Sensual Erotica (Vol. 1): 26 Erotic Stories

by Priscilla West

  His eyes begged her to release him, to finish what she’d started even as he begged her not to let him finish so soon. “Stay very still,” she ordered, using the paddle to gently prod his balls.

  He moaned, writhing, as she slid the paddle beneath his testicles, the surface quickly becoming slick with dripping oil as he sighed, inching down as far as his bonds would allow as she balanced his glistening balls on the paddle’s surface. She slid it out, gently, dragging the tip of the paddle against his leg before bringing it up and gently slapping it down across his bare thigh.

  He gasped, and she quickly repeated the action, twice on his right thigh, three more times on his left. Each time his cock bobbled and leaked as he moaned in ecstasy, threatening to erupt at any moment.

  She knew the feeling. Naked, kneeling, ass nearly touching the floor, breasts sore from yearning, she put the paddle down and slid atop him. His cock pressed against her swollen clit, threatening to ignite her in a spasm of climax, but she forced herself to ignore it, inching up his body like a kid on the monkey bars, until her swollen mound left a trail of hot, clear juice along his thigh and entire stomach.

  He reached up to kiss her, straining against his bonds, and she puckered her lips, teasing him, just out of reach. He chuckled and, mouth open, she leaned down to drown him in soft puckers, forcing him back into the leather couch cushion as she kissed him passionately, all the while untying the bonds that held his hands.

  When at last his hands were free, he reached around her waist, dragging her near. Her puffy nipples, harder than they’d ever been, rasped against his sweaty chest, threatening to ignite the lower half of her body. He kissed here, everywhere he could reach until she pushed him back down and, reaching for the paddle, handed it to him.

  “Now me,” she rasped, sliding off of him and bending over. She felt no shame as she leaned over the back of the couch, ass up, breasts heaving, legs spread.

  He stood, sprawling out beside her on those endless legs, grasping the paddle. “I… I’ve never done this before.”

  She chuckled, hoarsely, greedily, ass in the air and desperate for the pleasure of measured, controlled pain. “And I have?”

  He laughed, and she heard the swish of the paddle being raised. She closed her eyes in anticipation and squealed with delight as the paddle connected with her bare ass. The sensation was divine, just enough force but not too much. It was like a slight stinging, radiating through each ass cheek, followed by a heavenly tingle that spread through her entire body.

  She grunted, greedily, like an animal, eyes fluttering open and shut as he spanked her again, harder this time, forcing her face against the leather cushion, her hands playing tenderly with her fat, puffy nipples, her thighs coated once more with her desire as each spank coursed through her.

  It vibrated her whole body, like a long jolt sizzling out only to be reignited again with each “thwack” of the paddle. Again and again, each time with just the right amount of force, he slapped the paddle against her round, ripe ass and sent intoxicating shivers through every inch of her writhing, sweaty body.

  Each time she spread herself a little wider, thrilling when the paddle crashed down to cover her sphincter, shivering with delight as, with his free hand, Eric reached down to find her throbbing clit, as giant as a mushroom and begging to be plucked.

  He fingered her gently, smacking her lightly, in a slow, staccato rhythm as she ground her pussy against his finger, squealing with desire as she came forcefully, biting her lip and eyes closed, the smell of leather and her own musk filling her nose as she bucked and writhed against the leather cushion.

  She collapsed, sweaty, in a heap, trembling and feeling the sting on her ass and the air against her sensitive clit. He reached out, gently, to touch her thigh and she came once more, curling into a ball even as she reached for him, finding his shaft, still towering, still glistening, throbbing in her hand as she lay back, spreading her legs for him, greedy and desperate to be plowed.

  He yanked her onto the floor, cradling her head as she landed in the heap of their clothes. Her skin was flushed, every inch of her sensitive to the touch as he lay her down, sliding his cock inside of her, hands on either side of her, gliding in deeper, deeper, until she arched her back to take more of him, until she gasped with the girth of him, until she found herself rocking beneath him as he pounded her, feverishly, her reaching around, grabbing his hairless ass, pulling him deeper, harder, faster as she came, again and again, beyond sound, hoarse and croaking, barely able to breath, gasping as at last he grunted, spilling himself inside of her and collapsing onto her, crushing the breath out of her even as she ground her pussy against his shaft one last time to squeeze an effortless, brilliant climax before at last he rolled off of her, out of her, to lie on his back, sweaty and panting, eyes closed.

  They lay there, the night stretching out before them, growing dark outside the windows of her office, Amanda finally catching her breath and rolling over lazily on her side, propping herself up on one trembling elbow to gaze at his long, naked body.

  He turned over to greet her, eyes shining and moist in the dark. “Now that I’ve loosened you up,” he joked, one hand gently caressing her cheek, “I was hoping now would be a good time to ask to… use your executive shower?”

  They laughed together, Amanda snorting and rolling against his chest. When she came up for air she sighed. “I wish you hadn’t already worn me out or I’d join you, but… yes, timing is everything. Use my executive bath suite to your little heart’s content.”

  He rose immediately, padding into the adjoining bathroom on bare feet while she limped around the room, love sore and collecting her poor clothes and sliding them on over her slick, naked skin. While the water ran, and he hummed contentedly, she pushed the third button on her speed dial and ordered Chinese from her favorite takeout place just down the street.

  It arrived just as he was stepping from the bathroom, wearing only his baggy work pants and a single white bath towel slung around his broad shoulders. He looked like the model for one of their latest deodorant campaigns. She turned from her office door, where she’d just over tipped the nervous delivery boy generously as a silent “bribe” not to say anything about the ravaged state of her hair, lips or quickly buttoned blouse!

  He sat leisurely across from her desk as she covered it with to-go boxes in every size, shape and odor. “I didn’t know what you might like,” she began, almost shyly. “So I just ordered everything.”

  “You’re amazing,” he said, reaching for a soda from the menagerie of cans and bottles she’d ordered along with the food. He popped it loudly and slurped it quietly. “Here I thought I’d been working for the Ice Queen when, it turns out, you’re one big softie with a heart of gold.”

  She rolled her eyes. It wasn’t the first time she’d heard her unofficial nickname around the office, but she certainly hoped the last. “Don’t go spreading it around,” she said, grabbing at a coil of vegetable lo mein noodles with a fresh pair of chopsticks.

  He nodded, sipping his soda as he toyed with an egg roll. “So, what next?”

  She made big eyes. “What, you’re already to go again?”

  He snorted. “No, I meant… what’s next for us.”

  She grew quiet, avoiding his eyes. “I know what you meant.”

  They ate for a minute or two, quietly, considering how vocal they’d been in their lovemaking only moments before. “I think…” she began, hesitantly. “I think we should take it slow for now. I don’t… I don’t want the other employees to think I’m favoring you or anything.”

  He nodded, wiping his fingers with a paper napkin.

  She cleared her throat and added, “That’s why… that’s why I’m firing you.”

  He looked up, nearly dropping the container of boneless spare ribs on his khaki slacks. “Come again?”

  She smiled, taking her time with the revelation. “Well, you can’t work two jobs at once or, can you?”

  Eric shook his hea
d. “I… I don’t understand.”

  She nodded. “I’ve been toying the idea of going into a little side business. I’d like to build on the Invisioneering brand but take it online. Have you noticed the surge in erotica titles lately?”

  He shook his head. “Not exactly my cup of tea.”

  She smirked. “You could have fooled me.” He blushed and she continued. “It’s a big market and I get requests for book covers all the time but, we’ve got too much overhead around here to dabble in a few two- and three-hundred dollar jobs a week, you know? But if I opened a branch online, specializing only in romance and erotica book covers, well, I could outsource the jobs to hungry freelancers and make it extremely profitable. So, what do you think?”

  Eric still looked a little glum about being fired. “Fine, great idea, bully for you.”

  She wanted to improve his mood, but he looked so adorable while pouting, she almost wanted to toy with him a little more. Still, he was right; her icy exterior hid a heart of gold, one he’d personally helped to melt. “Well, cheer up Mr. New VP and Head Book Cover Designer.”

  His smile was cautiously crooked. “You mean…”

  “I mean… you would work from home, remotely, so you wouldn’t have to endure my ‘icy exterior,’ as you so tactfully put it--”

  “Amanda, you know I--” he interrupted, but she silenced him with an extended finger. Or, in this case, a chopstick.

  “You’re right, Eric. I’ve been too hard on you, and for that I apologize. All that pent up sexual frustration and I took it out on you.”

  “No need to apologize for that part…”

  “Anyway,” she said, rolling her eyes and getting back to business. “The job would start immediately and we’d need to spend a LOT of time after hours developing an online presence, a strategy, defining our brand and, of course, trying out lots and lots of erotic poses.”

  “For the company, of course,” he said, waving his own chopsticks dramatically.

  “Of course.” She was starting to warm to the idea, and not having Eric underfoot only meant she’d be hot and primed by the time they did see each other every evening. “So, what do you say… partner?”

  “I say pass the Moo Shu Pork, partner. We’ve got a lot of planning to do.”

  Amanda sighed, sitting back more heavily in her chair than she’d intended. The clock on her wall said it was nearly nine in the evening, but it felt like midday. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so relaxed, so refreshed, so… hopeful… particularly after a long day’s work.

  Eric sat across from her, youthful, playful with his bare torso and crooked grin. He seemed truly excited about the new venture and, surprisingly, so did she. His youth and enthusiasm would ensure that his covers would have the energy and vitality to attract their target audience and, when he did have to meet with his predominantly female clientele, Amanda was sure they’d hire him just to spend more time with him.

  That is, if she ever let him out of her bed…

  Serials

  In the following section, you’ll find a selection of serial stories that will continue in future volumes of Sensual Erotica.

  Enjoy!

  The Personal Trainer Part 1

  by Eva Morrison

  I stopped myself from swinging open the car door just in time as a super hot, incredibly ripped man slipped by. Where have you been all my life, I thought to myself lecherously, smiling. I looked at his tight ass appreciatively, then cocked my head as he approached the door of the studio I was about to enter. Very interesting. It had to be Jake — no, it was Jake. He was unlocking the door with a set of keys. This was the personal trainer my friends had recommended. I made a mental note to call and thank them.

  It had to have been a week ago, maybe two. We all met up for a girl’s night on the town and settled into a corner couch in the club. There were already too many cocktails sloshing in our bellies by the time I started bemoaning my latest ex.

  “He actually told me I was getting flabby,” I yelled over the dance music.

  The girls gave a collective, scandalized gasp. “That’s why he’s the ex, honey,” Annie shouted.

  “I’m not getting flabby, am I?” I asked, standing up and poking my stomach. “God knows I’ve been drinking enough.”

  Rachel reached over and yanked me back down on the couch. “Sit down. Jesus, Kim,” she laughed. “You are not and never will be flabby.”

  “Are you sure?” I wailed, waggling my arms and pinching the backs of them. “Look at this!”

  “If you’re so insecure, you could always get a personal trainer,” Annie called, sipping her martini.

  Rachel got a positively wicked look. “I think you will get a personal trainer,” she said.

  “I am flabby?” I asked, despondent.

  “Of course not,” Rachel said. “But I think this personal trainer will work wonders for your fitness regimen and your attitude. It did for me.”

  “I didn’t know you had a personal trainer,” I said.

  “Well, I did. His name is Jake. He got me to where I needed to be, and then I ended our contract.” At this, Annie tittered.

  “How did I not know this?” I exclaimed.

  “I’m sorry, Kim,” Rachel said. “You’ve been so wrapped up in your relationship drama.”

  “Ugh,” I agreed, throwing back more of my bourbon and Coke. “Tell me more about this Jake.”

  “No can do, honey,” Annie hollered. “She was sworn to secrecy.”

  “What?” I peered at Rachel. “This sounds like trouble.”

  “Only the best kind of trouble, I can assure you,” Rachel said, preening. “Jake has ‘special methods.’ You have to trust him or you’ll get nothing out of your workouts.”

  “Rachel, this sounds super fishy,” I said.

  “Trust him,” she repeated. “If you complete the program, it’ll be the best thing that’s ever happened to you.”

  “Still —.”

  “Kim, I swear to God, if you say one more thing that isn’t ‘give me his card,’ I’m not going to give you his card.”

  I grinned. “Give me his card, then.”

  “You won’t be disappointed,” Rachel said earnestly, pressing a business card into my palm.

  And I wasn’t — not at first sight, anyway. Jake opened the studio door and walked inside. I rummaged through my purse until I found my lipstick and applied it, using the rearview mirror as a guide. I had to grin sheepishly at myself. Wearing makeup to work out? Seriously? I wasn’t going to fool myself, though. My tank top, yoga pants, even my shoes were new.

  I forced myself out of the car, surprised at my anxiety. Rachel hadn’t played Jake up at all — she’d barely told me anything about her experience. Maybe I was nervous because I didn’t know what to expect.

  Pushing open the door to the studio lobby, I smiled winningly at Jake, who looked up from behind a computer.

  “You must be Kim,” he said, standing up and holding out his hand.

  I took it. “Yes. And you’re Jake.” His grip was very firm.

  He nodded. “Follow me.”

  We stepped through a door and into the gleaming workout studio. There was state-of-the-art equipment scattered everywhere. Jake was more than well equipped. I counted three cardio machines, multitudes of medicine balls, free weights along with weight machines, and more. Everything was spotless, modern, and capable. I felt better already.

  “Take off your clothes,” Jake said abruptly.

  I knew I didn’t hear that right. “Excuse me?”

  “You can take off your clothes, or you can end our contract,” Jake said. “Removing your clothes removes the barrier between you and your fitness goals.”

  I raised an eyebrow.

  “It’s symbolic but effective,” Jake continued. “If you trust me, you’ll get the best workout of your life. But you have to do everything I say exactly.”

  I looked at my reflection in the mirrored walls. My friends were scandalous, but
they weren’t cruel. If they vouched for Jake, I could trust them. Plus, he was hot.

  “The only reason I’m doing this is because you come highly recommended,” I said haughtily, toeing off my shoes and peeling my tank top over my head.

  “Of course,” Jake said. “I’m the best.” As I stepped out of my yoga pants, I noted that he said it without ego, as if he were just stating a fact. I glanced over my shoulder to check out my butt in the mirror. Not bad.