Crimson Crossing – Stories in Erotica


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Pool Side

I daydream for a substantial period of time everyday. And, everyday does include nights. See, it’s become increasingly difficult to sleep as I’ve aged. Being that I’m not very good at just about anything, daydreaming has become a hobby of mine. A world to which I can escape the insignificances of life: work, incapable friends, broken vehicle on the side of the street, sleepless nights.

That day I might as well have been dreaming because that sort of behavior doesn’t happen very much, at least to me it doesn’t, I might even guess it is the sort of event that isn’t well received by the puritan police. We all know them, the notable republican congressman condemning illegal immigrants while hiring one for over a decade; the married pseudo-christian bound to a bed while being flogged by his mistress just to repent during Sunday mass. The sort of folk who hide their human behavior while attacking another’s.

Any who, I was sitting pool side, feet dunk inside the water to stay cool in the heat of the summer, accompanied by a good amount of strangers, of course. Enough of them to maintain the many ‘proper’ facades we are expected to wear at different social gatherings, you know, the self-policing type of deal! So, I sat there with my usual daydreaming face: staring into space. I mustn’t been deeply in dreams because this particular young gal caught my eye. She was a young woman whom I had dated for a very brief period of time. It was very short amount of time. I had just gotten out of a long term relationship and thought the best way out of the downer was to hookup with a hot little thing. It proved too much, too soon for me as I skipped consummation day and never contacted her again.

Seeing her in cotton-wet-tight bikini sent waves of regret that caused quite the stir in the pool. I did my best to keep calm, to ignore that she was probably as physically gifted as a female or male can be. — Proportionate, symmetrical I believe are the fitting adjectives the fitness aficionados like to use — For every well placed drop dripping down her chest onto her navel was a perfectly tanned and crafted body part. I was an idiot but, so goes life.

She had noticed me long before I her… I came to learn after she approached me and were consequently physically removed from the premises. She advanced towards me from inside the pool, walking and swimming the length of its Olympic size. We had already began conversing by the time she pulled my legs apart, situating herself between my legs; her underarms resting on each of my quads. The memories of our conversation, well, her monologue, are vague. I paid more attention at her barely covered top, and did I the same to the shape of her mouth enunciating whatever it was that she was speaking.

One unheard, perhaps even purposely ignore, word after another had her hand through the left leg of my brief-style swim trunks. No, her hand wasn’t the reason for my invigoration rather, the shape of her nipples piercing through the sheer-cotton bikini top. I like to believe she reacted to me and went ahead to prove that my regrets would be a thing of the past.

The strokes were slow and steady at first, running her fingers up and down as her wrist moved likewise. It made it feel as if a continuous stroke, giving me absolutely no time to catch the daydreams quickly slipping away into reality. I was fixated on her hands, the feeling of soft skin up and down the shaft all the way to the head, back down to the sack, which she’d grasp with her thumb. A few times she squeezed the shaft so hard that it made me want to grab her by the hair and force her mouth on me from the desire to cum inside it.

Whatever little time we spent reacquainting with one another was just the exact amount of time required to rush through courting and romancing right into fornication. She pulled down my briefs by the front, securing them neatly under my scrota. She jerked me as if a chef preventing his dish from being ruined by high flames: hard, fast and relentlessly. It was enchanting to hear her speaking out loud about tasting her ass, the spread of her pussy wet and waiting for it to be tossed. I salivated from the thought of her moist self against my lips rubbing lust throughout my mouth. Had I been myself at that point I would have taken the time to imagine how shapely and colorful she must be. The world would have heard the revelry created by male against female under euphoric confluence, that’s the sort of dream I would have had.

Her breast came lose by the directed grinds of her chest against my legs. Just when I thought I was about to come down into the pool and feel more than her hand, her mouth engulfed me whole in one deliberate shove of her face into my crotch. I exploded like balloon over high flames, she came up with cum dripping down her chin and a cum bubble still expanding on her opened mouth. She was going to dive in for seconds when jealous bystanders rushed to pull us apart. She was pulled out of the pool with an obvious display of debauchery: cum against her breast and mouth, smiling at me as if she’d won some sort of price.

As for me, I was also covered in synergy of semen and saliva. I was still erect, still throbbing, totally unconcerned that I was being wrestled and shoved out of the grounds. My mind was fixated on my remains against her body… she, licking them from her lips and my cock still seeking further gratification.


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Dogging it

I don’t precisely want to come across as some sort of foremost authority in the sex-crazed phenomenon sweeping across parking areas all around the country, as I am not, but ladies and gents, it was much more than expected and I shall be doing it over and over again.

I hadn’t heard of it (the phenomenon) until around a month ago when a friend – who knew slightly nothing more than I did – convinced me of tagging along for some “let’s see what happens” kinda fun. By word of mouth he learned of a kickingly-acitve spot not 30 minutes walk from my home. We decided to heed all possible sexually transmitted decease warning… yeah ok, that wasn’t and isn’t much of a deterrent for the testosterone oozing out of my ears; a time and date were set with much anticipation. Each night prior to the date of the event, imagery of curves and sweat jumping from cloud to cloud kept me awake. Without much hesitation, know that I believe that if it were those images the cause of insomnia, it wouldn’t be possible to label it a disorder.

The daytime wait wasn’t much to have remembered had it not been for the insurmountable anticipation imprinting my thoughts. The sheer vigor pumping through my body during the walk to the destination intoxicated me with the prospect of the carnal fest to be had with perfect strangers. I spoke not one sentence while my friend spoke the entire journey. It wasn’t until after walking back home that I even considered that I didn’t really hear a damn thing he said. I was too happily engorged, too invigorated, too damn fixated by the feeling of vibrations traveling up my legs to my crotch with each step. Every calorie required for any and all mental activity was concentrated in the throbbing in my pants. I was standing tall and ready to spew on or in someone. It was so appeasing that I could have returned home without even carrying out our plan, all because the sensation on my solider was of pure, well, I’ve been had; I might not have even missed bypassing the lust of some stranger dribbling down my shaft, I felt so good. That was the sort of heartfelt lust revving me up that night.

The park and transport was scattered with vehicles. Most were stationed just under post lamps; I reasoned to elicit the most ardent of services. Why else would someone be at full display as if meat hanging form a hook at the market? Head lights, parking lights, inside lights on, off, blinking; windows up, down all the way, half way; doors fully opened, ajar, closed, even locked. It was a Christmas tree spectacle filled with goodies to taste and batter.

I’m an impatient person yet, the thought of missing something too great to have neglected kept me from launching towards it all. I allowed time to let it all simmer. I was just about to climb through the open window of a vehicle with three women spread as if American eagles in full flight about to snatch the pray when the sight staring at me from the corner of my eye stalled my approach towards the tripleta. The figure staring back at me wasn’t just a physique; no sir, it was not, sir; no, it was the scenery that must await every angel at the entrance of heaven. It was one of those structures crafted so tenderly that it instantly becomes one of nature’s wonders. It was figuratively and literally exceptional. Not one, nor very many could have made the slightest, most insignificant of improvements.

As is the case when I’m confronted with superior irrational elation, there was little choice other than climbing the structure to chisel away at perfection with the utter most pleasure of extracting nourishment. As inconceivable impossible sight as that was, is how I stammered towards it. I pushed aside anyone faintly close to my trajectory path; I was about to detonate and the target callously made herself visible.

She swayed side to side; her torso leaned up and over inside the driver’s side open window. Her feet dangling about, at times reaching, others not, the floor. The lines of her calves coming up to meet the hamstrings at the back of the knee pointed upwards to a nearly luminescent yellow panties tug snugly to her figure. I made my way through the crowd that was beginning to surround her, even slapped away the few hands that had lifted her skirt. I drew close, leaned at the waist, grasped her feet, unlatched her high-heel shoes then ran my mouth from her Achilles heel up her calf, to her inner thigh, reaching over with both hands and grabbing the panties; hooking my thumbs just under her buttocks and massaging them until forcing the panties to meet right between her butt cheeks, creating the plumpness of a plum ready to seep into my mouth.

The logical step was to tug a tad bit at the panties to fully sung the piece of cloth to her delicious lady. With my left hand, I quickly unobstructed her by moving the undergarment half way to the left butt cheek. It was done so meticulously that even the aroma that should have stricken me hard and indiscreetly didn’t have a chance to seep into the open air. A few more slaps to eager competitors hands seeking to capitalize on my pray had me on my way again.

Experienced and not, men or women, have not seen this much size, this much joy, this much lip, this much supple cushion creating a vagina; but, because that night decadence shook within me; that pussy was a carnival in a music-less world. It was tightly plush, lips against one another trying to keep secrets from me. Her ass cheeks came down around it caving in creating the illusion of a mitt in receiving stance. Someone took careful consideration into the impact that garden was going to have in those who sew its fruit.

After little consideration, I used my nose to split the lips apart. If any, the sense of smell seems to be the most appropriate of them all to commence this feast. She reached back with both hands and pulled me tightly against her then, released. Her aroma clung onto my nose with scents of devastation speaking to me. They told me to smell, to bite, to suck, to suckle, to finger, to engulf, even to ride my penis right down from the anal orifice down to the clitoris.

I lost track of time, actions, those around me, whether I had or didn’t any help; however, back at home my heartbeat rejected continuous attempts to relax. It beat strangely fast and in total disharmony. My cock still throbbed and the moisture clinging to it and soaking the scrota smelled of her. I insanely stroke it, time and again bringing my hands to my nose to inhale the lust still scattered about. The head sparkled gloriously, in my thoughts from the beating it got, well, at the carnival.

Now, in the AM, sheets with her scent attached them tell me I will refuse to clean them, to bathe myself, to wash my hands for sometime. I want to still feel her against my cock, her joy caressing it, protecting it from feeling alone, soft, cold…