Blushed and Flushed: 12 erotic short stories for women

by Maria Diamante

  Locking the door and hanging the “Do Not Disturb” sign, Beth walked to the bed and he walked directly behind her.

  Before she could turn around, he cupped her breasts from behind and bumped her ass with his hard cock. She dropped her coat and turned to face him, wrapping her arms around him as she kissed him deeply, letting one leg wrap around his hips, bringing her throbbing pussy into contact with that cock, rubbing herself against it, and moaning into his mouth.

  He picked her up and Beth was startled at his strength. He then lowered her to the bed, her dress up around her waist, her legs framing her obviously soaked panties, and her arms begging him to come to take her.

  He stood over her, looking down arrogantly and sexually at her as he removed his clothing slowly, taking an especially long time undoing his belt and pulling down his pants.

  He wore no underwear and his large cock sprang free, causing Beth to rise up on her elbows and lift her stocking-covered foot to touch it. The tip of his cock was glistening with pre-cum and Beth rose to take it in her mouth, happily sucking it back into her throat, and cupping his substantial balls, rolling them in her hand and pushing them up around his cock, using his own scrotum to jerk his cock.

  He groaned and grabbed her hair, pulling her further down onto himself, and Beth grabbed his ass, shoving his cock deeper into her mouth.

  He watched her, occasionally throwing his head back during a particularly sensitive suck, and let her continue until she felt his balls tighten. He suddenly tensed, and she knew he was about to come. She pushed down her dress, and using one hand, pulled her breasts out, rolling and pulling on her nipples, moaning and writhing, and he lost his effort to hold back his semen and spurted onto her tongue.

  He barely stood upright as he seemed to come forever, jet after jet of semen pouring down her throat. His knees nearly buckled as he clutched her shoulders with both hands to stay steady. Beth kept his cock in her mouth, cleaning and sucking him until he couldn’t take the sensitivity anymore. Breathing heavily, he withdrew his softening cock and lay down on the bed beside her.

  Beth waited for him to lay back and rest, but he immediately rolled against her and raised himself slightly over her, trapping her arms against her sides, and bringing his face close to her dripping panties.

  He kissed the soft skin on the inside of her thighs and then released one of her arms in order to teasingly trace a finger along the gusset of her panties. She tensed and tried to thrust her hips up at him, but he still had her slightly trapped against him and the bed.

  He pushed her panties to the side, and let his finger skim against her pussy lips, feeling her wetness, and noticing how her lips were smooth and bare. Beth whimpered and tried to move her hips so that he would touch her with more force, but he kept barely touching her, taunting her with his hands. She tried to take her free hand and use it to push his to where she needed it, right on her aching clit, but he was stronger.

  He hooked his fingers on her panties and pulled them down, but first he unclasped each of her garters and pushed them up to her waist, then pulled the panties all the way off her legs, and took her calves in his hands and spread her legs wide open.

  He stared at her pussy and Beth took pride in the way that his cock, so recently drained, was returning to life. He lowered his face to her pussy and licked her from ass to clit, then took his fingers and thrust one, then two, then three fingers deep inside her as he licked at her clit.

  Beth threw back her head, thrashing into the pillow and arching her back as he pumped his fingers hard inside her. The sounds of his fingers moving in and out of her filled the room and he kept licking her clit, building her to an earth-shattering orgasm.

  Beth came in his mouth, gushing wetness down his face as she momentarily lost all sense of reality. He kept licking through her release, slowing down his tongue as she came down and returned to the present.

  She lay panting, limp and boneless, as he pushed himself up towards the head of the bed, and kissed her neck and jaw, caressing her and murmuring how sexy and hot she was, and how good she tasted. He lay beside her and rolled her to her side, spooning his cock against her ass.

  He held her by the hip, and nudged his leg between hers, to force her leg up and back over his own hip, while he positioned the head of his cock at the entrance of her pussy.

  As she squirmed, wanting him inside her, he suddenly thrust in to the hilt, his balls slapping against her, and started pumping quickly, reaching around to cup her breast, pulling and pinching her hard nipple, and kissing her neck and ear.

  He kept thrusting for a few minutes as Beth remembered why she adored younger men. There’s no substitute for a young man’s strength power and stamina, she thought.

  She tightened her inner muscles around his cock, squeezing and milking him, as he thrust ever faster, building to his second climax. He released her breast and reached down to rub her clit as he pumped harder and deeper.

  Their thrusting continued to get faster and faster, the sounds of their bodies slapping together was now as loud as their moans. Each could feel their bodies tightening and with a mutual scream they both succumbed to another mind-numbing orgasm.

  Afterwards, they lay together, her head on his chest, his arms around her, and her leg up on his. With clothes scattered across the room, they lay skin to skin. He gently ran his fingers up and down her arms, as they were silent, each lost in their own thoughts.

  Every once in a while he kissed her forehead and squeezed her tight. She responded by kissing his chest and stroking his chest hair. Finally, they both fell asleep, worn out and completely satisfied.

  Beth woke up around 6:00 a.m., knowing she had to dress and leave. As she gingerly sat on the edge of the bed, trying not to wake Michael, he reached out and grabbed her arm, asking where she was going. Beth giggled as he pulled her back onto the bed and cuddled up to her.

  “Darling, I have to leave,” she said.

  “When can I see you again?” asked Michael.

  Beth looked him in the eye.

  “It’s OK, we both know what this was, you don’t have to pretend.”

  Michael looked hurt and puzzled, and asked her again when he could see her. She kissed his cheek and patted his thigh, telling him to look for her at the bar. She felt bad telling him this, but wanted him to know that she didn’t expect anything from him. Though she never asked him his age, she guessed he was 15 years younger, if not more.

  Michael watched her finish dressing and pull on her stockings. He looked pensive and sad and asked her if she had to leave.

  “Yes baby, I’ve got some important meetings today, and I need to get a few things ready.”

  But the truth was she needed to be alone to think about him and this experience.

  Throughout the day, Elizabeth felt inexplicably sad. She knew she couldn’t have expectations with a younger man, but she could not stop thinking about their connection as they held each other all night.

  What was the matter with her? He certainly wasn’t the first hot young man she had been with. Hell, she should have a room named after her in that hotel. Why couldn’t she stop thinking about him?

  For brief moments, she let herself imagine something more than a one-night stand. She let herself think about sitting in cafés talking to one another, attending plays together, waking up together on Sunday mornings and reading the New York Times together in bed over coffee. She imagined not having to attend big industry events alone.

  All of these thoughts briefly gave her such pleasure, but at the same time it they also frightened her in some way. She needed to forget about Michael. That’s all there was to it. Foolish, she thought. How foolish she was to even let thoughts like that creep in.

  A few nights later, she put on her lucky outfit again and hit a different bar in the same neighborhood. She spotted two handsome men in sharp suits and caught their attention.

  A brief flash of Michael’s hurt expression flitted through her head, but she quickly pushed it aside,
focusing on what was in front of her now.

  “Hi, I’m Beth,” she said, as she extended her hand.

  Invisible Touch

  Vanessa was craving contact.

  Actually, take the word “craving” and magnify that a thousand times and that was Vanessa’s mindset.

  She hadn’t been with a man in months. And it was mainly her doing.

  It all started when she decided to stop seeing what she called her “satellites.” These were men who would occasionally orbit into her life every couple of months. It never amounted to anything more than an evening here or a weekend there.

  Sure, the sex was great and life was never dull being courted by various charming men. But when they left to catch a flight, or hop on a train it left her feeling empty, not to mention guilty. So she put a stop to it.

  She felt good about her decision, but didn’t expect the consequences to be so hard.

  Of course she missed the raw sex, but to her surprise, what she missed most was the sensual touching – the feeling of a man’s strong hands on her skin, the sensation of a strong grip on her shoulders or hands.

  Since her decision, Vanessa couldn’t deny she was in a real drought. Nobody new caught her eye, either in person or on the many online dating sites she belonged to.

  Evenings were spent with girlfriends, her mother, alone with her laptop playing online scrabble, or watching trashy TV until bedtime.

  A financial analyst for a research firm, Vanessa spent countless hours staring into her computer screen at financial records and spreadsheets. Normally she could handle the monotony. But over the past few days, she caught her reflection in her monitor and it looked lifeless and uninspired.

  To make matters worse, she couldn’t tell anyone. If Vanessa told her mother she was lonely, she would be sad and worried and make silly suggestions such as joining a knitting group or a home renovating course.

  Or she would sigh and tell Vanessa how she should have married “that nice boy from college,” who was actually a cheating buffoon. Her mom had the best intentions, but her advice just made things worse.

  Her girlfriends would sympathize, but most of them were in the same boat. In fact, sometimes social outings turned into a festival of whining. She appreciated their support and it was nice to hear she wasn’t the only one feeling this way. But for Vanessa, she knew her desire for contact was far greater than any of her friends.

  They didn’t bite their lip with a pang of desire and longing whenever they saw a couple embrace like Vanessa did.

  And of course, she couldn’t confess any of this to a man. Telling any man you craved contact was always interpreted as an advance. She made the mistake of telling two plutonic male friends of her situation. The moment she hinted at her need for contact, she was forced to fend off awkward passes.

  Somehow they seemed to think they were doing her a favor, which made Vanessa laugh. She could snap her fingers and five men would come running. But knowing this just added to her frustration because they weren’t the right men.

  Vanessa lived alone in Boston and had far too much time to think about all of this as she often travelled for work alone.

  What a waste. Spending time in lavish suites with Jacuzzis and enormous beds. She loved to lie on the king-sized bed and stretch out her arms to the edges. But somehow, now even this once-loved activity just added to her loneliness.

  One night, Vanessa lay in such a hotel bed in Denver, watching reality shows. Having just taken a warm bath in a scented Jacuzzi and relaxing in the hotel robe, she began to touch herself. She even considered ordering one of the adult films. But before the arousal began, she started to cry.

  Crying turned to sobbing. She needed a man’s hands, not her own. She ached to be held and touched. Skin to skin.

  She wanted to lose herself in the scent of a male, his muskiness and faint smell of sweat, a whiff of cologne or aftershave, and the unmistakable smell of his sexuality. Vanessa believed you never really knew a man until you had breathed in his scent. It was such a powerful aphrodisiac for her.

  She lay in bed, tears pouring down her face and stared up at the ceiling, begging for a chance to feel the connection of being held and touched. She wasn’t terribly religious, but she was still calling some kind of higher power.

  “Please let me know that feeling again.” She repeated this phrase in her head like a mantra, over and over again, until sanity returned and she wiped her face and went to sleep.

  She dreamt of the last man she loved. He was standing in a room smiling at her as he slowly faded into nothingness and turned into a fish. Vanessa didn’t even bother to analyze that dream. A fish?

  When she woke the next day, she was a little embarrassed by her emotional outburst. So she made another decision. She was done with feeling bad. She would pull herself together and not let her desire for contact rule her life or her happiness, though she found herself grabbing the bell hops strong arms as she was checking out of her room.

  Back in Boston, she stood in line at her favorite neighborhood coffee shop. She spotted a man in line behind her who definitely sparked her libido. He was tall and muscular with beautiful sensuous lips and sexy blue eyes.

  Vanessa looked at his hands. They were smooth, businessman’s hands, yet they were obviously strong enough to reveal he wasn’t afraid of getting his hands dirty. Most importantly, he was ringless.

  Pretending to be checking her cell phone, Vanessa let the next person in line go ahead of her so that she ended up standing directly in front of him. She caught a whiff of a light, spicy cologne.

  She turned briefly, as if to look at the window and Vanessa saw a flash of interest.

  His eyes locked on hers.

  He smiled, threw a glance at her impressive bust and then dropped his eyes to his newspaper. It was the sports section, to her relief. She loved men with manly interests.

  Vanessa looked at his skin, his goatee, his hair and the few chest hairs that peaked out of the top of his shirt under a leather coat. She breathed in the smell of his cologne and suddenly, she had the sensation that he was touching her.

  She stood frozen. But from the corner of her eye, she saw both his hands were still holding the newspaper. It couldn’t be him. The hands ran over her hip and against the globes of her rounded behind and Vanessa spun around to see who was feeling her up in public, ready to slap someone silly.

  But no one was touching her. Yet Vanessa clearly felt hands roaming her body. The hands were not urgently touching her. Instead, it was the smooth, unhurried touch of a lover.

  Vanessa was torn between wondering if her sanity was slipping or enjoying the lovely sensation.

  She felt one hand dip in front of her hipbone. Barely brushing against her pubic hair, she shivered, wanting the hand to inch further south. The hands massaged her hips and ass, and teased by coming close to her pussy without touching it.

  She opened her legs slightly to allow the hands to touch her more intimately. One hand slipped its fingers inside the crack of her ass, running the fingers up and down, coming ever so close to slipping them inside her pussy, then running them back up to the top of her ass again.

  The other hand barely touched her pussy lips, skimming the top of them, brushing against the hair that she had on top of her mound. A single finger then ran along her lips, not venturing inwards, just tantalizing her with the faint caress.

  She fought the urge to moan. Feeling tipsy with pleasure, approaching the counter and nonchalantly ordering her latte was not easy. The moment she moved out of the line, the hands disappeared. It was like she snapped out of a trance.

  She missed the touch when it vanished and looked around to see if anyone noticed she had spread herself open for invisible hands. While she may have imagined this, the effect was real. In those short moments, she became so wet she thought she could smell her sex.

  She watched the handsome man order three coffees to go. He gave her one last fierce sexual look and left. Vanessa seated herself with her latte,
disappointed he was gone. Still, she was energized knowing an attractive man had obviously shown interest in her, even if it was only for a second.

  Vanessa headed to work, thinking about what happened in the coffee shop. But she was more consumed with how good the hands felt, rather than trying to figure out exactly what had happened.

  Had her desire for touch become so strong she was now inventing it?

  In the subway, all the seats were taken so Vanessa was forced to stand. Seated next to her she saw a young, rough man checking her out. Vanessa smiled to herself. He was too young and too rough-looking, but there was no denying he was sexy.

  He rose to leave at the next station and stood directly in front of Vanessa.

  She suddenly felt hands on her breasts, pulling on her nipples, twisting and tugging them gently. She felt the hand slap her breast lightly and a jolt of electricity shot down to her clit.