Bearing Gifts

Bearing Gifts
Literary Erotica
by Lord Malinov

The summer after our second child was born proved the most sexual three months of all our lascivious years together. Pregnancy left us both starving for uninhibited pleasure and as two intelligent creative adults, we had no trouble finding means to satisfy our carnal desires.

I had started my regime of writing Diana daily when she was still in the hospital, and found it a marvelous way to make her anticipate my return home from work. Accepting the inescapable sleeplessness that comes from constantly feeding a newborn infant, we simply resigned ourselves to the advantages of foregoing sleep altogether and in the heat of a wicked July wore no more clothing than feeding a baby requires.

At the office, I cunningly prepared a hundred brochures for “Byron’s Head Shop” which promised cunnilingual expertise for the low, low price of five dollars per oral orgasm. As a summer promotion, each customer received free panties with every visit. I put my clever advertisement in every book, magazine, drawer, cupboard and table our house held, delighting in the embarrassment I caused any guests who dared invade our lusty privacy. With only one customer, I made about two-hundred dollars the first month, although I think I spent three hundred on panties. I was never very good at business, but I did know how keep my customer satisfied. Maybe I should have bought a bigger truck. .

When autumn returned along with my second year of night school and a baby who would sleep through the night, we found ourselves searching for new modes of expression in our mutual lust-quest. One day I came home from class to discover Diana quite excited. After the children were in bed, she took me to our bedroom, where she hooked up the video camera to the television.

“Let me show you what I made for you,” she said as she slipped beside me on the wide bed. “I had fun making it.” Picking up the remote, she pressed <Play>.

The view focused on a white porcelain toilet standing alone in a small family bathroom – our downstairs bathroom with dusty pink walls and dark pine cabinets. After a few moments, the lower torso of a woman entered the space, looking delicious in a red silk blouse, tight black leather skirt and dark stockings. Supple hands reached under the short hem and dropped white lace panties down her lean thighs as she sat down on the gaping seat. The tinkle of pee gently filtered from the speaker before she reached for a few sheets of paper. As she pressed the folds of downy softness between her legs she slightly spread her thighs and when she let the paper drop into the abyss below, she continued to rub the neat swelling hidden slightly by the blonde muff. Leaning back against the fixture, she moaned.

As she began to prepare her exit, she noticed a naughty comic hidden in the back of a magazine rack. The lace panties were quickly pressed down past her knees and onto the floor as she began to play earnestly with herself, looking through the erotic drawings. The comic fell to the linoleum floor as she found the stiff nub of her clitoris and spread her legs wide. I watched in amazement.

She reached into her purse and withdrew a small vibrator which quickly began to play a rhythm over her puffy lips, murmuring as it slid down and over and finally into her feverish maw. One hand played the head while the other drove the buzzing phallus deep inside.

Withdrawing the vibrator she lifted herself slightly and pressed the narrow point of the cream colored stick against her asshole and moaned wildly as she plunged the member into that darkness. She rubbed her clit viciously and groaned in orgasmic spasms.

Thus spent, she lifted her panties up again and after rinsing the vibrator in the sink, returned it to her purse. The light dimmed and again the empty bowl sat quiet, innocent of all that had gone before.

“Wow,” I said. “That was incredible.”

“Wait,” she replied. “There’s more.”

The light brightened and then faded again, focused on a moist blonde cunt spread open above a down comforter while two fingers teased her rigid clit. The full pink lips gaped slightly as she reached out of view to produce a natural looking dildo and brought it against her slick pursed lips. With a deft motion she slid the thick rubber staff inside her and she intently pounded the wide soft peach root against her wet furred opening. As the excitement began to take her breath, she pulled the glistening cock out again and poised the rod up from the white bed spread. Turning her back to the lens, she rose above the arrow and with a quick descent Diana began to ride, her ass bearing down to swallow the dildo deep inside in her scarlet pussy and up again to let the rubber prick head linger at her anxious portal.

The scene changed suddenly as a strobe light lit a gleaming white bathtub while Madonna’s “Erotica” began to pulse nearby. Diana stepped into the flashing white light and pulled the removable shower nozzle from its holder and slowly and sensuously moistened her creamy skin. Methodically showering, she doused her golden hair until it clung to her shoulders, black in the pulsations of light. Diana teased her dark nipples with the shower spray and then aimed the watery staff at the light floss below her soft stomach. She quickly leaned back against the tile wall, pressing her pelvis forward to catch the aquatic lick against her anxious clitoris and then teased herself in the sudden splashes of white. Her lean legs spread wide and Diana looked wantingly into the camera as the waves of pleasure caught her and she began to moan. Her body twitched as she surrendered to the long rush of orgasm and the music swelled as a thick white fog softened and embraced her trembling delights.

“Wow.”

“I want to take more video,” Diana said seriously. “But I’ll need your help. Good film is hard to make without someone behind the camera.”

“I’m your man,” I said. I’m sure glad that’s right.

About Lord Malinov

Lord Malinov, literary author, bon vivant, rogue romantic poet
This entry was posted in books, erotica, fiction, literature, literotica, personal, reading, short stories, writing and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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