Literary Erotica
By Lord Malinov

One of those nights; a long loud erotic evening of drinking and carousing leading to a late night of teasing, fondling, arousing but ending in an exhausted crash before any completion could be contemplated. I hardly slept, tossing and turning with visions of tits and ass twisting seductively through my head. My hands roamed Silver’s naked sleeping body in fits of semi-consciousness, stroking her pussy, kneading her nipples and pressing my erection hard against her butt. She groaned in drunken sleep, similarly affected and equally incapable of furthering the feast we craved.

We had gone to a club to dance, shake our groove things. We brought our own booze because the best clubs can’t be bothered with liquor licenses and the endless regulations, rules and laws that govern the purveyance of distilled spirits.  We made a donation and promised not to tell. The curtain parted and we slipped into the sparkling darkness.

The place wasn’t crowded yet so we grabbed a table, poured some drinks and scoped out the buffet, full of the heavy food that kept sudden drunkenness at bay. The music thumped over an empty flashing dance floor. People streamed in, filling every bit of space. We rose and took the floor, ready to burn the inferno.

Silver wore a slinky sexy dress that was forever in motion, almost covering and almost displaying in slivers of fabric tossed and swung from hill to vale. I shook my hips, placed my feet and stretched my arms, finding the rhythms in Silver’s more educated styles, matching the bumps and grinds as though the distance between us was naught. A nipple peered into sight as Silver dipped a shoulder provocatively, snatching it away with a grin after recognition splashed across my face. I pawed at her bottom, traced her creases and twirled her body in a giggle and a gasp. We could feel it then, desire overflowing our brim, the wanting flushed through, so far from home, so far from bed, so far from a soft surface. So we danced, letting the pot boil, anticipation enrichening the sauce.

We returned to our table and guzzled a few drinks, more in need of refreshment than the buzz we received.

“Come on,” said the club’s owner, a dark meaty man in a shiny grey suit. “Come with me.”

He led us into a storage room in the back, shut off from the chaos we had been immersed in. Thick with smoke, a dozen people passed a half-dozen joints around the room. We joined the circle and imbibed in one blunt after another in a steady rhythm. Bogarting created a backlog, so it just didn’t happen.

Aside from the high and the pleasant company of partying potheads, the smoking room afforded a chance to talk. Free for a bit of the blare of the music, we met our fellow smokers, exchanged thoughts and opinions and plans for an after party. Laughter rang as dense as the cannabis smoke we swam in. People left the circle and new smokers joined in.

Later, much later, we climbed into a van, almost a bus, promising a ride to an after party. More than a little drunk and more than a little horny, Silver and I were ready to go, finding privacy in a situation that wasn’t private at all. Silver had taken off her panties long ago, so flashes of cunt grew frequent and more visibly aroused with each passing peek. I cupped a breast, squeezed a nipple and bit at her neck. The friends seated in front of us turned occasionally, smiled, laughed and jeered our shadowy public display of lust. Silver became still and quiet, silencing and preventing my advances until the people stopped paying any attention to us. Quietly, she put her head in my lap and tugged at my zipper. A bit of rustling, shifting and tugging eventually gained her goal and my cock met her lapping tongue. I tried to look nonchalant as she maneuvered her lips around my shaft but it wasn’t long before someone turned around with a “wow” and Silver put him away, less from embarrassment, more because our cramped quarters made it impossible to take things any further.

The party brought more drinking and laughing and drugs and music and teasing. “Just stay the night,” our host said when things started to slow down. “I have plenty of beds.” Silver flashed her ass with a flip of her skirt as we climbed the stairs, following our host. A hint of pussy led me onward and up. The bedroom burst into view and we entered as our host led another couple to the room next to ours.

We nearly fell into bed, stripping away our scant clothing in moments, falling into each other’s arms. Through the wall behind our headboard, giggles, squeaks and growls grew into the steady knock of wood against the wall. We laughed and listened and laughed and listened and promptly fell fast asleep.

We awoke with our hands on each other, caressing her cunt, stroking my cock, nuzzling and squeezing and kissing, oh the kissing. The night had melded into dreams into this moment, everything done in every way but the sex and now there was nothing else but the sex. I rolled over her and rolled her over me, pushing and pressing and licking and probing.

I climbed atop her and slipped in with a gentle steady thrust, hard meets soft, crossing the wave, sliding over swollen lips, releasing her gasp. The passion mounted and tormented, wanting and holding on, taking and giving, loving and needing. We rolled and stood and stooped and knelt and laid, oh how we laid. Every exciting moment of the night’s escapade replayed in our heads as the morning sun cut through a window to illuminate our coupling.  I wanted her. I had always wanted her. I still wanted her. I would forever want her.

We fell back finally, exhausted, rejuvenated, sticky and damp. Sometimes  morning is the best time of all.



By Lord Malinov

Power belongs to those who dare. Sapere Aude.

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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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The Vacation

The Vacation
Literary Erotica
by Lord Malinov

It wasn’t a book she would have bought. It wasn’t even a book she would have read but she found it and until she got rid of it, it belonged to her. A drab cover suited the contents, an anthology of disconnected letters, poorly written and almost meaningless. They badly told tales of exquisite sex, sex as good as the letters were bad, sex that was good only because they told her so. “Damn that was great sex.”

The first three letters were bad, uninteresting, unarousing in any way. She suspected the trend would continue, letter after letter of big melons and monster dongs making sweet, sweet love in the back of a pickup or elevators.

The fourth letter caught her attention. I wasn’t well written, if anything the prose was worse than what she found in the previous letters. But it told the tale of a couple from different cities meeting in a beach town for a long weekend of sex. She remembered a weekend she spent with Ryan. Ah, Ryan. She missed Ryan.

They met at the airport and rented a car, then made out while driving to the hotel. She could imagine the reckless erratic meander of their vehicle while they kissed and pawed and maneuvered through traffic.

Ryan had picked her up from the airport in his sports car. There was no making out after a passionate greeting, instead they talked while he drove. She had been excited and nervous. Anticipation.

The letter said they went to their room, ready and randy but they’d made a dinner reservation so all they could do was dry hump and kiss his dick for a bit. They were certainly all about the sex. Kept apart for four months, the letter had begun, and they have no time for conversation. Just a dirty letter, she knew, but she knew people with those kinds of relationships, all about the fucking. She just couldn’t do that.

Not that she wasn’t a slut, in her own right. Her relationship with Ryan had been little more than just sex. But when they were together, especially when they had vacationed together, there was lots of dating niceties, the wining and dining and personal conversations to go along with the sex. Sometimes they got together, tore off their clothes and got squishy. Some of the best times, perhaps.

The letter became predictable at this point, a series of going back to the room, fucking madly, taking a break at a restaurant, the pool, the beach, night clubs, lusting after the occasional waitress or dancer or room service guy, but trading simple reality for complex schemes, they went back to their room and screwed.

She and Ryan didn’t consider threesomes with the locals or at least never spoke of such things. Having been apart so long squelched any desire to expand the cast. Maybe after a year of screwing, they might have arrived there but their extended separation put their focus squarely on each other.

And, even at their horniest, they had never managed to fuck eight times in one day. She counted the letter’s claim for Saturday and there were eight different episodes, many involving multiple male orgasms. Slut she might be, she had never seen anyone go at it so long. She cringed to imagine the chaffing that would inevitably follow.

She didn’t think she and Ryan had done it eight times over the whole weekend. She counted and came to six. That had always seemed beyond the pale. The letter boasted no less than fourteen episodes, depending on how you kept score. That sounded ridiculous. Crazy kids.

And then they said goodbye.

Ryan had since gotten married. So had she, but that was over.

Stupid book.

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An Eye Full

An Eye Full
Literary Erotica
by Lord Malinov

“I’ve got to run over to the bank, Gary. Keep an eye on things for me.” Ted saluted as he pushed open the backdoor of the restaurant.

“Sure, Ted,” said the young cook, tossing his spatula with a flip through the air. The heavy door slammed shut. “A dee os.”

Gary turned and opened the tall chrome refrigerator behind him, and inspected the boxes of frozen meat. “Should be plenty,” he said to himself, considering the evening ahead. He worked his way around the kitchen, checking for lettuce, bread and potatoes. He stirred the chicken stock on the small stove and took a quick taste.

“Hi, Gary,” said June, tying her red apron behind her waist. Walking around the chrome counter, Gary grabbed the thin brunette and kissed her. “Gary!” June said emphatically, laughing in his grasp. “Not now.”

“Ted’s gone. No one can see.” Gary nibbled her throat

“Not now!” she said, twisting free of his pawing hands. “Don’t make me report you.” June glared menacingly at the sandy-haired youth. Gary smiled stupidly.

“Aargh. You’ve won this battle, Miss Harper,” he said dramatically,walking back to start working on his soup. “But tomorrow night,after the movie, you’ll be singing a different tune, I think. Eh, my pretty? We shall see. We shall see.” Gary looked back at the waitress, and raised his eyebrows.

June straightened her black skirt beneath the thin apron and twisted her smile, as if questioning his provocative conclusion. “Tomorrow’s another day,” she finally said, and pushed the swinging doors to take her place on the floor.

“I’ll see you wanting me, my bony legged wench.” Gary said, remembering quite well the night before last when June had come over to his apartment, when she had simply thrown herself on him. Gary breathed deeply, indulging his hunger by recalling vividly the image of June straddling him on his sofa, grinding her cotton panties over the ridge beneath his trousers, lifting her t-shirt up to press her little tit in his mouth. Gary sighed and looked out the rectangular gap at the restaurant floor. June stood wiping ashtrays, talking with Alicia. If only Steve hadn’t picked that moment to come home. Gary adjusted his prick through his trousers as he stared at the thin girl, imagining the scrawny body beneath her uniform.

Gary put down his spatula and walked back to the men’s room. Closing the door, he unzipped his fly and fished out his heavy dick. A thick stream of piss shot into the bowl of the dingy toilet with a gurgle. Gary sighed as he relaxed in the release. He shook his sturdy prick when a door slammed. Gary smiled. Reaching over, he turned off the light and knelt down, carefully working his head beneath the small sink. His paper hat fell onto the floor. Gary pressed his eye to the jagged hole in the plaster surrounding the silver gleam of pipe. The trap felt cold against his cheek as he twisted to get a better view into the ladies room. She tossed a gym bag against the far wall and reached up to unsnap her jeans.

“Maureen’s changing her clothes,” thought Gary, “Sweet Jeezus.”

Of all the waitresses, Maureen was the Queen. Gary licked his dry lips, watching as she unzipped the deep blue denim. Absolutely gorgeous and unbelievably bitchy, Maureen invariably collected twice the tips any of her colleagues managed to get. She was invariably attentive, thoughtful and sickeningly sweet to the patrons. Gary longed to kiss the soft pucker of her belly-button as the creamy triangle of tummy appeared from behind the opened fly. Maureen tormented the rest of the staff with demands, insisting on perfection, tongue-lashing any bus boy who dared to complicate her mission.

She reached back and began to pull the jeans down from the back, slowly over the tightly gripped hips. Red welts of constriction marred her waist where the denim had bit her smooth skin. Gary twisted a little more, pushing his face hard against the wall, letting his cock hang into his hand’s grasp. The matted jungle of her pubic hair finally slipped into view and the jeans began to descend more rapidly. The thick scent of sex permeated the small bathroom. Gary’s prick turned to steel.

Maureen stepped out of her jeans, while Gary stroked his cock steadily, amazed at the vision. She stood up straight and folded her jeans. The lips of her cunt were a dull red, puffy, wedged between the crease of her lean thighs. Maureen placed her folded pants on the toilet and stood a moment. Gary held his breath. Long, delicate fingers played with the patch of golden fine hair, combing the curls with her coral pink nails, working the snarls from the floss. Gary noticed a faint white stain, a dried dollop of salt just below her navel. Maureen rubbed at her pussy, a quick furious flurry and when her fingers moved away, Gary stared at the pink nub of her freshly aroused clit.

“Mmm,” Maureen murmured, grinding her hips slightly, “tonight he’s going to lick me, or that’s the end for him. I won’t be left unsatisfied forever.” Gary jerked his cock wildly.

Maureen turned around. Gary’s heart pounded with a dangerous intensity as he stared at her round, high ass, white and gleaming in the sharp incandescent light. She leaned over to unzip her gym bag, pressing the scarlet lips of her pussy thick between her creamy thighs, glistening damp in the furrow. Maureen bent down further and a short burst of air erupted from within her pink hole. A thick white drop drizzled slowly down her thigh. The dark dot of her asshole winked between the heavy globes of her bottom. Gary felt the excitement welling within him, anxious to explode.

Maureen stood up and stepped into her black skirt. As she lifted the linen up over the roundness of her ass, Gary noticed the heavy pink stain of fingered slaps over the creamy flesh of her right cheek. “Oh my my” he said, imaging some hung stud fucking Maureen from behind and smacking her pretty bottom. Maureen zipped the skirt and turned around as she adjusted the waistband. Gary smiled, realizing the import of the crimson circles below Maureen’s knees. She sat down on the lid of the john and pulled black thigh-highs up the length of her lean legs.

Maureen lifted off her t-shirt as she stood again. Gary shifted to get a peek at the dark circles of her nipples, tightening in the cool air. Her heavy breasts hung low, full soft liquid tits drooping as she picked up her starched white blouse and lace bra. Gary rubbed his hard prick angrily as the last glimpse of Maureen’s beautiful secrets vanished behind the cups of her brassiere.

“She’s not wearing panties,” he thought. “Wouldn’t the guys go wild if they knew that.” Gary stroked himself, delighted.

“Gary,” said Ted as the door opened and a flood of light rushed into the dark bathroom

“No,” said Gary, trying to hide his throbbing cock while he stood. He smacked his head hard against the sink and fell back onto the floor with a scream of pain.

“What in the hell is going on in here?” he heard Ted shout. Voices of howling laughter and enraged shrieks echoed through Gary’s aching head. Another light went on. Someone shoved him deeper into the bathroom and helped him to stand. The door had been closed, but the laughter continued to pour through the thin wall. “Get your pants on and then get your ass into my office,” growled Ted.

Gary sat down in the plastic chair, his face blazing with shame, his thoughts lost in the buzz of confusion. Ted began to yell at him, profoundly, angrily, seriously, speaking a language of fury that Gary hardly understood. He heard Ted tell him he was fired and he stood up to go. The other cook, Jack, ran over as Gary picked up his jacket.

“Were you peeking Maureen? I want to hear.” Jack whispered quickly.

“Back on the line, Sampson” howled Ted.

“Lucky shit,” said Jack with a laugh.

Gary walked between the racks of cups, glancing over at the floor of the restaurant. June glared murderously at him. Gary tried to think of something to say, but pushed open the back door and stepped outside.

As he walked home, Gary’s spirits sank. A dry wind bit at his face. He climbed the stairs to his apartment. Everything, it seemed, had gone wrong. Gary dreaded looking for another job, applications and interviews which would want to know why he had been fired. He could still hear the laughter, could still feel the heat of his shame. June would never forgive him. She cared too much about appearances to let something like this slide. Gary tossed his keys on his dresser and fell despondently into bed.

“Fuck,” he said. “What an awful day.” Gary hugged his pillow for a moment, trying to drown out the sound of the mocking laughter, the ridiculous moment when he’d been lying on the dirty bathroom floor, his dick shriveling with the pain, hearing the girls screaming at him, furiously.

And he remembered the bend, the beautiful moment when Maureen had bent over to pick up her skirt, when the lips of her pussy shimmered just two feet away, so wet, so hungry, so soft and so fine. Gary unzipped his pants and he smiled.

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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.”

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Fringe Benefits

Fringe Benefits
Literary Erotica
by Lord Malinov

I saw Ellie Denby a half-dozen times before I realized who she was. I knew her as Brad’s sister, and that was seven years ago when Ellie was probably fourteen, still just a girl. She was a different person back then. My vague memories of her as a teenager bore only a superficial resemblance to the here and present young woman. I don’t know that I ever would have made the connection, if Sarah, the club’s manager, hadn’t called her “the Denby girl.”

As one who knows, I can say that Ellie radiates with charm, her presence bursting with the excited blush of living and the swells of fertility. I noticed her at once when I saw her. I’m a few years older than Ellie. Brad and I were probably her age, last time I saw her. I’m married. I have been for four years.

I manage the hardware at the Lake Charles Athletic Cub. We serve the whole Bridgetown area. The members pay for it, Sarah does the book work and I flip the switches, move the cycles and fix the machines. It’s a living. I had to get a serious job, and this seemed like a good compromise. It pays enough. Becky doesn’t mind.

Ellie came by early in the morning. The board insists we open at six, and so we do. We rarely have anyone in before eight. The first time I saw Ellie, recently, I mean, I had just started flipping the light switches. First thing in the morning and a beautiful girl walks by. She opened the locker room door. I hadn’t made it to that switch yet. Ellie looked back and smiled patiently. My heart skipped a beat. She really is very pretty. I fumbled as I hurriedly flicked on her lights.

I’d seen her a few mornings before Sarah told me her name. I passed Ellie coming up the stairs. Her blue eyes sparkled as she softly mouthed a good morning, just enough to be polite. Ellie had always been quiet. Sarah met me at the top of the stairs with a bill to sign.

“Regular,” I said, turning back to watch Ellie’s legs disappear from view.

“Back from school,” Sarah said.

“Well, she’s pretty much got a private health club.”

“Helps justify our being here this early,” said Sarah. I couldn’t tell if she thought this was a good thing or a bad thing. “The Denby girl has really grown up.”

The name echoed in my mind for a minute, jarred out of place unexpectedly, but in half a beat I realized the young woman I had just passed, filling out her white shorts and tank-top distractingly, had been little Ellie Denby. I remember thinking, when she was Brad’s kid sister, that she had a cute butt. The curve had only gotten better.

Sarah frowned.

“I knew her when she was a kid. Brad Denby’s kid sister. Ellie or something.” I blushed as I rushed to explain.

“Eleanor Denby,” said Sarah cool;y. With a flip of her brown-grey hair, she slipped back to her office, growing a little flustered, I thought.

Ellie came in every morning, just after I opened the doors. About a week after she showed up, I accidentally discovered her exercise routine.

One of the bleachers had come loose from the bracket on the south wall. It wasn’t anything dangerous, but people get nervous sixty feet in the air and so first thing the next morning, I crawled up into the lattice of the bleachers to tighten some bolts.

Over past the east end of the bleachers is a hot tub. Seats eight. Good piece of equipment. I’ve often spent twenty minutes in the boiler after work to relax. It just melts the tension away.

So, I stood in a maze of crossbars, turning a socket wrench with a steady cricket buzz. The bleachers are high. I was looking out the end and into the hot tub, my feet perched on thin metal bars.. Ellie came out of the locker room door. She a blue bikini and she wore it well. Women don’t usually wear two-piece suits at an athletic pool. She quickly glided over the damp concrete and slipped into the steaming cauldron. Her breasts had flourished from the bare wisps of bosom I recalled on little Ellie. Her chest grew flush as the heat poured through her. I slipped my wrench into my pocket, held on tight and held my breath, watching this pretty Diana bathe.

Looking down, I could see her long legs shimmering under the steamy surface. Ellie turned on the jets and the froth obscured my view. She closed her eyes and leaned back against the edge. She might have seen me if she looked. I saw a glimpse of Brad’s mom in her face. I always thought he had a pretty mom. I started to reach for my wrench and get back to the bolts when Ellie tossed her bikini bottoms onto the edge. I leaned forward and the lattice-work creaked. Ellie sat up and looked around, right and left but never up. I kept still. Ellie turned and I thought she was going to get out. Her bathing suit was still folded over the edge of the pool. She pressed her knees against the wall and lifted her pussy out of the primordial soup.

Ellie had always been blonde, and a triangle of pale matted hair rose from the water and into my lecherous sight. Ellie rubbed her furrow with an eager finger and spread her knees apart. As her hand came away, I caught a view of her swollen red lips. Ellie leaned back and pushed her clit into the water jet stream. A moan poured from her body.

I’ve watched Becky masturbate with the detachable shower head, so I knew that moan well. Her eyes grow blank and she leans back against the tile and pushes the blast of water against her little bulge and the water pours between her lips to fall in an endless thick stream. In no time at all, she tosses her head from one side to the other and the moans start below her ankles, ripple through her calves and thighs, boom in her ass, take wind in her breast and groan with shudders of her clenching muscles.

Ellie teased the waterspout, swaying her hips while a rush of bubbles spurted from the point of contact between her thighs. My prick had swollen so hard that it hurt, wrapped up in my shorts. Holding onto the crossbeam with one arm, I tried to adjust my package. Swinging my hips slightly, I managed to escape the pinch and indulge my senses the hungry throb of my stiff prick. I reached for my zipper to share Ellie’s erotic moment but a shudder in the bleachers stayed my hand. Getting caught with my pants down would be serious trouble. I let my tongue hang out while I teased my aching bulge through my nylon shorts. I suppose I might as well have taken my dick out. I doubt I could have looked any more perverted.

Ellie focused the jet onto her gleaming clit with a tiny circle of her hips. Her body grew flush, creamy jutting shoulders and a pale white belly. A hand dashed up to free her right tit from the blue top and Ellie squeezed her tight brown nipple hard. The ripples shuddered from her breast down into her ass and as she thrust her pussy against the stream, Eleanor Denby, twenty-year old coed, wailed a noisy orgasm which echoed endlessly over the pool.

Laying across the tub, Ellie reached over to turn off the jets. As the water calmed, her pink pussy, still spread and seemingly subdued, thoughtlessly invited a lecherous glimpse of paradise. Ellie picked up her bikini bottoms and slipped them on underwater. She pushed her heavy breast back into her bathing suit and Ellie dashed back to the locker room.

I stood in shock for several minutes. Finally persuaded that there would be no second feature, I climbed down from the supports. I walked over to the tub and dipped my hand in the steaming water. She had been magnificent.

I unzipped my shorts and pulled my hard prick free, jerking it suddenly the moment I had a grip, pounding my fist down my dick as the memory of Ellie’s bath played itself in a loop, once per stroke. It had been the most erotic thing I had ever seen. As I held the soft image of her drowsy pussy in my mind, a spent a fountain of delight into the hot water. It was due to be cleaned anyway.

Some orgasms drain me of all my strength and I drift quickly into unconsciousness. Other orgasms are just the beginning, the whistle on a boiling kettle. I never stopped being hard that day.

As I drove home that day, I didn’t feel any guilt. The incident had been an accident, which I just happened to benefit from. It wasn’t my fault if a pretty girl masturbated in a hot tub forty feet below where I was working. Besides, I was still too horny to feel any guilt. I went home looking for Becky.

We’d always had lots of sex. Sometimes it was on again and then off again, but we always stayed in touch. I love Becky and I love the way she fucks me. My prick was still swollen and Becky looked good, better than I remembered her looking. She has a delicious ripe ass. I made love to her that night, for a long time. Becky dripped. When I finally relinquished the lust pent up inside me, Becky quivered constantly. I slept like a child.

Sarah watched me push open the door to the pool area the next morning, just after Ellie arrived. I could feel her eyes watching me, knowing I was going a way I didn’t usually go.

I lay in the bleachers, my head peaking past the edge.. I felt much safer, but I still couldn’t play with myself when Ellie screwed the fountain. It doesn’t take Ellie any time at all to let out her final squeals. My dick throbbed. I let the madness surge through me. I didn’t jerk off. I felt like that would make it wrong. I flirted with Sarah after Ellie left. She blushed when I teased her. Sarah’s really cute for an older woman.

When I came home, Becky wasn’t around. After grabbing a cookie in the kitchen, I went upstairs. I heard the shower running. Becky stood behind the rippling glass with the head of the shower pressed into her folds. She moaned pleasurably. I watched as she took a steady pose, as her nipples twinkling behind the translucent glass. I pushed down my shorts and slipped open the shower door. She looked up at me, her eyes burning with lust.

“C’mon, Becky, ” I said, fisting my prick, “show me how you come.” Becky murmured, almost in fear, and she pushed the stream hard against her little clit. I watched her pussy splash. Becky began to squeal, uncomfortably.

“Louder,” I said, snarling. Becky’s voice opened, shrieking her ecstasy as she tossed her head from side to side. Her long yellow hair clung to the tile. I watched her belly tremble. Becky sucked me off. I dribbled off her chin.

Bridgewater is a small town. I ran into Ellie and her parents at the Pizza Fling. I’ve known them a long time. With her parents, I could see the hints of that gangly girl I used to know. Ellie looked sweet and innocent, but with a glance I could see the fall of her breasts. I could hear the moan in every word she spoke. I envied the man who would pluck this rosebud. I knew it wouldn’t be me.

I mentioned seeing her at the club. Ellie blushed.

“Are you just back for the summer?” I asked.

“Middle of August,” said Ellie kindly. I could hear the moan in every syllable.

The next morning I watched Ellie back up to the water jet, her ass risen like twin moons from a boiling sea, her pussy spread and the dark wink of her asshole pulsating with the sensation. She clawed both breasts naked as she rocked back into the furious blast. I wished for the thousandth time that I could dare to bring a camera, but knew it would only cause serious trouble. I would take what I could get, even if it were only a daily show.

That night, I bent Becky over and fucked her ass. I remember every second of that intense ride. Becky came almost at once, with a mad howl of an orgasm which left her a drizzling mess as I pounded deep inside her luscious butt. Becky lurched away from my invasion and I spent my showers into her passion-wild lips.

I watched Ellie masturbate sixty times, every morning like clockwork. Eventually I grew daring and hid closer to the hot tub, down the bleachers. Choosing the right vantage point became an art and a science as I tried to optimize the erotic thrill. I longed for the day when she looked over at me and said, “Fuck me,” but Ellie never noticed me. I came to know her well as the weeks went by. I could tell by the quiver of her cheek that she was about to release. And as the orgasm poured through her, she would raise her pussy up out of the water and let my eyes pierce the dark cavern of her young womb. It was like clockwork, six minutes from intro to climax and we were both on our way. My cock invariably pointed to noon.

Becky stopped wearing panties. I couldn’t stop fucking her. All I could think about was watching my private peep-show and fucking my wife. Ellie’s wanton little cunt kept my engines roaring and Becky swallowed a river of come. I licked her pussy, almost in a daily ritual. I loved to take close glimpses of her pink lips, to taste Becky’s essence in the juice. I would pretend my tongue was a water jet and listen to Becky moan.

“Louder,” I’d snarl and my tongue would ravage her clit while Becky screamed out her ecstasy. Ellie screamed from deep inside. I liked that. Becky obliged my new taste, wailing wickedly.

Sarah watched me coming out of the pool door one morning. I knew at once that she knew something. She frowned in a disturbed way. I pretended not to notice. I felt like she was jealous of me.

Regardless, I lay in the bleachers the next morning. To fail to take my post was unthinkable. How could I deny myself this vision? Ellie whipped off her bikini bottoms before she got into the tub. She seemed to be in no particular hurry and rolled about, letting the streams of water tickle her. She pushed her bikini top aside as she floated hungrily toward a jet. Ellie lifted her bottom up and moaned. My prick shuddered and I incautiously unzipped my fly. Writhing gently, I managed to free my staff. Ellie lifted her pussy toward me as the fountain molested the nymph. I stroked my dick faintly. Ellie began to moan madly, feverishly, with all the power of her full breasted lungs. The bleachers began to creak ominously. I froze. Ellie continued to writhe ecstatically, sending erotic echoes bouncing from the great walls. I looked nervously down the length of the bleacher and I saw Sarah, peering at Ellie around the corner. Sarah scurried away as Ellie rose out of the tub. She grinned with satisfaction as the water poured down her body.

I stopped to talk with Sarah later. She still seemed nervous. I wondered if she was going to say anything. She just blushed.

One day Ellie stopped coming. It was the middle of August. I assumed that school came back.

I added checking the bleachers to my morning routine. One morning, about three days after Ellie stopped coming, I caught Sarah riding the watery spume. She stripped off her bathing suit and pushed her little pussy into the froth. I stood gawking, and the lattice work shifted with a long creak. Sarah looked hazily toward me and smiled big. Fierce ripples teased her soft tummy and Sarah moaned aloud.

I went home and fucked Becky wild, tore her panties and took it from her with every slice of pleasure I could discover through her wicked style. Becky truly knows how to fuck me crazy. She knows how to scream when she comes. I poured my adoration into her fertile womb.

I brought Becky into the club with me, one morning when Sarah had taken a day off. She changed into her bathing suit and I showed her the hot tub. Becky stripped off her suit in a flash and turned on the jets. Water splashed my face as I watched the stream’s precise assault on Becky’s little clit, watched the shudders, heard the moans. I pushed down my shorts and climbed in the hot tub, dangling my hard cock in Becky’s face. She sucked my prick deeply as the moans poured through her. I came in spurts over her heated face.

“Fuck me,” she said. I obliged.

Sarah says were making enough money to stay open, but not enough for a raise. I’ll work another season. Fringe benefits are worth something.

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Literary Erotica
by Lord Malinov

As I looked into her eyes, I recognized the fire. I had seen it before, in other women, at other times, and I had grown to fear and respect that blaze of madness. Stephanie gazed hungrily at me, blushing in turn at her own boldness. I stepped back with the recognition. I knew I only had a moment to make up my mind.

We had been friends for quite some time, and in all frankness, I preferred to keep it that way. It wasn’t that Stephanie wasn’t attractive, for she was. I admit to having a sweet tooth for eye candy, so to speak, even in my friends. But years of hard knocks have taught me to recognize the limits inherent in any relationship.

Circumstance had started us down the path of friendship, and we took to it readily. If anything, we both thrived in the warmth of playful companionship, accepting what we shared because there had been no other choice. As Brian’s girl, Steph had become a wonderful friend, thoughtful, understanding and remarkably giving. And part of our camaraderie developed, I think, because there was never any doubt we could burn a wicked flame of love, drink deep a naughty draught of carnal debauchery for as long as our lust lasted. But in my heart of hearts, I knew we, she and I, could not survive the intimacy. Our friendship would surely be consumed in the flames.

So, I was sitting beside this rather pretty brunette, testing my strength, weighing my natural lusty inclinations against several very reasonable reasons why I should simply excuse myself. At first, I tried not to let her captivate me with the gleam in her dark eyes, but my strength wilted in the sweltering heat as I watched her run her long fingers over the blue t-shirt that hugged the swell of her breasts. My heart surged, my lungs folded and my stomach clenched with a bubbling sense of excited fear as the inescapable knowledge that I had to move or lose began to wage war with the supple vision of Steph’s hungry lips. I pondered the ecstasy of defeat while my dear friend’s smile pleaded with me to indulge her, this once, by surrendering to temptation with a kiss.

And I bit into her red delicious apple. My reluctance dissipated like dew in a July sun.

As we shed our clothes, the floodgates poured forth. Her tits rose and fell succulently as she lifted her t-shirt over her head in a graceful second. My mouth watered to suckle the darkened nipples, and she eagerly thrust the ripe pair forward to greet my desire. The subtle scent of her body, the gentle musk, the damp soft sweat,the tickle of faded garlic, the cream of her young flesh, all the sensations she had kept wisely out of my reach suddenly burst through me, and I only wanted to devour her whole.

Stephanie teased me, as we made love, reminding me of incidents we’d known in our months when our sexual appetites had been taunted by our friendly proximity. Like the day when she’d caught me staring at her breasts as she leaned over in her black and white one-piece. Like the night when we’d piled into Rick’s car to drive up to the Baltimore and she’d sat on my lap and wiggled her bum as she felt me grow hard. Like the day when she’d dropped by the apartment and caught me coming out of the shower. Like the evening we’d watched Last Tango and I found myself watching Brian fondle her thighs.

I kissed Stephanie incessantly as we loved, giving this luscious nymph my adoration as well as the fuck she desired. I wanted her delicious red cunt and the squeeze of her thighs and the suck of her tits, but I wanted to woman I had grown to admire to want more than just once, but again and again. We fucked with hard rhythms and wild laughter and I growled as I held her firm in my hands and plunged my rock deep down inside. Stephanie purred and nipped and bucked and flailed and the night grew dark and slipped away.

I awoke the next morning, nuzzling her pillow which filled me at once with the her fragrance, my love, the warmth of knowing I was where I wanted to be. As my eyes adjusted to the noonday sun, I breathed in the dank aroma of our lingering romp, the rich array of scents that spoke more memories than words can impart of our love. I heard Stephanie in the bathroom and smiled.

She stood in white panties, her long hair fallen limp past her unpainted face and I felt the warm glow of realizing that this was what she looked like the next morning. I stumbled out of bed, hoping to put my good-morning erection to good use, and came up behind to kiss Stephanie’s moist neck.

“Good morning,” she said.

“Mmmm,” I said nuzzling.

“Not now,” she replied. “I’m already going to be late.” I looked at the clock and realized she was right. I relinquished my embrace, a finger trailing away from the fullness of her breast and she lifted a contact to settle in a staring dark eye.

I went out in search of my clothes and began to feel the first fears of a newly created sense of jealousy, for I knew this woman as well as I had known anyone, and as I found my jeans and pulled them on, I began to wonder if she could really intend for us to be more than just friends, despite our good fun. I found my shirt and decided to keep my cool.

And soon she was gone.

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