Erotica (the collected works of Amelie)

by Amelie

  Of all the bloody luck.

  Needless to say, Ed and I didn’t last for too much longer.

  He’s the boss of the firm now and must be rolling in cash.

  I used to wonder whether I’d made the right decision, dumping him like that.

  After last night, I’m sure it was the right thing. Ed would never have been like that with me. Besides, he hated board games.

  I was single for a long while once Ed had been chucked. Two years and a little bit.

  In that time, I managed to get my life into a shape I liked.

  Sure, it didn’t have all the trimmings, but I was happy.

  My flat fitted me like a glove, which was a good job because it was almost as small. I’d surrounded myself with beautiful things – ugliness had to stay in the outside world.

  No man had seen it, other than the bloke who reads the meters and a plumber who fixed a leaky radiator a while ago, until Roger.

  I know, it’s a stupid name, but when I met him in my local we kind of clicked.

  He came back to mine and we danced a little, then kissed a little, then shagged our asses off until dawn.

  Best of all, he still looked hot in the morning.

  His stubble was still sexy and his long, black hair with plenty of grey streaks made him look cool. His wiry frame stretched out under the covers and made him look nice enough to eat.

  For the next couple of weeks we got to know each other really well. Mostly we played games or did the crosswords. His company was easy and we could sit for ages working out clues without getting bored in the slightest.

  On Friday night I was giving him a good thrashing with my word selections.

  The nail in his coffin came with my final offering. Manly. 3 points for M, 1 apiece for A, N and L with 4 and a double letter score for the Y to make 8. Throw in the double word score and I’d made 28 points without having to think too hard.

  “How about we make tomorrow a little more interesting,” he suggested.

  “More interesting that it is already?”

  “By adding a little spice to the game.” And he went on to explain exactly what he meant.

  We came up with the rules together.

  For every word scoring more than 50 points, the scorer could ask the other person to do anything they wanted for 2 minutes.

  They could do this for up to 3 occasions.

  If the request was turned down, there had to be a forfeit.

  Should the act become too uncomfortable, an emergency word would get them out of jail free. We chose ‘enough’ as the word – there didn’t seem any sense in making up something that didn’t mean what it said.

  He went back to his flat after we’d decided how we were going to play and we had plenty of time to work out our fantasies.

  I spent all my Thursday trying to work out what I could get him to do.

  My number one fantasy was out of the question. That one involved us being kidnapped by hairy men who’d take us to a basement and tie us to chairs and force us to give them blow jobs. For some reason, the idea of Roger being helpless and having to suck cock really turned me on.

  The next one was also impossible. That one involved getting Cheryl to rise from the grave and come and spend the night with us in a threesome. Just the idea of her nipples had me getting hot under the collar.

  I thought about getting a substitute for Cheryl. Thing is I don’t know any lesbians and I have no hookers for friends and wouldn’t know how to get hold of one if I had the spare cash.

  In the end, I couldn’t think of anything. I decided that it might be better to let him do all the high scoring and to improvise if I had to.

  That takes us to Saturday night. Last night.

  Roger arrive with a beaten up leather hold-all. He put it next to the bed and unzipped his jacket.

  The smile on his face told me I was in for a treat and I was hoping. My only worry was that he hadn’t scored more than 20 points for one word since we’d met.

  I put out the wine, set up the board on the bed and we both took out 7 letters.

  It was all pretty quiet for a while. We were like sparring boxers or poetry-slammers feeling each other out.

  I saw my chance when he left me an open j. ‘Enjoy’ was what I put down and left the triple word score wide open and with a ‘y’ to play with to boot.

  His grin was huge.

  The letters went down slowly and surely.

  S, E, C, R, E, T and L. They fitted the Y perfectly.

  “Secretly,” he told me. All 7 letters. A 50 point bonus.

  Bless him. He thought he’d done it all by himself.

  “I believe that you owe me 2 minutes,” he said. I perked up at the thought, wondering what kind of crazy things he might ask me to do.

  He reached down, picked up his bag and rummaged around in there for a while.

  I had a vision of the water-buffalo, of a whip and a mask and another week of pain when I went to the toilet. Things didn’t seem so fun all of a sudden and I felt a shudder pass from the bottom of my spine to the top.

  When he brought out his hand, he must have seen the relief on my face because he bent over and stroked my cheek as if to reassure me.

  In his hand was a bar of chocolate.

  “For the next 2 minutes, I’d like you to put this inside and fuck yourself silly.”

  “Sure.” I said it straight away as if the idea was something I’d had many times before.

  I stood up and unzipped my jeans the wriggled out from them. I picked them up and folded them and put them over the bed frame for the morning.

  Next, I lowered my panties. I did it slowly at first, made sure he could see that I’d trimmed myself for the occasion. When I got them to my knees, I whipped them off fast and lay back into the pillows.

  Roger handed me the chocolate and I spread my legs.

  I wasn’t sure how easy the bar would be to get in, so to be on the safe side, I started with my clit. Small, gentle circles to make sure I was plenty hot enough.

  Roger’s face was pure concentration, his forehead furrowed and his eye-brows raised. “You know the clock doesn’t start until the chocolate’s inside, don’t you?”

  I nodded. It was all I could manage – having him watch me play with my pussy was pretty horny and I was struggling to keep from climaxing straight away.

  A little more circling and I put the chocolate in.

  It wasn’t as warm as a cock or as smooth. In fact, the corners made things a little unpleasant for a moment. The beauty of me being so excited was that I was hot as hell down there. I could feel the edges melt as I pushed it in and drew it slowly out, the bar becoming smoother and more slippery with every thrust.

  As it got smaller, I pushed further until I thought I was in danger of losing the whole bar in there. That was when Roger put his mouth down and licked my fingers. He used his hand to take mine away and took a bite from the bar. That was it for me. I climaxed right then, letting my vagina spasm without any care for what would get left behind. It was such a sweet pleasure that it went on for ages.

  By the time I came back round, there was Roger licking his lips, removing the chocolate from his bristles. What a turn on!

  In all the excitement, I almost missed it. My next word. Medicates, joining the free M to the S from Secretly. All my letters in the 1 go, what were the chances of that?

  He knew I’d broken the 50 points mark and I could tell he was excited.

  Thing was, I hadn’t planned anything. Thankfully, he’d made things easy. The melted chocolate inside me wasn’t feeling too nice – it was like being coated in goose-fat or something. “That chocolate,” I said. “You’ve got 2 minutes to lick it out.”

  He took his time getting there. First he kissed my toes, then he licked me all the way up the inside of my legs.

  “Remember,” I told him, “the two minutes won’t start until you’re licking me clean.”

  He didn’t take his tongue from the inside of my thigh, but I saw his
nod anyway.

  When he finally got there, it felt divine. He stroked my insides with his tongue, cleaning all the while, lapping up the chocolate. His throat made little moaning growls which made his lips vibrate around my cunt and setting my clit on fire. His nose slipped between my labia easily, the moisture like oil on my body.

  I didn’t tell him when the 2 minutes were up, just let him carry on until he was done.

  When he finally raised his head, he came up and kissed me full on the lips.

  Yummy.

  Thankfully we had a few low scoring rounds after that.

  He hit another 50 pointer when he found quiver (with a little help from yours truly, obviously). A triple-letter-score for the Q and a double word as well and he was thrashing me.

  This time all he wanted was for me to play with my tits for a while.

  Now, playing with my tits is something I’m happy to do any day of the week. Somehow, I wanted to make it feel a bit special.

  I worked slowly, circling my nipples and then pinching them hard. The pain of each nip made my stomach ripple with pleasure. I gritted my teeth and carried on until they couldn’t take it anymore.

  Easing off for a while, I took the each breast in a hand and squeezed. It felt like I was kneading dough and if Roger hadn’t been there drooling, I wouldn’t have bothered.

  The piece de la resistance was my tongue.

  I stretched it as far out of my mouth as I could, but I was short by a couple of centimetres.

  My hands pushed as hard as they could to force my tits up. Somehow I pulled it off. My nipple and tongue met for the first time and I couldn’t believe I’d never made that extra effort before. It was perfect, being able to send the silky smooth tongue into all the right places at the right times.

  No doubt Roger forgot about his timing.

  I didn’t care. For me, our timing was perfect.

  As soon as I stopped, he fell on top of me and thrust his cock inside me.

  He pushed hard but was gentle, reaching right in to me one minute, then hitting my G-spot the next.

  We came together like singers in a choir, our harmonies making the perfect sound.

  Somewhere in the middle of the action, the board was tossed onto the floor and all the letters were scattered around the carpet like casualties of a militant classroom.

  It was game over, not that it really mattered. I was spent and so, by the feel of things, was he. We held each other tight until our panting became shallow breathing and until his breathing became wispy snores.

  Before he left this morning he told me about his other idea. He even had a skipping rope in his bag to prove his line of thought. A little bondage and blindfolding would have come my way if he’d scored another 50.

  Never mind, I told him as I kissed him sleepily to say goodbye. There’s always next weekend.

  So I’m lying here, mindlessly playing with my clit and mulling over all these things and wondering why last night was so special.

  There have been bigger men and harder fucks. I’ve had more danger and excitement in my life. I’ve been with guys for longer and I’ve let them do anything they fancied.

  I guess the difference this time is the way my heart feels.

  Maybe it’s the love thing, the first time I’ve actually made love rather than scratched my lusty itches.

  Next time he comes over, I’m going to bake him a heart-shaped cake and get some massage oils in. If he throws in the ropes, who knows what will happen?

  the end

  and the beginning ;)

  Hen Nights

  for the men and women in my life

  The limo was pink and stretched from Penny’s terraced house at number 15 to the door of number 25.

  10 women emerged in procession from Penny’s and danced their way into the car. The chauffeur held open the passenger door, his cap tilted to one side, his tie slightly crooked and his sleeveless shirt revealing the tight lines of his enormous biceps. He smiled at each of them in turn and did a fine job of looking sultry and available as he did so.

  The hen party wore their uniform with pride, the Penny’s Henny tee shirts tight across their chests, the gold and silver deely-boppers bouncing as they skipped, the shorts practically non-existent and the high heels a bugger to walk on.

  There were cries and whoops as they got into their seats, leather and soft and fit for far more regal behinds than their own.

  Polly popped open the champagne. Jenny pinched the chauffeur’s ass and decided that she’d like to do a further inspection of his rock-hard buttocks later on in the evening. Liz and Pepsi giggled as they carried each other along, already too pissed to walk unassisted. Marge adjusted her bra cups so that it didn’t look like she had muffin-top tits. Anne and Shirley looked at each other and touched hands when they thought nobody could see them. Peaches gave the chauffeur a full on snog on the lips when she went past, determined to better Jenny and leaving the driver looking like a clown with his new lipstick face; her parting shot was a tiny lick of his lips to make sure he understood what might be on offer. Uma sucked on her cigarette so hard that it was almost done in the one puff. And Penny?

  Penny watched on and wondered how the hell she was going to survive the evening without it turning into an utter disaster. She wanted to bite her nails, but she’d had them fixed on earlier and didn’t fancy wasting the money she’d spent. Instead, she pulled her long, black hair back from her face and hobbled along in her 4 inch heals with her ass swishing from side to side in a manner that gave her elderly mother palpitations as she waved them all off from behind the net curtains of home.

  As the driver pulled off, there were more whoops and cheers from the rear.

  Champagne corks popped, cocktails flowed and Uma stuck out of the window so she could finish her cigarette.

  After two hours of circling Newcastle City Centre with the music turned to full blast and the women taking it in turns to stand out through the sunroof so that they could shout at any fit men they happened to pass, they finally arrived at Duncan’s Bar.

  The procession from the car to the club had all the energy of a carnival and filled the night with the scents of a heady mixture of perfumes.

  Peaches had made it her mission to be the last in the line.

  As the girls disappeared into the club, she double-backed and caught the chauffeur by the tie just before he managed to closed the door.

  She pulled him close, kissed him on the lips and bundled him into the back of the car.

  Lying on top of him, she pulled the door closed with the heel of her stiletto and waited for it to slam.

  While Peaches kissed frantically at his neck, the chauffeur pressed the buttons to close all the windows so that nobody would be able to see the action. He pressed another button and the seat right at the back of the car transformed itself into a double bed.

  “Bloody hell,” Peaches said, “You do know how to charm a woman.”

  The chauffeur didn’t talk. Instead, he was far more interested in finding out what Peaches had under her clothes.

  When he unpinged her bra, he decided that she had been unfairly named. His hands groped at her tits and barely managed to cover them. Melons might have been a better name, or Grapefruits at the very least, but what the hell. He nuzzled into her flesh and bit at her nipples until they were pert.

  Peaches let out a little moan. “Ooh, you dirty bugger.”

  She rubbed her hands over his biceps and then his forearms. They were so big and hard that her pussy moistened at the thought of what his other muscles might be like.

  The buttons on his shirt weren’t easy to take off. Peaches ripped impatiently at them until the material tore and his chest was free.

  “My God,” she said at the sight of his ripped chest. He had a light spread of hair over his tanned skin and his nipples were small and dark. She ran her hands along his muscles and then down to his stomach, which felt as hard as a brick wall. She couldn’t wait to get to his cock.

  The
chauffeur had given up on her breasts and was focusing on removing her shorts and panties. Course, with Peaches getting carried away and straddling him like she was restraining a prisoner, it wasn’t easy. She had to stand up and remove them herself.

  First she undid the top button of her shorts, then she wriggled until they passed her thighs and fell to her ankles, at which point she kicked them off.

  Next it was the thong.

  Peaches pulled at the side strings and let the fabric tighten against her clit. It gave her a little buzz and she shuddered. Then she whipped them off.

  The chauffeur sat up and took a closer look. Her Brazilian had been perfectly sculpted earlier that day. In the middle of the thin strip of hair, her mound seemed to rise towards him so that he couldn’t resist a little taste. His tongue got to work on her clit, hungrily licking and tasting so that Peaches writhed in pleasure and had to push her back hard against the roof to stop herself from falling over.

  He stopped just a little too soon for her to climax and took her hand.

  As he led her to the newly formed bed, Peaches admired his prefect body and couldn’t wait to see that little bit more.

  She lay back on the bed, spread her legs and gave herself a little tickle.

  The chauffeur dropped his trousers with one hand and took a condom packet to his mouth with the other so he could rip it open with his teeth.

  When she saw his dick, she could have cried. It was about the only part of his body that didn’t seem to have been built up. It was long enough, but she’d seen thicker pencils. Still, she was so horny it was going to have to do.

  He wasted no time in entering her, not that she really felt it.

  His hips thrust back and forth like he was an athlete and Peaches admired the six-pack as it tensed and relaxed. The only thing was, it wasn’t really doing anything for her.

  She spread her legs as wide as she could so that she was touching each of the sides of the limo and was practically doing the splits. It was the move that saved the day. At least now she could feel him banging against her clitoris and sending waves of pleasure to her brain.