The Ultimate Erotic Short Story Collection 19: 11 Steamingly Hot Erotica Books For Women

by Bray, Kimberly

  The train increased its speed, briskly soaring along its long iron tracks, jolting Mercy a bit as she entered the new train car. Before visually inspecting the open seating area for an available place to sit, her hand reached into her purse for her flask again, downing another sip before discovering there weren't any empty booths.

  At first,Mercy wasn't interested in sharing a seat with anyone, preferring to be alone with herself to avoid another scene. Walking through the center aisle as if a sea of suits and pant skirts were magically parted before her, Mercy didn't notice a single man looking directly at her, although it wasn't hard for her to notice that all of them were slyly spying her magnificent legs as she pressed each of her heals against the floor of the car.

  Spineless tools, Mercy thought, desperately desiring to find an isolated seat where she could curl up with her flask of whiskey and touch herself in peace.

  Mercy made it a habit of looking through other women, enough that she no longer noticed their judgmental eyes, despite knowing that they all wanted the same freedom that men had as she did. The freedom to fuck a hard cock and walk away without caring to ask him his name, let alone his number. Still, that didn't stop any of them from condemning any woman who dare tried.

  Tired of being sad, Mercy felt devoted to living out a life of pleasure. I have to try it at least, Mercy thought to herself, as a tiny smile broke free from the corner of her perfect mouth, excited that she might finally find a sliver of happiness in this male dominated world.

  Being beautiful, Mercy thought while still slowly strolling through the long train car, had its definite advantages. She stretched her legs out longer than she normally would with each stride, causing a row of men to nonchalantly place their hands over their faces to keep their chins from collapsing to their feet.

  Mercy angled the line of her thin neck so her light brown eyes could pierce through the sea of gray garments, all of which were lazily draping the other passengers sitting in the train car, as if she was a bull plotting out its charge. Mercy was carefully trying to locate a quiet isolated spot to rub her tiny nipples and give her tan breasts a nice squeeze. That's the only thing that was on her mind.

  Without having any luck with finding an empty seat, she peered over her shoulder noticing three men staring directly at her tight curvy bottom, and she briefly began wondering if any of the successful looking gentleman would ever think about giving her brain as much attention as they were giving her ass.

  “Not one,” she quietly whispered to herself. “They'd want their cocks sucked for sure, but not one..” and she trailed off with a giggle upon realizing she was thinking out loud instead of quietly in her head.

  Mercy's turned her head down ever so slightly, catching the eyes of a woman sitting a few feet away who was giving her a condescending look and Mercy instantly realized she'd most likely heard what she just said.

  As Mercy took another step towards the woman she looked straight into her eyes and lipped the word “bitch,” without making a sound. Shock manifested on the woman's face as if she was in the initial stages of having a stroke, and she closed her tormented and judgmental eyes as Mercy continued walking past her.

  Instead of perusing the train car any longer, Mercy decided to push on through to the next train car and look for an open seat there. Reaching the door connecting the train cars, Mercy slid it open and stepped through to the next car, as if doing so held the promise to a new beginning and smile slowly began forming over her face.

  The new train car Mercy entered was sparsely populated and she immediately spotted a vacant booth on the other end of the train car located, in the open seating section. Walking towards it, the three sparkling gold bracelets dangling on her forearm lightly collided against one another making her sound like a wind chime, alerting every conscious man of her approach.

  When she reached her seat, Mercy pulled her coat over her body and took another swig from her flask, and then immediately began running her soft fingers under her dark golden bra just as the whiskey began warming the blood flowing through her.

  Rubbing the outside of her beautiful big breasts, Mercy lightly clamped two of her fingers around one of her nipples, as if she was trapping something precious with no intention of letting go. Turning her exquisitely shaped face towards the window, Mercy began rubbing her waxy pink pussy as gently as she could mange, curling her lips as she thought of the hard cock pressing against the fresh coffee stain in Michael T. Cone's dress pants.

  Mercy found a great deal of satisfaction in knowing that such a powerful man was so easily turned on at the mere sight of the top of her beautiful round breasts. It was big, Mercy continued thinking about Michael T. Cone's cock, and she began wondering whether or not she'd even be able to fit it all in her mouth if she tried.

  Smooth sailing, the super fast bullet train continued coasting over the metallic tracks, casually shuffling her muscular round booty back and forth while she began to slowly ride the two stiffened fingers she began angling up inside of her.

  Too caught up in what she was doing, it took Mercy a few moments before she recognized the gentleman in an expensive Italian suit standing in the aisle gazing at her. One of his hands was on the sliding door, as if he was about to pass through on to the next car, but seeing her face caught up in such elation forced him to stop dead in his tracks.

  Mercy's eyes were closed, when the man first noticed her and as she slowly opened them up, there he was witnessing her trembling lips, and her legs begin quivering as if she was having a pleasurable seizure, her two determined fingers gently massaging her spot.

  “Oh ggggggod,” Mercy sighed quietly out of complete physical satisfaction, calmly staring up into the eyes of the beautiful light brown haired man watching her from the aisle. The feeling felt too good to let anything, or anyone, rob Mercy of it.

  Mercy was intrigued by his brazenness, wondering if he was worthy of her sexual desires or not. Under normal circumstances, finding a man staring at her while she was pleasing herself would creep her out, Mercy thought, but this was hardly normal circumstances.

  Mercy was fairly sure the man knew what she was doing to herself under the concealment of her coat, and when she looked into his eyes again she realized she was right about her initial assumption. Neither of them said a word, but his eyes revealed that there was absolutely no mystery to him about what he'd just witnessed.

  For a moment, Mercy stopped touching herself, looking back at the man with curiosity while he continued looking at her with his empty motionless face. Maybe he wants to watch me, Mercy continued thinking, maybe it's turning him on.

  Before Mercy began touching herself again, she quickly thought about how she didn't need another guy who was only interested in pleasing himself, without any concern to helping her get off. She wanted a man who respected her enough to work towards her pleasure as well, and as handsome and successful as the mysterious man appeared at first glance, she hoped he was just the type of man she was looking for.

  The two continued staring at each other, neither of them making a move or indicating what they desired from the other. Mercy, still quite tipsy from the disappearing contents within her flask, began slowly growing angry at the man for not doing anything but staring at her.

  Is this guy just a perverted fucking prick, Mercy began wondering? Is he just another man who plays by his ridiculous man rules, a man would would fuck me and then proudly call me a slut while he walk away thinking he's some sort of stud, Mercy continued mentally questioning.

  Mercy almost opened her mouth to tell him off, but instead moved her hand slightly, pulling out her flask and filled her mouth full of whiskey, a whiskey that no longer burned, and she swished it around in her mouth once and then promptly swallowed it down in a single gulp.

  Be spontaneous for once, god damn, Mercy mentally coached herself, while attempting to push beyond the hurdles of doubt her mind cleverly placed in front of her. Lifting up the flask to her mouth, one more time, Mercy drank down another gul
p and instantly began desiring the well dressed man as if she'd never had any doubts about his intentions, secretly hoping he'd jump in the booth with her and take her right then and there.

  Tilting her head slightly, Mercy noticed the man's brow begin to moisten. He's starting to crack, Mercy thought. He must be nervous! I'm actually making him nervous, Mercy thought excitedly while continuing to stare deep into his eyes and she never felt more like a predator eying its prey than she did in that moment.

  For the first time, Mercy felt like the hunter. It was as if the man, and all his carefully hidden vulnerabilities and fears, were being exposed with every additional second she weighed her eyes upon his. Is this how men always feel, she posited? It's thrilling, she slyly smiled. It's absolutely thrilling, and Mercy's desire for power over this man only began increasing.

  Enjoying the thrill of control and power, Mercy pulled her coat off from covering up her body while blatantly lifting her dress and exposing her light gold colored panties. She then began sweeping her fingers across the wet lips of her pussy again, while leaning her arched back into the corner of her seat, deliberately exposing herself more to him.

  The handsome well dressed man, with his impeccable style, stumbled into the metal train door while attempting to lean suavely into it because he forgot to first extend his arm in order to brace himself causing him to completely lose his cool.

  “Shit,” the handsome man complained in a tone resonating in anger. Mercy began laughing uncontrollably, which only served to piss him off more. Glaring at her with hostility that seemed to light a glowing flame in his swelling eyes, the man stared at her as if he was consuming with rage.

  Taking a small step back, the man straightened his spine and closed his eyes for a few seconds before opening them again, as if he was somehow rebooting his mental programming with a server from some evil empire. All the while his stiff prick remained pointing straight up to his head, like an arrow from one of those 'I'm with stupid shirts,' and Mercy began laughing even louder at the thought of that.

  Furious now, the man carelessly stepped towards Mercy as if initiating a duel with an adversary while Mercy playfully straightened one of her legs out further, pushing one of her delicate fingers back up her sweet moist pinkness, causing the man to descend one of his knees down to her booth seat, to look Mercy square in her eyes.

  “Suck my cock!” the man burst out coarsely in a broken Eastern European accent while his hand grabbed onto her wrist. Stunned, Mercy pulled her arm back with the strength of a hundred lifetimes of preparation and swung her open hand flat across his round face forcing the Eastern European man to tumble down into the aisle of the train like a bruised fruit bouncing around on the bed of a truck speeding down a gravel road.

  Reclaiming the thrill of power, Mercy rose to her feet slowly like a smooth elevator and stared down at the scrambling man, quickly noticing everyone else in the train car look towards him after hearing the loud slap that caused him to fall.

  “You must be out of your goddamn mind!” Mercy yelled, “trying to touch me like that! You should be ashamed of yourself!” she continued.

  The man stared back up at Mercy, completely shocked. His face made it clear that he wasn't used to being put in such a weakened position by anyone, especially not a woman. To think, Mercy thought, just moments ago I was wondering whether or not he was the one I'd choose to let my mouth be dominated by his stiff dick, the same dick she noticed that was now currently pitching a giant tent in his expensive dress pants, while simultaneously being painfully restrained by the shiny belt buckle he was wearing.

  Noticing the man was about to yell back at her and defend his actions, Mercy shouted over his broken gasps, “you asked me to shove your cock into my mouth, you sick fuckin' pervert! What the fuck is wrong with you?”

  For some reason this situation made Mercy think about his big penis being shoved down her throat so hard she was left gasping for breath, and for a moment her inner thighs began tingling in anticipation of it. What's wrong with me, she continued thinking, realizing these conflicting feelings while being unable to square them out.

  Mercy just continued glaring back down at the man, while he continued wriggling and struggling around on the aisle floor like a broken-winged bird trying to fly.

  I don't want to be an object a man can control, Mercy continued thinking to herself, I want to be a pleasure challenge he commits himself to fulfilling, not merely a box he can rent to park his dick into. I want a man who wants to do good for me, Mercy emphatically continued thinking, realizing something she hadn't thought before, while continuing to stare down at the European man, who's cracked head seemed to be the cause of all his pride escaping from his face.

  I want a man who treats me like the rare young woman I am, a man who spoils me before he fucks me, one who can look into my sultry eyes and direct conversation towards my intelligence not just direct his dick towards my banging body, Mercy finally admitted to herself. God, Mercy continued, I'm really not succeeding at this spontaneous bullshit at all, am I? I'm failing miserably.

  The silence in the train car was deafening and Mercy began thinking about the handsome strong chinned man who defended her against Michael T. Cone's stiff coffee covered cock, from the last train car she was sitting in. Maybe that's what I want, Mercy pondered, a man who'll fight for me.

  Thinking about the handsome chinned man a bit more, Mercy's eyes couldn't help but stare at the Eastern European man's stiff stilted cock a bit more as he made a few adjustments with his pants to relieve his tent pole from being uncomfortably tugged by his shiny belt buckle. Eventually, the Eastern European man clumsily stumbled back to his unsteady feet, and made his way to the door, where he exiting the train car in utter disgrace.

  Returning to her seat, Mercy turned her head towards the window again and looked up towards the moonlit clouds dangling form the sky. She began to think about how lucky they were that they were never alone.

  “Pretty, huh?”

  She heard a man's deep voice say, startling her enough to turn towards it. She recognized his stony eyes right away and she smiled back at him. His strong chin hung just below his crooked smile.

  “It's a nice looking night out there, right?” The man who defended her earlier, looked past Mercy's face, out towards the illuminated clouds in the midnight sky as he spoke.

  Mercy turned back towards the window, feeling the train move fast along the tracks, the clouds seeming to permanently remain anchored in their place like pictures hanging from a wall.

  “It really is,” Mercy answered him softly, almost bringing the flask to her lips before closing the lid instead of taking another drink.

  “Do you mind if I sit?” her defender asked her.

  “I don't mind at all,” Mercy replied deciding to restrain herself a bit more than she had before.

  Tousling her hair so that it dangled in a chaotic fashion, Mercy and her defender began talking about everything she imagined a man could ask her. He respected her and seemed to see a beauty in her beyond her manicured nails.

  Despite her voluptuous curves, the man's interests seem to lie more in her intellect, her goals, and her ambitions, and Mercy never felt more comfortable with a man than this man she had just met.

  Mercy, for the second time in her young life, met a man she felt comfortable with almost immediately, and soon became determined not to let her newly ascribed impassivity ruin her pursue of it.

  She decided to sit back and just see where the rest of the night might take her...

  ***

  [Hope you liked the story and don't forget your 8 complimentary books, which you may find a download link to on the last page of this collection, just after the 11th story ends. Now, on to the next story!]

  Relighting the Flame

  by

  Angela Keller

  Karissa hissed under her breath as she looked under the hood of her car. From what she was seeing she was pretty sure she was going to need a tow. This was nothing she
could fix on the side of the road with the few tools in her trunk.

  She leaned back against her vehicle and took out her cell, dreading the phone call she was about to make. The only tow service in town was run by the last person she wanted to see—her ex-boyfriend, Mac. He’d probably give her hell about not taking care of her car, even though she got it serviced it regularly.

  She recognized his voice instantly when he picked up, the sound of it still sending a little shiver down her spine. It drove her crazy that he could still get to her like that, but she brushed it off for the moment and greeted, “Hey, Mac. It’s Karissa.”

  “What kind of trouble did you get yourself into this time?” he wondered, his voice slightly muffled. He probably had a cigarette between his lips.

  “I just need my car towed to the shop. I’m over on Main Street.”

  “Seems like there’s always something wrong with that POS,” Mac taunted, a hint of a smile in his voice. “I’ll be right over.”