Crimson Crossing – Stories in Erotica



There was a moment when impossibility drowned my desires of bliss. Times, and many there were when I needed to unclothe my lady like mentality releasing all the reservations that kept me from become a woman popularized during late nights in dark streets. There I laid again, sure that his intent was to love, to sooth… For the love I hold for him, it’d become complaisant, all that yearning, I truly needed to be devoured, pushed, submitted to his will.

It happened as anticipated. We embraced, felt the nudity of lovemaking until rain drops hitting the zinc plates covering the house overcame the night, eventually giving way to sleep, then awaking to one another’s smile. However, I’m not here to relate that story, but the one from the subsequent night. He approached me, came close to my ear and spoke. I didn’t and couldn’t react. Was this him,? The man I know? Impossible! The words exiting his lips weakened me, they heated my body, my knees fought to keep me standing, my lips throbbed, my mouth salivated. Even if this was the limit of his malice, he’d captivated me! I will hang on to it and die knowing he spoke to me in ways that altered reality.

I had just finished cleansing my body, nothing covered my physique. I stood pondering in front of the mirror about a hair style for the evening. The highlight that evening was an event held by the high society to which we’d gotten invited way of an award for his efforts. He was already dressed and waited for me outside in the balcony while playing random songs that we had played for each other over the phone years prior. It was effortless knowing he desired me, his stare… his gaze created a tunnel where only he and I stood. The heat of this body radiated through it. I could feel his passion engulf my body. Riveting it was, it is…

I tensed when I heard him speak. It’d been years since his touch made me feel as if an inexperienced young woman. That night it happened. Upon hearing his words, his lips sank onto the back of my neck, my ear… before I rationalized his actions, the balcony became our pulpit. He was clothed, and I, unclothed. He held me off the floor with one arm, my legs wrapped around him, his shirt soaking in me. I managed to do nothing while his mouth consumed my chest. I struggled to keep my beating heart where nature intended each time he spoke, each time he told me what I so long wanted to hear.

He released me… with a continuous downward shove I was sitting on my heels feeling the speed of the wind rushing to taste me. No time passed before I had no choice, I didn’t want a choice. I was put there, all of this time desiring to be there just under this very role, and I almost didn’t respond. He didn’t allow me to freeze, his hand grasped my long curly hair, my mouth opened and he pressed in the back of my head. He gave orders, I felt obliged. He meticulously expressed his desires, I carved as if a chisel directed upon a stone by Picasso. I craved all of him; breathing became difficult at times, I felt exhausted, I needed him to continue pressing upon me. I refused to stop but the choice was not mine to have. I had set my mind to finish him, but allow me he refused. With the same fist-full of hair grasped in his hand, he pulled me up and shoved me against the balcony railing. I lost touch of the balcony floor but gained the bliss of my body. Had it rained that night it would have not been difficult to accuse the saturated state of my secret on it, but the dryness of the air around us pointed to my state of elation as the perpetrator!

I gasped for air, my nail sank onto his back, he continued to soil the English language, I’d had lost all properness because explicit I wanted to become. He didn’t let me, he covered my mouth and continued to relate the story as it was happening. I bounced, squeezed, bit his hand, and perspired all over his night’s attire. My back curved, my mouth opened, the lazy stare hinted I had fatigued, my body became limp, caring only to indulge in his whim. I didn’t notice she had form an audience… she had been watching, looking down upon us. I wonder for how long she’d been watching? What had she seen? A few floors up, a witness to the night’s events, no one would dare question the truth about the moment! How he treated me! How I became what I wanted to become even if for just one night! She also knew. Her mouth was opened, from time to time smiling at me. I bounced off his body effortlessly, my chest reacting. She smiled while stared at my body, at the exhaustion of my energy, at every moan I couldn’t hold back. I still don’t know how he managed, but I ignored the witness, my mouth and eyes opened, I moaned, I was his. My legs tightened, my body shook, I tried to pull away, he didn’t let me…

Author: jibarican

2 thoughts on “Balcony

  1. Thank you for the amazing stories. You are a writer with skills for description and know how to tell a story. Thank you.

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