Crimson Crossing – Stories in Erotica

Walking Home

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Your boss’ inability to self suffice has taken its toll on you, it’s made this the worse of many days; fortunately, the clock strikes time to go home. Before departing, you reflect on the decision to wear heels knowing that the walk home is not easy. But, ignoring your boss, work, and the heels is all too familiar once outside.

The pleasure of the autumn wind hitting your face can be antidote to any and all bad days. Ensuring to consume as much of it as possible, you look up allowing the breeze to hit your neck, to sip into the top of your chest, even further it’s directed by the neglect of a few top buttons to seal entry. It can only be made better by tossing your right hand over your head and releasing the obstacle tying your hair together. It’s allowed lose, to run about your face in any direction that the wind feels appropriate. Freedom at this time of the day can turn work into a forgettable sorrow, make it time for dusk to set in, and allow escapades through the dimness of the daylight.

The coolness of the air filtrating through the top opened buttons chills your body. Your chest reacts, it perks welcoming the dusk with crisp circles enunciating against your blouse. I too walk feeling the same breeze, picking up your scent carried by the breeze in my direction. I reason the sight that yields such delightful aroma is that of my companion each evening for thirty minutes. It is the time when small talk, smiles, and the presence of one another occupy early evening.

Today, however, I have grown ill of small talk and smiles. I make my presence known by grasping your long hair, pulling slowly towards my nose, and releasing it as it gets there. You respond by running your fingers through it, bringing it to the front, and while holding it over your left shoulder, welcome me. I ask you to follow me, don’t ask, just follow are my exact words. Maybe, with the aid of your left index on your bottom lip is your answer.

I make the customary left at my destination, but you go straight. I lose hope and continue onwards to my home. It’s normally a solitary walk up the steps, today, that hope wasn’t at all lost. I can hear high-heel echoing my steps up the stairway. I never look back, building the anticipation that it is indeed you, not the landlord. I walk up to the top stop, take a short stop to verify that the echoing is still following behind me. It has, no one has spoken to impede my advance into the apartment. The door is purposely left ajar, as it is my anticipation that the person behind me is you. You’ve been kept longer than it should have taken to reach the door. I wonder why, but minutes later I hear the door squeak, a purse hit the floor, and shoe-less footsteps are heard move towards the bathroom.

Upon your arrival to the dormitory, I am the presence you notice. Your eyes are fixated towards the bliss before you, towards my abdomen crafted as well as a detailed story of love and hate. I, after all, stand in your presence fully unclothed. Your approach is slow, begging of me to wonder about the hesitation. Without saying a word, I pull you towards me, place both hand against your chest, and tear your blouse apart; buttons scattered through the floor. I find your neck, suck, lick each side, move from your neck towards your ear, down to your breasts that have been exposed through a torn blouse. I grab your right breast and place my mouth on the very tip. I can tell just where you need me to explore by the quick buckle of your knees, the sinking of nails into my flesh. Uncaring that you’ve liked my lips upon your chest, I choose to travel down your stomach to the edge of the skirt still hiding my desire. My teeth pull slowly, very slowly exposing an undergarment less woman. She’s completely bare, every detail, every curve, all scent stands before me, engorged, moistened in anticipation. The warmth within her meets me, she exudes ecstasy, the aroma is of desire.

I tease by letting my tongue slip between engorged lips and quickly come up to a standing position with you in my arms. I walk towards, and place you on the sink counter, pulling each of your legs up to the counter-top spreading you to a totality, exposing her; I know she greets me, I can see all that she will tell me, but you must wait. I grab your face with both my hands, come close and I kiss you, you bite my tongue and laugh. I pull back and stare into your eyes, watching the reaction of your face as you feel the proximity of my masculinity to your allure. I take my time, gradually sliding him in while seeing the reaction in your face. You can feel his every feature, as I can feel your every muscle slowly molding onto him as I’m absorbed to entirety. You don’t move, you can’t move. The farther in I reach the more still you become, the louder the sigh. I’ve caused your body to answer my whim, the bounce of your breasts answer me as I rock your body back and fro, the humidity forming on your face and neck rolls down to your chest, trickling down to your belly in a race to join us farther down below, lubricating an area that needs none. I still stare at your face, your mouth, listening to every moan, your eyes facing up, teeth exposed by an open mouth.

Without retreating from inside of you, I lift you up, turn you around, place your left knee on the counter and release your right leg to touch the floor. Your are bent over the counter sink, staring at yourself in the mirror, feeling me pierce through you without mercy. In search for an object to hold on to, you slap the faucet fully opened, tossing water all about from the bouncing off from your left arm that’s fallen inside the sink. There you leave it, and place your free hand against the mirror to gather maneuverability to push against me. The harder I collide against you, the more forcefully you push back; the louder the meeting of our bodies sounds. I’m inside of you and unwilling to come out. Again and again you moan, you sigh, again and again I respond to your confirmation of bliss. I pull completely out from inside of you, and your heart stops, your outcry is of disbelief, beg of me to be merciful by asking of him to again take you, to punish you, to make you pay for all the times you weren’t willing to follow him home in the past. You are no longer an untouched lure, but a red-ish almost raw from the onslaught. You are eager to feel his form, his every detail, you are relentless in your plea to continue.

I grab your ass with both hands, spread it, and insert my desire again and again as far as you’ll allow me. You feel the pleasure and release the verbiage that describes what you want. You are sensitive, fully engorged, I sooth it with my hand while you hold on to my wrist, you can’t contain the need to scream. You do. Your butt is red from the pounding of our bodies, your breasts bouncing back and fro from each hit of our bodies, I grab your hair and force you to arch your back. Your mouth is open, it’s gaining strength, I speed up my insertions into you, your moaning gains luster. Your scream of me not to stop, not to stop, not to stop. Squeezing your butt-cheek with my right, pulling your hair with me left, your body is mine to have, mine to please, I begin to moan at the rate of our bouncing bodies, I can’t contain any longer, you scream that you are mine, that I am yours…

Author: jibarican

https://crimsoncrossing.wordpress.com

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