Literary Erotica
by Lord Malinov

I’d had a few beers and the night had just reached that point when all I could think about was the complete and utter lack of sex in my life. I began the drunken moan of a young man in heat, wailing for women I’d long since cast aside or lost or never really knew. When I mentioned Monica, Jack put his hand on my shoulder.

“Steve. Listen to yourself. You know as well as I do that Monica was a seriously psychotic bitch. She tried to kill you, with a knife, remember the last time you saw her?”

“She fucked great,” I said. Something like that, anyway, no doubt with a bit of a slur to my speech. Really bad sexual depression like doubles the effect of alcohol on me.

“She’d cut your fucking balls off before you laid a finger on her. Are you really so desperate that you’re fantasizing about the man killer?”

“Jack, I need someone.”

“Friend,” said Jack, laughing and opening another can of Milwaukee’s Finest, “don’t look at me like that. Actually I think I can help you. Not like that, you dolt. There’s this woman I know. Let me give her a call.”

“I haven’t got any money,” I said, sobering slightly at the suggestion of an actual sexual encounter.

“She’s not like that. She’s just a little desperate herself.”

“Wait,” I said, grabbing Jack’s arm as he reached for the phone. “What’s she look like?”

“Ha!” Jack snorted. “A second ago you were wishing Monica was here. I could call her, instead. I’m sure she’d be glad to come over and fuck you up.”

“Jack,” I said, whining stupidly.

“She’s all right. I’d do her if I were only half as desperate as you are, if I Angie wasn’t so hot for me.”


“Brunette. Good tits. Do you want some or not?”

“Yeah,” I replied, aching. “Call her.”

“There’s a catch.”

“I knew it.”

“Nothing harsh. This has to be zipless. You know what I mean? In, out, thank you ma’am. No names, no call-backs, nothing personal. You have to fuck her and go home. Capisch?”

“Groovy.” It sounded too good to be true. Who was I to argue with a catch like that?

Jack made the call and told me to go to his place. He lives at the end of my block. I started smiling.

“Two hours. After that, I’m calling the cops. No names. I’m counting on you.”

I strolled down the street, letting the night air and a sense of anticipation invigorate me. Jack was one of my oldest friends, and as I walked toward his house, I felt real love for the man. He was taking care of me, better than I could take care of myself. As I opened his front door, I knew there wasn’t anything I wouldn’t do for him.

I sat on his green plaid sofa and waited. A few minutes later, headlights illuminated the front window and my heart began to race. I peeked through the thin white curtains, but could only see the dark night. Then she opened the door.

She was beautiful. Tall, stacked, elegant, delicious. My knees buckled as I tried to stand and greet her. My words caught in my throat. She shook her long dark hair loose and took off her jacket. Her full, firm tits wobbled slightly and my cock stiffened hard, draining me of any thoughts except the woman.

“Hi,” she said. She had a sultry, inviting voice.

“Hello. I’m St . . .”

“No,” she interrupted me. “No names, or I’m leaving.”

“Right.” I felt nervous in the face of this stunning vision. She began to unbutton her blouse. My jaw dropped in amazement at her ready boldness. I tried to restore my sense of cool, but could only fidget. The black lace of her bra peeked between the silky gap, filled with soft, creamy melons of flesh.

“C’mon,” she said invitingly, “show me what you’ve got, mister. We don’t have much time and I need to screw.” I fumbled with the button of my jeans, and yanked at my shirt and tried to keep cool and undress as quickly as I could manage without falling over or looking like a moron. She unfastened her bra, letting it fall off gently, revealing her dark, thick nipples. I groaned and nearly tripped trying to pull off my briefs. She pushed her skirt over wide hips, down long lean thighs to nestle at her feet. As she stepped out of the pile of cloth, my gaze fixed on the thin wisps of black hair atop her swollen pussy lips, the pink of a hot clit already peering forth. My thick cock defied gravity.

“Hmmm,” she purred. “Let me suck on that a bit.” I stood amazed as she knelt below me and took the first hungry lick. I threw my head back and sighed, sending a telepathic thanks to my good buddy Jack, while this dark haired beauty sucked on my prick. I looked down to watch and found myself entranced by the supple line of her back receding, the slender indent of her waist, the faded line of a bikini tan, the round white fullness of her ass. I caught our reflection in the mirror of Jack’s window, the elegant fold of the naked beauty’s crouch, the swelled udders of her big breasts, the vision of her angelic or demonic face, her pretty smile as she sucked my raging cock.

“Wait,” I said, pulling away. “I don’t want to come yet, and at this rate, you’re going to get a mouthful.”

“Mmm,” she said, slightly disappointed. I fought the urge to shoot and lay atop the vixen. My prick slipped easily into the wet folds of her cunt. I raised myself up and began to rock with a hungry rhythm. Her fuck felt like warm honey. I looked into her dark eyes, the radiant pools of her beauty, and felt myself falling into her, for she looked happy and grateful and aroused and delighted and I squeezed her left tit and she moaned and kissed me hard and kissed me and I bit at her neck and put my hand in her thick hair and she moaned and I kissed her and she said, “fuck me, lover,” and I did.

She rolled me over and rode me wildly, her titties bouncing in a slow gallop and her nipples tightened and I squeezed the heavy flesh and her hips began to grind fast and an open mouthed smile spread over her pretty face and her eyes looked deeply into mine and I urged her on with my hands around her round ass, driving her forward. She squealed as she came and leaned backward and forward and rode until the last ripples left her tight cunt and she kissed me hard, fiery with passion.

Our lips melted together and I rolled her around until I knelt hard behind her and rammed my cock deep and she groaned and I fucked and I knew she was coming again and I watched her reflection as she flailed her long hair and pushed hard against my pounding hard rhythm and her tits swayed like a stormy ocean wave and she said, “fuck me, lover,” and I did. In a rampage, I shot my load deep in the sopping wet folds of her luscious hot cunt.

Out of breath, I leaned back against the sofa smiling and she kissed me delicately, provokingly, intoxicatingly and I smiled when she stood with the rich aromatic explosion of fucked air and my sperm slurped from her damp lips onto Jack’s floor.

“Beautiful,” I murmured as she started to dress.

“Thanks,” she said in her sultry dark voice. “I needed that.” She leaned over to lay her boobs into the cups of her bra, and I stared at the dark furrows of her delectable ass. She stepped into her panties and lifted her skirt.

“I’m Steve,” I said, suddenly realizing she was going to leave. “What’s your name?”

“No,” she said sharply. “Jack told you the rules. It’s been real, lover, but now it’s gone. She buttoned her blouse.

“But,” I said, lost for words. “But, I want . . .”

“You had plenty,” she said with a tempting smile. She pulled on her jacket and reached for the doorknob. “Thanks for the roll.” She opened the door and stepped into the blackness.

“Steve Jacobs!” I screamed, desperately. “Call me! 553-8406! 553-8406!”

She blew me a kiss as she got into her car. “Please,” I muttered and she drove away.

I went back home. Jack had fallen asleep on my sofa. I struck him in the arm.


“Shit. I want her name. I want her number. I think I love her.”

“Sorry buddy. You got all you’re getting. Good, eh?”

“I’m gonna kill you, Jack, if you don’t tell me who she was.”

“Sorry. Must have been good. You forgot to zip your fly.”

I reached down and yanked. “Shit. My zipper’s stuck.”

About David Cain

David Cain, literary author, bon vivant, rogue romantic poet - author of Witch, Song of Songs, Journals of Lord Malinov, Erotic Romances and others ...
This entry was posted in books, erotica, literature, literotica, novels, personal, short stories, writing and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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