Best Women's Erotica 2010

by Violet Blue

  “Yes, Joseph” my mother nodded, rubbing her eyes with a delicate Kleenex until it fell apart.

  Dad’s words haunted me a little but I looked on the positive; it wasn’t as terrible as Kazantzakis’s story Zorba the Greek, in which the doomed female character falls in love with the foreigner, pushing her unrequited lover to kill himself. It sealed her fate when the grieving father slit her throat. It wouldn’t be me, but people thought terrible things when my dad’s heritage was laid out on the table like a fake alien.

  We did not date.

  We did not have sex outside of marriage.

  If our partners died, we were destined to live out our life in black.

  It was as though he originated from the Dark Star. He ended up with my mother after her father sold him to her via a photograph in the late fifties. The decision was made to bring him to the land of hope, and even though he achieved a lot—thanks to his dowry—he still thought the rest of the world, including the West Coast, would bend to his will. His daughter didn’t talk to strange men, let alone share a residence with them, and if she slept with someone other than her intended, he’d be better off dead. And that was the great thing about America; I wasn’t limited to the slim pickings within the neighborhood. I fucked outside my ethnic group. Who’d know?

  “I’m back. Did you settle in all right?” the voice climbed the stairs and entered my room. Damon leaned against the door.

  “Great, no problem whatsoever.”

  “Okay?” he said. “If you’re interested in coffee, I’m putting a fresh pot on now, Allie. You don’t mind me calling you Allie?”

  I shook my head. It was a first, but I didn’t mind.

  I followed, like a new pet seeking approval or a new kid in school.

  Once we were firmly ensconced with our cups, Damon asked me what I thought of the dating game.

  “Don’t…” I replied, rolling my eyes. I’d never dated, merely scored in secret: via the Internet or in parked cars during family weddings.

  “I agree. It’s hideous!” he exclaimed, and this, the green light, dominated the conversation. “It was all flowing rather well. Indeed, I thought Hilda to be one of the most elegant creatures on campus but now…” He shook his head.

  “That bad?”

  “She’s a texter. After we finished dinner and made our respective way home, she sent me one of those text messages.” He slid his cell phone across the table.

  Njoyed ur company damon lets do it again. U R GR8.

  “I see what you mean,” I said, replacing the phone on the dining table.

  Damon shook his head, “I’m going to have a shower and read. Thanks for listening.” And I was great at that—listening.

  Whether intentionally or due to absentmindedness, I waited for the deluge to end before I walked past the bathroom. Damon, in a hurry to bathe, had left the door wide open and my first glimpse of his naked body startled me.

  When he had first returned from the disastrous date, his body had been covered with a loose shirt that did nothing to define his broad sculpted deltoids. His baggy chinos didn’t hint at the plush, firm derriere I now saw. I backed into the hall, and bit into the rising urge to peek. He soaped his stomach and continued to travel south, which I thought nothing of until he stopped to grab hold of his penis. Penis is such a drab word, but that’s what I’d thought of his genitals up until this moment. As I stood, watching each slow smooth gliding motion of his hand, his penis transformed into a majestic cock, the kind of cock that could have belonged in a skin flick.

  Back in my room, every muscle in my body contracted. The electric surge, the backflow of my climax, paralyzed my limbs. My soaked fingers slid away from my spent clit, and my mouth hung open to release the pressure in my head. A sketch pad and a stick of graphite lay by my side, and my reproduction of Damon in the shower, complete with soaring erection, stared back at me.

  Damon’s body flitted through my mind. I had drawn his contours with the awe of a traveler to a foreign land. My ears had flamed with every stroke. My pulse had quickened and a surge of warmth had flooded my pelvis, taking my cunt to the outer limits. As my hand roamed to the dampening patch of fabric between my legs, I had implicitly known that my image of Damon would change from that point onward. It had been far too sweet to stop. A long-lost stirring had erupted between my thighs, indeed within my womb. I rewound back to the first time I discovered solo pleasure where each butterfly-like flutter within my clitoris paved the way uphill to a jittery climax. The final step, the near blinding electrical impulse, had upturned my toes until my calves cramped.

  I found Damon seated at the end of the expansive dining table. He greeted me with a smile before trailing off about Tobias and the most recent global concerns. I sat, poured myself a cup of lukewarm coffee and shrugged, noting the amazing merging of green and blue in Damon’s eyes.

  Damon chewed on his lip and his long index finger ran through each line on the front page. “I don’t know why he bothers.” He eyed the newspaper headlines. “Look at that, Tobias will probably end up in Iran one of these days, reporting on the rising tension and before you know it…enough of this,” he shook his head. “Tobias arrives at LAX this morning. Want to come?”

  Come? The word aptly matched Damon’s shower trip. I’d like to come, I thought, and gulped down my coffee but instead, “I’ve a half-finished painting to work on,” came out.

  The weeks unfolded normally, with the exception of Tobias’s quietude. Whether it was to watch the latest DVD or putter about in the garden, his quiet demeanor heavily contrasted with Anthony and Damon’s lurid jokes. Two weeks after Tobias’s return, Damon shrugged his shoulders and offered me the short version, his blue-green eyes flickering oddly. “He’s always like this when he returns. Sometimes I think he feels guilty about being back in the land of the living.”

  “Ditto,” offered Anthony, seated opposite.

  “You can’t blame him. I wouldn’t be able to talk after being the thick of barbarism.”

  “Damon, you overdo it, you know?” Anthony smirked.

  “I overdo it?”

  “Yes, you overdo it. Even Tobias takes it all in his stride, and he’s the one who boasts of the scars on his body.”

  “Like Jesus?”

  “Okay, guys,” I said, slightly overwhelmed.

  “How’s your work coming along, Allie?” Damon’s changing of the subject put me on the spot. The only work I had completed was the usual housework. It was part of the arrangement, which worried my girlfriends. They launched their ideology, disagreed with my subservience and failed to understand that by swapping my nine-to-five office job for “housework” and other domestic duties, I also had more time to pursue my art.

  “I’m stuck at the moment so it’s all about randomness. Sketching nothing really,” I said, directing my gaze toward my fried eggs.

  “You’ll get there,” Anthony said, smiling kindly.

  Damon and Anthony finished and left, one to a dental appointment and the other to the gym. With Tobias meeting his agent, I had the house to myself.

  I eagerly climbed the stairs two steps at a time and found myself on the threshold of Tobias’s orderly world. His bedroom, quaintly decorated with his photographs of foreign strangers, featured a neatly made king-sized bed. His bedside drawers, stripped of books, photo frames and bedside lamps, were freshly polished so that the red-brown timber glistened. Swallowing another gulp of air, I entered and felt part of his world. I’d taken the chance to examine his work just before his return. All the major think-tank magazines carried his photo stories, images of sadness, terror, blood, panic, disease, all draped with the curtain of disenchantment. Safe behind his camera, his life behind the lens as he looked through a limited field offered him a small degree of distance for the fraction of shutter time. Then he’d walk through districts that I’d imagine, and essentially think where to walk, if it was safe and whether or not he’d have time to catch a quick bite.

  “You looking for somethi
ng?”

  Funnily enough, my body didn’t twitch. His voice, to my ears, sounded distant. I swiveled from my waist and saw Tobias leaning against the doorjamb. Words trickled through my mind but they keeled over before they could exit my mouth. I shook my head. He walked through, aiming for the left bedside drawer. It was after he pulled out a flannel shirt, his usual gardening attire, that I felt the tide of embarrassment filling the capillaries. I felt myself glowing hot from the bungled moment.

  I was within my body, but without. My eyes registered him pulling up his T-shirt. His lean tan back drew my mind closer. Skin, smooth yet tortured, faced me. A jagged scar ran from his left shoulder blade to his waist. Tobias turned and explained it all with the precision of a physician. “It’s from a serrated knife, one strike and he carved into my trapezius muscle. Yugoslavia 1990…”

  My eyes were busy following a crater, the size of an apricot, on the same shoulder.

  He averted his eyes and his face reddened. Farther down, just before his navel and an inch toward the left were scald marks. His entire physique resurrected my eighth-grade physical education teacher and her favorite “You’ve been in the wars” phrase that I didn’t dare utter. Despite his unease, my curiosity grew. Did he have other scars? Did they influence his intimate life? My only thought, as odd it as it felt, pertained to kissing and licking his scarified flesh.

  For months I’d been sitting on a raft and for the same period of time the raft and I sat in a still river. Standing in front of Tobias, who ran a finger to nervously groom his black hair, the current arose to strike me from within.

  Man and body, body and man.

  “I’d like you to be my subject.” It flew out of my mouth and toward him with the rapidity of a hummingbird.

  His eyes calmly absorbed me while his ears absorbed the suggestion. The compulsion to touch him at that instant was too overpowering to ignore. Less than a foot way from him, I paced, like curious feline. His scent, a mix of soap and his own natural odor, woke my taste buds. I wanted to taste every morsel of his flesh, to suck, lick, ingest…

  The wetness on my lips alerted me to the unfolding kiss, its random origin and fire. Moisture coated my mouth; his tongue began its exploration. Each calm second stripped away each forthcoming moment so that my feet felt separate from the floor and although my hands clutched his shoulders, I felt removed from the reality of our oral expedition. Tobias’s mouth closed in, his lips engulfed my tongue. A long slow feeding process followed, his lips pressed against my bottom lip to draw it out, tug it forward so that the warm wet tip of his tongue could skate along the inner lining. A wet wrestle followed our lingual sword fight and after the miniwar, our feeding continued. It was as though our tongues were engaged in their own oral orgy, indulging and imbibing so much more than what was anticipated. He grasped my hand and slowly ran it down his chest, over his belly. I looked up to see his eyes flame over.

  “You’re here now…hold my cock,” he said, finishing with a hoarse grunt.

  There I stood wanking Tobias, another Eve in the garden, my vulva glowing hotter by the second. Between my legs, another waterfall stirred. Each cataract gushed like a warped fountain, splashing here and there. I could only do what came naturally; direct his hand to my cunt until I felt his fingers peel me apart. Deeper, stronger and bolder, I tore my mouth away from his to look at his rotating wrist. His two digits worked into me; snug and coated with the fluid of my fascination, arousal and hunger, they curled against my soft flesh.

  He slipped out of me, raised his hand to his mouth and licked a second helping. If I didn’t collapse, then I’d slip on my very own puddle.

  “You’re in trouble, Allie. You know it. I know it. There is no way back…not now.”

  The door clicked shut. My delayed reflexes operated on the moment that unwound between Tobias and me. My eyes searched the floor, simply to gain equilibrium.

  What was unfolding?

  The question dissolved as quickly as it formed. His eyes searched my face but his hands confirmed his intent. Warmth from the pressure of his hands embraced my wrists. His perspiration and desire entwined, entering my mouth through his breath. His searching lips pressed against my mouth and my tongue automatically slid out to meet his flesh. Much like in a dream, where my sluggish feet failed to pick up speed, arousal and curiosity overruled my logic. Leading me toward the bed, like a professional dancer, he positioned me on my knees. His hand dived between my legs, hastily upturning the fabric of my skirt. Exposed, an understatement, as the fabric of my skirt bunched up around my waist, I felt his fingers return to the sticky oasis.

  “Oh…” I raised my hips, slightly rattled. Back and forth, like riding an invisible stallion, I backed into his hand, drawing him deeper into me. The silent sun swam through the curtain slit, illuminating my arms and for a few seconds I create two elaborate tattoo sleeves for my virgin arms.

  Tobias, intoxicated with the aroma coming from my sex, grunted and slid out. It was a short interruption, enabling him to strip off the remainder of his clothes before returning and balancing my neck between his thumb and forefinger.

  “I’m going to fuck you,” he whispered. He removed his hand and threw me onto my back. “I want to see.” He knelt between my thighs, parting them before raising them up to my hip joint.

  “That’s nice,” he said, running his fingers over my swollen labia.

  “Stop teasing and do it. I want it.” Surprised by my alacrity, I fixed my eyes on his damp chest and bit my lower lip until blood slid down my throat. His plump and rigid prick rubbed against my pubic mound. Tobias returned my smile and grasped the base of his shaft, slowly sliding himself over my clit. His slow invasion of cock drove out my breath. Its implicit neediness filled me with an eagerness that I only once before knew. The interval between trysts can make one conveniently forget the sensation of being filled. Lingering around the wet entrance to exacerbate my anticipation, he watched my face. His mouth fell open in time with my own mouth and his hips automatically followed through, striking my pelvis as he ground his cock into me. We danced like this for moments, until the angle of sunlight altered and my legs wound around his waist. The tempo of the fuck varied. Deep, shallow, fast and slow; he felt pleased and so did I. At each turn I felt alive and the specter of insatiability draped our bodies. Prying my labia apart, he viewed the slick river between my legs and remarked on the heat that wrapped around his cock. Our lips met, as did our tongues. The purpose of the kiss didn’t dawn until I felt him slide out and his mouth take a detour, planting a wet trail from the hollow of my neck to the apex of my flooded labia. Anguish filled me like cake icing, as did his tongue, swirling, tickling my slit. His eyes briefly returned to mine before addressing an incoming shadow.

  If you fell from a building, traveling too fast to clutch on a passing ledge or balcony, then you’d know it was too late to return to your starting place. A new scent entered our scene. I saw Anthony hovering above me. His upside down form unnerved me at first. My perspective altered, as did the encounter. Unperturbed, Tobias continued drinking from my overflowing cunt. Kneeling, Anthony stroked my hair.

  “This is quite cosy,” Anthony whispered, seducing my ear between soft strokes of his tongue along my earlobe.

  His hand lazily stroked my chest.

  Even as I swayed within the farthest reaches of my mind, I noticed the growing bulge in Anthony’s pants. Tobias changed tack and altered the rhythm with the sturdy entry of his fingers. Filled and expanded, I sighed. Anthony’s kiss, rougher than Tobias’s, required more energy. His lips gripped my tongue, drew it out and massaged its length, sucking me into a lustful vortex to watch me drown. I reached out, opening my mouth, only for Anthony to rear back and grip my right breast with urgency. Anthony watched Tobias’s wrist twist and turn. Their silent communiqué tautened my resolve. Sensing Tobias’s retreat, I turned to see him suck his soaked fingers.

  Erect and half spent, Tobias smiled and returned his lips to mine.

  “Tas
te it,” he murmured, as Anthony parted my legs wider still. His thumb liberally taunted my vulva, stroking me up and down. Just as Anthony’s mouth settled on my mound, the front door slammed shut.

  It was like swimming within an underwater cave, desperately searching for an air pocket for survival. Tobias’s hungry mouth latched onto my areola and drew it out, until the sensitive area screamed within his warm mouth. Anthony’s zipper whirred and his cock sprang forth. Tobias, eager to watch, slid his hand along my abdomen, toward my pussy and opened me up farther so Anthony could see the extent of the elongated torture.

  “Do it.” It was my own voice that made the request. My lumbar muscles struggled to elevate my torso so I could see his magnificent cock at my entrance. We probably exhaled at the same time. Anthony’s hips swayed, his cock glided in and his smile confirmed his internal jubilation. Damon’s arrival home did little to quell the insatiable beast within me. Tobias’s attempt to muffle my wanton moans failed. My mouth slid away from his.

  “Please…harder.”

  My secretions filled the room. The wet rhythm intensified as his moist balls and pelvis slammed against my groin.

  “Come and feel her, Tobias.”

  They swapped and Anthony knelt over me, his damp cock brushing my lips. Tobias reentered with care and attention to the oral rhythm unfolding a few inches away from him. Licking off my own heady perfume from both men filled me with egoism never before known or anticipated. Anthony’s eyes closed as I engulfed his cock and Tobias writhed inside me like a water snake.

  Sex and love; love and sex. Definitions unraveled and dissolved.

  From the corner of my eye I saw Damon watch my lips glide along Anthony’s cock, anointing it with silvery streams of saliva. Damon took his turn as Anthony pulled me up and onto my knees. I sank into the mattress and stroked the shimmering stream between my labia.

  Damon’s hands gripped my buttocks. “Fuck, this is nice.”