Seduce Exotic Erotica

by Ella Hilton

  His arms found their way around me, and my hands moved to the hollows near his hipbones, stroking idly through the downy hair there, swirling its velvet nap. His hands slithered over my vertebrae, climbing the stairs to the plateau of my shoulder blades. His fingers met resistance in the form of black lace. With a few deft moves, hooks separated from one another: lovers in a long-distance relationship after an embrace. Lace sighed against skin as the black sea parted and its milky riverbed arched against his hands. My arms raised from his hipbones to bring a perfect example of warm waveform motion to play against his chest. I pressed against him as he lifted my velvet tank top and whisked it away on a fun-filled vacation to the floor. His fingers swirled against my bare back like soft brushing of drums in a jazz ballad. His tongue played pattycake with mine in the sweet confines of our mouths. My hands found their way to his shoulders, which I cupped like luscious handfuls of moon-kissed spring water.

  The light from the clock in the stove illuminated our bodies as more and more skin emerged, blinking, from its winter slumber under our clothing. Goth-pale skin acquired a green cast as the clock kept proudly displaying its hard won information. His hands slid up the gentle slope of my shoulder blades and relieved my shoulders of the debt of lace which rested there. The straps slid seductively forward as my breasts eased free of their wired lace cages. His hands followed the straps down and cupped the warm burdens which had been so recently borne by the lace. Now it was my turn to gasp, this time against his breath, which filled my mouth and my senses.

  His fingers were slender and articulate, majestic in their strength and subtlety. His were an artist's hands, and I felt it with every iota of my being. I whispered his name, drawing it out into an impassioned sigh.

  Holding my attention between his index and middle fingers, he drew his head back slightly from mine. Our gaze caught and held, a pair of trapeze artists leaping toward each other and, tightly embracing, plummeting into the moment like mating eagles in deathfall. He rubbed his cheek against mine and kissed the curve beneath my earlobe. He trailed kitten-kisses down my neck, to the hollow of my throat, to the eager points of interest that his "you are here" arrow pointed to. "What, no snow?" I said, my voice emanating lustily from somewhere deep within my throat. His tongue was too busy reading Braille to respond.

  Grabbing my ass in his hands, he lifted me to sit on the counter while we necked. Pausing long enough to make the usual incongruous obscure reference, he asked, "Would you like me to give you the Aunt Jemima treatment?" I grinned, and slid my hand down past his navel to firmly grasp the handle of his pancake flipper. "Is this the proper utensil for that?" I asked. His head rolled back as he groaned loudly. His throat was exposed; his Adam's apple a delectable target in our linoleum-carpeted garden of Eden. I reached up with my tongue and slid it over the swelling of his throat, then grazed it with my front teeth as I slid my lips back down over it. His back arched, and his hands kneaded more insistently at my bosom. My hand grasped him gently, like a golfer holds a driver. ("Fore!") My thumb caressed the top and my fingers played the accordion of his sensitive underside. His eyes glazed over faster than a Dunkin' Donuts box of sex-crazed rabid weasels. His breath was coming in shallow gasps, as I surmised the rest of him soon would be.

  "I can rebuild you," I teased, "Stronger. Faster. HARDER." He looked up. "not bloody likely." Big grin. Beads of sweat were beginning to slick their sheen against his temples and his throat. I lapped at it with a kitten's tongue.

  "You're hot," I said.

  "So are you." He replied.

  "No," I said, "I mean your body temperature." With my free hand, I parted the leather swaddling clothes which enveloped the straining stallion of his passion and slid them down.

  "Better?" I asked. In response, he slid my skirt up over my thighs and snapped one of the garters holding up my spiderweb fishnets. His hand explored further up and encountered the warm, moist resistance of a periwinkle lace tanga.

  "Lavender?" he asked, momentarily surprised.

  "We all need our kinks," I replied, "and in a world where black leather is the norm, these are pretty kinky."

  He paused. "True, 'dat," he pronounced, then slid those artistic fingers up to penetrate the portcullis of my lacy castle. Now it was my turn to let my head fall back and expose my throat to his ministrations.

  "Set me free," I murmured.

  "Replaceable?" he whispered.

  "Go for it, buckaroo." He tore the delicate lace asunder, exposing the soul I was baring for him. I pulled my handful of him towards me, a fisherwoman reeling in my prize catch. The spiderwebs parted to allow his mighty ship to sail between Scylla and Charbydis, to finally find safe port deeply enshrouded in silken folds of mysteries now elucidated. My back arched and our bodies pressed tightly together. He rocked gently back and swung his hips in an arc which brought him ever closer.

  We were both shimmering with sweat, glistening green in the stovelight like a trail of luminescent, phosphorescent plankton. I looked up at him, his features blurred in an eupohoric blanket "stay on target… stay on target…" I whispered. His movements came to a dead stop and he stared at me, incredulous. A strangled laugh escaped his throat. "Almost… THERE," he said, punctuating the latter word with a deep thrust. I giggled and sank forward into him. Wrapping one arm under my ass and one around my left thigh, he lifted me from the counter, still within me. He strode slowly and cautiously from the kitchen with his precious burden and carefully navigated the steps outside into the yard. Placing both hands on my cheeks, he stood in the middle of the yard, pelvis thrust out, like a Pioneer surveyor indicating his approval. "This'll do," he said, and knelt, carefully, our bond still intact.

  He laid me back on the snowy ground, and began his ministrations anew. (The frost performs its secret ministry, unhelped by any wind. An owlet's cry… never mind) The sensation of cold and hot made my skin explode with delight. And then the world stopped, and every molecule in my body imploded at the speed of light. Total protonic reversal. Reality tore itself a new one, and I'm pretty sure I started singing "Sweet mystery of life".

  He collapsed atop me, panting, and muttering about feeling "so funky". I reached out to the side and formed a small snowball, brought it to his neck, and slid it down his back, ending at the twin dimples which accentuated the base of his spine. He sighed, and sank into me. I leaned my head back and mused that I would never think of a snowball fight the same way again.

  The End.

  The Dream

  He loved to watch her sleep. He had convinced himself, that because they were dating, he was not a peeping tom. He lived right next door anyway. There was, however, something exciting about watching her while she was just being herself with no outer influences. His name was Tim, and he had been dating Autumn for about two months, although they had known each other their whole lives. He would take her out, they would have a great time, and it always ended the same way… both of them wanting more. So he would sit on a bench near her window and long for her there.

  Autumn, now asleep, was deep in REM sleep. All of her worldly cares seeped from her innocent face as she dreamed. Her dream's subject was her boyfriend, of course. How could she let him know that she wanted things to move along further? She was shy on the subject of sex, but was in love with Tim already and wanted him to know. In her dream, she caressed his face… She could feel the smoothness of it, and the slight bit of sweat on his brow. She told him her secret very coyly, causing him to raise his eyebrows in hope. "I have always been in love with you," he breathed earnestly, "ever since the third grade. You are a wonderful person, and I love being with you. I admire you so much, I only want to treat you the way you deserve to be treated." He sighed, clearly embarrassed. She flushed, feeling heat flare to her cheeks. Through her dream, she murmured his name.

  Tim, sitting outside, definitely heard her moan his name. He became too filled with longing to hold her and slowly crept in through her open window. He could smell her perfume and
hair from the window, as the ceiling fan blew soft air toward his face. She had just taken a shower before going to bed, and her skin still had that soft glow to it.

  He noticed the yellow rose he had given her the night before, in a vase by her bed. He replaced it with a red one and discarded the yellow rose. He tripped over the edge of the bed and fell onto the floor, yelling out in pain. Apparently, Autumn was a heavy sleeper because she did not stir. Tim had only intended to change the roses, but he decided he might stay for a while since there was no way he would wake her up.

  He stood at the edge of the bed for about five minutes, trying to decide what to do. He did not want to offend this sweet girl. She rolled over from her side to her stomach, exposing the fact that she was wearing nothing. She uttered something almost inaudibly, but Tim definitely heard the sexual undertones in her voice. That made up his mind. He slowly undressed down to his boxers, and was glad he had showered after dinner… he did not want to wake her up with the smell of garlic from his dinner!

  He slowly slipped into her bed, with only his boxers on. He worked his way toward her. All he wanted to do was hold her. He turned to his side, facing her back. Slowly, he slid his tan arm over her shoulder and onto her breasts. They stiffened instantly. Through her dream, she moaned his name. His heart jumped into his throat. He began to slide his hands down her soft skin, softly cupping her breasts. He had to be gentle to keep her asleep. As he was getting up to leave after he had accomplished his mission, she rolled over toward him, and he saw her beautiful face looking dejected at his departure. He must have been leaving in her dream as well. He did not want to disappoint her, and was very happy to stay.

  The covers had completely rolled off of her now, and he let his gaze wander all over her. Amazed, he took in the sight he had not yet seen. Her slender frame was toned, with firm breasts and long legs. Her auburn hair lay to the side of her, framing her. He slowly lay back down, and put the covers back over her in his guilt. She rolled over onto her back, and he did the same, so that they were lying side by side. He began to rub her chest, and then slowly with one finger, move down the ravine of her breasts to her firm stomach. He softly started circling her skin with his fingers, moving closer and closer to her overheated legs. She began to moan, and he could resist no longer.

  He slowly began to rub the outside of her labia, which were very wet. The wetness alone excited him, which was evident from the appearance of his boxers. Plain white, they showed a rigid outline of his penis, which lay to one side of his left leg, and was almost long enough to reach the bottom of his boxers. He slowly opened her lips, and ran a finger painstakingly slowly, toward her clitoris. He began to move in circles around it with his finger as she began to pant, lost in her dream. As her clitoris began to swell, he decided to leave it alone for a moment.

  He slowly pushed his middle finger into her soaked vagina. She responded by flushing brightly and moaning with a sly grin on her face. The grin reminded him that she was asleep, and again he felt guilty and wondered what he should do. He slowly worked his finger in and out of her, feeling her hot and moist reactions to it. Her increased moaning prompted him to pull his finger out and get up.

  He did not, however, leave. He slowly got up and pushed her legs apart until she was spread-eagle on the bed. He bent down between her legs, and began to lick her inner thighs, slowly working his way up. He reached her swollen, cleanly shaved lips, and began to lick them where they parted. She became increasingly wet, so he opened the lips and began to lick her clitoris. He did it very gently, and only licked it every once in awhile. After about twenty minutes of this, her gentle moaning turned into much louder and she began writhing as his pace quickened. Something unexpected happened then.

  She whispered, "I'm awake." She pulled him out from under her and deeply looked into his eyes. He was very scared, as he had totally betrayed her privacy and had not gotten her consent to do all the things he had been doing. She saw this reaction, and pulled him closer to her. She gave a small smile, and became very forward. She loved how he had excited her in her dream, and was very excited that he was still there when she woke up.

  She slowly reached down and began to rub his hard stomach as she looked into his blue eyes. With her other hand, she cradled his handsome face and kissed him passionately. He was so beautiful to her. She drank him in. His blonde hair, slightly curly in places, framed a strong and chiseled face. Her eyes darted to his muscular frame, and was surprised how gentle he could be. As she kissed him, she softly stroked his penis, and discovered its size. It was clear that she was excited, and a little scared of its lenth. She pulled him on top of her.

  She nodded at him and he caressed her face. As he kissed her, he positioned himself. The head of his penis rubbed against her. To his surprise, it slid in. It was certainly very long, but not more than an average thickness. She was already so wet that he had it all the way in in two slow movements. She murmured her approval, as he began kissing her, and touching her gently. She lifted up her legs, and he took this as a signal to begin thrusting into her. With each thrust, she felt waves of heat come up into her face. She began to get very flushed as she became almost dizzy with the sensation of him. He buried his face in the nape of her neck, whispering sweet thoughts to her as he lightly sucked on the bottom of her earlobe. He breathed softly onto it, sending shivers down her spine. He began to rub her breasts, and gently twisted her nipples. They became very taut at his touch, and she moaned. She was a loud one, but he did not mind.

  She then became too excited for his gentle behavior and softly asked him to go a lot faster and harder. He gladly obliged, and began thrusting his nine inches into her while her legs were in the air. They wrapped around him as her body contorted with pleasure. She had no idea he would have this much stamina. She began to shudder and moaned as she orgasmed repeatedly. Soon, she began to softly cry because the pleasure was too much for her. The waves of sensation that shot through her body were too much for her to take all at once. Her mediocre boyfriends of the past had never provided her with these feelings.

  He began to slow down, and pulled out of her. As he lay there cradling her, she smiled and professed her love for him. He did not mind that he had not had an orgasm. He could have had one if he had wanted, but had held it off to prolong her pleasure. As she spoke, he learned that he had taken her to heights she had never reached before. As the two went to sleep in each other's arms, she promised that he would wake from a very pleasant dream in the morning. At the thought of this, he wondered what mysteries would unravel in the morning. Still baffled over this incredible change of events, he drifted off to sleep and began to dream.

  The End.

  Killing Me Softly

  Crap.

  I missed it. I missed my chance.

  In my short 25 years of life, I had been shot, electrocuted, poisoned, I'd walked away from 5 car accidents, and have otherwise been damaged in so many ways that I am uncertain as to weather the pages of the Encyclopedia Britannica could accommodate the tales. Needless to say, the doctors all know me by name, now.

  Alone in my dark apartment, I reflected on my latest misfortune – a deadly reaction to a combination of medicines that were Supposed to relieve my pain. If my sister hadn't dropped by that awful morning, I would have simply continued to sleep... and never woken up.

  "Perhaps they were working after all." I mumbled to myself.

  Don't get me wrong.

  I didn't want to kill myself. Life wasn't that bad. But if the first 25 years were any indication of what was to come, I was afraid that I might have missed my only chance to die peacefully in my sleep. I was certain, in that moment, that my destiny was to live a long 125 years of life, filled with pain and suffering, the end of which would be brought about by the blazing inferno of a car accident, where I would be burned alive before rescue workers arrived.

  "I'm such a drama queen..." I laughed to myself as I rolled over.

  My head was still pounding at eve
ry little noise and movement. But I was alive. And despite the pain, I had decided that every morning that I wake up is a good morning.

  I pushed myself up slowly, my arms aching from the needles that had been poking me the day before. As I shuffled to the bathroom, I realized how weak I was. I'd lost 15 pounds in 2 days from the war that had raged within my body. I couldn't help but think that I looked like a vampire when I saw myself in the mirror... barely a hint of color in my skin in contrast to the dark brown hair that fell almost to my waist.

  I heard the front door open and a familiar voice call down the hallway.

  "Grace? Are you up yet?"

  There was a hint of fear in her voice... I couldn't blame her... the day before, she had come to pick me up on the way to work and found me looking like a corpse.

  "In the bathroom!" I called out weakly. She wasn't able to hear me, but it didn't matter. She would eventually see the light. I wanted her to know I was alive, though, so I flushed the toilet.