Shall I pour for you madam?” he asks. It is an appropriate question and yet he makes it sound like a scorching proposal…“Mmmm, please,” is all I manage in reply.I watch him filling the crystal flutes one at a time. He is meticulous and seems to deliberately take a long time to complete the job. The room is silent – except, it seems, for the sounds of my excited breathing. “Is there anything else I can do to help you enjoy your stay?” he probes, raising one dark eyebrow ever so slightly...

You stand fully clothed in a dark room with a spotlight on you. It’s bright but not blinding. So bright, you think the light should warm you. “Will you take off your clothes now, please.” he says from the dark.A calm voice, but definitely a commanding voice. I can imagine when it’s raised it could be, but in all the time he never raised it, the tone was always just right; even when he would say. “Yes, please let me hear you moan now. Louder” It was always pitched just right.Except that one time.

.” I watched her sip at the drink some more. She was strong, healthy, but also petite enough that I was certain I could overpower her. I’d made the right decision not to tranquilize her, I thought. Slipping some powerful barbiturate into a mixed drink wasn’t something I was above, but it always felt like such a lost opportunity. I liked the fight, the tightening and clenching of a woman’s body as she writhed for freedom. I felt the slow swelling of arousal between my legs and made no effort to disguise it.

Y de repente, Dayan necesitó sentir el contacto con sus labios, el roce de su piel, el calor de sus manos. Lo necesitó con tanta urgencia que creyó que moriría si no lo conseguía. Perdió la cabeza y la besó. Tan fantástico como fue el beso, fue igual de estúpido. Se le escapó una risita cansada. Tenía una erección de caballo y la mujer que la había provocado había salido huyendo de él como si fuese el rey del infierno. "(Dayan y Erienne).

With each impact you tell me that my body belongs to you; that I amyours to use, yours to punish and yours to screw. Your words are almost aspowerful as your hand. They leave me feeling breathless and desperate foryour cock. You are working me into the usual frenzy of slutty desire thatwe have both come to love. If I was permitted I would tell you how much Ilove you right now and how much I need this. But it’s not my words whichare important at the moment. Instead I demonstrate my devotion to you inmy complete submission to your desire.

You gently lift my chin with one finger and stare deep into my eyes. Automatically I drop my gaze to avoid eye contact with you, but not before I see the debauchery loaded in your expression.“Whose slut are you?” you ask, “and you have permission to look at me whilst you reply.”I glance up at you quickly and take a moment to absorb your beautiful face before you deprive me of it again.“I am your slut, Master – only yours.”Your eyes burn into mine and you too pause to relish your utter possession of me.

Kiss me," he growled."I shouldn't—""I. Don't. Give. A. Damn."Well hell. My lips touched his—barely. I pulled back and looked at him—unfamiliar, dangerous, and so exciting. I devoured his mouth without thinking. Don't think, just touch. I ran my fingers across his strong shoulders and down his arms. His skin felt hot under my hands, his body hard. He sucked in his abs so I could get into his pants, if I wanted to. I slid one hand over his stomach and under his jeans, touching his hard cock, smiling when he groaned.

My very core clenches and spasms, my hips with a mind of their own, lurch. It is as if I no longer have control of any part of my body. ‘Ugh,’ I continue to groan in relief. And then, slowly, the rush is over and I am able to part my eyelids again. David is still looking at my face, a light sheen of sweat on his brow indicates that his task was not without effort. Finding his gaze too forthright in the currentcircumstances, my eyes move to the arm that still dwells beneath my skirts and thehand that clings viciously to his sleeve. My hand.

The minute that guy walked inside the front doors, Cody sat back and just stared. He was tall, dark, and exceedingly handsome with all that brawn and a killer smile. When he’d come to the bar and focused on Cody, training those amber eyes his way, Cody hardened to painful degrees. It had taken everything to keep himself nonchalant because that same man who currently rubbed about seventy-five percent of his body against Cody was his wet dream walking. Someone that could make him lose his mind and quite possibly his morals just to get a single taste.

Should I try to help her? Surely I was strong enough to loosen that stubborn backpack. And, in doing so, I could make a clever comment about how cold it must be outside for her nipple to get so hard. She'd laugh and toss her head back; her long blond hair would fall off her shoulders onto her back in slow motion. Thankful for my help, she'd lift up her shirt to give me a better look at her tits before I rip her clothes off and throw her down on the dirty hardwood floor.Shit, I gotta stop watching so much porn." - Tyler Campbell, Safe With Me, Part 1

In my early teens, I heard about Naked Lunch and its mutating typewriters and talking cockroaches. While I would hardly classify its dystopic vision as erotica now, at the time, Naked Lunch was my first foray into consuming smut. It was because of Burroughs that I knew about the particular musk that blooms when a rectum is penetrated, and that death-by-hanging produces spontaneous trouser tents. The first Burroughs I read was Naked Lunch, but I buried myself in a few of his stories, and thus the arc of my recollection is just as non-linear as his narrative.

No use kidding herself. This situation with Jarrod was a slippery slope. She’d had plenty of men since Sam, attractive, well endowed, charming in many ways. Jarrod was different, and she needed to figure out why before she found herself in the middle of stupid. She had a business to think of, people who depended on her for their livelihood, even more people present and future who needed the services she offered. It wasn’t just a job, damn it, it was a mission. No one should be as out of touch with themselves as thoroughly as she had been. For as long.

As I am still on duty at this moment, is there anything else I can do for you?” he continues.Images of him kissing me, disrobing me and fondling my entire body fill my mind… I push them away, although I know my face has coloured at the thought.“I have a few suggestions…” I murmur quietly, staring into his smouldering blue eyes. “But I am not sure they fall into a butler’s remit.”“Perhaps you’d be surprised at the lengths I’m prepared to go to in order to keep you happy, madam,” he replies, winking at me.

Well I guess I should ask what your name is in case I slip and touch you without getting permission, I'd like to know who's punching me." She giggled and said, "Nah, you have permission but if you need a name it’s Sindy, S-I-N, not like the girl next door, and what should I call you, besides the man I want to get naked?” He said “Keith, and if you want me to be the boy next door I can try, but I’ll probably fail.” She said- “Nope the boy next door is too much like the one whose nose I just tried to break; you can be the sexy stranger.

I don’t know what it is that comes over me, but suddenly I’m crossing to his side of the table and sitting down in his lap, arms wrapping around his neck. His lips are soft against mine, and when I part them he tenderly obliges, tasting me delicately. His fingers prod at my back, never going further than the small indent at the base of the spine, and it’s all very lovely and nice. “I think I could get used to you,” I say, looking down into his beautiful brown eyes, deep like the color of autumn. (From "Undone, The Romance of Nick and Layla [Part 5"]).