erotic Stories
The Baptism "Ssssh."
The woman's lips were almost obscenely plump. Like a ripe purple plum, squeezed and split in two along its cleft, they parted to reveal an almost serpentine tongue. It slithered out, curling at the tip like a whore beckoning a client.
Voice "Ssssh."
The voice hissed in Jillian's ear. She couldn't see who made the noise but she felt the hot, moist breath on the back of her neck. Lying face down on a hard but covered surface, she craned her neck around and blinked repeatedly. There was nothing but an all-engulfing blackness.
Better Left Unsaid
Dragging me across his lap, he ceremoniously pulls up the hem of my skirt and wrenches down my panties. Surveying the territory only momentarily, he brings his big, flat palm down onto my right ass-cheek with a loud smack
Not About Flowers
She couldn't even begin to find the words for the way the writing made her feel. She couldn't tell him. Not in English, or Spanish or any other language. There weren't words beyond words...were there?
The Ship's Figurehead
A tramp steamer, a dead dame, and too many, horny suspects. A Hank Ransom Noir erotica
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The Illustrated Teacher
There are things a woman can teach herself, and others that require instruction.
Performance Art
Chapter 2 of an ERWA TAG projects Based loosely on characters created by Nan Andrews. What happens to a man who's existence is wholly visual?
The Dinner Party
Isabel gets invited to a dinner party out in the middle of nowhere. The cliquish guests are rather strange, and no one told her what was on the menu.
Visitors From Japan
The first, tentative probings were terrifying. Something slick and wet nudged at the lips of her pussy and wriggled in between.
Gaijin
She knew nothing about the Japanese male psyche. A year of flattering them hadn't given her any insight into what made them tick, really.
Midnight at Seremetyevo
Oh yes, I could have still been good and decent and kind, but hunger was gnawing at my muscles and the scent of him was eating tiny holes in my skin.
Grown-Up Games
The slap that came made her gulp air, and the hand on the back of her neck tightened, holding her to the table. The pain flashed in neon colours behind her lids.
The Spy Who Loved His Wife James searched his mind... he couldn't even remember what Camilla Reeves looked like. It wasn't that James had been a saint but he didn't much go in for other men's wives - too complicated.
Therapy She wasn't naturally acquiescent. He could tell as he fed on her mouth. She was held together with string, he suspected. He wanted to know how many knots it would take to tease her apart.
Isabel awoke at dawn feeling strange and unreal. She looked across the enormous bed to where Gilles and Carmen lay naked and spooned. There was very little she remembered about the previous night after she had come a second time. Snatches of sound and pictures flitted through her head: insidious erotic fragments, like a film no one would ever make. It was too real, too raw, too...
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