Literary Erotica
by Lord Malinov

Sometimes, when I can’t sleep, I get up and play scales on my guitar. I play an unamplified hardbody, so the notes sound strange but soft, so I don’t bother anyone. I play in the dark until I get bored enough to fall asleep. I lay down the guitar and slide into bed. Like counting sheep but it works on my muscle memory. I can’t sleep and scales just keep getting easier.

So it was two-thirty in the morning and I couldn’t sleep so I picked up my guitar and started playing down the neck. I’d reached B when my door pushed open. I didn’t stop playing but turned my neck to see. A woman in a t-shirt stood in my doorway, barely illuminated by a streak of light coming through my window.

“Did I wake you?” I whispered.

“No,” she said. “I never went to sleep.”


“My own fault, really,” she said, leaning against the door jamb. “I’m the one who came home with Rock.”

“He’s asleep?”

“Passed out. I touched his dick and bam, he spewed and fell asleep. I knew he was too drunk to screw but I thought I might get one in before he lost it.”

“I’ll keep it down,” I offered, for no real reason.

“Can I come in?” she asked, coming in and sitting on the floor. My scales turned melodic, self-consciously. No one wants to listen to someone play scales.

“You’re good,” she said. I’m sure I blushed.

“I just play when I can’t sleep. Might as well practice.”

“Can’t sleep?”

“Not a bit.”

“Would it help if I sucked you off? I mean, bam, Rock went down like a, well, rock.”

“Excuse me?” I asked although I don’t know why.

“I mean, I’d rather fuck, that’s what I came here for, but I don’t really know you well enough to ask if you’d fuck me, so a blow job seems more in line with where we are, socially, I mean.”

“You want to screw?”

“You have something better to do?”

“I can practice tomorrow,” I said, putting aside my guitar. The woman crawled into my bed. “What about Rock?” I asked, feeling like I shouldn’t be stealing my roommates potential girlfriend.

“I don’t think he counts at all,” she said. He couldn’t even stay awake long enough to get his dick sucked.” She pulled off her t-shirt and I stared at her tits while she watched my hardened cock spring to action. Her tongue and lips and mouth and face suddenly began a furious dance of delight upon me. I twitched and tensed and feared for a moment that I would join Rock in the ranks of premature ejaculators. I held back and relaxed to enjoy the energized lust that hummed my prick. I feared for my control again but she soon quit the suck to climb atop my thickened staff. She rode and rode and bounced and bounced and I held her hips and squeezed her boobies and she moaned and squealed and I came and came and came. We collapsed in a flurry of orgasm and satisfaction and exhaustion.

And I soon fell fast asleep.

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, fiction, literature, literotica, music, personal, short stories, writing and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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