Dirty Erotica Sex Stories

by Jenny Ramshard

  Wrapped in aftershocks and fresh desire, with his dick opening her snug sheath so that he could move faster and harder than before, Clarissa came yet again. Her heavy oils splattered his cock and made his passage into her that much smoother. His hands gripped her hips tightly and his breath washed over her bare shoulder.

  He withdrew suddenly and his hot fluids coated her ass cheeks. She collapsed into the bed and he placed a hand near her shoulder, breathing heavily as he tried to recover.

  He said, “Now perhaps you will be more amenable to taking orders.”

  Clarissa allowed him to help her to stand. He guided her to the washbowl and she waited until he turned her back to take up the cloth and soap. She pressed the soft cloth to her nether regions, wincing slightly as she did so. There was a soreness there but it was not unpleasant and there was a recklessness filling her. The train ride would end in a few days, and maybe even sooner depending on where his final destination would be.

  She said, “Perhaps.” There was a laugh in her voice.

  He chuckled. “I see. Finish dressing and we’ll have a chat.”

  She dressed hurriedly and when she turned away from the bowl he took her place, sluicing the used water down the clever little drain and refilling the bowl from the pitcher before washing quickly.

  She stared at him greedily. His back was smooth and muscular and his bottom was rounded and curved. His legs were long and straight and very well-formed. All in all he was extremely fit and lithe and she felt a small throb in her crotch as he bent over to retrieve his pants.

  He dressed and said, “Now, let’s talk.”

  They sat and he asked, “So what is a young woman your age doing traveling alone anyway? I should have asked before I suppose.”

  She bit her lips. “I have somewhere to be.”

  His dark eyes scanned her. “Are you deliberately evading my questions or do you not have an answer?”

  “I have an answer.” She sighed. “My father recently died and I have come into possession of another place to live. I know I should not travel alone and that it is not proper for young ladies to travel alone but there was nobody to travel with me.”

  “Not your mother either?”

  She shook her head “No, she died many years ago?”

  “I am sorry to hear that. So do you have a position awaiting you?”

  She shook her head and then said, “I do. I suppose. I have a small…” she stopped speaking. She didn’t want to spill the details. For all she knew he was fortune hunter!

  Paul said, “So how long is your journey?”

  “Until Sunnyside and Beek.”

  “I see. Then I must insist that you stay with me until then. If you wish to, of course. I would never force you. If you don’t care for my company please say so, Clarissa, but I hope you enjoy it as I am enjoying yours very much.”

  “Oh, I am enjoying your company very much as well!”

  She was. She hesitated then added, “I must admit I don’t have a lot of social skills. You might find me boring. My father was the vicar so I wasn’t allowed to really get to know too many people.”

  “I see. My father was a vicar.”

  She blinked. “Really?”

  He nodded. “Oh, yes. I grew up in several parishes. My favorite was right outside London and a stunning little farm. I have a fondness for lawns and gardens, I will admit, and prefer them over the sight of the massive cities.”

  “You saw my former residence at the station. It is all coal clouds and stern people.” She shuddered. “I have no idea of what Sunnyside and Beek is like but it must be better than that!”

  “It is.” His voice was quiet. “It has a lovely little village with many stores and churches, a rather large park for children to play in on holidays—and it is there that the fair sets up every year.”

  Her face lit up.” The fair?”

  “Yes. Do you like fairs?”

  “Oh, very much. Ours were rather poor however. Do they allow people to sell things at the fair?”

  He smiled, “But of course. I sell things there as well.”

  She asked, “Like what?”

  He said, “I make furniture. Small pieces. That is why I travel at times. I must sometimes go to people’s homes in order to see better how what they wish me to make will fit into a room.”

  “That sounds exciting<” she said wistfully then she added, “I’m on a rather grand adventure it seems and yes, I want to stay with you until it is over.”

  He smiled and she saw little golden flecks deep in the dark brown of his eyes. “Then it is a deal,” he said, “But I must warn you I don’t take sass lightly.”

  “Oh, I see. Perhaps I shall endeavor to displease you then.”

  He smiled and leaned closer to whisper, “Oh my dear, I think you will please me often,” and a long shiver ran down her spine.

  As it turned out, he was quite right about that.

  CHAPTER 4

  The train huffed into the station and Clarissa stared out the window of the compartment at the side of the station as it came into view. Her trunk had been brought in and readied to depart the train. Her valises, neatly packed, sat beside her trunk. Her hair was tightly pinned to her head and her hair was up in what she hoped was a slightly sophisticated coil.

  Her eyes stayed on the plain stone and beam building as Paul spoke. “Ah, so, here we are. Sunnyside and Beek.”

  She said, “This is your stop too then?”

  “Of course.”

  She turned her head to face him. “Perhaps we will be able to see each other again?”

  It was a hopeful question, and one she desperately wanted an answer to. They’d known each other but a short time but she was wild about him and she had a certainty that no other man would ever do. Most men would never know she needed regular spankings and to make love to her so roughly. Besides, she would be alone at that large and empty house, and she would be lonely.

  Paul said, “I am sure we shall see each other.”

  It was not the answer she had hoped for but it was better than a no she supposed. The porter came to collect their luggage and take it to the little stairs where they would disembark and they walked down the hallway slowly, their bodies touching gently as the train swayed.

  They were handed down and Paul said, “Oh, yes, there’s the conveyance that will take us to the house.”

  She blinked. “Us?”

  Paul said, “Yes. I am sorry, it seems I forgot to mention that my last name is Reynolds. I am the overseer of the home in which you are now in possession.”

  Her eyes went wide. Her mouth hung agape. “You are?”

  Paul chuckled. “Yes. I should have told you and I hope you will forgive me for not having done so. It was just that, well, I didn’t want you to feel as if you had to do the things we did because I held your keys in my hands. Literally.”

  He reached into his coat pocket and pulled the keys, on a large and slightly rusty ring, out and handed them to her. He helped her into the conveyance and they began the short ride to the estate.

  They topped a low rise and Paul said, “There it is, just there. I live in the small house right at the gates, see?”

  His finger pointed and she stared at the small wood-and-post house. It was the perfect size for a bachelor. She said so and he said, “Your uncle and I had a nice arrangement. I have business that takes me out a few times a year while most of the time my work is done in the village. Oh, there’s the drive now.”

  Flowers grew in wild profusion and the house sat on a small but wide patch of grass that had been neatly mowed recently. Behind a fence several well-fed cows grazed and she could see the chicken coops to the right of the house, just beyond the herb and vegetable gardens.

  Paul said, “As you can see the house itself is very large.”

  It was, and beautifully built too of riverstone and wood. The trees stood high and tall and the edges were neatly trimmed. It was so beautiful and green, and so very different from the place
that she had always known that Clarissa’s eyes filled with happy tears.

  It was all here, everything she could possibly need for the rest of her life. Gardens and food and sunlight and air. The thick smell of coal was gone, as was the feeling of smothering under its heavy mantle.

  Also gone was the suffocating feeling of holding herself in check, every day. Of knowing she must be good and when she was not—when she failed to be demure or quiet or soft with her tongue—of feeling as if she were a disappointment to all who loved her and cared for her.

  Paul enjoyed her impudence and she knew that he would not change it. He might try to beat it out of her, or make her bend her will to his, but he would only ever do that in the heights of passion, and never check her otherwise. It was not his nature to do so.

  She had to be bold.

  She would be bold.

  As the conveyance clopped away and they stood at the door of the house, now hers, she looked down at her valise’s and the heavy truck, the only reminders of her past and all of its repressions. She would buy pretty fabric in lovely colors and make herself pretty gowns that glowed and moved softly with her every motion. She would wear flowers in her hair if she wished, and she would love the way she wished to.

  She said, “Well, your bags are already here.”

  Paul said, “Yes, they are.”

  She drew a long breath. “I suppose now that you’ve ruined me you may as well marry me.”

  His laughter was long and loud. “Ah, you are a saucy and impossible little minx, now aren’t you?”

  “Oh, I am,” she said with a gamine grin. “Very much so. I suppose it shall take years to change me and even then you may never be able to do so.”

  Paul’s eyebrows rose and his handsome face creased in a roguish smile. “Oh, I think I know how to try, anyway.”

  Clarissa’s breath caught as hope soared. He’d become so very dear to her, and now she had the time, and the room to get to know him even better. Paul said, “I suppose we can leave that luggage for a short time. The caretaker left this morning, and did all the chores before he went, so perhaps we would do better to acquaint you with the house.”

  Her smile was wicked. “The house, all of it?”

  His smile was equally wicked. “I would say we should at least start at the master bedroom.”

  “Perhaps the guest room,” she said as she skirted past him and put the key into the lock. “Or the kitchens? It does seem to me that you feel that a woman’s place is in the kitchen.”

  “See? You are already trying my patience.”

  His hand went to her hair and yanked, hard. Her tresses fell down and spilled across her shoulders. Her heat sailed off on a small puff of breeze and she let it go.

  The door closed behind them and the sound of her laughter, then cries of pleasure proved to be a wonderful christening for her new home, and life.

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  TEMPTATION TALES

  Story 57

  Chapter 1

  I walked down the steps over to the kitchen, seeing Nick there. I looked at him, and he stared at me for a second, smirking.

  “What’s up there?” he asked.

  “Oh. Just grabbing some food,” I said.

  “Right. Well, I’m heading out after a bit. I’ve got some pretty fun business to take care of,” I heard him say.

  “No, you’re not,” a voice rumbled from behind me.

  I turned, and there was my father, Brandon Lane. He looked at Nick Richardson, his best friend’s son.

  “Why do you say that? You’re not my dad,” Nick said.

  “I am currently. And I’ve told you time and time again that you need to behave yourself. Your father put me in charge of you, so you need to learn some damn respect. He told me not to have you going outside and getting into trouble,” Dad told him.

  I felt like I was in the middle of an awkward fight between my father and Nick. Nick was the son of my dad’s best friend. He and my father got along great, but his best friend was always out of town, and when it came to his attention that Nick was not only skipping school, but he was also getting into underage drinking, to the point where he already had a DUI despite being only 20 years old, it was enough to make the man practically beg my father. Nick was a bad boy, always getting into trouble. Despite moving in with us, he still did his own thing, getting into his own messes and my father having to bail him out. My dad wasn’t ever strict on me, but that was because I was the daughter that never got into trouble.

  I knew that Nick still drank. He still smoked, and I know that he wasn’t going to his behavioral education. He was such a bad boy, and yet, there was something that I found so fucking hot about him.

  I looked at him, and he looked at me. That glance alone was enough to drive me wild.

  “You got something to say?” he asked.

  “No. I’m sorry,” I told him.

  “Yeah, whatever. I’ll be upstairs. Since your father is being the fun sucker,” he muttered.

  I watched as he walked all the way upstairs. I liked the way his tight pants clung to his tight little ass. I licked my lips slightly, but then my father’s booming voice resonated through my ear.

  “You shouldn’t be like him. I know I took him in because of the whole mess, but I don’t want him influencing you. You’re such a good kid Alice that I don’t want you affected by this man’s actions,” my father said.

  There goes my dad again. He’s a good guy, and being one of the best police officers in the area, it was probably better for Nick to live here than in prison. I mean, that’s where he would’ve gone, since he was still underage to be drinking, but old enough to be sent to the slammer.

  Of course, I always seemed to feel that strange urge, that urge to try to be bad like Nick. In a sense, I was really jealous, completely and utterly jealous of the young man. I did want to do something bad for once, whether it be maybe skip school, or go out and do something naughty. I haven’t ever done that, and I feel like it’s been too long.

  “I won’t, dad,” I said.

  “Good.” He nodded. “I know he’ll only be here temporarily, but I don’t want you being affected by his actions.”

  Well, it was too late for that one. I just gave my father a fake little smile, walking out of the room after I grabbed myself a pastry. I ate it, thinking about what transpired downstairs.

  I was always a good kid. I was an honor student, and I did go to one of the best colleges in the area on a full-ride scholarship that would’ve cost the average kid lots of money. I was fortunate to always be on a short leash, since in a sense it helped me get to where I am today. Ever since my mother passed, I always felt a sort of new urge to be the best person I could be.

  So why couldn’t I stop thinking about him? Fucking Nick did something to me, and I don’t even know what it is.

  He was like the worst possible influence for me. I knew this, and yet, when I finished my food, I felt my hands creep over towards my breasts, touching them slightly. I did have decent melons, not super huge like some girls, but also not super small that nobody seemed to notice them. They were average, and I liked them.

  No way. There was no way I could be thinking about masturbating to Nick. Why in the world was my subconscious thinking this? Ugh, I was already being driven insane by this man.

  Perhaps it was the aspect of his track record. Maybe because it was something that I wanted, but I knew that I couldn’t have. However, I tried my best to shake off these feelings. There was no way he’d ever feel the same way about me.

  Or so I thought.

  I moved my hands up my sweater, pinching my nipples and letting out a soft moan. Fuck, I was losing my mind already. I could feel my nipples already hardening against my hands as I lightly fondled them, groaning slightly.

  Nick was next door. I had to keep it quiet. I went over to the stereo, moving my hands over to the dial and putting some relaxation music on. It wasn’t for me, but it was more to mask ou
t the sound of my moans, which started to become louder, and so much breathier by the second.

  I started to pinch my nipples, twisting them in my hands, and with each and every touch, I gasped with a need that seemed to know no bounds. I started to feel my hands creep down, moving towards my womanhood. I teased myself from the outside, lightly cupping myself, and then, looking over once more to make sure that the door was locked, I pulled my pants and my panties off, revealing a trail of small, brown curls. I liked the natural look a lot, and a part of me hoped that Nick would like it too.