Letters from the Brujo

Letters from the Brujo
Literary Erotica
by Lord Malinov

Last week, our server became intoxicated and misdistributed a fair amount of mail. I know that politeness should have forced me to toss the letters which were obviously not mine away unread but curiosity has always had a stronger influence on me than good manners. Most of the letters sent by fate were less interesting even than my own, and I promptly obeyed etiquette and discarded those at once.. This one, however, proved more intriguing than the rest. I leave you to judge how much so.

From: xxxxx@xxxxxx.com
Organization: Hotel Brujo
To: xxxxxxxx@xxx.com
Date sent: Wed, 4 Dec 1996 01:49:09 -0005
Subject: Promises Kept
Priority: normal

My Darling;

I promised you that I would write you at once should any thing interesting happen to me on this trip. It had at first seemed there would be nothing to tell – the business meetings yielded no more than the crap table – but tonight has proved unexpectedly strange, and so in consideration of my promise, I will forgo a few hours of sleep to relate the episode which I have just witnessed. I think you will agree that the tale which composes this evening warrants these complimentary sheets of description.

I retired early from the tables, eager to escape the bout of poor luck that had followed me to this resort. You know how the rooms are laid at the Brujo, with the back deck overlooking the sea. I stepped out onto the deck at around eleven, breathing deeply the mist of brine, listening to the steady roar of falling waves. The moon made no appearance in the vault of heaven and the night fell dark around me. I took a seat in one of the wrought iron chairs and wondered if my luck would ever change.

No more than twenty minutes had passed when light suddenly erupted from the room next to mine – the deck is common to all of the rooms, you might recall, and so though I sat straight back of my room, nothing prevented me from seeing directly into my neighbor’s room. Indeed, how could I prevent watching the goings on behind the glass, when it was illuminated with the only light in many miles, and sat no further than twelve feet from my shadowed face? A young woman and an older man of maybe fifty stood in my view.

She stepped toward me. She was an exceptionally pretty woman, with blonde hair and I fancied her eyes were blue. She dressed, at any rate, in a tight indigo cocktail dress which draped in a flattering manner over her very feminine curves. Her manner bespoke some experience, so although she looked rather young, I would have guessed her to be in her late twenties or early thirties; A young woman has natural assets in her youth, but passing time teaches a woman to make the most of those attributes. As she stood for a moment in the corner near the window, I thought she seemed nervous, or at least cautious, but at the same time I detected a bit of provocation in the easy sway of her hips.

The man seemed strong, big and muscular, although considerably older than his companion. He took off his dark suit coat and then laid it deliberately over the back of a chair, taking care to smooth any unnecessary wrinkles. He sat down on the bed and smiled.

“You are a lovely woman,” he said casually. “I’m beginning to be glad that I agreed to this arrangement. You must understand this is not usually the way I do business, but your offer was simply too intriguing to be dismissed out of hand. I’m still skeptical, however, about the ultimate wisdom. Johnny owes me a great deal of money.” She looked at him with a twinge of fear in her eyes.

“I can make it worthwhile – I promise.” Her voice sounded desperate and yet seductive. I, myself, had little doubt she could in fact make good the debt, whatever the price. As the man eyed her carnivorously and broadened his already wide smile, he seemed to agree. This innocent looking woman had large breasts, a delicate waist, a round little ass and an angelic face. I suspected his imagination had little trouble recouping his debts.

“The thing I like,” he said as she began to dance slowly and pulled a comb from her golden hair, “is that such a wholesome looking woman could be married to a crumb like Johnny. You look like a good girl, like a mother.” She unzipped her dress and began to slip it off her white shoulders. “And now you’re promising me satisfactions. Lady,” he growled, “I’m gonna enjoy this.”

The blue fabric fell to the floor, and this young mother stood before me in white lace panties and bra and the man on the bed was almost drooling as this sweet looking blonde, noticing his hunger, starts to cower in the corner, overcome by the powerful masculine demands she seems to sense in his apparent appetite. He snarled low and rolled his eyes as if to tell her that he was losing patience. She turned around so that her lacy butt was pushed towards him, and as she leaned against the window pane, I could see the glimmer of a tear streaking down her cheek. He reached forward and took hold of the elastic of her lace panties, and exposed a bit of her voluptuous behind. She pulled out of his reach, and adjusted her panties to restore the little modesty she suddenly seemed eager to retain.

“Look, lady,” he said gruffly. “I’m not passing on twelve grand and a chance to fuck up Johnny just to play cat and mouse with your undergarments. I want you to drop your drawers and show me some of that pink little pussy this instant, or the deal is off. And don’t get me wrong, I’ll fuck you anyway, sister – maybe prorate Johnny for what I decide you’re worth. But if we’re really going to do business, I expect you to smile and enjoy yourself. Remember, sister, this deal was your idea, and I expect something for my money.”

“Yes,” she said as she abruptly pushed her panties down her white thighs. “Forgive me for trying to slow the pace, but I want to give you everything you want from me, and I just wanted to get used to you, so I can relax myself and fuck you the way you deserve to be fucked.” She rubbed the naked blonde hair of her muff as she spoke. “You’re a masculine man, and I’m not used to giving myself to such raw power. I usually command the rapt obedience of fancy boys with my sweet cunny. I like to see them kneel and fight for my attentions. But you are not like them. You care nothing for my favor, so long as you can steal my virtue. I’m a good woman, and you want to stick your dirty prick into my shrine,” she began as she pushed her pelvis forward toward him, rubbing herself vigorously, “I despise you, and yet I think I could truly enjoy myself. I want you to forgive Johnny but not nearly as much as I want your prick in my mouth. I want your prick…” She swallowed the words in a deep throated moan and her panties fell to the floor.

“Turn around,” he said, “I want to see your pussy beg for me.” She turned away from him, and bent at the waist. His tongue darted from his mouth to touch the moist kiss of her cunt. She shuddered and put a hand against the glass. No more tears coursed her cheeks, but only the deep flush of her arousal as she ground her fertile gap against his face, revealing to him and to me the eagerness with which this seemingly demure woman could seek pleasure. His tongue slipped into her ass, and she growled deliriously as she fingered her clit in accompaniment.

You might, I suppose, wonder how I managed to compose myself while I witnessed these remarkable incidents. Naturally my hormones were incensed at the first display of naked flesh, a situation which had only grown more severe as the scene grew more and more sexual. It would be impossible to pinpoint the minute when my prick stiffened, and equally unlikely to discriminate the moment when I released my staff from the cloth confines and began to stroke the dragon in appreciation of the tableau that was unveiled before me. It shall suffice to say that I participated fully in the decadence as a voyeur, and took my satisfactions with as much abandon as the two lovers who entertained me.

She released his cock, and gasped when she witnessed the size of his ravenous member – it was a heavy club with a life of its own, and a hunger to match. She took hold of his staff with both hands and brought her pretty face close. The serpent leaped forward and struck her on the nose, which made her laugh a sweet giggle of exploded tension, and she slipped the hard rod between her lips, sucking down the full engorged length of his virility.

She licked his dick with enthusiasm, her yellow hair swaying with the rhythm of her devotions, her fingers teasing his dark balls and keeping the sword well aimed as she drove the head down into her throat. As she ate this ogre’s cock, her pussy writhed before my eyes, her lips thickly swollen and scarlet in aroused anticipation of the invasion she craved, dripping profusely as she teased her clit with her grind. I was sorely tempted to move myself closer to the window, to take a closer look at the ass that blossomed before my eyes, but I feared the slightest movement might call their attention to me, and bring the scene to an abrupt close, or create another, far less pleasant one.

Of course, given the decadence these two randy lovers had sunk into, perhaps they would have welcomed me as another partner in their passion. As innocent as this woman had seemed at first, it had quickly become clear that two pricks would not be unappreciated by this wanton femme.

“I want you to come in my face,” she said as she rubbed his cock in her hand while kissing the purple head. “I want the spray of lust that is locked in your balls to explode on my red lips and flushed white cheeks. I want to suck the fuck out of you.”

He took fistfuls of golden hair in his large hands and furiously pumped her mouth over his staff. Her face grew wide-eyed with surprise and tried desperately to accept the rhythm he forced upon her, searching for moments to breathe, eager to drink the juice she teased from his balls. Suddenly he tossed her aside, leaving her staring reverently, lustfully at him and the massive glistening prick that writhed atop him.

“Take off the bra,” he said and he stood as she fumbled with the clasp. “Now lay down on the bed and show me how you fuck yourself.” She did as she was told, and I sat watching her fingers fiddle the pink of her soft blonde cunt. Her big nippled breasts begged to be squeezed. The guy stood alongside her, pulling on his big prong, encouraging her with promises to fuck her little cunt. At first she performed perfunctorily, but as she watched that huge dick dance, she spread her legs wide and toyed with her erect clit until she could hardly stop herself from leaping up to skewer herself on his weapon. She fucked her dripping wet pussy with her fingers madly, and even slipped a finger into her asshole during one intense flurry.

Finally, he leapt atop her, and they melted into a vast array of feverish fucks. Her blue eyes spoke helplessly of her surrender to his forceful assaults and her lean legs spread wide to welcome and encourage his dark rod deeper inside. He pounded her long and hard and she lifted her hips to meet each insistent stroke, grunting and squirming in her ardent attempt to lose herself in his fuck. Pulling her atop him, he took hold of her tense nipples in his fingers as they bounced with the same rhythm she used to ride her cunt along his staff. He took her from behind like an animal, smacking the white round flesh of her up-raised bottom, and like a horse firmly coaxed into a gallop, she moaned deeply with each slap and fucked him even harder. Her full breasts brushed the carpet as he drove his prick down into her womb. Pressing his cock into her mouth for a moment, he returned again to kneel behind her and sunk his thick cock into her asshole. The moans mixed with screams as he began to screw her down in earnest, and in an anxious moment, her whole body began to spasm with squeals and groans and I knew that all the tension of her fear was finally finding release in her orgasmic convulsions. When the tremors finally died down, I knew she would offer no more resistance, that lust had finally stolen her soul.

He withdrew the firm prick from her ass and turned her around for a kiss before he placed his staff into her mouth again. She sucked his cock like a woman crazed, eager to declare her submission and desperate to taste his hot lust. He lay her down on the bed and with a possessive kiss, he dove his prick down hard into her cunt, and after a few determined strokes, arose and was soon spewing a huge mess of sperm over her pretty, pretty face.

We all lay back in a general feeling of satisfaction, they on their bed and I in my iron chair. After a few minutes, the man rose and after pawing her drenched cunt for a lascivious moment, he dressed and after again arousing the woman’s attention with a familiar fondle, he took a piece of paper from his pocket and tore it down the middle. “Tell Johnny,” he said, “that you’re a righteous whore. He can lose money to me anytime. You have a beautiful ass, lady. I’ll give you a call.” With that, he left.

She got up off the bed, and pulled her clothes back on. She picked up the torn paper, and placed the pieces in her bra. She departed.

You were brilliant. I am quite proud of you. I have no doubt that Tony left fully satisfied – decidedly more so than I am. Indeed, tonight has easily been the best performance of your career – and for such a princely sum. Twelve grand is by far the best price we’ve collected thus far – or at least the worst disaster we’ve averted. I’m feeling good about our attempt tomorrow – I can’t always lose, and so long as you pay the debts, we keep our winnings. We have hit upon a perfect scheme. Rich and well-fucked.

You look so peaceful, sleeping there. I shall not wake you and satisfy the lusts you have brewed within me, but will instead let you rest. Tonight has been quite an ordeal. What will tomorrow bring? A sincere fuck from your husband, at any rate. I couldn’t believe the way you sucked his prick. My jism splattered the window, and I was twelve feet away. Sexy mama.



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A Poorly Written Essay

A Poorly Written Essay
Literary Erotica
by Lord Malinov

She shuffled through the stack of papers as she wandered among the desks, pulling out a particular sheet as she passed each student, careful to keep a grip on the expanding fan of essays. Mark caught her eye as she searched for his and at once felt her disappointment. She folded the sheet slightly as she passed his essay to him and continued through the maze of seats.

Mark turned over the assignment they had completed during the last class session. There were two red marks in the title alone, vicious circles around his apostrophical errors of “A Midsummer’s Nights Dream” and two dozen more cruel strikes in the body of the three paragraphs. It had been a simple exercise, so there was no grade, but at the bottom of the piece were the words, “See me after class!”

After a few comments on the varied use of rhyme in the comedic romance, Miss Porter turned their attention to Othello.

Mark watched as she spoke, intrigued by the twinge of color in her cheek as she read Iago’s speech, outlining his malicious scheme. Her dark blue eyes seemed to rage as she read, a fierce gaze that stirred Mark’s interest. She closed the book and dismissed the students. He could feel his heart beat as he stood and approached the front of the classroom.

Liza dashed to Miss Porter and began pouring out her thoughts on the Moor and his lily-white mistress. Mark sat back on one of the front desks and stifled a yawn. Miss Porter nodded and nodded until Liza, finally satisfied that she had proven her knowledge to the English teacher, picked up her books and left. Miss Porter rolled her eyes as she looked at Mark.

“You wanted to see me?” he asked.

“Mark. Could you drop by my office this afternoon? I want to discuss your paper with you.”

“Sure. What time?”

“After two. Before five.” Miss Porter smiled to show her concern for her student. Mark nodded.

He arrived at the tiny office in the belly of Wells Hall just after two. Miss Porter gestured him in and continued making marks in a ledger, so Mark quietly sat down amidst the stacked volumes of Tennyson and Melville. After a few minutes, she handed him a sheet of paper with twenty sentences on it.

“Put apostrophes where they belong,” she instructed. Mark pulled out a pen and began noting possessions in a steady progression. He handed the sheet back. Picking up her red pen, Miss Porter began to read through the expressions.

“These are perfect,” she said, confused. “So you understand apostrophes?”

“Yeah,” Mark said. “They aren’t very hard.”

“But you consistently used them incorrectly in your paper – twelve mistakes in a single page of writing.”

“I was writing about the lovers,” he said with a blush. “Sitting in class thinking through so many casual affairs got me excited. Grammar kind of goes out the window when I get aroused emotionally.” His heart beat hard as he spoke.

“I know,” she said softly. “I thought you observations were . . . interesting, but the bad grammar took me out of it. You should try to remember that when you’re writing, you’re communicating. I wanted to hear what you had to say, but it was as if your speech was slurred. Remember that you’re talking to someone – to me – and speak clearly.”

“That was the problem. I’m sorry, Miss Porter, but it’s hard to discuss the orgies of Midsummer with such a beautiful woman and keep my diction.” Mark looked at his hands in his lap, wringing nervously. “I mean, you’re only, what, four years older than I am and . . .” He felt a hand on his arm. “. . .so pretty.” His voice trailed. Mark looked up and into Miss Porter’s eyes. The dark azure raged with passion. His breath halted and she kissed him.

He pulled her easily onto his lap as the touch of their hunger expressed the whirlwind of unleashed desire. Miss Porter, Kathy, the pretty young assistant English professor touched him, lifted his shirt to run her hands over his strong chest, through his dark curls and in a moment’s abandon let herself go as she kissed him. Mark kneaded her supple flesh, exploring the curves and swells of her body anxiously, madly, eagerly.

She paused a moment to lift her soft yellow sweater up over her head, and Mark at once suckled the dark nipples of a full naked breast. Kathy sighed and closed her eyes as she held his head hard against the erotic tingling. His hand slipped under her long skirt and held the moist furrow in the palm of his strength and she wantonly pushed herself against the probing until he had found his way beneath the satin shroud. A finger slipped inside her and she gasped.

An echo of footsteps in the hallway sent a shock of fear through the young teacher and she paused to listen. In the moment’s hesitation, Mark pushed his thick cock into the damp pit and Kathy fell back onto her desk with the thrust, sending Joyce and Johnson crashing to the floor. Her hands clutched and crumpled papers as he stroked his prick into her waterfall. A staple in her ledger bit into her ass and as the excitement climbed her precipice, she wondered in a gushing flood of the juice of their orgasm’s release if they would drown good Liza’s all-too-good marks.

She sat up as the wave of heavy breathing left them fading gently. Mark smiled shyly and stole a nervous quick kiss. Kathy held her arms out to hold him and drew him into her embrace. The sound of laughter down the halls interrupted their sweet pause and Mark tucked in his shirt as Kathy smoothed her skirt and picked Ulysses off the floor.

“Yes,” she said in a murmur, “Yes.”

As she pulled her sweater on again, a knock came at the office door. Liza slowly peered inside.

“I’ll do better on the next essay,” said Mark, collecting his books.

“Hmmm,” said Kathy, “grammar isn’t everything, you know.”

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A Matter of Pride

A Matter of Pride
Literary Erotica
by Lord Malinov

Yellow lights reflected in the corners of the glass ashtray under the grey-blue twirls of smoke from a smoldering cigarette, a long thin cracked forgotten ash. Kevin tipped his mug slightly, sloshing the last few swallows of beer around the foam coated side.

“Can I get you another?” asked the dark-haired waitress.

“Yeah,” said Kevin lazily. He sat up and looked at his watch. “Wait,” he said. The small woman looked up at him as she picked up an empty plate, crusted with melted cheese and a thick swathe of pasty sour cream. “Yeah, another one,” Kevin repeated. “Might as well.”

The glass doors of the hotel bar opened into the night. Kevin looked up, hoping. A heavy man in a black wool coat stepped inside. Kevin watched as the man brushed a thin powder of snow from his broad shoulders. The gust of cold air reached deep inside, pushing the wispy column of smoke into a dissipated haze. Kevin picked up the filter of his cigarette and ground it into the dust of the ashtray. He looked at his watch again.

“I can’t believe this,” he said, looking around the bar. A couple,dressed in black, leaned over their small table, conspiring. Kevin admired the curve of her heavy thigh escaping from the black wool skirt, her limb tinted in dark stocking. The young man spoke with his hand curled around his chin, two fingers resting on his unshaven cheek. The pair shared a scowl when a new, too popular song erupted from the bar’s tinny sound system.

Another chilling blast of cold air turned Kevin’s attention back toward the entrance. The doors stood wide open as two couples tried to organize their intentions while they came inside. Kevin snarled silently and pulled another cigarette from the crumpled red and white package in his breast pocket. The waitress smiled with a thin gap between her front teeth as she put down a fresh mug of beer.

“Anything else?” she asked.

“No, this is great, thanks,” said Kevin, squirming to sit up. The waitress shrugged and went to address the new group of patrons. Kevin strained to see out the large window behind a trio of suited businessmen, hunched over their cocktails, puffing their cigars and laughing with deep, knowing chuckles. Frost crept in from the edges, but Kevin could make out the motion of traffic in the parking lot.

“It’s not all that bad out there,” he said, wondering if he should just pack it in and try to salvage the evening by going out. Kevin sighed and took a long drink. He picked up the slowly burning cigarette and took a puff of smoke. He didn’t really want to leave. He didn’t want to wander the streets of a strange city. He didn’t want to trust the advice of some foul-smelling cabbie. He didn’t want to find himself out in the cold snow, more alone there then he was here. He just wanted Carla to show up.

Kevin shifted in his seat, realizing his need to find the bathroom. He stood up, stretching his long legs. The cold door opened and a short thick man and his furry round wife giggled as they shuffled into the warmth, slapping their shoulders and rubbing pink ears. Kevin wondered if he dared abandon his vigilant watch for his old friend even for three minutes, but he looked at his watch. If Carla showed up an hour late and didn’t wait three minutes, well, that was just peachy. Kevin went past the island of the bar and down the dark hallway to the men’s room.

Coming back from relieving his bladder’s pressure, Kevin took a quick stroll around the bar, making certain that Carla hadn’t found her way into some unseen nook. A tired looking, wastingly thin woman in a red blazer sat quietly across from a timid pock-faced man who played intently with a salt shaker. Kevin took hold of the brass rail at the corner of the bar. The waitress, reading her notepad, stepped into him.

“Excuse me,” he said at once.

“Oh,” said the waitress, shaking her head and stepping past him quickly.

“My pleasure,” Kevin said quietly, gently laughing.

A young woman sat alone at a table. Kevin stopped, draped in the large ivy that hung from the top of the bar, and stared at the tall blonde girl. She pursed her ruby lips to take an impatient puff of her long cigarette. Kevin smiled. Her white cotton blouse fell elegantly over her shoulders, a soft cascade that rose along the rapids of her full breasts. She lifted a glass of orange juice and sipped. Long, pale calves angled out of her linen white skirt, one foot dangling and pulsing in rhythm to the music. The pretty blonde intently watched the entrance to the bar.

“I’m sorry,” said the waitress, coming close to Kevin.

“My fault,” he said and went back to his table. The young couple in black gave a sudden burst of approval as the music changed and they hopped toward the bare space of floor to shake to the exotic rhythms of their song. Kevin pulled out a different chair at his table and sat down, one eye on the door, another on the blonde.

Kevin checked his watch. When they had spoke on the phone, before he flew in for the conference, Carla had seemed excited to see him. Kevin had expected her to be. She had always, at least it seemed to him, had a crush on him. He wouldn’t have called her, particularly, except that he dreaded the trip and hoped that meeting someone who would be really happy to see him would make the ordeal easier to bear. Kevin wanted to be adored, if only for a night. He lit another cigarette.

“What I should do is . . . ” Kevin said happily and he let a long puff of smoke pour forth. He stole a glance at the blonde as she continued to stare at the door. She was obviously waiting for someone who hadn’t shown up. Kevin found it hard to believe anyone would forget such a beauty. “I guess I shouldn’t feel too bad,” he said and took a drink of his beer.

“You, too?” he imagined himself saying.

“I’m just so mad,” she would say, still staring at the door.

“It’s just inexcusable. Do you mind?” Kevin would pull out a chair.

“Be my guest,” she would say and maybe smile at him. “I don’t know why I bother. He always treats me this way.” Her lower lip would tremble.

“Bah. You deserve better than that. So do I.” Kevin would buy her a drink, perhaps some Champagne to celebrate their escape from the clutches of disrespect. After a few glasses, she would ask if they could go back to his place and Kevin would pull out his key. “Right upstairs.” She would pick up her coat and he’d lead her away.

Of course, that would be the very moment when Carla would finally show up. “Sorry, Carla,” Kevin would say. “Maybe next trip. Who’s sorry now?” Kevin laughed cruelly to himself.

Kevin picked up his cigarette and studied the folds of soft cotton along the blonde woman’s chest, the hints of her pale white breasts. He imagined the dark rings of her nipples, the moan he would elicit from those succulent lips, the grateful gaze of desire, the heavy press of her hips as she knelt over him, those lean thighs spread to push that golden twat down hard. Kevin felt his prick stiffen as he lusted, dreaming of her smooth, creamy skin and her hungry, anxious kiss.

The door opened, washing the air with a burst of frigid cold. Kevin turned to watch the thin woman in the red blazer hold the door as the red-faced man followed behind. Kevin sighed and looked back toward blonde. She stood up, taking her coat. Kevin picked up his cigarette for a final puff and crushed it in the ashes. The young woman walked toward him and Kevin felt his heart skipping, watching the sway of her hips under the loose linen skirt. She pulled her tan coat over her shoulders and walked past Kevin’s table. Stopping for a moment to button her coat, the pretty blonde opened the door and vanished into the snowy night.

Kevin picked up his beer and drank the last swallow. The mug hit the table with a clunk. Kevin started to look at his watch, but stopped himself.

“Another one?” asked the waitress.

“No,” said Kevin. The door opened once more with a burst of cold. A young woman, her cheeks blushed red with cold stepped inside. Brown curls swam from her knit yellow cap. She looked at Kevin and smiled.

“Kevin,” she called out, full of joy. “I was afraid you’d have left. My car wouldn’t start. I had to call a cab.” Pulling out a chair, she sat down.

“Carla, I’m so glad to see you,” Kevin said, smiling. He leaned over and gave her a hug. “Can I get you a drink?”

“Sure, unless you just want to go up to your room. I hope you don’t mind if I spend the night. I don’t think I could bear to go out in that snow again.” Carla’s brown eye’s twinkled as she grinned lasciviously.

“That’s what I like about you, Carla. You’re reading my mind.”

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Literary Erotica
by Lord Malinov

I stood beside the futon while Silver sucked my cock. I relaxed in a stable stance to enjoy every pleasure she dispensed so eagerly, so expertly, so deliciously.

“I have some friends,” I said in a low, deliberate voice, making sure she could follow my words while she busily worked my steel hard erection, “who want to come over, smoke a bowl, you know, pull out their cocks.”

“Interesting,” she said, returning to her task, her enthusiasm rising, betraying her obvious interest in my revelation. She couldn’t really say anything, occupied as she was, but I knew what she was thinking. “Tell me more,” she thought.

“Glade, you know about him.” He had posed his erection next to an air freshener can, to give perspective to the picture. It is remarkably easy to disguise the actual size of a man’s penis in photographs. Glade was a man who understood.

“There’s the black guy from Africa, so you can count on an accent. Silver has a thing for accents. Don’t we all?

“Some younger guys, all ready to blow a joint and get nasty with you.”

Silver groaned, sucking deeply and I groaned, losing control. Silver gulped down my lusty cream and licked my twitching dick until all my powers subsided.

Things ended there, as I knew they would. Some days Silver is in the mood for a blow job and her pussy stays out of reach. The seed had been planted. Great sex goes on for days.

The next morning, Silver fed the dogs and fixed coffee while I worked on my blogs. I soon met her in the kitchen and she met me with a big mug of java. I rolled a joint, lit it and passed it on to Silver.

“So tell me about the guys,” she said, a thick grey cloud escaping her smile.

“Glade is ready to come over anytime. You’ll have to take a look at the rest.”

“Interesting,” she said. Silver says that a lot.

I stopped by the futon, later that evening. Silver reached over and played with my cock. She stroked me for a while, teasing me into action and then began to suck.

I mentioned the guys again. Silver tore off her yoga pants and began playing with her sopping wet cunt. Soon I sat down on the futon and she took my dick deep while raising her ass high. I reached under the futon for a box of toys and pushed a slut plug in her ass. She began to orgasm as I pushed a buzzing vibrator against her swollen clit. She sucked me and then quit to concentrate on her orgasms and then sucked again.

Fucking her with heated abandon with the vibrator and butt plug and came on the tit pressed around my cock but I lost none of my excitement and kept thrusting the toys.

“Fuck my ass,” she finally said.

“My pleasure,” I responded, getting off the futon and behind her. My thick, rigid member slid into her pussy and then up her loosened asshole.  She came and came and came.

“I’ll talk to the guys,” I said as we rose from the futon.

“You should do that,” she said and skipped happily away.





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Literary Erotica
by Lord Malinov

So get this, first day of classes, not just the first day, not just the first class, but his first class on his first day of being an associate professor. Right out of the gate. He shows up to teach his first class on the first day of the new semester and there’s a big-boobed blonde in the front row. It’s a freshman class, so she’s probably young but she doesn’t look innocent. Her relentless gaze captures him and her smile holds him. He’s not at his best but he has good energy so the class comes away liking him. And the blonde keeps staring and smiling until the rest of the class has gone away.

Left alone in the empty classroom, they talked about the class, about the texts, about office hours and school policy. Time seemed to fly away. He went to his next class. Presumably, she went to hers. Over the next week, they shared some classes, some long conversations, a few pots of coffee. Then she asked  him to help her move.

It was a long way out of town. He followed her there and they pulled up in front of a big gorgeous house, nestled into hugely overgrown gardens. She retrieved the house key from under and doormat and welcomed him in.

She told him it was her uncle’s place, that he was in Europe and wouldn’t be back for years. She’d agreed to take care of the property and although it was a long way from campus, she didn’t have to pay rent. He carried her luggage to the master bedroom. She asked him to move a large cabinet out of the bedroom and into another bedroom. He struggled with the heavy cabinet and she slipped into something more comfortable.

When he finished the job and returned to find her dressed provocatively, the sex began. They screwed and fixed dinner and screwed and ate and screwed and drank and screwed and screwed and screwed.  Finally, they slept and then the new day led them to the same course of lewd exploration, as insatiable as any two youths who’ve just discovered sex.

Monday morning came and they couldn’t be bothered to go to class. He called in sick and she just didn’t go. This went on for a week until he went back to his place to get some clothes and toiletries. He lost his job at the school. She presumably dropped her classes.

A month goes by and no one sees him. He won’t get off the girl. There are some texts, some salacious pictures, some posts. He sounds exhausted but happy. Surely this won’t go on forever.

Apparently, one day when she was off at the market and he was asleep on the sofa in his underpants, the people who own the house came home.  They are nobody’s uncle. They saw the man in his underpants sleeping on the sofa and called the police. He told his story but they arrested him, just to be sure. The girl vanished. No one knows who she was. I don’t think she was even registered for classes.

He got a job in sales. Teaching just didn’t work for him.


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Literary Erotica
by Lord Malinov

The best peek I ever stole happened one night when I was up late partying with my friend Alex, smoking in his bedroom and talking bullshit. His parents were out of town, and we were taking advantage of the luxury. After three years of college life, we knew what it felt like to be poor. Two days with unlimited access to a bar stocked with liquor and a kitchen stuffed with food was damn close to paradise to us.

That afternoon, Alex and I were lounging by his pool when I heard girls’ voices inside the house and turned to look.

“Who’s that?” I asked Alex.

“Sister,” he said, taking a sip from his bourbon and coke. “She goes to State.”

“Oh,” I said, picking up my drink for a sip.

“She’s hardly around when she comes home. In and out,” said Alex, and as he predicted, the girls disappeared and were soon forgotten.

We went to a party that night, saw a few people, but it was one of those nights when absolutely nothing seemed to be happening, so we went back to Alex’s house. About one-thirty, we were pulling bongs in his bedroom, talking stupid shit when I heard noises downstairs.

“Who’s that?” I asked nervously, feeling a twinge of paranoia.

“Sister,” said Alex lazily, his eyes closing. “Theresa.”

“Is she cool?” I asked. “Should I put it away?”

“Fuck, yes,” said Alex in a soft smiling voice. “She’s a party girl. If she finds our dope, she’ll smoke it all.”

Relieved, I loaded the bowl with a hard kernel of weed and set it on fire with a suck. A sweet grey trail of smoke lifted heavenward. My lungs full of heat, I offered the still smoldering bong to Alex. He didn’t move, his eyes having fallen firmly shut. I held my breath for a while longer and then let the rich cloud erupt into the room. The swirling shadows filled me with a sense of quiet as I gazed into the dim light. Then my stomach growled.

“Let’s get some food,” I said, shaking Alex slightly. He groaned, resisting my impulse to motion. I picked myself up and headed out the door.

When I opened Alex’s door, I immediately noticed a faint flickering blue glow coming from one of the doors down the hall. Curious and nervous, I closed the door as silently as I could and took slow gentle steps toward the open door. I moved like a cat as the room came into view, first catching sight of the small television that showed images of some energetic band in a frenetic display. A little further, and I saw a thick shock of black hair on the bed. She lay on her stomach, with her head turned away. Motionless, she seemed to be already asleep. I slid further down the far wall of the hallway, increasing my field of vision. To my delight, I soon caught sight of a ribbed grey tank-top that covered half of her back, the naked curve of the small of her back, and the bulge of her round bottom under her grey cotton panties. My heart pounded so loudly as I stared that I nearly passed out. I drank in the erotic view, greedily wishing I could somehow see more.

“Cindy?” a girl’s voice whispered. I nearly fell over from fright. Another girl walked into my sight. I froze motionless, afraid to even blink. A tall, blonde girl in purple flowered panties and creamy white skin stopped at the edge of the bed. “Move over,” she said, giving her friend a small shove. Cindy obliged with a roll toward the wall and Theresa climbed onto the bed to lie beside her, both girls on their backs under the flickering glow of music video light. I bit my lip. Theresa was an ordinary looking girl, but her naked tits were gorgeous, falling only slightly as they stood in youthful firmness, turned upward. “Goodnight,” she said softly, with a tender weariness.

“Sweet dreams,” said Cindy, turning onto her side to face the wall, jutting her grey-pantied ass against Alex’s sister. It seemed to me that Theresa smiled slightly and soon her nipples tightened, lifting her breasts slightly with each slow steady breath. Excitement smouldered fiercely in the dark night, a tension of self-awareness that slowed time and made each faint movement meaningful. The girls were drawing closer, testing the pretense of sleep with subtle daring. Finally, Theresa turned to mimic Cindy’s sideways curl, to feel the full length of the girl nestled against herself. An arm moved across to pull the girl closer. I stared hungrily at the wide swatch of purple cloth pulled in an angle between waist and thighs, framing Theresa’s youthful sweet ass.

Things transpired at a snail’s pace, at least that’s the way it seemed. At some point I decided I could hold myself steady more easily if I went down to my knees, and while the girls moved together with the tense patience of a tiny raindrop descending a window pane, I lowered myself to the floor in the hall. Theresa’s bottom moved in gentle ripples, a supple stirring that would have been imperceptible except for my intense gaze. A hushed and involuntary moan emerged sweetly from one of the girls and I closed my eyes, so furious was my lust at that moment. The grind of Theresa’s hips quickened and I without a thought, I began to unzip my fly.

As I tugged my pants open and wrapped my hand around my excited cock to give it a few hungry strokes, Theresa suddenly jerked herself up. I nearly fainted in the panic that swept over me, but before the burst of fear could compel me in any direction, the tall young blonde pulled Cindy over so that she laid face-up. Theresa quickly straddled her pretty friend. I didn’t move a muscle, my fingers clenching my dick tight. Theresa eagerly rubbed her panties against Cindy’s in tiny excited thrusts, satin brushing cotton to everyone’s delight. I quietly stroked myself to the verge of insanity. Yanking up the tank-top to expose Cindy’s tits, Theresa shook her own big boobs and squeezed the smaller cousins, causing Cindy to throw back her head and moan loudly. I yanked on my cock furiously, out of my mind.

All at once, Theresa jumped off the bed. Lust overpowered me. Another second and I would have stood up to go to her, greet her, grab her, share the wild fits of lust that were boiling inside me. Theresa turned her back and pushed down her panties with an anxious motion and then leapt back onto the bed, again straddling her friend but this time turned toward the foot. Theresa’s bare ass gleamed with the blue glow of the television as she lowered it over Cindy’s giggling face.

“Oh, God,” Theresa squealed with a shudder and twist. Cindy reached over to pull the pelvis closer to her face. Without moving her hips at all, Theresa yanked Cindy’s panties down her legs and over her feet. Then as she thrust her face eagerly between Cindy’s spread thighs, Theresa tossed the panties away.

The grey scanties floated my direction and landed in front of me, just inside the door. The girls moaned and shook, hands clutching, faces buried, squealing and thrashing. Without a thought, I reached forward to grab the discarded panties. A jolt of electricity went through me as I realized they were completely soaked. I held the drenched cotton to my nose and took a deep breath. A fierce orgasm began in that instant, clenching my balls, pushing me down and I’m sure I groaned loudly in the instant. The spice of Cindy’s sopping hot sex shot through me. Instinctively, I thrust her wet panties in the path of the spurts of my cock, pouring my excitement into her panties, mingling my lust with hers.

As the first rip finished tearing, I opened my eyes and stole another look at the girls. Theresa’s head was turned my way as her tongue reached down rhythmically to tease Cindy’s clit. I shuddered deeper, still coming, as her gaze devoured me. Beyond control, I continued stroking my cock until the last sensations escaped. A wicked smile touched Theresa’s lips before she turned back to pleasuring her friend.

I dropped the panties and fled to pass out on the floor of Alex’s room.

I woke up around ten the next morning. Alex was still sawing wood in his bed, so I went downstairs to see if there was any coffee. Theresa stood in the kitchen, drinking a cup, in a t-shirt and little else.

“Want some coffee?” she asked, lifting her mug in invitation. Her blue eyes smiled.

“Sure,” I said. Theresa reached up to fetch a cup from the cupboard, lifting her t-shirt slightly. She wore nothing underneath but a pair of grey cotton panties.

My tired eyes opened as wide as they could. Theresa handed me a cup of black coffee.

“Oh,” she said, realizing that I was stealing glances at her legs. She lifted the t-shirt slightly, enough to give me another glimpse of her panties. “I stole these from Cindy. Do you want them?”

“Excuse me?” I said, choking on a sip of hot coffee. Theresa pushed the panties down and tossed them toward me again.

“Next time you should knock,” she said with a laugh. The faint bulge of her big nipples pushed out under the white cotton of her shirt.

“Damn,” I said.

“Right,” Theresa said as she started out the door, heading back to her room. “Once was pretty lucky. But what are the chances there will be a next time?”

Theresa laughed as she disappeared and a moment later, Alex stumbled into the kitchen. I looked blankly at him, completely unable to think.

“What?” he asked. “Did I miss something?”

“Nothing I didn’t miss first,” I finally said, shaking my head. “Good as a mile. Damn.”

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Rock Me, Amadeus

Rock Me, Amadeus
Literary Erotica
by Lord Malinov

“Here, here, come in here, there and sit down.” Angelica shouldered a young man’s inert frame as she guided his weak steps through the dim light, working slowly around the end table and with a shove, deposited him on the tweed upholstered sofa. With a groan, Steven struck the back of his head on the short divan’s wooden frame. “Oh, sorry baby, I’m so sorry, I’ll get you some ice. Lean back, gently, here’s a pillow. Don’t close your eyes, baby. Promise me you’ll keep them open.”

“Ooh,” moaned Steven, bringing a cautious hand to his swollen lip. Trying to focus in the pale glow of the distant kitchen light, he looked to see if the lip was still bleeding. Softly, he felt the bump on his nose. “Damn,” he said. Angelica scurried back on her heels, carrying a cloth wrapped around several ice cubes.

“Here,” she said, handing him the cool, damp towel. Kicking off her shoes, she reached for the light switch. “Let me get a look at you.” Steven turned his dark eyes up to her, lost and grateful. “Poor baby,” she said tenderly. “You look like you just lost a fight.” Steven touched the terrycloth to his lip gingerly, slowly pressing it closer. He smiled, vaguely.

“I think that’s what happened. Lost the battle, anyway.”

“You’re going to have a black eye, baby. You were so brave.” Angelica knelt down beside the sofa and pressed her lips to Steven’s chest.

“Yeah, well, if you call stepping in front of a truck brave.”

“Bah,” spat Angelica, “Jack is a brute. He had no right to beat you up.” Steven winced.

“Someone should have explained that to him earlier. He seemed to think he had a right. Bam, bam, pow. What did it take? Six seconds?”

“Jack’s a boxer. He knows how to fight.”

“Figures,” said Steven, rubbing his calf. “I’ve got a hell of a bruise there.”

“You hit the fire hydrant when you fell.” Angelica frowned as her soft hands rubbed Steven’s belly.

“That was the only thing I hit, well, except the cement.”

“You didn’t defend yourself, you know baby. Why didn’t you put up your dukes?” Angelica raised her hands in a defensive pose. Steven lifted his left hand, a strong, sturdy looking paw into the light and smiled.

“I don’t think it would have helped, but I didn’t dare. My hands are my fortune. My face was just for show. I’m a musician.” Angelica took his hand to look more closely at the talented fingers and then rubbed them over her full, pink cheek.

“You have beautiful hands,” she purred.

“If I broke a finger, I’d be out of work for six weeks. This,” he said, indicating his roughed face, “will only cost me a few kisses.”

“No, baby, it won’t cost you kisses. Not from me.” Angelica leaned up and kissed the unbruised corner of his mouth. “You were my hero. So brave.”

“So stupid,” said Steven.

“No, baby, not stupid. Jack acted like a child, bursting into the bar and making his demands. You refused to let him push you around.” Steven put his hand on the back of Angelica’s head and teased her thick black hair.

“He pushed me pretty good, I’d say.”

“With his fists, but not with his will. You stood up to him, even knowing, especially knowing that you couldn’t hit him back.”

“Well,” said Steven, his smile evidencing a little pride, “I couldn’t let him talk to you that way. It wasn’t right.”

“Oh, baby,” said Angelica, tickling her fingers down her chest. “You were so brave. Jack’s just a punk, thinking he can control everybody with his loud talk and his fists.”

“Angelica,” said Steven, softly.

“Yes, baby?”

“What kind of relationship did you have with Jack? I mean . . . .”

“No, baby. We dated for a while. Nothing serious. Nothing real except that he’s like all men, just jealous and possessive. I don’t do anything he hasn’t done.”

“So he was out of line,” said Steven, shifting as Angelica’s hand began to caress his prick through his trousers.

“Absolutely. I told him we were through long ago. He wouldn’t believe me. You were such a brave boy.” She pulled at the zipper of his pants.

“Some guys just don’t know when to quit,” said Steven. “There was this one guy, back at the Fall Symposium.” Angelica maneuvered a thickening staff from out of the shadows of cloth. “I would have laid him out, if I didn’t have to, you know.” Steven held his hand in the light.

“I know, baby,” she said, kissing the hard flesh of his cock.

“I would have knocked him flat with some Rachmaninoff, just Pow!”

Angelica turned her head to smile at Steven, pushed her shiny black hair behind a pale ear and sank his rigid girth between her red lips.

“Nobody grabs a lady’s arm when she’s out with me, that’s for damn sure. Oh, that’s good. Such a pretty smile, sucking my dick. I would have done him flat. My hands are very strong, you know, and fast. Oh, fuck, suck it Angie. He got a lucky punch, before I was ready. I would have crashed him like a cymbal. Just bam, bam, baboom. You are so hot, such a fine ass. Yeah, wiggle. That piece of crap had better stay out of my way. Next time, I’ll arpeggio his face. You like that, don’t you, like sucking my big prick, yeah, suck it Angie.”

Steven pressed her head down as the shudders ran from deep within to pour a fountain of hot spray from his cock. Angelica laughed with delight as his wet, watery orgasm spurted into her mouth.

“Oh God,” he moaned as his aching body trembled. “So good. So good. So good.”

“That’s right, baby,” said Angelica, licking her lips. “You’re my brave, brave man.”

“And I’d fuck you good,” he said, closing his eyes. “If I weren’t so fucking tired.”

“You sleep,” she said, kissing Steven’s soft dick. “You can tell me that story tomorrow.”


In memory of Falco


Er war Superstar

Er war popular

Er war so exaltiert

Because er hatte flair

Er war ein virtuose

War ein Rockidol

Und alles rief;

Come on and Rock me, Amadeus.


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