Readerotica 2 - Free Erotica for Your eReader - Volume 2 - Turning Up The Heat

by PriveCo Inc.

  Guess she wouldn’t be getting up early tomorrow.

  I peered about the room. Mirrored ceiling, very kinky. Floor to ceiling windows looking out onto the marina, antique furniture, half nude prints on the wall. Staring up at the mirror I threw back the doona and looked at my reflection. I ran a hand over my breasts, enjoying the feel of my nipples as they hardened and wondered what Ronnie was doing in his room, if Melissa was passed out or if maybe they were making love.

  I imagined them naked and it certainly turned me on. I imagined his body, his toned legs, his cock. In my mind’s eye I could see him mounting her, his broad back above her as he positioned himself between her thighs. It has been stupid of me to think he’d be interested. Now I’d have to face him in the morning and I blushed when I thought about how stupid I’d been.

  When I heard the door handle turn I went still. My heart thumped and my stomach fluttered. I’d only managed to pull the doona half way up and my breasts were exposed. I kept my eyes closed, my breathing shallow, wanting him to think I was half unconscious, almost asleep due to the alcohol. In reality I was now so wide-awake and desperate for a good fuck.

  He pulled the doona down exposing my almost naked body. For moments he just stared but when his rough hand stole down between my legs, I moaned and tried to roll over, you know, move away from him. It was only a half-heartened attempt and he quickly rolled me back.

  ‘Hey,’ I murmured still pretending to be out of it.

  He dropped his robe to the floor and stood there naked staring down at me. Through half opened eyes I saw his silhouette in front of the window and from what I could see he was very fit, with a large, erect cock.

  ‘Very nice,’ he murmured, running his hand down my torso, and I flushed at his compliment.

  He placed his hand ever so lightly on the side of my face and for a second I thought he might leave, but then his fingers trailed downwards, over my breast, causing goose bumps to appear.

  He leaned forward, his fingers groping around at my panties and with a quick tug he ripped them right off. I gasped, thrilled and excited by his forcefulness. In a flash he was down at my snatch, nuzzling in, licking me with the flat of his tongue like a lion would his lioness.

  I peered up at the mirror, mesmerized by our reflection. My God, I looked so hot with him buried between my open thighs. I dropped them further open, grabbed at my breasts and massaged them in awe of how spectacular we looked together.

  My legs tightened about his head and I heard his murmur of approval. Encouraged, I moved my pelvis further to his mouth, squirming with desire, letting him know I was eager to participate as I continued to watch myself being ravished by an almost stranger.

  I let out a moan when his tongue slipped down further before he pulled my legs apart, pushing them upwards so he could access me better. He ran his tongue down around my puckered hole. I tensed, tried to bring him back up, but he wouldn’t allow me. No one had ever done that to me before. I heard a chuckle and then he was spreading my cheeks further and a finger was pushing in gently.

  With one finger gently probing my hole his thumb found my clit and he began to rub. I was so hot, trying hard to stifle my moans as he rubbed quicker. I could feel my pussy gaping open, my nub hard, juices dribbling from me as he masterfully brought me to a hard, sweet orgasm.

  Every time he leaned back I could us in the mirror and my pussy became hotter as I imagined Melissa in the other room, sleeping, while her husband made me come over and over again.

  I grabbed at my breasts, pulling my nipples, tugging them, pinching and squeezing, enjoying the exquisite pain I was evoking. The thought of a threesome and living in this sort of home thrilled me beyond belief. I relaxed, letting my legs drape open again as he continued to devour me.

  Then his wet mouth was climbing up my body, kissing my navel, lingering over my breasts before kissing me with such passion I thought I'd pass out. I could taste myself on his tongue and his mouth was all over my eyes, chin, and neck.

  I gasped as I felt his huge knob probing around my pussy. I opened my legs wider to accommodate him. I'd never experienced one so hard and thick before. I was dying to see it. I wanted to throw on the lights and see him in all his glory.

  I would never have thought an old guy could be such a stud. I suppose experience stands for a lot because he sure knew what he was doing. I was shocked at my own behavior, how quickly I’d turned into a wanton slut. Melissa had been so good to me and here I was fucking her husband in her beautiful home.

  Spreading my thighs apart Ronnie leaned in, opening me up further. My pussy yawned at him, his knob probing for only a fraction of a second before sliding right in, all the way to the hilt. God, it felt fantastic. His shaft, hard and thick, slipping in and out of me while his mouth and teeth nibbled at my neck.

  He rolled over, pulling me with him so I straddled him, his cock so deep inside me that my arse cheeks grazed his balls and pubic hair as I bounced up and down. Then he was pushing me back so I was resting on my hands, my clit pushed forward, hard and pulsating. He rubbed magically over the nub, expertly bringing me to the most amazing orgasm.

  I wanted to scream as my juices dribbled out of me and down his pelvis. Maneuvering me over again he lifted one leg; ground himself into my pussy while my leg flopped about madly.

  “Fuck me harder,” I demanded and he obliged, slamming into me like a madman.

  I’ve never come so much in my life.

  When I thought it might be over he slapped at my thigh and hoisted me up into the doggy position. Kneeling behind me he slapped at my cheeks. I was scared the noise would wake Melissa but he didn’t seem to be. Welts rose and he ignored them, kept slapping and grabbing my arse.

  My pussy was twitching as he caressed my lips and slid in. The bed rocked; the force of the pounding so severe. My knees hurt; my legs were weak from the assault and then he was pulling my arse cheeks apart, his finger probing my hole deliciously.

  With my juices dripping from his cock, he pulled away from me and began to probe my puckered hole. I tensed. That monster could not possibly fit. I clenched and squeezed involuntarily. His thumbs gently pried my hole open and then he was licking at me, his tongue probing where his finger had been before.

  I relaxed, enjoying what he was doing and then his might knob slipped in, then the shaft and before I knew it he was all the way in, pumping carefully at first and then when I responded with such vigor and pleasure we both came together, him pulling himself away to spray over my back and me oozing all over the bed.

  Collapsing together I rolled over and then clung onto him, eager for him to stay.

  ‘That was fucking fantastic, ‘I said.

  ‘You’re the best,’ he whispered.

  ‘Really?’ I asked, pleased and hoping this might lead somewhere.

  ‘You bet,’ he said, squeezing my breast before rising and leaving me alone.

  I had trouble sleeping, even though I was exhausted. Thoughts of what had just happened swirled through my brain. I couldn’t wait to see him again in the morning, yet the thought of Melissa finding out sickened me.

  I heard someone up so I showered quickly and made my way to the kitchen. Fortunately it was Ronnie; he was making coffee so I came up behind him and hugged his back.

  ‘That was wonderful last night,’ I said, smiling up at him as he turned.

  “It was,” he said, smirking. “Wasn’t it wonderful, Melissa?”

  I hopped back out of his arms, and directly into Melissa, who had slipped into the room silently. My thoughts raced as I turned to look at her.

  “Exquisite,” she said. She reached out with both arms, the soft skin of her hands pushing my robe off my shoulders. She laughed upon seeing my face, which I’m sure was showing all of my emotions: fear, disbelief and a little bit of hope. She leaned forward to softly kiss my mouth, and looked directly into my eyes, smiling.

  “You were a bad girl last night. I’m willing to keep you on, but I’m going to have to punish yo
u,” she said.

  “I don’t…” I was having a hard time making words, still unsure of what she meant.

  “Now hike up that gown and bend over,” she barked, turning me roughly toward Ronnie, who was also smiling. “Ronnie and I are going to have our way with you.”

  ###

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  (continued)

  ## Back To The Top ##

  Chapter 8 – Sam

  I inherited Sam when I moved into the crumbling apartment. Most people find cockroaches under the sink or maybe a stray cat in the back yard. I found a ghost who liked to fuck.

  I was living alone for the first time in my life. There wasn't much money after the divorce and my credit rating was so bad that it was hard to find somewhere to live. The decaying concrete-block apartments were on the wrong side of Broadway, so they were less fussy in their choice of tenants. They let me live there. And apparently, at one time, they had let Sam live there. Most people eventually left; Sam stayed on.

  At first I thought he was a dream. A very pleasant, sensual kind of sojourn into the nebulous world of fantasy. Light, barely-there fingers caressed my skin one night, with just the softest hint of touch, just enough to raise my fine hairs into awareness. The rustle of the sheets as they were lowered to bare my breasts to the kiss of the moonlight and streetlight coming in through the narrow window, all felt like part of my somnolent state.

  Questing lips, open-mouthed, drifted down from my neck to nestle in the valley between my breasts. A whisper of a sigh. I moved slightly, encouraging my dream lover to explore my nipples, which were already hardening in anticipation. I kept my eyes closed. I did not want to wake from this sensual lethargy in a hurry. I pressed my legs tightly together to build the ache of climax. I knew that if I moved to rub myself then I would wake up and I didn't want to let this beautiful torment end just yet.

  The mouth moved to my nipples and circled around them, hotly, wetly. When it dropped down and started meandering over my belly I couldn't hold back any longer. Even if it meant waking up, I had to masturbate. I dropped my hand down to the clutch of hair between my legs. My hand encountered a brief resistance, as if the air was denser somehow, but when I moved my fingers into my slick-oil folds, the mouth moved back to my breast.

  Even through my spiraling arousal, my foggy brain realized that something wasn't right. I was awake, no doubt about it. Which meant that I had been all along. Yet lips still closed over my nipple. I raised my head and looked down over my body. Nothing. The air seemed to distort slightly, ripple and coalesce into a denser pattern, like mist floating in from the sea. It drifted upwards and simultaneously my skin shivered with the absence of touch.

  "Who's there?" I cursed my voice for wavering.

  There was no answer of course. My arousal withered and dried. I was spooked enough to get dressed, turn on the light and sit by the open window nursing a cold cup of coffee until morning.

  ***

  The next day I asked Marisa, my neighbor, if she had heard of anything strange happening in my apartment.

  She grinned her wide, white smile at me. "Met Sam have you? Annie, who lived there before you always swore she would never move out—said that ghost was better lovin' than any man she ever had." Marisa rolled her eyes. "And hon, let me tell you, she had a few men!"

  "Ghost?" My voice was surprisingly steady.

  Marisa shrugged. "No one knows for sure," she said. "But what else do you call a phantom who comes to you at night and makes the sweetest love this side of heaven?"

  "He made love to her?" My curiosity was roused.

  "Oh yes, hon, he did. Some mornings Annie walked bowlegged from his lovin' the night before. She said," Marisa's voice dropped to a confiding whisper, "that no one gave her orgasms like Sam did. Three, four times a night. He doesn't come every night, but when he does, he doesn't leave until morning."

  "Why's he called Sam?" I asked curiously. "Was he someone who lived here once? How did he die?"

  Marisa shrugged vaguely. "Don't know," she said. "Annie called him Sam. Said she needed a name to call out when she came; Sam seemed as good as any."

  "Why did Annie leave?"

  "Not willingly. She didn't want to leave Sam. But her mom got sick and she had to move back to Cleveland. She kinda hoped that Sam might follow her there, but I guess he didn't." She kicked the doormat with her toe. "Guess he likes to stay in Denver."

  "Did Annie have a boyfriend?" I was curious to hear what Sam had made of that.

  "She did when she moved here. He didn't last long. And she said that Sam was better than any flesh and blood man, but when she did take someone home with her, he didn't seem to mind. She said she sensed him watching." She giggled. "Not the jealous kind obviously. The perfect man. Or ghost."

  I smiled. I was beginning to like the sound of this.

  Marisa winked knowingly at me. "Hon, if you move out tell me, I might just switch apartments."

  ***

  That night I stripped naked and climbed into bed, the sheet around my waist, breasts invitingly uplifted. He didn't come. Not that night, nor the ones after that. I was beginning to think that it was all my imagination when he came to me.

  It was around midnight, and I was in that half-hazy stage between sleep and consciousness. That elusive floating, drifting stage, when the soul leaves the body and spins pirouettes around the room. The time when the mind can finally make the leaps of association necessary to solve impossible problems and the weary end of the day when every muscle fiber relaxes, so that you feel you are sinking down into the mattress, bonelessly, until the edges of your body blur.

  I felt a soft touch on my mouth. A gentle exploratory kiss. A welcome home kiss from some one who cared. I waited, my heart pounding slowly in anticipation, to see if it was repeated. The merest brush whispered again over my lips. I opened my mouth slightly, trying to breathe slowly and silently and I felt the push of a tongue, insinuating itself into my mouth. It ran around, twisting around my tongue before withdrawing.

  "Hello Sam." I whispered the words into the charged air.

  There was no answer of course, but I could feel the corners of his mouth turn up slightly as he smiled against my skin. He lapped his way down my neck, pausing to lave a collarbone, licking me lazily, before trailing his way down to my breasts. I turned slightly, encouraging him to my nipple with the wordless gesture. He didn't disappoint; I felt the warm wetness as he closed over my breast.

  With a slight shock, I felt a disembodied hand cup my other breast. It hadn't occurred to me to wonder if Sam had hands as well as a mouth. My acceptance of his presence must have encouraged him, like a human lover, to become bolder. His hands slid over my skin with the drifting touch I preferred; not rough human hands with their too heavy press, but a reverent glissade of sensation.

  The mouth moved down my belly, lapping, sucking, open mouthed kisses that had me writhing in anticipation as I realized his ultimate destination. Automatically I reached down with my hands to tangle in his hair, steady his head and direct that mouth to where I wanted it most, but my hands passed through a slight heaviness, then nothing. Sam didn't appear to need direction though; I felt crawling fingers nudge my thighs apart and those same illusionary fingers advance, creeping up my inner thigh to touch the damp curls of my sex with a careful finger. When I thought he would push a finger into me, it retreated, to walk its way up the other thigh. This time it skated briefly over my clit, a frisson of feeling before it fell back.

  It was a carefully planned assault. Advance, retreat, push forward, fall back, building me higher, on a roller-coaster ride to release. I don't know when I started begging, when I wanted the promised orgasm more than pride, when the soaked and twisted sheets under my fingers bunched and wound around my hands, but when the promise of what was to come was too much, I felt Sam's mouth on my sex, felt the damp rasp of a tongue as
his whole mouth closed over me. I felt the catlike flicker of his tongue lapping on my clit until I came with a howl and a shriek, sobbing with release.

  I took a shuddering breath, and another, and I felt his whole mouth descend once more, slurping and suckling, fierce and demanding until my whole body shuddered through a second climax, shocking in its intensity and sudden in its arrival. I never come twice. Not until Sam.

  I lay and let the aftershocks wash over my body. How did one thank a lover who wasn't really there? I could hardly offer him coffee, lead him to the door and kiss him goodbye. But Sam wasn't finished yet. The sheet was gone and I sprawled in wet and sated abandon on the mattress. My body was already missing the touch of his mouth, when I felt the briefest whisper of a kiss on my lips. I dipped my tongue into his mouth, missing the taste of myself when a lover kisses you after going down. But the missing sensation faded when I felt the stretch of penetration.

  There was not the weight of a body lying over me, nor the rasp of wiry hairs on the insides of my thighs. There was simply the unmistakable feeling of fullness, of a fat and turgid penis slowly pushing its way inside me. I gasped slightly in surprise and angled my pelvis the better to accept his thrusts. He slowly continued to push, until he was, I can only imagine, sheathed all the way. He was large; thick and firm. I clenched around him, as much to see if I could feel contours, to see if his fatness was illusionary or if he would shrink down like a pricked balloon with my counter pressure. He swelled inside me and my tightening muscles gave the glorious friction of real sex as he began to slowly move in and out.

  I reached a hand down between my legs, curious to see what he felt like. I missed the feeling of encountering the hairy globular testicle sacks, but I ran a finger around my stretched opening. This was no illusion; some one, something, was inside me, fucking me with a steady rhythm. I moved my hand, unsure of where to place it. There were no buttocks to grasp, no back to run my hand along, no balls to tease. I settled for grasping the mattress on either side of me, and let him fuck me.