First Erotica

I wrote my first piece of erotica for a stranger who arrived at my house for a party and left as my lover. We've kept up an intermittent affair for years since then, meeting to fuck everywhere from rooftops to hotels to mountainsides. He's a beloved friend, and this expanded version of the story is an anniversary gift to him from far away.

When you showed up at our house for my boyfriend's 4th of July party, the first thing I noticed were your lips, full and pretty, and a little pinker than I could reconcile against the flawless brown of your face. Your skin had a luminosity that kept me stealing glances while friends were introducing us — the hollow of your throat, the inside of your wrist, the divot in your top lip. Your smile was sparkling and genuine.

The sun was blazing, and I noticed that you had a habit of sweeping your shiny black hair out of your eyes, off your forehead. I caught myself thinking it would feel like heaven against my skin. Almost before I'd even learned your name, I knew I wanted you.

That party was pure Texas chaos, and I was a reluctant hostess. I loved our crowd, but damn, those motherfuckers could drink! Though usually I was glad to get wild alongside them, the sheer volume was wearing me down. Keeping the beer iced and mountains of recycling contained were not my idea of a party. So I was relieved whenever I could steal a few moments away in my bedroom, door locked, in relative quiet and privacy.

Until the time you happened to be standing by the bedroom door, waiting for the bathroom, reading the book titles on the hallway bookshelf. I thought, "I'll bet he could cheer me up," so I beckoned you in and locked the door behind us. Then I found out that my suspicions were right — about your hair, your skin, your lips, your hands, your belly: delicious, silky, and sweet. And then I found out about the rest of you: hard, hungry, and relentless.

***

Since then, I've been thinking about those soft lips on the inside of my ankle, sliding slowly up the inside of my calf and my knee and gently biting the skin inside my thigh, and then your sweet breath cooling my hottest place — just for a second — before you start again at the other ankle. Torture. And rapture. Your hair, softer than anything I've ever felt before, brushes inside my knee and makes me twitch, wanting all of you. Now.

But, no. You kiss and breathe and whisper and move up so slowly that I can't stand it and plead to feel your mouth on my pussy. Finally you rest your closed lips motionless upon mine, teasing me, but I can't stand the waiting. My hips start to roll toward you and my thighs spread apart in anticipation of feeling the bliss of your perfect pink tongue on me. I hear you gasp and chuckle a little when my lips part and you see just how wet you've made me.

Lick me once, quick, and again quicker, because you know the sparks of pleasure make me yelp, and you like the sound. (Even the thought right now makes me whimper as I write to you). Then back off again, kissing lightly at the edges of my lips, your breath coming hotter and sharper as you start to taste the molten heat flowing out of me.

Close your lips around my clit and suck on it softly, always so softly that you hold me suspended, floating in that pleasure but always straining toward more intensity. More. Harder. Please. I beg you to suck my clit, please, baby, harder — and then you do, licking and sucking until I can't see and can't hold still anymore and you have to hold my ass tight to keep your mouth even near me.

The god, please, fuck me with your tongue, piston it into my pussy over and over, take all the juice I've got for you, make my hips buck against your mouth. Then surprise me by sliding a finger inside, then two, upping the stakes, making me wail and thrash. Wrap an arm around my waist and hold me there, find the spot you've found before, baby, stroke it, the spot that makes me say stupid things, see visions and flame into ashes, coming and coming and moaning your name...

***

In the few moments it takes me to slide back to consciousness, you crawl up beside me and pull me tight against yourself, all hot breath and hard dick. I want to see and taste this beautiful cock, a dozen immaculate shades of soil and sunset, but the need to feel you inside me is too strong.

I want you everywhere — tongue in my mouth, hands in my hair, cock in my hungry cunt — and we wrestle blindly for a minute in the frenzy to get there. I notice dimly that I can hear the whoosh of the bonfire catching light outside, people exclaiming around it, and the timing makes me laugh.

Then you flip me over, recapturing my full attention, my ass in the air, my pussy begging to take as much of you as I can hold. And in that first second when you slip inside, then that first thrust when you meet the deepest point of pleasure in my body, my focus sharpens to take in the brilliance of this passion between us. God, how can a boy feel so soft and so hard at the same time?!

You push in slowly to let us feel every bit of each other, to let me feel your hands anchored on my hips and your balls pressed against my ass and the sweetness of your throbbing cock between my lips, then pull out slowly and let me feel again how much I want you. The absence of you inside me is excruciating.

Time slows down. I beg you to fill me again, and you oblige, but slowly, still so slowly. I find myself panting with need, with greed. The head of your cock squeezes in, then gains ground inside my walls with a control and deliberation that make me light-headed.

The sensation is intoxicating, almost mesmerizing, and for a moment I get lost in the physics, the tides, the push and pull, the need and fulfillment in cycles and waves. But soon the measured pace becomes maddening again. My cunt is ravenous, wants it hard, wants it fast, wants it all.

Finally your own need prompts you to move faster, breathe quicker, hold tighter, push harder. You're picking up speed and force, now pumping against my ass in the same rhythm as my own racing pulse, on and on and higher — and then faster again until I am howling and bucking back against you, slamming your cock into my deepest place, screaming and not caring who hears outside this room.

Just when I begin to think I could do it like this forever, the delicious feeling of your body tensing up triggers the same response in my own, god, yes! The coil at my center winds to its tightest point — pleasure crystallized to a point of delicious pain — then breaks with a flood. As the waves of relief slam through my own body, I feel your body rise and constrict over me, concentrating all its energy in your cock and holding it there for another brutal second.

Then you're broken open, too, coming inside me, shooting liquid heat in time with your own heartbeat, releasing your weight onto me as you thrust with each spurt. My pussy grips you for a few seconds to take it all and we're locked together until the strength in our limbs deserts us.

In the delicious puddle and haze that follows, I wonder to myself: Where did you come from? And when can you come back?