Sensual Erotica (Vol. 1): 26 Erotic Stories

by Priscilla West

  “Is something wrong?” Matt asked, disappointment clear on his face.

  “No. Nothing’s wrong,” I told him. “I just thought that maybe we could do things differently tonight.”

  At first, his eyebrows furrowed, then he grinned. “Alright.”

  I led him to the dining room and pulled out one of the dining chairs, making him sit on it. Then, I removed the sash from my dress and used it to tie his wrists to the back of the chair, making sure that it was secure but not too tight as to cause any discomfort.

  “Claudia?” Matt looked at me with a wary expression.

  “Don’t worry,” I assured him, smiling as I moved in front of him. “I promise you’ll enjoy every moment of what I have in store.”

  As if to prove my point, I got on his lap and kissed him deeply. As my tongue played with his, I unbuttoned his shirt and when I had finished popping out the last button, I splayed my hand across his chest, grazing his nipples and tracing his muscles, which were still well-shaped for his age, delighting in how his skin felt beneath my fingertips.

  Then, I reached down between us to touch his crotch, grinning when I felt that there was already a bulge there. I loosened his belt and unzipped his pants, then slipped my hand inside his boxers to wrap my fingers around his cock, using my other hand to lower his boxers and free it. Once his cock was freed, I used both of my hands to stroke it, moving my fingers up and down and running my thumbs across the tip, coaxing him to full hardness and making him groan. When I felt that he was fully hard, I withdrew, stepping a few feet away.

  I paused for a moment to admire the sight of him – my husband with his cheeks slightly flushed, his lips slightly swollen from our recent kisses and his hard cock curved upward and straining against his body. Then, keeping my eyes on him, I took off my stilettos, tossing them to the side. Next, I removed my black dress, slowly unzipping the back and letting it pool at my feet before stepping out of it, and finally, I took off my matching bra and panties, draping them over the back of one of the other dining chairs.

  As I felt his gaze on me, I stiffened and blushed, ripples of heat spreading across my body. I felt a tinge of hesitation, too, wondering if I was doing the right thing and suddenly feeling ashamed of my body which I was not too confident about, especially since I had a large scar across my belly from giving birth to Jessie. I told myself, though, that it was too late to back out now, and so I gathered my courage and moved my hands to my breasts, kneading them lightly and flicking my nipples with my thumbs, making them harden.

  Then, I moved my hand between my legs, stroking myself while still keeping my eyes on him. I suddenly realized, though, that he was probably not getting a good view since I was standing up. I pulled out another chair, positioned it a few feet in front of him and sat on it, spreading my legs as wide as I could before continuing to stroke myself.

  As I did, I saw his eyes widen and his cock stir. Encouraged, I decided to focus entirely on my task, closing my eyes and throwing my head back as I stroked myself faster, allowing moans to spill out freely from my mouth. After a while, I opened my eyes again, only to be met by a lust-covered gaze that probably mirrored my own, and brought two fingers to my lips, licking them and sucking on them until they were coated with my saliva.

  I heard him groan in frustration, probably wishing that I was sucking on his cock instead of my fingers, but I ignored him for the moment, inserting the fingers inside of me. Again, I closed my eyes, throwing my head back as I moved both of my hands simultaneously.

  “Claudia, untie me please.”

  I heard his voice but it sounded distant, just a part of the background that was quickly fading as I felt the tide of pleasure rushing at me. I knew that he was watching me, wishing that he was the one bringing me to the heights of pleasure and yet reduced to being a helpless voyeur, and somehow, those thoughts made me come even faster, harder, so much so that I thought I would fall off the chair as my hips jerked and my body trembled, my breath coming in harsh gasps.

  When I opened my eyes, I realized I was not the only one breathing hard. His chest, too, seemed to be heaving and when I looked at his cock, I saw that it had turned red and moist at the tip.

  I suddenly had the urge to lick it and was about to when I had an idea.

  “I’ll be right back,” I told Matt, scampering off.

  “Claudia!”

  Again, I ignored him, running into the adjoining kitchen and returning moments later with a can of whipped cream.

  “Do you remember this?” I asked, waving the can in front of him.

  “Not now, Claudia,” Matt said impatiently.

  For the third time, I pretended I didn’t hear him. Instead, I sprayed the whipped cream on his chest and his belly before licking them slowly and thoroughly. Then, I sprayed it on the tip of his cock and across the length and began licking it off.

  “Damn it, Claudia, you’re going to kill me,” Matt complained, giving another groan as I swirled my tongue around the tip of his cock.

  “I’m just trying to please you, darling,” I told him before continuing, taking my time to lick his cock all over until it was clean and wet before taking him slowly inside my mouth.

  I could tell he wanted me to go faster by the way he was trying to move his hips but I held them down, deliberately going slowly for a few more seconds before meeting his gaze and speeding up. When he closed his eyes, though, I slowed down again, wanting to tease him a little more. Then, when he was about to open his mouth to say something, I sped up again only to slow down one more time when I felt he was about to come.

  “Please, Claudia, let me come. A man can only take so much.”

  Finally deciding to have mercy on him, I nodded and untied his wrists. No sooner had I done so, did he stand up, pushing me against the edge of the dining table and entering me with one thrust. Without giving me time to adjust, he started a hard pace, gripping my hips so tightly I felt as if they would bruise. I did not mind it, though, instead relishing the fact that I had made him mad with lust for me. Kelly was right. Nothing drove a man crazy like watching something pleasurable and not being able to partake in it.

  Matt seemed to be making up for all that he had missed, though, his thrusts more desperate than I ever remembered, causing the pleasure to swirl through me once more, coming faster at me than I ever expected. A few more thrusts and Matt came, burying himself deep inside me, while I, too, was pulled along with him, crying out in pleasure as every nerve in my body seemed to explode.

  It seemed like an eternity before Matt finally pulled out. When he did, I sat on a dining chair, too content and exhausted to care that his cum was already starting to trickle out of me. He, too, sat down, his chest, which was now covered in a sheen of sweat, still heaving.

  “So, did you enjoy it?” I had to ask, though it was already clear that we both did.

  “You’d better be ready next time because I’m going to make you pay for what you did tonight,” he promised, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

  I shivered at the words but smiled as I realized that my plan had worked. It seemed like there would be fewer quickies from tonight onwards.

  “I can hardly wait.”

  Anger Management

  by Molly Roberts

  The silence

  My body tingled with excitement as Morgan pulled me towards him. He smiled, and I shivered as his lips touched a stray curl of my hair. Just as I was about to kiss him, he turned his head sideways, froze and took a step back.

  "You left the milk out again," he said.

  I felt like I had awakened from a dream. It was going to be one of those arguments, I just knew it.

  "I was going to put it back," I said and hurried to return the bottle to the fridge.

  "You know I don´t like it when you leave the milk out, Carrie." Morgan´s cheeks blushed red, and his eyes had gone from soft to ice cold.

  "And you know I don´t like it when you leave the dishes for me," I said with a pointed look at a tower of dishes
.

  "I did them yesterday," Morgan said.

  "Only because I told you to," I yelled.

  "Why don´t you do them yourself, if they bother you so much?" Morgan was yelling now, too.

  I was going to retort when a horrible thought struck me. We had the same argument last week, and the week before. There was always something worth arguing about. In fact, we rarely talked if we weren´t arguing.

  I silenced myself and walked away, leaving Morgan to stare at my back. Is this how our marriage is going to end? I thought.

  When I woke up the next morning, Morgan was already downstairs having breakfast. I put on some coffee since he had, as usual, stubbornly refused to make me any, and sat opposite him without a word. He ate bread, I ate yogurt every morning since we met seven years ago.

  I took a deep breath, gathered my courage, and said, "Do you think we argue too much?"

  Morgan reached over the table and took my hand in his. The feeling of his warm skin against mine warmed me, from my chest and down between my legs. It had been a long time since we had sex, for sure.

  "Perhaps we should see a couple´s counselor," Morgan said.

  I nodded and smiled. "I´ll make an appointment tonight."

  Morgan bent down and kissed me, sending another wave of desire through my body. To my disappointment it was already time for work.

  The session

  A few other couples were already seated in a circle when we arrived. We joined them with downcast smiles and nods, preparing mentally to share our marital problems. The room was nervously quiet as we waited for the therapist.

  "Marc, stop that," a woman to my right said and pushed her husband´s hand away. I blushed to realize that it had been very close to her breast.

  "Don´t talk to me like that," Marc said. "I wasn´t going to embarrass you."

  "You´re already embarrassing me," the woman snapped, but I saw how she brushed her hand against his thigh.

  "Don´t sit next to me then, Carla, if you´re that embarrassed." Marc looked like he was going to move away, but instead he ended up even closer to his wife.

  She frowned, placed a hand around his neck and was just about to pull him towards her for a kiss when the therapist walked into the room. The couple separated, both blushing and staring at the floor.

  "Welcome everyone," the therapist said and sat on an empty chair in the circle. She began talking about communication, but I could barely focus. Carla´s and Marc´s argument had made me wish Morgan would try to touch my breast. They were still talking and making gestures at each other until Marc bent forward and kissed her neck.

  "Carla," the therapist said, "do you have anything to add?"

  Carla blushed and pulled away from Marc. "No, I think you´re right about communication being important in a relationship."

  "Nonsense," Marc said. "You never want to talk things over. Don´t you remember when you left your coat on the floor and I tried to tell you how I felt about it?"

  The therapist cleared her throat. "Let´s talk about it. How did you end the argument?"

  Marc cleared his throat and tried his best to pretend no one else was in the room. "On the hallway floor."

  "I can´t believe you said that," Carla said and rushed out of the room. Marc gave the therapist a silent apology and rushed after her.

  I didn´t pay attention to the rest of the session, but wished I was at home, on the hallway floor with Morgan. Most other couples stayed for a private chat with the therapist after the session, but I excused myself by saying I needed to visit the ladies´ room.

  The moment I stepped inside the restroom, Carla appeared in one of the booth doors. She stumbled when she saw me, her face red and her hair in a tangle. I was just about to express my concern when Marc appeared behind her, buckling his belt.

  "Oh," was all I could manage.

  "I´m so sorry," Carla said and led Marc out of the restrooms. I stared at the door where they had left, more jealous than embarrassed.

  Morgan was waiting for me outside, and we walked in silence to the car.

  "I met Marc and Carla in the hallway," he said and started his engine.

  "They were in the restroom having sex," I said.

  "I could tell." Morgan looked embarrassed and I wondered if we could ever be more like Marc and Carla, wishing that we could.

  The argument

  We drove home in silence. I couldn´t stop thinking about how Marc and Carla resolved their fights. Could it really be that simple?

  My groin tingled at the thought of this new method of anger management. The house was irritatingly tidy, however, without milk bottles on the counter or undone dishes.

  The next morning I left the milk bottle on the counter, but to my surprise Morgan didn´t say anything. I went upstairs to gather the laundry only to find his clothes in a tangle all over the floor. He knew how much I hated clothes on the floor.

  With a growl I gathered his shirts and threw them in the washing machine together with a pair of newly bought jeans with the warning "wash with similar colors" on. This should do it, I thought and felt my vagina tighten at the thought of us taking out our anger on each other.

  The next morning, Morgan found all his shirts colored gray by my jeans. He stormed down the stairs, and I found him there eating the last of my yogurt. He never eats yogurt. I finished the last of the coffee before he could have a cup, in retribution.

  I was furious at work, like I was so often when we were fighting like this. That day, though, was the first day I was looking forward to get home and continue the argument.

  Morgan was already at home, and I walked inside the door and threw my jacket on the floor. He just glanced at it, and as I stepped inside the kitchen I could see why. The sink was full of dishes.

  "Seriously?" I said, unable to contain myself any longer. "You know I hate it when you don´t do the dishes."

  "And you know how I hate it when you leave the milk out of the fridge." Morgan had something wild in his eyes that made me even more excited.

  "You left me without breakfast," I yelled. "That´s much worse."

  Morgan took a step closer to me. He pulled his jumper off to reveal a stained blue shirt underneath. "Worse than this?"

  "You left your shirts all over the floor," I said. I was breathing heavily as anger and desire coursed through my body.

  "Yes I did." Morgan unbuttoned the shirt, revealing his perfect abs and the curly hairs on his chest, and threw it on the floor. "I´m not picking that up."

  I growled, walked over to the fridge and pulled out a bottle of milk. "I´m leaving this here," I said and placed it on the kitchen counter.

  "No, you´re putting it in the fridge," Morgan said, took the milk and pressed it in my hand.

  I placed the bottle so far in on the kitchen counter he had to reach behind me to get it. His body pressed against mine, and I could feel that his cock was stiff against my skirt.

  I forgot about the milk bottle and ran my fingers over his heaving, sweaty torso. He bent his head backwards as if about to scream at me, but instead he let out a deep breath that reverberated through his whole body.

  My eyes followed the lines of his muscles on his stomach, around his hips and on his arms. As they did so, they fell on the sink and the reason this whole argument had started. Another surge of anger, mixed with lust, tore through my body. The fingers that were entwined in the hairs on his chest tightened their grip, and Morgan gasped in pain and surprise.

  He bent his head forward again, his eyes narrowed as they met mine. For a moment we stood locked in that state of anger where we would normally proceed with silence. Then he growled and pressed his cock against my groin at the same time as his hands cupped around my hips. His strong arms lifted me up on the counter and spread my legs apart.

  Almost in the same movement he pulled away my underwear. I became wet at the sensation of cold air against my vagina and the thought of him so near me. But instead of entering me, Morgan ran his fingers up and down my legs. I reali
zed he was punishing me by not giving me what I wanted, and he confirmed it with a grin.

  I hissed, reached for his belt and undid it as quickly as I could. Morgan´s fingers tightened against my thighs when I took his cock in my hand and began to masturbate him. Then, in retaliation for how he refused to pleasure me, I stopped and grinned at him.

  Morgan bared his teeth at me and moved both his hands to my vagina. He pushed two fingers deep inside me and moved back and forth, while the other hand stimulated my clit. I bent my head backwards and moaned in pleasure, thinking I would come soon.