure if she should tell him.
“Then?”
“I’m a virgin.”
© Briar Rose
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