101 EROTICA STORIES

by Green, Vallen

  Mr. Pike’s eyes gleams. “You will do as I say. Get it? Now I want you to get your shirt and those shorts off and play with yourself.” He pulls a chair and sits right in front of the couch, facing me.

  “What if I won’t?” I ask him.

  Mr. Pike’s eyes darken. “You wouldn’t want to know the answer to that, Andrea.”

  I remove my thin cotton top, revealing my round breasts. Mr. Pike nods approvingly. I slide my shorts and soaking underwear off, revealing a slightly hairy mound that has white traces of fluid on it. I swivel and face Mr. Pike directly. I spread my legs wide open and gently pull apart the pinkish lips of my most secret place. I let Mr. Pike see the sticky substance already present in the secret space before I reach down and play with my clitoris.

  The sensation excites me, and I begin to moan and groan nonstop. Mr. Pike’s eyes grow wider and wider with every motion of my fingers and with every moan and groan. I stroke my clit harder and faster, and when I think I am going to explode, I hurriedly inserted two fingers inside my pussy. I slide the fingers in and out, making a kind of rhythm that hits the spot. In, out, in, out. My hips begin to move back and forth to their own accord, and I moan again. I let my other hand run back and forth across my breasts. I tweak, pinch, and thumb the nipples as soon as they grow erect. The fingers of the other hand inside my cunt are getting wetter every second, so I remove them for a minute and smear some of my juice on my breasts. I slide in three fingers this time, and the sensation becomes more incredible. The other hand glides smoothly on my twins this time, thanks to the juice I have smeared on it.

  I am about to explode. Mr. Pike must’ve sensed this as well because he suddenly declares, “Enough.”

  His command takes me by surprise, and I pause with what I’m doing, not quite sure I understand what he said very well. Mr. Pike rises from the chair and walks toward me. With my legs still apart, he kneels in front of me. He removes the fingers inside my cunt and sucks on each one of them. Then he lowers his face and licks off the whitish stuff that is still smeared on my breasts. He licks my boobs slowly and thoroughly, flicking a tongue here and nibbling on a bit of flesh there. He makes a trail of kisses and licks from my breasts, stomach, navel, and eventually to my pussy.

  Mr. Pike buries his face in my cunt for a few minutes before his tongue flicks out and makes things livelier. I shiver as Mr. Pike runs his tongue all over the exterior of my cunt. See, I am a total sucker for oral sex, and Mr. Pike is touching me exactly how I want to be touched: softly and slowly at first, harder and faster the next minute.

  His hands are grabbing my butt cheeks while he buries his face and tongue in my pussy. Mr. Pike squeezes my cheeks as he inserts his tongue in my already wet slit. I give a loud moan. Mr. Pike, for all his trim physique, has a fat tongue. The walls of my most private cave quiver as he invades his way inside, swirling his tongue in every nook and crevice possible. His licking and thrusting become faster without warning. I move my hips to match the flicking motion of his tongue. Mr. Pike notices my hips moving about. He grabs my cheeks harder, almost to the point of pain, but I am lost in my ecstasy and don’t feel any pain at all. I move my hips faster and faster until Mr. Pike’s tongue can no longer keep up.

  “I’m coming,” I announce.

  Mr. Pike pulls his tongue out from my cunt, cutting short my ride of erotic heaven.

  I gasp. “Mr. Pike! I told you—”

  “I know what you told me,” Mr. Pike answers curtly. “But that isn’t enough. Drop on all fours now.”

  I have no choice but to follow. I turn and drop on all fours on the couch, bending my chest down low so that my firm ass sits high in the air. Mr. Pike moves behind me and spanks my cheeks lightly.

  I gasp. My eyes water a little. Without Mr. Pike’s tongue inside my pussy, the spanking hurt a bit. With the hurt is a strange mixture of shame and lust. I don’t know what I ever did to cross my hunky next-door neighbor, but at the same time, I don’t want him to stop punishing me.

  I raise my ass even higher, and Mr. Pike gets the signal. He smacks my bottom harder and faster now. Instead of his fingers, he uses the flat palm of his slightly rough hands. The harsh skin cuts into my smooth bottom, and it isn’t long before I make whimpering sounds.

  “You’ve been a naughty girl,” Mr. Pike tells me, enunciating each word with one hard smack on my cheeks, which are beginning to feel sore. “I saw you watching me the other week, Andrea. I know you saw me see you watching me.”

  So this is what it’s all about! The accidental encounter that rainy afternoon—my girlfriends were right, Mr. Pike liked what he saw. Before I know it, a burst of laughter escapes my lips, only to be cut short by Mr. Pike grabbing a fistful of my hair and pulling it hard.

  “You think it’s funny, ogling older men like that?” he growls. He hasn’t stopped hitting my bottom. This time, he times each hit with some hard hair pulling. I feel embarrassed to be treated this way, but Mr. Pike is right. I am a naughty girl. The admission arouses me again. I no longer think of what Mr. Pike will do to me because I actually want him to do it. I lower myself on my elbows and reach down into my cunt with one arm. I play with my clit, matching the pressure with Mr. Pike’s smacking and pulling.

  He laughs when he sees what I’m doing. “Oh, Andrea!” he exclaims. “I know I’m going to like you big time.”

  I groan in response, too absorbed in my moment of pleasure. I had shut my eyes in the process, and when I open them, I came face-to-face with Mr. Pike’s cock. By golly, it is huge, but not in a porn kind of way. Mr. Pike is a teacher through and through, even down to his cock. I giggle and take his huge rod in my mouth.

  Mr. Pike runs his hands into my hair again and grabs another fistful. I lower my mouth until it is barely resting on his dick. I let my tongue do its thing, running and swirling it all over the entire shaft while Mr. Pike pulls on my hair and moans like mad. I sit up a bit and grab his balls with my hands. I give his jewels the tenderest squeeze, and he acts like he’s on fire, getting all stiff and erect. And I’m talking about his body and cock here.

  I slowly move my mouth higher into Mr. Pike’s rod. He moans, and I know he approves. I move my mouth higher and higher until his cock is almost into my throat. I grab a flesh of Mr. Pike’s firm behind in my hand. He answers by placing his hands on the sides of my head and pushing and pulling my head, so that I’m making kind of thrusting motions. My mouth has transformed into a cunt, and I feel Mr. Pike all stiff and firm inside my mouth. I don’t stop what I’m doing, of course. I make humming motions, press my lips firmly down his dick, and make humming motions again. The cycle drives my next-door neighbor wild.

  “Andrea,” he says.

  I understand he is about to burst. I look up at him. He must’ve seen the glint in my eyes because he suddenly grabbed whole handfuls of my hair, but I don’t let that stop me. I remove my mouth, freeing Mr. Pike’s cock from it. He gave a moan so loud, I will not be surprised if he wakes the whole neighborhood up with his moaning.

  “Fair’s fair,” I tell him smugly.

  Mr. Pike becomes a possessed animal. With a roar, he pushes me back into the couch and hovers over me. He pinches my nipple, hard, and I groan in response. I’m being punished again for refusing to let him come. The thought of punishment turns me on so bad, I start to get wet again.

  Mr. Pike spreads my legs apart. He can only do so much in the limited space of the couch, so he places them on his shoulders instead. With his height, my legs are practically vertical. I am very well exposed down there, but I don’t mind. I raise my hips higher and spread the moist folds of my vagina.

  “Fuck me,” I whisper.

  Mr. Pike obliges, but not without some so-called punishment. He doesn’t ram himself inside me right away. He let the tip of his already wet dick graze the moist folds of my cunt. The teasing sensation is incredible. I writhe on the couch. He makes to move as if he is about to insert his tool inside my cunt, only to withdraw at the last minute and simply let the tip gra
ze my pussy again. It’s driving me insane. Of course Mr. Pike knows it. It is why he is doing it in the first place.

  “Please, Mr. Pike,” I beg him while I writhe on the couch.

  “Please what?” he asks coyly.

  “Please fuck me,” I answer with a whimper. I’m about to orgasm, I can feel it in my bones, but with Mr. Pike holding back this way, it’s not going to happen anytime soon.

  “Are you a naughty girl?” Mr. Pike asks. His dick grazes against my cunt again. I raise my hips as if to somehow catch and trap his cock inside me. He moves away, though, putting his cock out of reach.

  “Mr. Pike!” I’m almost sobbing now. “Yes, yes, I’m a naughty girl! I’m one hell of a naughty girl, and I want you to fuck me so bad!” There. I’ve said it.

  Mr. Pike suddenly rams himself into me. I gasp—not from pain, but from sheer pleasure. I am already dripping wet, and since Mr. Pike isn’t exactly dry himself, I hardly felt any pain from the impact. I raise my hips and move them in a figure-eight fashion. Mr. Pike gasps. He grabs my hips and slams himself deeper inside me. My pussy has become quite tight. I’ve never had much sex in the first place, hence Mr. Pike arouses me so much.

  “So tight,” Mr. Pike says, matching each word with a well-timed thrust. I don’t say anything. I let the huge waves of desire, pleasure, and lust take hold of me. My butt is off the couch; that’s how high my hips have become. Mr. Pike continues with this thrusting motion. He looks at me and my body while doing so. The gyrating and thrusting have made my breasts bounce wildly. Mr. Pike eyes them, but he doesn’t let go of my hips. I place my hands on my tits and rub them furiously, to the delight of Mr. Pike who picks up his speed. I wrap my legs around him while he slides in and out of me.

  Then I feel it. My body thrashes about and writhes faster on the couch. My eyes roll up, and I have to close them. The waves of pleasure grow larger and larger inside me. I feel the entire length of Mr. Pike’s dick inside me now. My vagina eagerly wraps itself around the rod. Hungry pussy. Mr. Pike’s grip on my hips becomes fiercer. I think he’s about to come too.

  The rhythm becomes faster, stronger, and more urgent. It’s time, I know it. I squeeze Mr. Pike in between my legs, wanting to keep in as much of him as my body can allow. Mr. Pike responds by shifting his body forward so as to keep as much of him inside me as well. We move more furiously in this position, his cock inside my young pussy creating loads of erotic juices that we’ll both be shooting up any minute.

  I can’t take it anymore. I throw my head back and scream. “Mr. Pike, I’m coming!” I shout. I close my eyes and surrender to the giant waves of pleasure. In a second, it consumes me. I shake uncontrollably as my cunt becomes thoroughly soaked and drips off my bodily juices of passion.

  Mr. Pike comes a few seconds later. He shudders and arches his back, getting all stiff. I feel something shoot up inside me. It is followed by another squirt then another. Mr. Pike cries out loud and collapses on top of me, his dick still buried deep inside my sopping-wet pussy.

  I stroke Mr. Pike’s hair. His breathing is rough and shallow against my ear. His weight is immense but not crushing. I give his firm behind a brisk slap, and he jerks in surprise. I laugh and spank him briskly again.

  “You’re being punished,” I tell him seriously.

  Mr. Pike grins in delight.

  Point Taken

  Jared and I have been married for almost a year. It was a blissful marriage, except for the fact that we are not ready to have kids yet. By mutual agreement, we would just enjoy simple marital bliss for a while, just us---sans babies and stuffs related. We have visited plenty of places in the last few months. We went to Bahamas last summer, to Capri for a few weeks for our honeymoon, and to India and Morocco to find all the rare spices and incense that I am absolutely crazy about. He’s a great guy, the techie one. Between the two of us, I am the Jurassic one. I can live without my mobile. I think computers are necessary devils, though I can shut them down when I need some quality meal time. My husband is the opposite. He has gadgets everywhere---on his pockets, in the car, the bedroom. Well, what do you say? I am a magnet for computer geeks. Hot computer geeks. It’s always the techie guys that run after me, with most of them saying that I am the next most challenging thing next to UNIX---whatever that is.

  I am pampered—very much so. Starting from the house he bought for me here in Cali, right to the honey drench theme of its interiors (my pick), to the places he takes me to, to the presents he give me---yeah you can say that I am actually spoiled rotten. There’s this part of me that whispers that “Damn, you married for money!” But the way I treat myself well for him and make sure that I have all the qualities of the ideal whore-wife more than compensates for all those material things he gives me. Overall, we live a very good life together as we complement each other. Besides, we actually have a lot of fun times together, in and out of the bedroom.

  If there’s only one complaint (though I never actually voiced this out) is that I yearn for more time with him. I wish I’d be able to see him most of the day, but his line of work makes that a bit of a challenge. He arrives very late---usually around midnight. It seems as though lately, we lack those quality non-sex hours that we used to have. I love him, I really do. It just irks me that when it comes to time, I have to compete with his job----the one that earns him millions. Tough. Not that I am just plain bored though---not at all. I do have a very high boredom threshold, growing up as an only child. I can entertain myself and always find some new things to do. NO. My ranting about his time actually boils down from the fact that I do miss him. I mean, it definitely sucks living in a 7 bedroom house with a man you rarely even bump on the rest of the day. I miss being wooed. I miss being chased. All my life---before I even hit puberty, I am the type of girl even boys go gaga for. My husband was just another one of my victims. I remember one of my guy friends calling me the SILENT KILLER. Whenever there’s a new guy in class or with my circle of friends, rest assured that he’d be forewarned of my dangerous potential of making a man go insane. Men fall over my feet in numbers---broken hearts like victims of a game, like a song says. My husband is fully aware of that. Fully aware of the fact that whenever I am around, men breathings halt and all eyes are discreetly on me. Not that I am physically perfect. I am petite in a Kylie Minogue way, although I am definitely curvier and rounder on key areas. I think men just find it irresistible to find a woman with an ego that is larger than life but hides it beneath soft skirts and lacy sheer tops. It’s like a man’s mind trapped in a female form.

  So yeah, I am used to getting all those attention. As I get dressed and slipped on some vintage mint tunic and a pair of nude pumps, I think about that. I’ll meet Jared at the new Greek resto a bit later. She wished it was a date. It was not. They would be having dinner with his boss and his young model wife. Bummer. She brushed some shimmer bronzer on her bare legs and put some of turquoise earrings to ward off the paleness of her face. She perused herself in the mirror and once satisfied, she misted the air above her with Fracas, so that the fragrance would not be too overwhelming. She took her gold purse and walked out of the room, leaving a trail of grapey-creamy tuberose. Incredibly sexy.

  The place was really good. Soft lighted, airy, high ceilinged, with rococo decor, it offered authentic Greek dishes that she loved. She was seated next to Jared. Looking at her boss and his wife, she almost burst out laughing because it’s a classic case of what-you-imagined-is-the-total-opposite-of-it-all kind of thing. His boss was not a balding man who could qualify as a dirty old man and his wife does not look like a tramp with Barbie pink lipstick and neon nail polish. His boss was only a few years older than Jared---maybe in his mid 30’s or something. He has a very refined yet ultra masculine aura around him. She can’t decide whether she likes him or not. About his wife, well, she’ll definitely give Anne Hathaway a run for her money. Full-lipped, maple-haired, and very, very tall. Except, her body is more toned than she’d actually envy in a woman. She ought to feel insecure g
iven her height but a whiff of her perfume---unmistakably Pink Sugar, tells her she’s not the type to be insecure about. It might be a bit too much judging people by means of their scent. Almost always though, her assessments are correct.

  They spend a couple of hours feasting on wine and great food. In fairness to them both, they are very nice people. Lucia, the wife got more and more stunning for her eyes as the minutes ticked by. Her earlier biases aside, her deep set eyes are really breathtaking to look at. And no, it’s not just the mascara. Conversation was not strained (Thank God!), though it’s our first time to go out together. When it was time to say goodbye, we all exchanged a light peck on the cheek, except for the two gentlemen. Franc, Jared’s boss pressed me against him in a very weird way. It wasn’t offensive or anything. It’s just that, I felt ticklish all over when he kissed my cheek. I could have sworn that I blushed, what with the heat that I felt. But then, I shrugged it off----I never blush.