A Taste Of Erotica

If you’re not familiar with the site you may have trouble locating the erotic stories.  They can be found on the page called “Pleasure Than Fiction”, but to make it easy, here are bits of a few with links to the full text. Enjoy- O.

Undeniable

It’s as if his lust seeped under the door, slid across the floor and entered my toes, rose past my ankles, swirled around my knees, slipped between my thighs, and penetrated me right there.  I felt myself suck in a slow, strong breath and hoped the client didn’t notice that in that instant my pussy was set on fire.

I held my breath, pulling my thighs together, willing my mind to control the ache that now resided there.  I could see David chuckle to himself.  He knew that I was coming undone.  And he loved the power. more…

The Cabin

For the second time in less than twenty four hours Andrew was awakened from a sound sleep by unfamiliar noises in the night. He lay on his back, his heart beating fast as he cleared the sleep from the corners of his mind. He had been dreaming. He’d been dreaming of Camille, one like the dreams from their high school days. His hand had managed to find his cock, stiff and warm. He blinked in the darkness, thinking of how she looked, how her skin felt, the way her dark, curly hair fell across her face, the way she moaned and gasped his name-

“Andrew!” He bolted upright. “Andrew, are you awake?”

“Uh, yeah, what’s going on?” he whispered back.

“There’s something downstairs. I can hear something down there!” more…

Dr. Daniels’ Willing Patient

As the elevator rose through the hospital an awkward silence fell between us and I felt his eyes on me.

“You headed to the cafeteria?” he asked, clearing his throat.

I shook my head, “Just wandering.”

Silence.

“I’m headed to 6,” he said, “trying to get some rest while it’s quiet downstairs.”

“I thought that floor was closed for construction?”

“It is”, he said nodding, “but there are some patient rooms in the far wing that are finished.”

I peeked at him out of the corner of my eye and found his eyes still on me.  It was as if I could hear his next thought:

Come with me. more…

Meet Mr. Forbidden

Forbidden

This is something women and men can relate to- that person you want so badly it makes you throb between your legs- but you know, you know is bad for you in some way.

But the sex. Ohhhh the sex is so good- and you know the other person, the object of your desire- would be only more than happy to get you off a few times.

I refer to these people as forbidden.

I have 1 such man in my life right now- well, probably 2, but, we will stick with the clearest example I can give.

Mister Forbidden is an ex lover from quite some years back. Our relationship was always very complicated and ended in horrific form. I’m wayyyy past being “over” him in a romantic sense- and therein is my dilemma.

Though I do have another man with whom I share a deep and true love, we are not together- so I’m single right now. There are special relationships, but no realistic prospects for anything long term.

Mister Forbidden is not one of those special relationships. He just is. I know that he carries feelings for me that I do not share. I also know that he is not strong enough to keep those feelings in check. I try- oh do I try- to maintain clear boundaries because of this. I would like nothing else than to be able to fuck him on a regular basis- but he cannot handle it- I am certain.

His feelings would bubble up and then things would get really complicated. Even if I wanted to have romantic feelings towards him, he’s terrible in relationships! I’ve experienced it and I’ve seen it in the relationships he’s had since. I have a policy that I never go backwards. Once it’s over, it’s over. This is not the man I’m supposed to be with for the rest of my life, if there even is such a thing- I really don’t know.

ANYWAY- Even though I know all of this, I still struggle. I’ll even admit to having slipped once or twice. Not sex- but close…verrrrrry close. Close enough that I know he can still do something to me.

But…he is Mister Forbidden. Because he wouldn’t be able to handle it, emotionally, and it’s not fair for me to take advantage of his willingness to make me cum when I know I have no intention of giving anything in return.

And then there’s… well… the kind of sex I enjoy. I’m not sure he could handle that either…

When we were together, he was very…conservative- in bed. He found me much more liberal and it intimidated him. We had discussions about it. He was also devoutly religious (to a fault- yes, a fault) and I always felt like Jesus was in our bed- trust me, the Lord should never be in your bed, unless you’re taking his name in vain.

It’s probably why the next long term relationship I had after Mister Forbidden was with a wonderful man who let me fuck him as much as he fucked me.

I know there are women out there who experience sex as something they receive from a man. He does all the work and we give verbal and physical cues about how he’s doing and if we like it.

That’s all well and good. I enjoy that as well- I enjoy receiving sex from a man. But I also enjoy giving sex to a man. I enjoy doing things to a man just as much- if not more- as I enjoy having him do things to me.

I like to push the envelope. I like to have sex regularly. I like a variety of positions and scenarios *wink* and I like a man who isn’t afraid to talk during sex- or here me say some things.

But Mister Forbidden couldn’t handle that then, and I highly doubt he can handle it now.

I won’t be made to feel guilty, dirty, or less of a moral woman because of my sexual preferences. I just refuse to deal with that, and it is totally based on my previous relationship with him based on his issues and views about sex.

Still. Yes. I’m so damn tempted. Because the sex he gives is so good. I’m not an easy woman to get in bed. I can go long periods of time not having sex at all because I only sleep with people who I’m certain I are in tune with me, and my body. I know what kind of sex we’ll have long before we actually have it.

That’s the problem with Mister Forbidden. I know from actual experience that if I picked up the phone right now and told him to come over, he would. And he would make me have a few orgasms before he left.

The problem is, I would be too concerned with whether or not I could really just let go and be my authentic self in bed with him, that I wouldn’t actually enjoy it. I know, it’s a cruel, cruel world.

So I stay away from Mister Forbidden. Anything less is just too complicated.

Too Many Sex Partners?

Here’s a question for you- how many sex partners is too many for a person to have at one time- no, not threesomes or foursomes.

Is it alright to, say- have sex with a different person each day of the week?  Is the standard different for men than for women?

I was brought up in a a very conservative Catholic family and went to a very conservative Catholic school.  Parents didn’t really talk to their kids about sex- they left it up to the school, and in turn- the church.  Couple all of that with the traditions, thoughts and beliefs of the Japanese side of the family and you have just a smidge of an idea of what growing up was like for me.

So I was taught that sex before marriage was bad, masturbation would make a person go blind, and having more than one sexual partner meant you were the Devil’s whore and would never get into heaven- no joke.

Thus, even after I shed the church from my life in terms of the habit of going each week, I still had these kinds of viewpoints (commonly referred to as “Catholic Guilt”) seared into my mind.

For most of my sexual life I only had one sex partner at a time.  I wasn’t really concerned about risk factors, I was concerned with perception (whether people knew or not, I knew what they’d think if they ever found out) over sexual satisfaction.  Over time, that changed.  The “faithful” will say that’s because I stopped going to Church, I say it’s because I grew up and because more self aware and wasn’t afraid to challenge these things which I’d never thought to question before.

It also bothered me (still does) a great deal that a significant double standard exists between men and women when it comes to this issue.  A man won’t necessarily be called a “ho” if he’s seeing three women at one time, sleeping with all of them.  A woman would definitely be regarded as loose or fast or both.

I’m a long term relationship person- not a lot of hopping around and dating for me, so the opportunity and desire to sleep with a bunch of different men isn’t very high for me.  I currently have 2 different men that I’m sleeping with- and no, I”m not about to compare them or those experiences on any level.

The more sex partners a person has, the more risk they open themselves to, so responsibility is key; protection, protection, protection.  You know those people you’ve heard say “well we were out of condoms so, you know…”- I’m not one of those people.  If we didn’t have condoms, we didn’t have sex (which actually means he went to 7-11 on the corner for a few 3 packs)- I can wait.  I’m never so aroused that I just can’t control myself- most people who use that excuse don’t really mean it, they’re just weak and want to believe it.

So my assumption is that both of the men I am seeing are sleeping with at least 1 other woman- that’s not a mark against them, just the safest bet a person could make.  We’re all grown here, no one is committed to the other in a relationship or anything like that- but we don’t need to talk about it because I just assume it’s a reality and respond accordingly for my own protection and my partners.

I can’t imagine having 3 or more sex partners, just because I think for one, I would be exhausted, and for two, I would be exhausted.

What do you think?  How many is too many?  Should the standard for the sexes be different?

Verbal Hypnotist…

His name is David.  Yes, he is one of the League of Extraordinary Snake Charmers I’ve mentioned before.  This man *shudder* can make me cum with his words alone- and he can fuck me like no one else- unique only to him.

We met because for a time we shared an office-  just randomly rented the same space in the same building.  Imagine a random office tower in a bustling city.  Take the elevator to the 36th floor and you’d find an entire floor empty.  A space which would ordinarily hold 200 employees in cubicles and executive suites had just 2 occupants- David and me.

Our cubicles sat next to each other and like me, David would come and go on a consistent schedule, working on, well, whatever he was working on.  We exchanged greetings and small talk, but for a few weeks, that was it.

There was a witty chemistry from the beginning, as both of us worked to make the best of what otherwise could have been an awkward situation.  We were strangers who just happened to have a mutual friend in the real estate business with a bunch of empty offices.

His authentic charm and sharp tongue grabbed my attention right away.

That’s not a simple accomplishment.  This is going to come off snobbish, but people bore me pretty quickly- and it can be hard for men and women to have genuine conversation when they first meet- there is a lot of posturing and trying to impress.

There was none of that here- it flowed pretty easily and escalated pretty quickly too, probably because there was physical attraction on both sides from the beginning.  He’s six foot two, caramel complexion, short hair, and an authentic gentleman, which, I’m a sucker for.  His consideration always put me at ease.  Idle chit chat turned to long conversations over lunch and him visiting my cubicle a few times a week.  Turns out he’s a writer, which I think explained some of the natural attraction- I am perpetually in love with the Inkwell.

Before I knew it, he was charming me- whether intentional or not, it was happening.  He was intriguing, sure, but it was the little things that got my attention- and the unexpected things.  Like when he would walk me to the elevator.  At first I thought nothing of it, he’d just sort of walk along with me and we’d talk about insignificant things.  And then, one day, as I gathered my jacket and bag, he stood at my cubicle and offered me his arm.  From that day on, if ever I was in the office and left before him, he stopped what he was doing and walked me to the elevator.  What can I say- I’m a sucker.

He made sure the office freezer always had my favorite ice cream.  On days we missed each other, he’d leave a sticky note on my computer, which of course made me smile like a silly school girl.  He bought me flowers on my birthday- it was the only gift I got.  When he asked me to dinner the first time, I had to work hard to play it cool when I said yes.  The food was great- the time together was better.  All the while the magnetism grew stronger.

There are different levels of attraction between the sexes. This wasn’t “oh he’s kinda cute”, no, it was more like “I want that man all up in this pussy”- and I couldn’t really explain why.

I soon learned, much to my amazement, that he could arouse my body with words- it didn’t have to be erotic or sexual, it could be anything… he could describe the paint-drying process and I’d be squirming in my chair.  The voice, syntax, and analogies… omg his analogies.  I’d find myself thinking about him and wondering what his touch felt like, what bliss his lips could create on mine, what portrait our bodies could paint once joined.

It was distracting.  Pretty soon I would sit for hours in my cubicle, day after day, sure I could feel him thinking about me on the other side of the 4 foot partition that separated us.  Either I was conjuring things in my mind, or the sexual tension was thick enough to cut with a knife.

He was patient.  Very deliberate.  I imagine we both enjoyed the tension that can only be created before you satisfy desires.

The first time he touched me, the first time he kissed me, I knew I was in trouble, I mean in. trouble.

We transitioned naturally into a sexual relationship- a very intimate sexual relationship.  Affection was obvious on both sides.  But we had limits on where we would go emotionally, and we stuck to them.  Still…there was an undercurrent that made the sex unlike any other I’ve ever experienced.  Whatever it was we were sharing, I trusted him implicitly with my body.  I never held back sexually.  I could feel his attraction every time we were in the same space…even when we weren’t.    He wanted me as much and as often as I wanted him.  It made everything that much more intense.

We had fun, dirty, sexy, steamy, juicy  sex almost every day.  Quickies, on the floor, in the shower, on the conference room table, for hours at a time, every position two people can create…

The more we had sex, the more I noticed just how well he could captivate my body.  I became aware of a moment- an actual moment during sex when my consciousness would shift and my body became perfectly entranced by him.  It’s the work of his charm, that exact second I become his and the power I normally have over myself dissolves.  Once I hit that spot, it’s all over.  I have not a single shred of modesty and I say all the things I’d just as well die than say to anyone else.  I moan, gasp, grunt, pant, giggle, and talk, talk, talk.  I really can’t stop myself  from doing it- he takes me into that space and it’s a reaction to his cause.

And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Swallow?! We Barely Know Each Other!

A few weeks ago I hosted a small group of people for a “Sex Talk”.  This consisted of about 10 people, men and women, a few couples and a few singles.  The point of the gathering is to have a guided conversation about sex and what it means to men and women.  It basically gives me an opportunity to continue to gain perspective on, errr, well, perspective.

One man who attended the event, Travis, I didn’t know very well.  I was urged to invite him by another guest and her husband.  Having had casual interactions with him in the past, I decided why not.  He struck me as an intelligent person and that’s half the battle when you want to have an intelligent conversation about a subject that can cause people to forget they have a brain altogether.

The session was supposed to go 90 minutes, but ran over by about an hour which isn’t uncommon.  We talked about a lot of things concerning sex, gender and relationships and it all went very well.

One of the topics was oral sex.  I’m sure you can imagine that there were passionate opinions on all sides.  Travis too, had strong feelings about the subject, but they weren’t expressed during the session so much as they were after.

The morning after the group discussion I sent everyone an email thanking them for their participation.  In reply to the email I sent to Travis was:

So, you like to drink it down?

I replied with confusion and Travis was generous enough to clarify for me:

You like to swallow.

He used a period instead of a question mark which meant he was confident it was a fact- and I was completely in the dark.

I asked him what led him to believe that and he pointed to the discussion the night before.

I thought back- yes, oral sex by men and women was discussed at length, yes, I guided the conversation with questions and comments, but I was the moderator, for lack of a better term, not a participant.  I never got into my personal sex life, and certainly didn’t discuss my preferences around oral sex.  But apparently, asking questions like “is it selfish for a women to expect oral sex when she won’t give it,” or “does it cheat a man of his pleasure if she refuses to swallow” meant that I was a proponent and a practitioner of oral sex and swallowing his um, yeah.

I tried to point out my professional role- he didn’t want to hear it.  Instead, he asked if I wanted to get together- not for coffee, for sex.

Yes, Travis wanted me to give him head, and he wanted to watch me to swallow.

I am used to forward and downright bizarre requests from people around sex, so while I was hugely offended, I kept my cool and politely declined until he finally dropped it.

Travis won’t be invited to the next “Talk”.

More than that, as a woman I must say that I was highly offended by his conduct.  Yes, I enjoy giving head (to the right man), and yes, (for the right man) that means I commit to it through the end.

But for some guy that I don’t even know?

That is possibly the most disgusting suggestion I’ve heard in at least the past 5 hours.

Because I discuss sex freely does NOT mean that I have sex or give oral sex freely, with no care, no discretion, no thought.  That’s foolish.

How do I know if he has been tested or not, hell how does he know if I’ve been tested or not?  Does he care?  Does he even stop to think that I might have some sort of diseased condition to make his johnson shrivel up and fall off?  oh, you know what I mean!

Did he even stop to consider that possibility the four or five days he emailed me repeatedly for the hook up?

I am always amazed at how clueless some poeple can be- Travis defeated his own purpose and never even realized it.

To Bed the Ex Or Not- That Is The Question

I’ve seen quite a few posts over the past few weeks on various relationship related websites about whether or not ex’s should date again, or even just sleep together.

For obvious reasons such circumstances can get quite messy- but at the same time, I don’t really think it’s all that complicated.

When it comes to dating an ex- I’ve personally never done it before.  The breakups I’ve experienced have most often come about because me and my partner are in different spaces (in every sense) so often that it’s clear we’re on different paths going different speeds- and often different directions.

Even after the relationship is over and time has passed- that is still the case- two different people in two different places  (having said all that- I’ll tell you about Bernard sometime soon).

While I may not re-date an ex, I am friends with many of them regardless.

As for sleeping with an ex- yes, done that.  In fact, doing it now (not right now…) with E, who I’ve written about a few times here.

Before I get to the juicy on that- let’s talk how and why.

Both parties have to have your emotions in check when it comes to sleeping with an ex.  Both parties have to be independently and jointly, very clear on where they stand with each other- what they will or won’t do together, etc.

Using E as an example.  I love him very much and he loves me.  We are very good friends and we have a huge amount of respect for each other.  We stopped dating in 95 (which was when we stopped sleeping with each other) and both went on to have our own relationships and lives.  I don’t have a single romantic notion towards him whatsoever.

Not too long ago, probably about six to eight months ago, completely out of the blue, in one of the many times we hung out late, watching a movie on the couch (he has the most comfortable couch ever) he just casually slipped his hands between my thighs and lightly dragged his fingers back and forth and then whispered some deliciously nasty, touchingly honest words to my ear, making his desires and intentions known- after not having touched each other beyond a hug for nearly five years.

It may have been five years- but that was one of the best sex relationships ever for me and him, so when he touched me that night, I knew exactly what he wanted and why he wanted it- and I wanted it too.

While his fingers drew random shapes on my sweats, high on my inner thigh, we had a very blunt conversation about the possibilities- and the reality of our relationship.  That’s what grown ass people do, and this is why often you hear people under the age of 30 who have “trouble” sleeping with an ex- they’re not mature enough to talk before they have sex.

E wanted a sexual relationship and so did I.  Once the discussion was underway we both became quite curious as to whether or not we could recreate our previous sex life.  I asked him point blank if he thought he remembered how to seduce me, and he confessed that he wasn’t certain, but would like the chance to try again.  I wasn’t shocked by that.  A dumb man would have just said “yes” because that’s what he would think the woman wants to hear.  E knows I’m too smart for that.

I’m very particular with who I sleep with.  If I’m not convinced that a man won’t or can’t provide a certain level of sexual experience for me (and him) then he doesn’t stand a chance of getting in my bed- end of story.  I can go without sex for weeks, months or even years rather than risk “meh” sex.  I’d rather have more fun with myself.

But the reason E and I had such a fantastic sex relationship when we were dating is because we worked hard at it and communicated wants, needs and desires to each other- the same has proven true the second time around- the sex so far is pretty good and getting better with each practice   One of the challenges with E is he’s a few years younger than me, thus, the women he’s usually with are a few years younger than him.  I can tell they have little to no standards over the kind of sex they’re having because that negro came back putting in zero work, lol.  I had to remind him of the higher expectation- to which he has risen (pause) quite masterfully.

If expectations are spelled out and both people are clear with themselves and each other, there’s nothing wrong with sleeping with an ex.

Tags: advice, relationship, sex, snake charmer

Love or Drama: The Death of Chris Henry

Disclaimer: This article is not intended to speak ill of a young man who lost his life early today, nor the young woman he was with at the time.  It does however serve as an opportunity to discuss the health of relationships between young men and women of color.

NFL player Chris Henry, 26 years old, died early this morning from severe head injuries after falling from the bed of a moving truck yesterday afternoon.

Henry reportedly jumped into the back of the truck when his fiancé, Loleini Tonga left her parent’s home in North Carolina after she and Henry got into a “domestic dispute.”  Police did not see any visible injuries to Tonga.

One 911 caller told police a man was banging on the back window of the truck, shirtless, his arm in a cast (he broke it in November).

Minutes later, another call to 911 reported what appeared to be a dead man in the street.

TMZ reports that just hours before the truck incident, Tonga was on her MySpace page “bragging” about her engagement to Henry:

“put deposIt down 4 weDDing piCs… Paid 4 ouR riNgs.”
News of Chris Henry’s death- and the circumstances around it, has inspired an exacerbated response by the public- particularly African Americans.  Comments news articles, Twitter and Facebook show that many people feel Henry’s death of senseless, borderline stupid- and that “drama” is to blame.

Though none of us really knows Henry or Tonga, or what their relationship was like- the information to date would suggest people are right- drama strikes again.

As a relationship counselor, I see it all the time- relationships between men and women (of all races, but right now we’re just talking about Black people/people of color) that thrive off drama- not love.  These relationships either come to messy ends, or they last for many years, or they last forever- it depends on the people in it.

The emotions around “drama” can be addicting- they provide a type of emotional high- and also an emotional low, which people actually, truly become addicted to.

Chris Brown and RiRi- drama addiction.

Bobby and Whitney- drama addiction.

Some people get it in their heads that a relationship must have drama- that it’s not real without it- people actually think that drama is good for a relationship.  Some people also mistake drama for “passion.”

Total crap.  Drama is not passion and drama is never good in a relationship.  While Tonga and Henry were young, drama happens in relationships of all ages, young and old.  That said, age and maturity does have a lot to do with how a person handles drama when it comes their way.

In relationships we attract reflections of ourselves- so if “blame” falls in this situation, it falls equally on both- she stomped out and drove off mad- he jumped in the bed of the truck, she didn’t stop the car, he stoked the adrenaline by screaming at her and banging on the window, and so on, and so on, and so on.

They were feeding off of each other’s need for drama.  Clearly one was not more mature than the other because no one was level headed enough to stop and think for a moment- to take a wise, responsible step.

A mature man knows, even when he woman is saying “it’s over, I’m leaving you,” that chasing her down is not the smarter move.  A mature man knows when a woman is so upset that she can’t really, rationally hear anything he has to say.

A mature woman knows when a situation has gotten out of control.  A mature woman knows when to set herself aside and act in the best interest of both parties.

Mature men and women love and care about each other enough to take a time out from a disagreement and “get centered” again.

When drama takes over, it’s like a California wildfire, consuming everything in it’s path.  Each time a couple strikes the drama match, the burn pattern eats away more rationality than before, escalating the danger.

Now a young man is dead.  And for what?

Personally, I’m disgusted by this sad situation, but I hope it serves as a reminder to all of us, when we see drama in our midst, take that guy or gal aside and give them a bit of relationship wisdom.

Chris Henry is gone now- he’ll never marry, never play football again,  and never celebrate another holiday season with family.

And for what?  Drama.

Tags: Chris Henry, death, drama, football player, relationships