4 comments/ 33452 views/ 3 favorites Elle By: sum12watch This erotic short story is not intended for minors or for anyone offended by such writings. Please exit this story if you are underage. * * * * * I can't sleep. My penis is a stiff rod, sticking up above my supine body, tenting the covers. How could this be happening to me? Has fate no justice? I roll onto my side away from her hot young body—where I would, if I could, be buried for eternity. I'm no virgin; I've fucked women before. After all, that's what people do when they sleep together, isn't it? I want her so badly; I really need her tonight—more than I've ever wanted anything in my life, but I can't. I just can't. She'd kill me if I tried. But I wouldn't anyway, would I? Could I live with myself if I abused her trust so vilely? It feels so very strange to be here—not six inches from her nude body—with her, my very best friend, sleeping so soundly, so trustingly. Her breathing is smooth and regular. And I know her wild hair is temptingly spread across the pillow beside me. Elle. She is so bright, so beautiful, so interesting, so wanted . . . and so gay. A lesbian. In my bed. Isn't that a crock? It's so weird. It took a long time for me to get used to it—how different she is from other women I've known. And how she doesn't want me as I want her. If in fact I have gotten used to it. I remember how it all began, just like it was yesterday . . . * * * * * It was early fall; the leaves were turning, but the colors that appeared in October or November weren't there in September, when Columbia opened its aged doors to us. We were the young and the restless, flocking in those doors. The cream of the crop, so some said. The intellectuals of the future—or at least, that's what we thought we were at that time. It never crossed our minds that while some us would make it—many others would not. I know I never thought I'd be one of those who didn't. The first time I saw Elle, she was striding up a hill toward the university and she looked so beautiful in the early fall light. Her red hair flounced as she walked, tendrils of it falling in front of her face. With a well-manicured hand, she tossed them back out of her eyes, stuffed them behind her ear. She wore coveralls over a T-shirt and clutched her bag—a small one I was sure was no use at all—under her arm. Her breasts—like her hair—seemed to bounce freely inside her loose costume, unfettered and proud. She walked right by me and didn't even glance my way. "Wow," I murmured—hopefully, only to myself. "Now, that's for me." But she wasn't. It just wasn't meant to be and although it hurt my pride, I learned to live with it. When she first told me she was a lesbian and that her lover was a girl—well, it really hurt, you know? Somehow it made me feel insufficient, but I thought it hurt more inside than it really did. I'd put a lot into pursuing her—but, as I said, I learned to live with it. Of course, I'd known lesbians before, but they'd been nothing like Elle. She was a lusty, vibrant woman with a laugh that warmed one's soul. She was beautiful beyond my wildest dreams and sensual beyond anyone's desires. At nineteen and in New York City, the fresh fall air could make you think the world was new. And that's what I felt on that morning when I first saw Elle—that the world was new and that the future was spread out before me like gold and jewels on a Thanksgiving Day platter. At the time, I looked forward to the future and whatever it might bring with a jaunty, wanton eye. As it so happened, Elle was seated beside me in three of my classes and I couldn’t have been more overjoyed. After she discovered that I too was a bright and enterprising student, she started giving me the time of day. As time went on and we ran into each other in various ways, we got to know each other better. I can be funny when it's useful—although many don't understand my humor. Elle did and I pursued her with a vigor and determination I'd never exhibited with any other girl I'd known before. I began finding out things about her. She was from Maine and from a wealthy family. In high school, she'd been a cheerleader and the valedictorian. And she was very smart—maybe even sharper than I was. Slowly, she began to trust and confide in me. After knowing her for about two weeks, she confessed that she was lesbian, that she had a lover who she lived with, and that she was in love with her. She also told me that her lover was older and worked for the New York Times—which was scary as hell to someone like me. The New York Times? How could I compete with that? Over the next few months, we became friends. I'd never had a woman as a friend before. It was odd. You know, it's not only in spring when a young man's fancy turns to love. No, at nineteen, it turns throughout the year. And I found I really couldn't talk very much about that to a friend who was a woman—even a lesbian friend. It just didn't seem right—like a discordant cord played on a bad piano that kept playing in my mind. But somehow, I retained that friendship and it became stronger at every turn. Over time, I became accustomed to our unfamiliar friendship and she became used to me—and we became the fastest of friends. Those days were blissful. School was new and we studied hard. I got lucky and got a job with New Yorker magazine—another scary cornerstone of New York's publishing scene—doing odd jobs. Eventually, I worked my way up to copyboy, then researcher. It kept me pretty busy. I was so busy between school and my job that I thought I'd gotten over my simple little crush on Elle. But I'd actually settled into some sort of unthinkable, but deep, fascination for her—puppy love I think. To this day, I'm sure I was really deeply in love with her, but somehow instinctively knew there was nothing but heartache in it for me. It was seven weeks into the semester when things changed. And they changed so very quickly they made my head spin and led to my current state of discomfort. For me, it all began after a very busy weekend, when Elle told me she'd just discovered that Mother Dearest was coming to New York for a month to check up on her darling daughter. "Jules, I have to ask a favor." Elle had arranged for us to have lunch together and we were sitting in a quiet corner of a small café. "It's going to be a strange favor, too," she said with an uneasy laugh. I tried to fathom what a strange favor might be, but the possibilities were too plentiful to grasp any single one, so I asked, "What are you talking about, Elle?" She blushed—I'd never seen her blush before and thought it was really cute on her. "My mother is coming to town." We'd spoken about her mother before—Mother Dearest we'd called her—but Elle wasn't calling her by that nickname now. She seemed frightened and my heart went out to her. Mother Dearest had always seemed like a mother hen to me—protective while her chicks were in the roost, but once they were gone, they're gone. I knew her mother loved her, so I didn't know what the problem was—but I soon to find out. "I've never told her about Sam," she confessed. Sam was her lover—a sweet, intelligent, but I felt, dangerously tough lady I'd met once. "You're kidding." I knew my mouth must've been hanging open with surprise. "You mean . . . you haven't told her you're a lesbian?" I'd learned the terminology from the streets, so I was on safe ground at the time. Hanging her head, she nodded. Then she looked up and explained, "I tried, but I just couldn't. I don't think I can tell her now either." She sniffed and I offered her a tissue from the small pack I carried in my shirt pocket. "Elle, what did Sam say?" "She's mad as hell. But she'll go along with whatever I decide to do." "And you're telling me this because you need a favor from me, right? You're not simply looking for me to bless whatever it is you're going to do. It somehow involves me, right?" She almost smiled, but not quite. "Yes, Jules, you've got to be my savior." * * * * * So, that's how Elle came to be living with me for—as it turns out—an indeterminate time. At first, it was thought that Mother Dearest would only be here for a few days. Then a week went by, then two, then three. It has now been three weeks and a day and I'm going crazy. There is no sign that Mother is leaving. I've been out to dinner with the two of them—Mother and Daughter—every night for three weeks and a day, posing as something I can never be, but would certainly love to be—Elle's lover. Sometimes I want to scream with frustration, "Mother Dearest go home!" And then sometimes—at more insane times—I hope she stays forever. How else can I torture myself like this? It doesn't help that Elle's somewhat of a baby at times. "I guess I just don't know how to sleep alone anymore," she said as she crawled into bed with me. What do you say to a beautiful girl who wants to sleep in your bed with you instead of on the daybed in the study? No, we can't sleep together? She'll cry. I'm certain she has no ulterior motives. Not Elle, she's as honest and pure as the driven snow. At first, it was truly uncomfortable, because I've always slept in the nude and I felt—in all decency—I had to wear pajamas. But it's still stifling hot in the city, where the temperatures don't go down just because it has become dark and my flat has no air conditioning. Eventually, Elle confessed she just couldn't wear her really awful nightdress anymore, so we decided we could be nude—as long as we didn't touch. Anyway, just the thought of having her there nude beside me—well, I thought it would be enough. But that had been two weeks ago. I finally manage to fall asleep—the dreamless, exhausted sleep of the innocent person I am . . . and obviously will continue to be. * * * * * Her giggling wakes me. It's very disconcerting—a girl giggling in your bed in the middle of the night. I'd had women in my bed before—some had even spent the night—but not one of them had ever giggled. Oh my God, my mind screams quite loudly. As I become fully awake I find I'm cuddling with Elle, my hard-on nestled between her ass cheeks while I hump against her buttocks! I jerk away from her and jump out of the bed, the bed covers falling around me. It's pitch black and I have to go to the bathroom, but Elle is still giggling. In the pale glow of the half- moon, I see that she has rolled over and is looking at me, observing my erection. Is she smiling or laughing? "I have to go to the bathroom," I mumble and without looking at her again, I pull on my robe and rush into the bathroom. After I pee, I sit down on the toilet and wonder what the hell she was giggling about? I'd almost raped her and she's giggling? Finally, I get up, wrap my robe around me again, and walk back into the bedroom. She isn't there, so I go looking for her. To apologize? I don't know. Anyway, I find her in the kitchen getting a glass of juice. She's donned her robe too, but it does nothing to hide her succulent lushness and I find myself drawn to her beauty. Embarrassed, I avert my gaze. When she turns to look at me, she isn't giggling anymore, but there's a rather broad smile spreading across her face. She holds up the glass of juice and asks, "Want some?" I shake my head and watch her sip her juice. Then she starts giggling again. "What are you giggling about?" She guffaws, spilling her juice on the floor. Placing her glass on the counter, she grabs a paper towel and turns to bend over and wipe up the spilled juice. This view of her covered ass reminds me of the embarrassment in bed. Why the hell was she giggling? I cross to the countertop where she placed the glass of juice, pick it up, and sip from it. Looking up from where she's kneeling and wiping the floor, she laughs anew. "I thought you didn't want any juice." I stare at this giggling, sexy—somehow humiliating—woman and say, "Men can change their minds, too." Standing with the wet paper towel in her hand, she breaks up again and this time I join her. Her shoulders still shaking with humor, she throws the paper towel in the trash. Calming, I say, "It's three-fifteen in the morning, Elle. Are you rested enough? No more sleep?" She calms too. "No, I'm going back to bed." She takes the glass from me, finishes the juice, washes the glass out in the sink, and turns back to me. Then she takes my hand and leads me back into the bedroom. Once there, we climb back into bed, but before she can go to sleep I say, "You never answered my question. What were you giggling about?" She'd lain down on her side away from me, but now she rolls over onto her back and looks at the ceiling for a minute. Stifling a yawn, she says, "You never apologized to me for almost raping me." Giving into the yawn, she giggles lightly. I rise up a little on my elbows, enough so I can see her face. I'm sure I had apologized. A thousand times it seems. But now I realize I hadn't. Her eyes close again as I say, "I'm sorry about that." I wait, but she doesn't say anything and I wonder if she has gone back to sleep. But after a long moment, she surprises me and says. "Okay." Then she opens her eyes and looks into mine. Lying back, I continue, "I was asleep." Pointing to my penis, I add, "Sometimes he sort of has I mind of his own." In the dim moonlight, I know she can see where I am pointing, but I can't tell if she's looking or not. There's complete silence in the room for another long couple of minutes. I turn to face her, being sure to keep a distance between us, and she turns to me and opens her eyes. "It's okay, Jules. I've heard talk about that—with boys, I mean. That they can't hide when they're attracted to someone. I guess it's kind of a compliment. I didn't mind it that much—not as much as I thought I would. It made me feel something I've never felt before, really." I don't know what to say, so I don't say anything. She takes a deep breath and her breasts swell with the richness and fullness of it. After a moment, she speaks very quietly, so I have to strain to hear. "The reason I was giggling—" Suddenly, she giggles again. "Am giggling . . . is that it reminded me fondly of my dildo." "You're dildo?" You could hear a pin drop in the stillness. In the dimness of the passing moon, her face turns not red, but darker—like her hair doesn't appear red, but dark. She's apparently embarrassed, but she seems determined to educate me. "Haven't you ever heard of a dildo?" "I've heard of condoms." "Not at all the same thing. You've never heard of a dildo, have you?" It's my turn to blush, but I'm sure she can't see it since what little light there is seeping in is coming from behind me. "No," I admit. She sighs and rolls onto her back again. Without thinking, I reach over and touch her arm. She looks at me and I see her teeth flash in the dimness. Somehow I know she's smiling at me, but I remove my hand just in case. She looks back up at the ceiling. I guess she doesn't want to see me as she explains. "A dildo is an imitation penis—made of rubber, jelly, a type of pliable plastic, or whatever—that we lesbians sometimes use on each other during sex . . ." She pauses and I think she's through, but then she continues as if she's decided to really explain for my benefit. "We fuck each other with them usually. Girls can fuck themselves with them if they want I suppose, but I like having Sam there. It's a part of our ritual and sometimes quite stimulating and satisfying." I feel so ignorant. Why didn't I know this? "Does it vibrate?" I see her lips curve and her teeth flash again. "Sometimes," she says. "It depends on what you buy. The vibrating ones are more expensive. Some have vibrators. Some don't. Often, it's economics, I suppose, but in my case I don't need it to move. Sam moves it inside me." "That's very vivid," I say, truly blown away by her honesty and the subject itself. She looks at me. "I didn't mean to upset you, Jules. Or offend you." "Oh, you aren't offending me," I say, forcing a smile. Then—from somewhere inside me—I draw strength. I get braver and more curious. "That gets you off?" "Not always. Not just that. But it's a definite turn on." I wonder if I'm treading on dangerous ground here—or just being too nosy—but I go on. "I've heard that lesbians do other things, too." "Yes," she says in a soft voice. There's another long pause. I don't want to ask if she and Sam do other things. Somehow it's easier for me to keep the conversation on a more universal level. After minutes, she says, "Sometimes, Sam kisses me down there." I can't help myself. My voice getting hoarse with emotion, I ask, "Do you kiss her, too? Down there?" "Sometimes. I have, but Sam does it more." We're both silent for a long time. Finally, she says, "I think that's enough conversation about this for awhile—maybe forever." I laugh. "Yeah, I understand that." I'm wide-awake and Elle suddenly sits up in bed. "I'm hungry, dammit." Laughing, I get up. When you're as tired as we are, everything is funny. We go into the kitchen where Elle makes us peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, which we take out onto the balcony to eat. Since my apartment in on the top floor of the tallest building in SoHo and my balcony wall is high, we are confident no one can see us sitting side by side, eating our sandwiches in the nude. I polish mine off before she does hers, but I do that all the time with women. "I need milk," I say and rise from my chair. "Good idea," she says, smiling up at me. "Will you get me a glass too?" "Sure," I say and then walk back into the apartment and to the kitchen. Once there, I pour us each glasses of milk and carry them back out to the balcony. I hand Elle a glass and sit down beside her again. We both sip our milk while Elle continues eating her sandwich. In case some of my neighbors are up and eavesdropping, I say quietly, "Elle, what I don't understand is . . . what's the difference between Sam shoving a dildo in and out . . . and a man—like me for instance—pushing his penis in and out." Elle laughs very low and very warily. "I thought we were through with that conversation." "I'm just curious. You don't have to answer." She thinks a minute. "I will though—or at least I'll try. It's an attraction. I've always known I was attracted to women. I think I was born with some different gene. I think it's the way some of us are born. Anyway, when I was a young, I thought of men as these hairy, pushy, half-ape creatures with ape-like dialogue and ape-like manners." I smile at that. "I don't know," she continues, "I've spoken to others who are so inclined—and even spoke to a psychiatrist about it once . . . and that may have had something to do with it. If so, I think a very small part. My father had a hairy chest and arms and was so over-confident and so commanding. When I was small, I remember my mother screaming out during the night. It was so scary. But the way I understand it—and what I really believe—that really has nothing to do with my being a lesbian. It isn't a revulsion that drives me, but an attraction." Pointing to my chest—my nearly hairless chest—I say, "I'm not hairy or pushy." "Oh, I know that, Jules. I know you're not one of those. Probably—had I not been a lesbian—you would have had me in a flash." She laughed heartily and stuffed the rest of her sandwich in her mouth. For some reason, her stuffing the rest of her sandwich in her mouth and downing her glass of milk after it touched me deeply. I know that's weird, but it made her seem more real to me. That night, I'd advanced my understanding of Elle—and lesbianism—a lot. "Well," I say in jest—but not really, "if you need to use a dildo while you're here, then use me. I wouldn't mind at all." Elle Edited by angelicsounds This story and those to follow are dedicated to a very special lady whose exuberance for life and passion for love is inspiring. Now a grad student, Elle had reached a point in her life where she was serious about her future. She wasn't exactly sure what company she wanted to pursue for employment, but she did know the field of study she needed to prepare herself for a career in managing others. That side of Elle was prominent, yet, unbeknownst to many, she also had a deep desire to pursue love in a unique way. Elle was truly beautiful, not in a childish way that made her cute, but more of a depth of heart that men craved, at least if they wanted to spend the rest of their life with her. Perhaps the inward dictated the outward but one thing for sure; she was beautiful, striking, enticing, and certainly a looker to the male species. Oddly enough, many of the guys on campus didn't even know why they were attracted to her, for her mystery often seemed elusive. She was five feet six inches tall, well proportioned, with dark brown hair that cascaded down to her shoulders. The natural wave lent to her pretty smile, a portrait of acceptance of others no matter how they might have differed from her. One professor even said of Elle that she had captivating eyes that smiled. Though she usually dressed like everyone else in the typical college t-shirt, jeans, and sandals, she occasionally walked through campus wearing a dark red or dark blue dress. On those days, men couldn't help but stare, though most tried not to show it. One of the enticing matters about Elle was her full, sexy breasts. Guessing men would have calculated them to be anywhere between 34Cs to 36Ds. On the days she wore no bra or a loose fitting one; men ceased to guess and knew that Elle's melons were most assuredly 34DDs. Her waist was thin, her belly flat, her legs average in length, but no where did Elle appear to have anything that caused men or women to not like her figure. Even when she wore shorts, her chocolate brown skin caused men to gaze in approval over the smoothness and form. And of course for the unique fraternity of butt lovers, Elle's sexy, round bottom scored a ten. Its shape and the way she moved it lent well to stimulate watching, lustful eyes. Though she wasn't dating anyone in particular at the time, she secretly longed for a man named Peter, a security guard who often escorted her to her car after the library closed at night. He was fair skinned, redheaded with a stylish cut, and about five eleven in height. Elle tended to go for the men with blond hair but most recently she had also acquired a taste for the red. To her, the combination of contrasting colors always sent her into erotic fantasies of varying kinds. She was no stranger to sexual expression nor was she the least bit desirous of any relationship short of interracial. Each difference, each similarity, and each opportunity only added and enhanced her twenty four years of life experience. If, however, she could have had her choice of men, it most assuredly would have been the red headed security guard, Peter. Since he worked on weekends, he often met her as he made his rounds about campus. Usually, Elle was on her way to the library to study or research a topic. During the week when she wasn't in class, she worked at the media center in the basement of the oldest building in the library complex. Most Saturday mornings though, she would go out for a donut and cup of Frou-Frou coffee, and then drive over to the library for a lengthy day of graduate studying. Since she lacked about a year finishing her Master's degree, every weekend counted. Usually, a paper was due each Monday morning, so the Saturday before was often filled with reading that would bore a sloth, at least that was how she viewed it. Near the front entrance to the library stood the security kiosk. Inside, Peter was talking on his radio when pretty Elle sauntered by carrying a bag of books and her purse slung over her shoulder. As Peter's eyes caught her passing by, he stared intently out of the tinted glass at what he deemed to be the loveliest woman he'd ever known. He would indeed have to make sure that his rounds included a visit around the library to talk with Elle, if possible. But Elle couldn't see Peter inside the kiosk, since the windows were of a dark tint. She knew he was on duty, however, since his old beat-up Chevy sat pitifully in one of the employee spaces. It amused her, but like most college students; he had little money to spare. Besides, the car actually ran, though one of the tires was questionable. When Elle turned to the right to head for the front door, Peter laid down the radio and stiffened slightly. She was wearing a baggy t-shirt, over beige shorts that revealed her sexy, delectable legs. While Elle disappeared inside, Peter looked at his watch and saw that his rounds were coming up. He decided to go fifteen minutes early, just to enter the library and possibly pursue his secret heartthrob. Inside, he found her handing in some books at the circulation desk, but he walked past her like he was on official business. Someone nearby greeted Peter, causing lovely Elle to look in his direction. As she did, she caught him smiling and knowing he was caught red handed, he lifted his right hand in a wave of sorts. Peter then turned and walked away, but not so far that he couldn't watch the movements of Elle. She finished at the desk, headed for the stairwell, and proceeded to climb the flights to the third floor, simply because she wanted the exercise. Being a library employee, Elle knew the best rooms for maximum privacy and since she had access to the keys, she chose the most secluded room, a room buried deep within the rows of shelves that led to the most remote section of that floor. Unlocking the door with the only key on campus, Elle went inside, turned on the lights, and closed the door behind her. The dimensions of the room were twelve feet by fifteen. In the middle of the room stood a typical wooden library table, with several chairs positioned around it. On a nearby wall, a small computer table stood with a PC, fully loaded with the latest educational software. Bookshelves were affixed to three of the walls, although none were full like those outside. On the fourth wall, however, a large floor to ceiling mirror reflected the room, making it seem as though it was much larger than it really was. Ironically, the existence of the mirror had always intrigued Elle to the point of creating a fantasy that she was pleasuring her body as the mirror watched and reflected the scene. Several times she had considered going through with her personal gratification, but for the reason that she might get caught, she decided not to. But on that day Elle had seen Peter, a visual memory she couldn't shake nor did she want to. It warmed her, for she desired to know him better, to give herself to him, at least in her fantasies. Elle glanced once more around the room and proclaimed softly, "This is my room, The Chocolate Diva Room!" Setting her bag down on the table, she tried to focus on the research she needed to pursue. For some unknown reason, she kept glancing back at the mirror, as if Peter was there watching her, enjoying her presence, even longing for her to be in his arms. After three or four glances, Elle began to flush with warmth as it spread sensuously throughout her delicious body. Deep down, she wanted to strip naked and masturbate, especially if the lights were on and the mirror had full view of what she was doing. Psychologically, she desired to be her own voyeur, yet she considered that the mirror itself would do that well. As she continued to stare at the shiny surface, she finally gave in to her desires. Elle glanced at the door, went to make sure it was locked, and then proceeded to remove her clothing. She stood directly in front of the mirror, a few feet away, and then lifted her baggy shirt over her bra covered melons, up and over her head. Letting it drop to the floor, she reached between her breasts to unclasp the small hook that held her succulent mounds inside their cups. As she did, the DD cups sprang open to reveal two very soft, bouncy pillows of softness. Giggling softly, Elle cupped them in her fondling hands, squeezed them lustfully, and tweaked their buds lightly. The result was stimulating, to say the least. Warmth of pleasure spread downward until it settled between her gorgeous thighs. There it lingered until droplets of natural lubrication oozed to soak her sexy panties. Then with her left-hand, she gently, but affectionately, massaged her hard nippled breasts. Her right hand, however, slid downward to gently touch her flat, smooth belly. Since her button was revealed, she poked and prodded it gently, almost as if Peter's tongue was pursuing it in lustful play. Meanwhile, the sexy grad student watched the scene as it unfolded in the mirror. Watching it pleased her for she knew well who the recipient of such pleasure was. After several moments of topless stimulation, sexy Elle decided to go further. She reached to unclasp the thin belt that held her shorts around her waist. For a moment, her eyes darted from the mirror to stare downward at the material as it slid down her legs. When she finally regained her voyeur's stare, she saw the shorts fall to the floor, leaving her only wearing the bright red panties that so hungrily hugged her butt and womanly charms. Immediately, Elle stepped from her shorts, and stood with her legs spread about a foot and a half apart. A darker portion of material suggested that her pussy had soaked her panties well. Her breathing deepened as she saw it and she even began to inhale her womanly essence. Her finger tips returned to their play on nipples that were fully erect and ripe for the taking. Pinching them lightly at first, she let out a gasp that led to a sigh of lust. With each tweak and pinch, her pussy spasmed in response. Her hips swayed back and forth as her full, round breasts responded under pleasurable torture. The movements in the mirror's reflecting also brought her stimulation to an all time high. There, it remained as Elle lustfully fantasized what it would be like to have Peter's lips sucking fervently on her full breasts. "Oh, to have two, red haired Peters suck my tits!" she said in a flood of lust and fantasy. "Or one on each melon, sucking, while a third parts my legs to enjoy the taste of wet pussy!" Just the thought made her whimper with desire. She quickly left her playful pursuits and turned a chair around to squarely face the mirror. Elle went to position her hot, round butt in the chair, but before she did, she pulled her red panties down until one foot stepped out to freedom. With the soaked material still clinging to one ankle, she parted her legs as wide as she could. Gasping in lust, the woman's eyes went down on the hottest view she'd ever seen. Her parted, chocolate, brown thighs were helplessly revealed while pink and red lips bloomed. Moisture coated them like the morning dew does a flower's petals. Contrasting colors of brown, red, and pink sat on a pedestal of chocolate brown cheeks, split only by a secret, intimate darkness. "Taste me, Peter!" Elle pleaded in a whisper. "Lick my body and eat me 'til I cum!" When she could finally position herself for continued pleasure, she leaned back and grabbed the nipple of her right breast with her left hand. Massaging it in a build up of passion, she moaned softly only because she had to. Her right hand went swiftly to the thick mat of dark brown fur that lead to her tingling clit. Elle's fingers drove deep in her forest, only to rest on either side of her clit, and then they slid down to stroke passionately on her cuntal flower. At their touch, she let out another moan of lust. Her nipple play intensified as her clit tingled almost out of control. Lightly, then more passionately, she drug her fingers along each labial fold. Occasionally, her index finger probed the secret chamber of her extremely wet pussy. Once, she pulled the finger to her tongue and tasted its sweetness. Then she resumed play, only to end up at her swollen clitoral nub. "Oh Peter!" she said in an exhale of lust. "Feels so good baby! Lick my pussy and suck my clit!" Tingling warmth spread throughout her body as she continued to please herself. Waves of hot passion built to bring her to the edge over and over. Each time, she stopped just short of orgasmic thrill to linger at the edge of lust-crazed anticipation. After five or six times of building and thwarting her lust, Elle finally gave in and pushed herself over the edge. Peter's tongue was lashing her cunt, her clit, while his white hands slid passionately up and down her hot thighs. She pictured his red hair as it moved about between her parted legs. Seconds later, she could hold on no longer. "Peter, Peter, Peter, PEEEEEEEEEEIAIAAIIIAIAIAIAIEIIIEIAIEIEA!" filled the air as Elle's body convulsed and shuttered in a hot orgasm. Just shy of hyperventilation, Elle enjoyed every moment of pleasure until she relaxed, spent in the chair. Her fingers were dripping with cum and the air in the room mingled with her womanly essence. When she managed to gain perspective again, she noticed that her panties had been flung to the edge of the room near a bookshelf. But she stayed in the chair; after all it was her time, in her room, and in her way. Suddenly, a key slid into the lock of the door. Elle heard it, but wasn't exactly of a mind to interpret neither its meaning nor the impending threat. The handle on the door turned and in came one uniformed security guard to evaluate the noise he'd heard from outside. Immediate shock flooded Elle's well spent body. Peter, the red haired security guard, opened the door wide to view a portrait most men only dreamt about. His eyes darted between one hot, chocolate lady to the steaming hot reflection in the mirror. Elle gasped in horror. Peter stood with his mouth agape. If the grad student could have died at that very moment, it would certainly have been the time. "How'd you get in here?" the shocked woman asked. "Security guards get in everywhere, Elle!" he replied. Without words, Elle attempted to explain her plight, although nobody in the universe could have done so. Peter's gaping mouth closed and he quickly turned away from her. She could tell he was embarrassed to catch her like this, not knowing he'd seen her the same way many times in his fantasies. Red and pink hues flooded the back of his neck. "You, uh, you had better get dressed!" he somehow managed to say with an air of authority. What Elle couldn't see was that his cock was raging inside his uniform pants. He wanted to take her right then and there, but if he did, he'd surely lose his job, his reputation and his scholarship. But his rod pulsed in anticipation of partaking in the forbidden fruits of Elle's charms. Not knowing exactly what to do, Elle sized up the situation. Since she'd already been caught, exposed, and humiliated, she figured that the best way to deal with it was to level the playing field. 'It's worth a try!' she thought as she stood and gracefully walked over to press her luscious body into his backside. When she did, Peter jumped at the feel of two soft melons pressing into him. Instinctively, his breathing deepened and his mouth opened to let out a groan of lust. Not wasting any time, she took matters into her own hands. She reached around his waist to unbuckle his belt, causing him to take it from there. Spinning on his feet to face her, he said, "Damn, you're so hot, Elle! I want you and I'm going to have you!" She kissed his lips only to feel his tongue drive hard between hers. His hands went everywhere as he fondled his chocolate babe in a flurry of movements. She unbuttoned his shirt and then slid her hands onto his chest to rub passionately on his stimulated nipples. Since he was ready to pump her senseless, he felt the frustration of having to stop his massage to remove his clothes. But he knew well that passions could be built in an instant, especially when a man was in the presence of a hot, ready for anything woman. To stimulate him further as he stripped his uniform off, she whimpered softly in delight. By the time he was naked, she stared at his white body, his bouncing, stiff rod, and the wild patch of red pubic hair that practically engulfed his cock and balls. Immediately, Elle felt the warmth spread throughout her body, the same sensations she'd always counted on to let her know it was time for action. "Get back in that chair like you were!" Peter commanded her. "Oh Peter!" she said with obedient tone. "Take me any way you want me, honey! I've wanted you for so long!" Peter wasted no time in getting on his knees between the hot babe's brown thighs. Just seeing him there, in the flesh, caused the passion to build in Elle's body. Her legs parted wide, the moisture started to flow from her pussy, and her womanly perfume flooded forth to captivate his desires to eat her until she exploded in a torrent of cum. When he reached up to rub the inside of the babe's inner thighs, she let out a deep moan, one that might have been heard if someone was standing right outside the door. Peter inhaled her scent like he was about to corner and pounce on his prey. She fondled her big breasts for him, tweaked her nipple buds, and moved her ass on the chair to drive him wild with hot lust. As his fingers slid to the tops of her thighs, they stopped at her pussy region. Sensations of tingling lust made Elle spasm in response, especially as she considered what might come next. 'Will he ram a finger in my cunt? Will his tongue lick my wet slit? Will he suck my dark, brown buds? Will he mash his face into my pussy?' were some of the unanswered questions that flooded Elle's mind as she anticipated his next move. Breathing deeply, she begged him to do her and do her quickly. But he was in control; after all, he was the security guard and was responsible for her well being. Midst her pleading and whimpering, Peter made his move. Using the first two fingers on each hand, he spread her pussy lips apart, while at the same time driving his face down onto her waiting cunt. Immediately, the tongue lashing began as he probed the depths of his delicious prey. She was his for the taking and he was hungrier than ever. In a frenzy of devouring lust, she exploded on his face. Spurts of sweet juice blasted into his mouth to coat his pumping tongue. A torrent of hot cum coated his face as it sprayed from her depths. Her body writhed in absolute pleasure as her hot ass bucked up and down on the chair. Peter ate her out until she began to relax, but the action wasn't over. He stood, bent over, and pulled the pumped Elle to her feet. She fell into his arms, mashing her tits helplessly against him. His rod, still stiff and ready, pressed hard against her body. Though she was still trying to catch her breath, he moved to bend her over the table. When her body felt the cool of the wood, she mashed her soft melons against its polished hardness. The penetration might be rough, but the one thing she knew for sure was that her milky white lover was going to fuck the daylights out of her chocolate body with his long, stiff, white cock. That thought alone made her surrender to whatever he might want. In seconds, she heard a growl as he poised the head of his shaft at the entrance to her cuntal canal. Bracing herself for the penetration, she suddenly felt the invasion as he pushed inside, inch by inch. He wasn't the longest she'd ever known, but after getting seven hard inches inside, she let out a moan of approval that just about sent him over the edge. Pumping his cock in and out built the two lovers to passions neither had felt before. His right hand reached down to coat his fingers thoroughly as his dick pulled back to the opening of her mound. Elle After his index finger dripped with her juicy flow, he rammed his cock in to hear her moan again. The pumping continued for what felt like eternity, though neither one could seem to reach the point of no return. In Peter's fantasy, he'd always wanted to pleasure Elle's butt, so he spread her cheeks apart, lubed the pucker with her own cum, and pushed his finger in as far as it would go. Elle winced at the sensation of slight pain. Her ass clamped down hard on his probe while his cock pumped wildly in her pussy. Though she'd never experienced such sensations, she readily and obediently gave in to his whims. "Oh baby!" she moaned deeply. "Fuck me in the pussy and ass!" Responding to her pleading words, Peter rammed deep inside her tunnels and exploded. His grunts, groans, and moans filled the room and mixed with her own orgasmic sounds. Her pussy clamped down on his rod like it would bite it off his frame, her butt spasmed hard on his finger, while her head was thrown back to moan her release. Elle usually counted the beads of hot cum as a man would blast inside her, but she was so overwhelmed with the added stimulation of anal penetration that she lost count after five. Spurt after spurt filled her pleasure palace as her cuntal spray watered his red pubes. For what seemed like a half an hour, they panted, moaned, and groaned out every possible sensation of fulfilled lust. Eventually, Peter pulled both his cock and his finger from the well fucked Elle to stagger backwards into a chair. She stayed bent over, legs parted, and titties mashed helplessly against the table. After a few minutes of catching their breath, Peter stood and pulled his spent babe into his arms. He kissed her and hugged her, knowing this wouldn't be the last time they'd see one another. Then he said softly, "Elle, since you're so beautiful, I won't report you for indecency this time. But if I ever catch you masturbating in this room again, you delicious, chocolate diva, I'll..." Elle interrupted him by suggesting, "How 'bout next Saturday morning?" Elle Elle was unaware of his presence until his reflection came into focus in the mirror behind her, brooding in the dark corner. A startled gasp escaped her lips and the hairbrush fell from her grip and onto the floor with a clatter. Heat rose in her cheeks. She quickly scrambled to retrieve the brush off the floor. "Stay down." He instructed as He approached her. The soles of his shoes clicked against the floor like a conductor rapping his baton on a music stand. "Yes Master." She bowed her head and obediently knelt before him. The hard wood planks pressed painfully against her knees, but she dared not show any discomfort. One would be foolish to do so. He cupped her chin in his hand and tipped her face up towards His. She kept her eyes lowered. At a time like this she knew better then to look Him directly in the eye without permission. She had made that mistake before, but only once; He made sure of that. The pillar candles burned patiently on the nearby buffet, painting a spectral array of yellows and oranges across her face. He lightly brushed her cheek with the back of His hand. She loved His hands. They were soft and only slightly callused, but stronger then any other hands that had ever touched her. He kept His nails clean and neatly trimmed, even better then she kept her own. She wondered if anyone who greeted Him with a handshake could ever guess what those perfectly manicured hands were capable of. "I have something special for you." A wry smile curled at the corners of his lips. "A gift." "A gift, Master?" She queried, her brow furrowed. She did not understand. She did not feel worthy to receive anything from Him. It would be a gift to simply be His slave. That was all she wanted. "Yes, Elle. But you must earn it. It is not something trivial." What did he mean 'she must earn it'? All at once she was scared and yet extremely eager to find out. He weaved His fingers through her hair at the nap of her neck. It was naturally straight and well groomed, just the way He liked it. He grabbed a fistful of silk and yanked her head back so forcefully her neck cracked. Un-phased, and perhaps even a bit pleased, He watched her wince. Her face was flushed. Sweat was beginning to bead along her brow and above her rosy parted lips. Her eyes remained lowered. She could feel His pupils penetrating her eyelids, daring her to look at Him. She tried to ignore the aching tightness in her scalp as well as the urge to look into His beautiful eyes. "To be mine you must know that I am going to hurt you far worse then ever before." There was an extreme sense of irony in how gently he spoke those fear evoking words. "You will receive my pain with grace if you wish to be my slave, or the repercussions may be more then your body is apt to handle." The fear He was injecting into her veins was like a high dosage of antibiotics working to inhibit her from wanting to stay. Was it a test of her consecration to Him? But He had to know she would never turn back. Never. There was no place else she would rather be then right there on her knees at the feet of the one she worshiped. She would kneel before Him till her knees bled if that was what it would take to prove her affection to Him. "Elle." His voice was soft, but firm. "Look at me." She cautiously raised her eyes to meet His. A surge of heat waves propagated through her chilled body, rippling down through her lower abdomen. She wanted Him to take her, right there on that rickety floor. She absolutely adored Him. He untangled his fingers from her hair and lowered Himself till His eyes were level with hers. She prayed that He would place his magnetic lips to her own. He did not. He simply searched her eyes for something. She was not sure what. The way she looked at Him, so fearful and yet so willing, sent an electric current through His veins and down to His firm cock. There was not an ounce of doubt in His mind that she would give herself to Him in any way He saw fit. She was ready. * This is just a short clip from the story I am writing. I know it's not much, but I would appreciate any opinions or advice on the way I write. My goal is to have my story published, but I have never written a book before, let alone erotica. (And it definitely gets more erotic in other parts) Elle & Laura Pam had just left to meet her 1:00 curfew, leaving Laura and I alone together in my room, playing truth or dare. "Okay, Elle, truth or dare?" asked Laura. "Truth," I responded immediately. Laura was definitely the wilder of the two of us, and I didn't know what she'd dare me to do. I admit it, I'm a sissy. "Okay. Hmm," said Laura. She had to think for a moment to come up with a question she didn't know the answer to. Laura and I are cousins -- our moms are sisters. We've known each other since birth and are very close; we tell each other EVERYTHING. "Okay," she finally said, "I've got one. Have you ever fantasized about sex with a girl?" "Well...yeah," I said. I could feel my cheeks start to get hot. I frequently had dreams about girls, from which I would wake covered in sweat and indescribably aroused. I glanced at her face but couldn't discern her reaction in the semi-darkness of my room. There was an uncomfortable pause before I realized she was waiting for me to take my turn. "Oh, uh, truth or dare?" I asked. She picked truth. I hesitated -- I was dying to know her answer to the same question, but apprehensive about asking. Curiosity won and I said in what I hoped was a casual tone, "Have you?" "All the time," she said frankly. I wasn't sure how to react. "Truth or dare?" she asked. "Truth," I said, as usual. "Have you ever fantasized about sex with me?" she asked, in a tone that made it obvious she had had the question on the tip of her tongue before I chose truth. Now, her previous question had come as a surprise. But I had a few bisexual friends, and people talk about lesbians all the time. It was a question I could handle. But, sex with Laura is NOT a concept I was used to dealing with daily. Before she had asked the question the answer would have been "no." But, now that the idea of lesbian sex was on my mind, and she had introduced the concept of lesbian sex with her, that "no" was becoming less definite. The more I thought about it, the sexier she was. The innocent tone with which she had just spoken was such a turn-on. Her long golden hair was so vibrant, her eyes so bright, her turned-up nose so cute, her full lips so inviting, her neck so slim and -- I stopped that train of thought before it moved any lower on her body. Still, I didn't know what the answer to her question was. "Uh, I um--I, uh, changed my mind, dare," I stuttered. "That's okay," she said. Her voice, incredibly, remained even and casual."Um...alright, come sit over here," she said. "That's it?" I asked dubiously. "No, silly," she giggled, patting the carpet next to her, "Just come here." So, I got off of my bed and sat down next to where she was sitting against the wall. We were real close, I could feel the heat coming from her arm. When we turned our heads to look at each otheer, our noses were only a few inches apart. "Hold on," she said, and leaned forward so that she could reach her arms up under the back of her shirt. I watched, bewildered, as she removed her bra and pulled it out through one of the sleeves of her t-shirt. "Okay, your dare..." she said, and pulled up the front of her shirt revealing two perfectly formed, slightly larger-than-average, totally untanned breasts with exquisite light brown nipples. "Is to suck my nipples." It was unbelievable. I felt all fluttery and hot. Suddenly all I wanted to do was to touch, taste, experience her beautiful chest. I tore my attention away from her tits to look up at her face. She smiled encouragingly and my inhibitions melted. Placing my hand awkwardly over her belly button, I lowered my mouth to a nipple and touched it tentatively with my tongue. She let out a sigh and the nipple instantly hardened. Excited by her reaction, I stuck my entire mouth on as much of her breast as I could, circling the nipple with my tongue. I removed my hand from her stomach and used it to massage one breast while I licked and nibbled the other. After a few minutes, I switched tits. I just couldn't get enough of the spicy taste of her nipples. The whole time, she made little whimpering noises, which I found so unbearably erotic. After a while, she pulled my head away. Reluctantly, I let her. Her face was flushed with arousal and, I suddenly realized, my panties were soaked. She gave me a loving smile. "Your turn," she said. "Truth or dare?" "Dare." "Do the same thing to me," I said, eager to feel what Laura had felt. I pulled up my shirt -- I was braless. My breasts were the same size as hers, but my nipples were a deep pink, almost red, and pierced. Without a word she bent to her task, pushing my nipple ring around with her tongue. I gasped at the first contact, but quickly relaxed. I often stimulated my breasts manually while masturbating, but the feel of a tongue on my virgin tits was a billion times better. Each lick of her eager tongue sent a shiver down my spine. Suddenly, just as she started really going at it, she stopped. I looked down to see what could possibly be interrupting my moment of bliss, and was met with Laura's hot lips on mine. We both groaned as she tried to devour my mouth. Her tongue walked into my mouth like it owned the place, and began exploring every crevice. My tongue met hers in a passionate embrace. This was beyond kissing any boy. Kissing a boy was just a brief clash of two mouths. Kissing my cousin was a long, passionate union of two souls. Finally she broke the kiss, leaving my mouth vibrating with sensation. We stared at each other briefly, breathing hard. She ripped off my shirt, then pulled my skirt off. I was left naked except for my panties. "Fuck, you're soaked," she said breathily. That was an understatement; my panties were entirely saturated with my juices. I watched as she pulled off her own t-shirt, then wiggled out of her shorts. I nearly had a heart attack when I saw her beautiful blond bush. Before I could comment she was removing my panties. I stretched my legs out so she could pull them off easily. Then she fixed her gaze on my wet, shaved pussy. "I'm gonna make you come all over my face," she said, and dove for my cunt. I squealed with pleasure and surprise as she licked me, and was so aroused that I orgasmed immediately. I squeezed my eyes shut tight as, true to her prediction, I came all over my cousin's face. We both relaxed. For nearly fifteen minutes we sat in that position, trying to catch our breath -- two naked girls, me with the top of my back and my neck leaning on the wall, the rest of my body sprawled over the floor, my cousin still between my wide open legs, head resting on my thigh. After a while, I couldn't wait any longer to taste her. "My turn," I said, and we switched places. I was suddenly directly in front of Elle's cunt. I inhaled deeply, letting her musky scent fill my body. Then I began kissing her inner thighs lightly, around her pussy, coming tantalizingly close but never quite there. Finally, I attached my mouth to her. Her bush tickled my nose as I shoved my tongue into her hot hole. I licked and sucked and sucked and licked and her cries slowly got louder and louder. I tasted every part of her salty slit and she bucked her hips with incredible pleasure. Finally, there was a dramatic rise in the volume and pitch of her yelps, and in less than a minute she lost control. Her powerful thighs squeezed my head painfully, her heels dug into my back, her entire body spasmed violently and she filled my mouth with hot, salty girl-cum. I swallowed every drop, then lovingly licked her pussy clean as she sighed with post-orgasm bliss. Finally I moved up and lay on top of her, smashing our breasts and pussies together, and putting me in the perfect position to continue exchanging saliva with her. I chased her tongue around her mouth while lightly stroking her cheek with my fingertips. I could still taste traces of my pussy in her mouth, and I knew she could taste hers in mine. We made out for a long, long time. I could fuck Elle for hours, but I could kiss her for days. I kissed her for an eternity, one hand on the side of her head and one on her thigh. Her thigh, her beautiful thigh. It was so smooth and flawless and warm. I let my mind wander around Elle's body while my tongue wandered around her mouth. Her beautiful, sexy tits, her long, sensual legs, and her hot, tasty pussy. Every part of her body turned me on, and the intensity of the kiss grew as I got hotter and hotter. My cousin was such a fucking hottie. I wanted her so bad. Before long my pussy was dripping again and I was hornier than I had ever been in my life. I gave a long, sexy moan into my cousin's mouth, then broke the kiss. I rolled off of her and stuck three fingers in my pussy and began fucking myself wildly while massaging my clit with my thumb. I needed an orgasm so badly. "Now, now, that's my job," my cousin grinned, and pulled my hand away. "Fuck," I whispered, breathing hard. "I need it so fucking bad. Eat me, baby..." "Why should I?" she asked. I looked at her and saw a mischevious grin on her face. "Please, Elle, I need it," I moaned. I couldn't believe how horny I was. At that moment, I would do anything to get off. "Oh, I don't think you want it enough," she said, her grin widening. "Just fucking eat me!" I practically screamed. "Make me," she said. I couldn't believe her. "Damn it, Elle, I need to fucking come!" with every second I was getting hornier, and the fact that my cousin was sexy, naked, and right next to me wasn't helping. "Oh, I'm sure you don't REALLY need to come," she said. Unable to stand it any longer, I tried to masturbate again. Again Elle moved my hand away. "If you want to come, Laura, you're gonna have to convince me you need it," she insisted. She was driving me insane, but I knew she wouldn't get me off until I had satisfied her. "Please, Elle! I have to have you! You're so fucking sexy! I need you to devour my wet pussy before I EXPLODE!" I gasped. "You're such a little slut," she giggled. "Lick me, you bitch!" I groaned. I can't express how much I needed it. "Well, gee, when you put it that way," she said, and bit my clit. I screamed while she continued to chew on my clit. In less than a minute, I screamed again and came all over her face a second time. This orgasm was the best of my life. I felt like I pumped come all over her for five minutes straight. I was screaming the whole time, shaking my head back and forth. Finally I began to calm down, and sucked in huge gulps of air while she moved away from my clit to lick my pussy clean. As my moans subsided, she continued to lick my cunt. I had barely come down from one orgasm before another one started building. My cries quickly started getting louder, and I began to rub one of my nipples while she licked me. This time she ate me for a long time before, finally, I had three delicious orgasms in rapid succession. It was a long time before either of us could move. After a while, she lay down next to me. We both propped ourselves up on our elbows and engaged in a long, tender, kiss. Her hand rubbed my stomach gently, lovingly, in circles. Her circles got lower, and lower... I broke the kiss to moan. She slid a finger in me, then added another and started finger-fucking me. I groaned and reached down to her pussy. We rubbed and fucked and massaged until we both had one last simultaneous orgasm. Finally, I laid my head on her shoulder. "Wow...wow...w...wow," I said, too amazed to do much else. "I know," she said in a dream voice. "That was incredible." "You're so hot," I said. She laughed. We talked for the rest of the night. Elle: Candy Sex I try as much best as I can to be kind and loving and affectionate with Lana. She is kind; she is likeable and very much sociable. As Doug and I sit for a meal or two, on the large dining table, where we await for our food to be served by his obliging and obedient house keeper, I look at him quietly and shyly somehow a little bit. His eyes are intense and serious and frightful in some way, and he has them fixed and glued straight on me. I don’t know what the hell is exactly going on in his mind. I am not a mind reader. And I only wish that I had that divine ability and power to unravel out what goes on in people’s secretive minds. “I guess that I am not making you a tiny bit uncomfortable and nervy-like with my presence and actions here, or am I?” This, Doug asks me coolly and composedly. Damn! What is he supposed to mean with this? What exactly? “I am comfortable and very much fine; thank you, Doug,” I say and make known to him. He smiles at me happily and affectionately. Is he excited? Or merely seeking to make me feel fine and good about all this? I can’t exactly and spot-on tell! He is a few breathes or inches away from me. He kisses and caresses me tenderly and gently. I like it. I love and adore it. Nothing could be any much better; nothing could be this more thrilling and desirous. I can’t breathe. I can only look and stare up into those dark, mannish, and lush-like eyes of him. Oh my goodness! I don’t know what to literally think or do right now. I don’t…I don’t…I don’t know…………….Damn it! He kisses me right then, gently and steadily—passionately and brilliantly. I kiss him back, pushing and shoving and ramming my lips right straight against his. He is steady; he is patient with me; he is possessive and magnificent and wonderfully. To be honest and upright and truthful with you, this is just as much as heaven and paradise as it is itself. I swear that it surely is. We hold and embrace each other; we caress and stroke the other; we inhale and exhale right in the face of the other. The candles are burning and flickering about; they are lightening and engulfing us in tastefully-like red, green, and yellow-brown flames. It is like we are made of light as we kiss and hug and stroke each other lovingly and unhurriedly. That is what it seems like. Yes…definitely! We are at breath last having dinner. Lana has served us and she is standing right behind us in the distance exactly between us. She is all quiet and motionless, brooding and ruminating about God knows what and why. Doug’s calm and reflective eye rests on me temporarily and every once in a little jot while. I like how he bites and nibbles hungrily at his food. I wish that he could do the same to me, biting and nibbling at my nipples and breasts and pussy sweetly and harmoniously beautiful. Yes! That would be ecstatic and divine indeed! This is nakedness;This is brillianceThis is bliss, happiness, andThe land of dreamland and cloud nine His eyes are a dark blueThey haunt me even when I am bathingThey survey and gaze deeply and affectionately at meEven when I am immersed and taken on in deep into sleep A thousand sunsets are lovely to look atA thousand ocean waves swirling and pirouettingAre something mortal eyes can never stray away fromBut is it also true?With a clothe-less and stripped bare me? His touch is gentle and smoothHis kiss is sweet-like than honeyWhen he touches me I become all sugar and candyMy blood sings and flushes and swirls in pleasure and excitementMy soul sings and carols musicallyMy world becomes heaven and cloud nine I miss him tonightBathing aloneI miss a naked himStaring at my naked self in the huge bathroom mirrorI wish he was close to meClose so that I might touch and stroke himClose so that I might scrub and scour him Doug, are you there?My voice is shaky and wobbly on my cellI am quivering and trembling tooWhat if he is no more?No more to love and adore me?No more to graze and fondle me? You are frightened for me, aren’t you, Elle?That’s right!That’s true and definiteBut it is no longer true after thisMy fears and anxieties are all washed away! I love you, Doug!I miss and cherish you;You mean the world to meYou are everything to meI have and will always more love you, dear! Cry, baby; cry yourself till we fall asleepWe are all lonely here tonightWe have no one to touch and kiss usLust shall kill and evanescence usYes, it surely shall! That is meThat is my breastThat is my waistThose are my buttsThat is my dearest vagina She is cold;She is freezing and quivering;She is helpless and miserable;She has no one to talk to or play with.Poor her;Poor me;Oh; poor us! What one statement have youTo tell my vagina?I want something sweet and enjoyableI wasn’t something pleasant and delightfulTell me, Doug, please!Tell me: I beg you!Tell me, honey!Tell me, now already! You are more beautiful than a rose flowerI expect that you know it alreadyOh yes, you are the most beautifulThing that has ever happened to meYou are cherry pink and lovelyYou are divine and super-awesomeYou are just like the celestial Really?Is this all not flattery and deceit?Tell me you are not misleading me, I beg;Convince me that you are not lying There are only five precious wordsThat can verify that There are only five lettersThat can prove this to you:THIS IS THE VERITABLE TRUTH!T—R—U—T—H!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Do you believe me now, honey? Yes, I do, my love! Goodnight now****************************Till we embrace and kiss and make love anew------ He is so wild and impatient in the way that he does it. Furiously and madly fast, I watch him as he hurriedly and carelessly takes off his shirt. Then he stirs and shifts himself over to me rapidly and instantaneously, kissing and necking me about, and it is at this instant that I gape and drop wide open my mouth breathlessly without really knowing what else to do, and not caring at all as to what else exactly he is going to do next to me. He licks and laps about me real hard and good on my skin, even on my dearest pussy itself where he lingers and dallies his time about. I like it. Especially now that we are in the comfort and privacy of his bedroom…far away from Lana’s stalking and sneaking eyes. We can do anything here now; and I will not be afraid or terrified in any way conceivable……. There is something about the way Doug touches and kisses me. I can’t pinpoint it exactly. It is just there, and it electrifies and thrills and flushes me up honestly. He seems so great and skilled in this talent of laying women to his luxurious bed. Who knows? Of course, I am not the first one to be brought over to this bed itself. And I will not seemingly be the last one. The air is heavy and thick with the scent of candy sex, chocolate sex, and more sweetly and sugary vanilla sex. This is so true—believe me! He lays me down on his bed, kissing and caressing and massaging me slightly. I kiss and smooch him back. Is what I am feeling for him infatuation or what exactly, huh? I don’t know…and it is too soon to tell. Anyway, by the time that I will be able to tell, he won’t be here anymore, or will he? Most likely not! “How about undressing me now?” He purrs and whispers gently soft and quietly into my ears. Is he really asking me to do it? Of course, Elle! What do you think of it yourself? I do like he tells me to. I start to undress and take off his clothes, slowly and bit by bit. He likes it; he is quite pleased and gratified about my performance. Ooooooooooh! This is damn sweeter and more enjoyable than I first thought it to be! Now it is his turn to undress me. To my shock, he does not get himself to pull about that job. He orders and conjectures me to do it all myself. Not as striptease. There is not going to be any bit or piece of music playing and crooning here. I have to do everything all by myself, and in such a very nice and sweet and sexy manner that Doug cannot turn down or rebuff from looking and marveling at in his sheer downright silence. He is the boss; and I am at his service here, right? So I do exactly what he tells me to do—which is to strip myself naked before his watchful and vigilant eyes. The fire is hotThe fire of lust and lecheryThe fire of sex and passionThe fire of love making and shagging each other madlyI am wholly nakedHe is entirely naked tooI touch and caress himHe strokes and canoodles me tooThe kissing is do darn hotSo sizzling damn sexy as the handsome sun itselfHilarious and enjoyableOh yes, it is all so sweet and candy-like!A thousand times indeed!? I look him straight up in the eyesHe gawps down into my eyesI bite and nibble his breastHe hits and batters my buttock behindI lick and lap my tongue over his chestHe bites and gnaws into my neck tastefullyI groanI moan and weepHe grunts out in happiness and satisfactionYes, yes, yes!Fuck me more harder, Doug! I breathe outFor a little bit while that isHe pumps and hammers hard into meI bend and arch my back downHe follows and sneaks after my downward stealthy movementI shut my eyesI wish I can see the pleasureI can only enjoy it right nowHow come I cannot see it with my goddamn two naked eyes?How come I cannot see it? Damn!He snaps and grunts straight at meHe is enjoying this too—I can tellHe wants moreHis eyes and body language makes it all known to meI want more tooMy eyes and face show itWe both want moreAnd we are both going to do moreThan we have done alreadyDamn it! The fire burns deep into my fleshIt roasts and cooks me upNo, not in an excessively painful wayBut in a tremendously sweetly oneI enjoy thisI relish and like itIt is the most brilliant thing everEven his eyes burn and devour mineI am devoured and eaten up with lustThe pleasure and ecstasyIs equally devouring and consuming as well Damn it!Shit it!Fuck it!Screw it!His chest brushes and collides on my breastsIt is so warm and comfortable I could lie down on itWith my eyes closed, of course!I could sleep and enter heaven through hereAnd not ever (ever) want to return to this godforsaken damn Earth of ours Doug;I know that I am notSupposed to tell youThat I love youBut right nowI am bursting and burgeoning withDesire and lustTo tell you thisYours Elle truly! I reach for his buttocks and bums behindThey are pleasantly tender and softThey are palpable and smoothly-likeI like touching and tapping and stroking themIt makes me comeIt makes me orgasmIt makes me hit the Big OAll too quickly and in no sane timeHis buttocks wag and danceThey sway and oscillateThey rock and shakeLeft and rightRight and leftI love, love, and love itArghhhhhhhhhhhh! We both finally lie downLooking and gawping at each otherWe have nothing more to say to the otherWe have said enough alreadyThrough the jiggling and swayingOf our sweat beat and streaming bodies, right?