Blushed and Flushed: 12 erotic short stories for women

by Maria Diamante

  Bonnie was intrigued. She liked the fact that he was a little adventurous, with a creative streak. OK, it was her turn. She hesitated. She was still single because she didn’t want to become like other women she knew. She saw them in loveless, passionless marriages where they seemed to act more like a business team than a husband and wife. They now spoke of going without sex for months at a time as if it were nothing out of the ordinary.

  Bonnie wanted a life partner one day, but until then, she enjoyed the freedom of seeing and dating whoever she wanted. Yes, her parents rolled their eyes and often sighed at family gatherings at her single status, but for the most part, she was happy.

  Now it was Patrick who was intrigued. He found her honesty and her independence refreshing. And he also found her confident body language such a turn on.

  They had each had a few drinks, and they were really hitting Bonnie now. Her doctor recommended not drinking more than a glass of wine at dinner on her medication. Whoops, she thought, downing glass number four.

  The alcohol and the male hormones surging through her body created another side effect. She was so horny she could scream. She was listening to Patrick talk about his early days in photography, how he would try to capture the perfect lighting, how he was reluctant to move from film to digital photography.

  But as he spoke, Bonnie focused on his mouth and could not stop thinking about having those lips wrapped around her hardening nipples.

  “Do you wanna get outta here?” she blurted. Patrick immediately stopped talking and just nodded. They shared a cab back to her place and during the ride back, she was all over him. She was going to have her way with this man, and the best part was, she didn’t care what he thought about it. Testosterone is good, she thought.

  They got into their place and she was so eager to get inside, she practically kicked Oscar the cat while trying to take off her shoes.

  Kissing deeply in her front entrance, the two of them started undressing each other, throwing off coats and then tugging at buttons. For a brief moment, Bonnie felt badly, because in her bid to get his shirt open she heard the unmistakable sound of stitches being torn.

  Half dressed, they moved up the stairs slowly. Kissing each other passionately and trying to breath at the same time. Bonnie loved Patrick’s body. He was a walking barrel – muscular and powerful. He must have been 240 pounds. She could tell by the way he held the back of her neck, he had a grip like a vice.

  Finally making it to her bedroom, Bonnie shoved Patrick down on the bed and finally took off her bra. He had tried to get it off himself en route to the bedroom, but only managed to fumble with the hooks and eventually gave up.

  She took if off and let her large breasts spilled out with a sigh of relief. She grabbed them and lifted them up so that her nipples were just a couple of inches from her mouth. She let them fall and they bounced to a stop in front of Patrick’s now bulging eyes.

  She pulled off his boxers and to her delight, she was correct. Every piece of him was thick.

  She pushed Patrick’s shoulders causing him to fall back on the bed. So often with sex, she let the man take the lead. But this was testosterone-fuelled Bonnie.

  She attacked his cock and started sucking feverishly. She slurped and deep throated him with no regard to the sounds she was making nor the saliva that was flying everywhere. She was determined to make this cock as big, hard and thick as she possibly could before sliding it inside her. She was so aroused, but this arousal was different; a feeling of power, ownership and control consumed her.

  She stroked his shaft and ran her wet fingers over the top of his head. She cupped his balls and licked him in a frenzy. Patrick was overwhelmed and grabbed the headboard above him with such strength, it started to make a cracking noises.

  Once satisfied with his cock that now looked achingly hard, Bonnie hissed, “Get a condom!” Patrick leaned over to his bedside table and pulled out watches and tie pins before finally finding one. He slid it on and Bonnie wasted no time mounting him.

  She guided that thick cock inside and felt inch after inch enter her. She gasped when she finally put all of her weight on him. My God, he was huge, she thought. She couldn’t remember when her pussy felt so filled.

  She started to ride him slowly, enjoying the feeling of that pole inside her. Then she started to slide back and forth. He leaned forward and began sucking on her dangling breasts. She loved the feeling of her nipples hardening in his mouth and moaned in delight. She ordered him to bite them gently.

  She then moved back, her hands placed firmly on his broad chest for balance. Gyrating against him, she started to moan and dug her nails slightly into his skin, which caused him to let out a faint squeal and Bonnie eased her grip.

  She bounced up and down on his torso and was amazed with how wet she was. The wet sounds of his cock going in and out of her was matched with the sounds of their flesh slapping together.

  She could feel her climax beginning to build. Completely uninhibited she screamed, “Fuck me Patrick, fuck me harder!” Patrick complied. He thrusted his hips into the air in time with her movements and grabbed her hips to pull her down harder with each push. He grunted in both effort and pleasure.

  She was about to release and suddenly pinned his arms down against the bed….ever so close, ever so close…she could feel it…just a little longer…

  Fireworks. A blinding orgasm sent shivers through her entire body. Every ounce of breath left her. She stopped and simply quivered over Patrick for what seemed like eternity. She collapsed on his chest but didn’t want to lose the sensation of him inside her. She was breathing so hard. She inadvertently rubbed the sweat from her forehead across his bare chest. He held her kissing her shoulders and the top of her head.

  Normally, such orgasms knocked her out, but this time, her release gave her an unexpected burst of energy. Patrick hadn’t come yet and was still rock hard. Once she regained control of her limbs, she turned her body around and climbed on top of him, pulled off his condom and positioned her pussy over his mouth.

  “Fuck me with your tongue,” she ordered, in a demanding tone that both startled and aroused Patrick.

  Obeying, Patrick literally lifted her up by her thighs and brought her back down so that he could begin licking her clit as she sucked him again. The feeling of his warm tongue on her swollen clit was almost too much to bear.

  Grinding her pussy against his mouth, she could feel his tongue slide in and out of her, getting a fresh coat of wetness before he ran his soaked tongue over her clit again.

  She devoured his cock and began stroking quickly just below the base of his head and she could tell by his tensing muscles that he too was about to explode.

  And explode he did. Streams of come flew into the air. She felt hot drops land on her back and shoulders. The sight of his spurting cock caused Bonnie to have another orgasm herself. Both of them wriggled and shook as they reacted to the intense pleasure, unable to speak, aside from moans.

  Once the aftershocks subsided, Bonnie lay beside Patrick and rested her head on his chest. Fully aware of the gender-role reversal of the evening’s activities, Patrick moved his mouth close to her ear and said softly, “You know Bonnie, all I really wanted was to be held…”

  Patrick then erupted in a deep belly laugh that was only silenced when Bonnie hit him with a pillow.

  Change Room Convergence

  As a 42-year-old mother of three, the dreaded ritual of finding a new swimsuit was staring me in the face. Nothing to do but take a deep breath and get through it.

  My family had been invited to a relative’s pool party and my husband of 17 years really wanted to go. I spent days debating whether it would look more awkward if I wore a swimsuit on my dumpy body, or if I wore shorts and a t-shirt and kept so busy helping the hosts, no one would notice if I swam or not.

  The last time I had been to a pool, I watched a poor woman who tried desperately to cover herself up. She was so awkward, she actually called more attention to hersel
f.

  She wore an oversized black t-shirt and swam so self-consciously. My heart went out to her. I hadn’t swam that day, preferring to sit by the pool. I chose instead to encourage my kids from a distance, wrapped in a cover up, the rest of me covered in sunscreen. The pool`s cool blue water called to me, but I ignored it, wiping sweat from my forehead.

  After talking it over with my husband, James, and parading around naked in front of the full-length mirror in our bedroom, I decided my body still looked pretty good for a mom in her forties.

  And bless James. He had watched my body change from the early days, when I was an athlete, through the pregnancy years, and he could still get a hard-on at the sight of me naked. Maybe I wasn’t so bad.

  In fact, my heavier middle and thicker hips made my body look full and

  womanly. My breasts were a few inches lower, but they were large and James couldn’t get enough of them.

  He climbed out of bed and stood behind me, watching my reaction in the mirror as he reached around and cupped my breast with one hand, while stroking the hair on my pussy with the other. It led to the best sex in weeks.

  His lust after my body gave me the confidence to buy a new suit.

  Finally finding parking at the shopping mall, I chuckled at my reflection in the car`s window. Not quite so hot today. I wore yoga pants and a t-shirt and pulled my hair back into a ponytail to make changing easier.

  I hated trying on clothes, not just swimsuits. Get in and out as fast as I could with a nice black, one-piece. That was the plan. I sent the kids to the

  MacDonald’s play area with a stern warning to my 15-year-old to watch her brother and sister while they played and to wait there until I arrived.

  My daughter rolled her eyes and reluctantly agreed, while I gave her money for snacks. With a deep sigh, I walked to the store where I had the best luck finding a suit that was reasonably priced, would wash well and looked good.

  Funny how the criteria for clothes changes over the years.

  I scoured the racks, looking for a black suit that would hide my flaws. I wanted halter straps to lift my breasts, an underwire if possible, but nothing frilly or garish. Just a simple black one-piece suit that would be easy to ignore.

  The idea of swimming without feeling uncomfortable filled me with optimism and I attacked the racks with gusto.

  I threw a glance over at the bikinis. Flashbacks to my youth flooded my head. I remembered casually putting on a tiny string bikini and walking along a beach or a pool deck without a care.

  Though young, I saw the lust in the men’s eyes who stared at my body. I would purposely pull at the seat of my bottoms, or adjust my top to make sure my breasts were covered and the men would sigh.

  Coming out of my daydream, I pulled out a red and white polka dot bikini. I admired the high cut of the bottoms and the triangles of the bra. To my surprise, it actually looked like it would support my breasts. Call it temporary insanity, but I thought why not. Try it on quickly, be disgusted and resume looking for the black one-piece.

  I grabbed two black one-piece suits from the rack along with the red bikini and almost jogged to the change room. The large change rooms with doors that locked were one of the store’s best features. The change room walls and doors went right down to the floor.

  I despised change rooms with doors that just covered your body from the knees up. Everyone could see your legs and face. On many a past shopping trip, I and other ladies my age would glance with envy at the 20-year-old with perky breasts and flat stomach. Just wait until she gets her first stretch mark.

  Change rooms that had curtains for doors also irked me. They often swung open as staff walked by. It was usually at the exact moment my ass was hanging out. But in this change room fortress, I was safe.

  I tried on the first black suit and it was okay. Just okay. It fit well and lifted my breasts, but it was so boring and reminded me of something my mother used to wear. A wave of depression then hit, thinking of my old string bikini.

  I wore that bikini on my first trip with James to Mexico. We were dating in college and managed to scrape up enough money for Spring break. We once made love in the ocean, with me straddling his body and my bottoms pushed aside to let his cock enter me.

  I remembered rocking with the gentle waves while he easily held me up against him, whispering dirty things in my ear until we both came. We held each other tight as our orgasms subsided and, after getting our suits back in position, slowly walked hand in hand back to shore.

  Somehow this swimsuit didn’t fit the image of that sexual woman. Though my body wasn’t exactly porn star material, I still loved sex – maybe even more so now that I was in my forties.

  For the sake of time, I didn`t want to change back into my clothes, so I mustered up the courage to walk back out to the racks in the black suit. I didn’t care if a few women saw me. The store was practically empty and I wanted to try more suits, perhaps in a navy blue or green.

  As I walked back to the change room, I spotted a man standing there, leaning against a wall. His eyes looked me up and down as I made my way to the room. He smiled, but the leer in his eye was impossible to ignore.

  A tall and handsome business man, he was wearing a charcoal grey suit. I rushed back into the change room and slipped out of my suit and tried on a dark green one-piece with a bare back and halter top. It was safe, but a tiny bit more daring, showing a lot more skin.

  It looked good, so I wanted to see if they had another one just like it, perhaps in red or pink. I waited for a few minutes, not wanting that man to see me walk out in another suit. But somehow, this suit gave me a little more confidence. Suddenly feeling playful, part of me was curious to see if I could again spark such a lustful reaction.

  I opened the door and he was still there, hands in his pocket, waiting. He looked up at me. His eyebrows lifted and he quickly nodded his approval. His eyes were on my breasts. This suit did give me great cleavage. Instead of dashing back in, I hesitated and let his eyes get a good look at me. I pretended not to notice him, but of course he was all I could think about.

  I walked back to the racks and found the same suit in a bright yellow colour on top, with a black colour-block on the bottom. Perfect, I thought, it would look sexy and cover me up at the same time. I hadn’t tried on the red bikini yet, though it was still hanging in the change room.

  When I walked back, he stared at my hips and honed in on my pussy. I stumbled a little bit, knowing how intensely he was watching me. I blushed and he looked up at me with such dark pupils. I could see he was turned on by my body. He nodded again, telling me silently he preferred the dark green suit.

  Wanting this little fashion show to continue, I quickly returned to the change room and whipped off the green suit and threw on the yellow and black one.

  I tried it on, and surprisingly, it wasn’t good on me. The yellow, which was so bright and cheery, made my skin look sallow and lifeless, and the sparkle in my eye faded. It fit differently than the previous suit, cut lower on the legs, cutting them off, which made my thighs look thick and lumpy.

  I thought about taking it off and putting on the second black suit that I still had in the change room, but thought I should perhaps see if my lone observer would agree with me.

  When I exited the change room, he grimaced, and I quickly retreated back to the room and shut the door. What the hell was I doing?

  What possessed me to walk out of the change room in bathing suits, parading around for this man`s amusement? I had to sit down on the stool provided in the change room and collect myself. Somehow that grimace stirred some fire in me. I was determined to see this man smile in approval again and bring back that lustful look.

  Time to go for broke. I would try on the red bikini but would buy the dark green halter suit. I knew I didn’t have a bikini body, but something made me want to put it on. A silly desire to relive my youth? A sad attempt to see if I still had the power to turn someone on?

  I pulled on the bottoms and m
ade sure the sides were tied up. Not bad, I said, looking at the mirror, topless, with my nipples hard and erect, in the red and white bikini bottoms, that actually were cut to flatter my thighs and rear end, making me look pretty hot.

  I turned around and viewed myself from the back. Wow, I looked good. As I kept checking myself out, I realized that I couldn’t wear this bikini, as my pubic hair was showing a bit along the sides. No a lot, but just enough to have to shave or wax, if I were to pull this off.

  Suddenly, the door opened and he stood there, looking at me. His eyes roamed up and down my body and I saw them widen when he saw my pubic hair.

  “What the hell?” I blurted, and tried to cover myself with my arms and hands. He didn’t say anything. He just stared at me, his eyes moving from my breasts to my mound.

  He pushed me up against the mirror and lifted both arms above my head with one hand. I gasped and started to try to break free when he lifted his knee to grind into my pussy.