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Eros- list 6, volume 3
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
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Eros-List 6, Volume 3
Topics: Administrivia, Visiting, Leigh's Story, At the Inn
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The Eros Mailing list exists as a forum for publishing and criticizing
original erotic writing. It is moderated by several users and not funded
by anything. If you like it, send in mail. If you don't, send in mail.
If you don't care, send in mail. And whatever you do, keep those stories
coming. No line printer pictures will be permitted.
A bit about submission: Users at W&M can invoke MM>MMLEEX>PUBLIC>ANONYMOUS
to submit an article; users at other sites should send mail to the currently
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mail drop for this month is [email protected].
Software is available for anonymous submission from internet sites upon
request, but in any case, we certainly assure privacy.
Users on fidonet should place the line "To: [email protected]" as the
first line of a message, followed by two blank lines and the submission. The
message should be sent to user "uucp" on 1:15/114. Sorry, folks, but fidonet
doesn't talk to the real world very easily.
Submission of comments as well is most welcome! Please send mail.
We are lonely.
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Visiting from out of town:
The soft slow kisses
the pillows soft upon the hardwood floor
lost child on the futon, another hand clutching her
the Jaco Pastorius record
arms reaching out, caressing another woman
shadows in her leather jacket, staring down at the camera
after a while
I didn't know what was real and what wasn't.
brandi kat viciously mauling herself between the legs
the soft white wings of her butterfly crumpled and flailing.
Strange, thin pizza.
"I don't feel comfortable doing this," she said.
A strange blonde guy making passes at him, drunk
(or was it I who was drunk?)burns from caustic Polaroid packs
and red marks from the cheap handcuffs.
"I would like another cup of tea, please."
The green garter snake was their friend. Her mouth opened in
gutteral scream as her whole body contracted rhythmically
around his fingers.
Cool breeze blowing the curtains into billowing sails.
Guinness Stout. His tongue glanced her brief moustache.
Lighting candles on the floor, their breasts silhouetted upon
each other from the flickering light.
Jazz band in the basement club. His boss thought he was at
an operating system convention in Cleveland.
Her breasts lying flat and compact, his saliva slick upon them.
It wasn't wrapped around; he could have freed himself and left
the bathtub, but he chose not to.
The lithuanian typewriter was not successful. The other girls
held lost child's ass as she slowly masturbated the first night.
He never did get to see the arch anyway.
The kinks were muffled; she hadn't cleaned the head.
On your stomach and let me get a long shot. Because, after all, they
rather liked the screaming. It was the growling noises afterward
which made them upset.
brandi kat has an evil grin. She really was serious.
--K.K.
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Leigh wrote this, and we liked it, so here it is:
She was humming as she changed the sheets from the smooth percale she liked
to the fuzzy flannel he preferred. She imagined what she would do to him
tonight, and her humming grew quieter until finally it ceased.
First she would undress him, slowly, slowly, kissing him softly as each
bit of flesh became visible. "To keep it from getting cold," she would say
teasingly. They'd done this before -- he would say, "No fear of that!" and
they would laugh together as she began to stroke his skin with her warm
hands.
Then she would push him slowly back until he fell onto the bed and she
would take his penis into her hand. By now he would be fully erect, and it
would jump as she touched it. They would laugh again at this familiar
occurrence.
Next she would begin to lick him with little, teasing cat-laps at his
skin, all over him, from his collarbones to his toes, but avoiding his
crotch. She would roll him over and lap at his back, covering every inch
of his skin, and then she would suck at his toes...
The phone rang, shattering the intimate silence. She picked it up.
"Hello? Oh, hi! I was just thinking about you! When are you getting
here? Oh. Oh, I see. Yes. Yes. Bye, then." He wasn't coming after
all. Again. She was momentarily disappointed, but then she began to get
angry.
"Who needs you anyway?" she demanded of the walls in a quiet but intense
voice. "Damn you!" She was already wet and wanting from her imaginings.
She went downstairs to put away the wine she had gotten out for him.
She seldom drank wine herself; she disliked the taste. She paused, looking
at the bottle. It was almost empty. "Am I sex-starved, or what?" she
asked herself, as she noted the phallic shape of the bottle's neck. She
picked up the bottle and one of her two crystal wineglasses and took them
up to her bedroom and set them on the nightstand.
She sat on the edge of the bed and poured a little wine into her glass,
admiring the way the clear liquid turned gold in the lamplight. First she
sipped at it; then deciding that tonight she liked the flavor, she took a
heartier swallow and finished it. She judged the amount of wine remaining
in the bottle -- a little over a glassful. She poured half a glass, then
decided against pouring in the remainder.
She slipped off her loose silk nightshirt, the only garment she was
wearing, and shivered a little as cooler air brushed her skin. She took a
swig from the bottle, and then deliberately dribbled a few drops across her
breasts. Her nipples began to pucker from the chill of the liquid. Leaning
over, she licked the droplets off herself. Her nipples grew harder.
Liking the sensation, she did it again. A little more wine came out of
the bottle this time, and it trickled down her front. The white wine
blended into the pale gold and peach tones of her skin. She set the bottle
down again, and spread the wine across her abdomen with her fingertips.
Again she licked the wine off her nipples, and then off her fingers,
sucking them a bit. It felt good, and she sucked some more. Then she
leaned over and sucked her nipples; first one, and then the other, raising
the breasts with her hands and pointing the nipples up so she could reach
them. They tasted of the wine and of something else; she wasn't sure what.
She reached for the wine and dribbled it over her breasts again, enough
this time to trickle all the way down to where the hair grew. It tickled a
little as it seeped around the hairs. The wine was almost gone now. She
capped the bottle. She smoothed the wine across her abdomen again, and
trailed her fingers down into the dark hair between her legs.
She noted how pale her skin was where it hadn't been exposed to sunlight
in such a long time -- she hadn't sunbathed in years. Her fingers teased
at the hairs, feeling a little like the wine trickling there had, but
different. Her skin was growing warmer, and her breath quicker.
She found the slit with her fingers, brushing up and down it to open it
without pulling the hair. She teased for a moment at the edge of her
vagina, then moved upward to where her clitoris was standing up wanting
attention.
She wet her fingers in her wineglass, then went back to her clitoris.
She circled around it, not touching, several times before finally drawing
one finger across it. Then she slipped two fingers down to her vagina
again and dipped into it. She was still wet from before, and she was
getting wetter. She drew some of the moisture up to just below her
clitoris, stroking up and back, up and back, never quite touching, but
teasing, teasing.
She wet her fingers in the wine again, and drew them up the inside of
her thighs to where they joined her body. She stroked there gently for
several minutes, getting more sensation with each stroke until she could
hardly bear it. Then she slipped her fingers into her vagina. It was hot,
and so wet and ready and wanting! She smoothed the walls with her fingers,
only wanting more, and then she reached for the wine bottle again.
She set it against her crotch and slid it across the hair. By now she
was so ready that the hair was no barrier to those lips; they had opened
enough that the bottle was soon sliding across bare wet flesh. She
shivered a little; the bottle was cold, but it did nothing to cool the fire
now raging in her blood. She raised her hands to her breasts again and
rubbed over the still-hard nipples, leaving the wine bottle pressing into
her crotch.
Then she rose up onto her knees and, carefully positioning the bottle,
slid down onto it as she squeezed her breasts with her hands. Her breath
caught in her throat. Oh, how good it felt to have something inside her!
She raised her body up and slid down the bottle's neck again and again,
faster and faster. Her hands moved faster and faster across her breasts,
rubbing and rubbing the nipples, harder and harder until the pleasure was
almost a pain. Her breath came faster and faster in gasps that tore at her
throat, until finally with a moan that seemed to last forever, she came in
a wave of wet heat that warmed the still cold bottle.
She collapsed onto her side then, and slowly her raspy breathing slowed.
She pulled the wine bottle out of herself then, and unscrewed the cap. She
put it to her dry lips and swigged at the wine that was left, tasting her
own juices as well as wine.
She smiled, licking her lips. "Who needs you anyway?" she said again.
/* Leigh
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AT THE INN
Jeanine was a pretty young girl from a very good family in a New England port
town. She learned as much from her tutor as was taught to girls in those days,
but was not interested in needlepoint, and knew well enough how to treat the
servants in order to keep the house running well. Beaux came from many miles
away to court her, on fine horses or in sleek buggies. They were all stuffy
in her eyes, these men in their suits, gloves, and top hats who escorted her
to plays and poetry readings, and tried with their flowery language to win her
hand. She had read every book in her home, had gone to New York to visit her
aunt, who had brought her shopping for fine clothes which suited her flowing
white-gold hair and pale complexion. This did not please her, either; she saw
it as a waste of money. Even riding her horse, a pastime she had enjoyed
despite (or, perhaps, because of) the fact that her mother was horrified at it,
was boring to her. She had galloped down all the paths for miles around, had
thoroughly explored everyplace within a day's ride.
In short, Jeanine was bored.
This boredom became so suffocating that one day she decided to go to the place
where she had been repeatedly told _not_ to go - the docks. If she had been
told a lady might not go there, she felt, there _must_ be something interesting
at the docks. So she put on a very simple blue dress, pinned her hair up, put
on a hat, and strolled to the port.
The streets were crowded. Jeanine was shoved from all sides by men carrying
sacks and boxes, garishly painted women who went from one man to the next,
untill one escorted them away to a nearby inn, and men just looking at the
seedy shops that lined the boulevard. Suddenly, her arm was taken, and she
heard a voice say, "A lady like you shouldn't walk alone around here." SDhe
looked up and saw the face of a young man with brown eyes, a gentle smile,
and reddish-brown curls pulled back into a ponytail. He guided her into a
nearby inn. The innkeeper showed them a table, and the young man ordered wine
for himself and Jeanine.
He introduced himself as Daniel and they began to talk. He had led a very
exciting life on board various ships, and he told her of battles with pirates
and ports far away where the people had dark skins and almond-shaped eyes.
She in turn told Daniel of her society life, and explained her purpose in
coming to the docks - she was searching for a way to alleviate the tedium of
her days. After a few very pleasant hours, Jeanine realised that she had to go
before she was missed at home. Daniel suggested they meet again the next day
at the same inn. She agreed, and went home.
That night, Jeanine dreamed of Daniel. In her dream, he kissed her and held
her in his arms, her face buried in his white ruffled shirt. He caressed her
body. She awoke early and, thinking of her dreams, began to caress herself.
She ran her hands over her full breasts and down her body, feeling the moisture
between her legs. Her hand massaged her clitoris as her body tensed. With
fingers moving faster and faster on the little nodule, she shut her eyes and
pictured Daniel, his mouth on her mouth, kissing her neck as his hand toyed
with her breast...
Waves of pleasure rolled over her, and she felt as if she were floating on
the sea that Daniel lived his life upon.
That afternoon, Jeanine, in her plain white dress, entered the inn, where the
innkeeper led her to a room. He told her that Daniel would join her presently.
She sat down on the edge of the bed, wondering why Daniel had chosen this
place for their rendevous. "Maybe he wants to..." she thought, blushing at her
dream of the previous night. He couldn't want that from _her_! The thought
made her thighs moist and gave her a fluttery feeling in her stomach.
Daniel entered, and she rose to greet him. Instead of a kiss on the hand, which
was what she expected, he grabbed her and kissed her roughly. After a moment
of shock, Jeanine responded, wrapping her arms around him. She was surprised
when he flicked his tongue into her mouth, but had read enough books to know
what was expected in return and let her tongue dance around his, sliding it
inside his mouth and tickling throof of his mouth with it. She heard a moan
as he lowered her onto the bed, sliding his hands from her face to her breasts.
The pulse and moisture between her thighs increased as he slid his mouth on her
throat. Then she realised that he had unbuttoned her dress and slipped his hand
inside her bodice to caress one taut breast.
"Stop...don't do that, Daniel!" she said sharply.
"Why?" he whispered in her ear. "Don't you like it?"
Jeanine couldn't be dishonest. "I do like it. But we shouldn't be doing this."
Daniel seemed angry. "You knew what you were getting into when you decided to
meet me here. Why are you trying to stop now?"
"I didn't know what you wanted!" Jeanine cried, deciding she hadn't really
known, no matter what her thoughts had been when he entered. "Besides, my
father is a prominent man - he'll punish you for this."
Daniel chuckled. "I don't think he will, young lady." He said the word 'lady'
sarcastically, as if she was one no longer. "You are the one who came to the
docks, against your parents' wishes. You are the one who will receive the
punishment, not I, if you tell our secret. I wouldn't be surprised if they
disowned you for this."
"You're right," she whispered. "I can't tell them."
He flicked his tongue on her throat again, feeding the fire in her clitoris.
"Then I suggest you stop resisting. Perhaps you'll enjoy it."
Suddenly all the buttons of her dress were undone, and she found herself in
only her chemise and undergarments. His shirt, too, was off, and she saw the
dusting of hair on his chest, narrowing down to a line that led into his
pants. She traced it with her finger.
"Would you like to find out where that leads to?" he asked. She nodded her
assent. He slid his pants and underpants off and stood before her naked, a
hardened shaft looking too wide for her fingers and thumb to encircle pointing
at her mouth.
"Kiss it," he said, drawing her face to his cock.
She moistened her lips, and he slid it into her mouth. He taught her what to
do. She sucked on it, bobbing her head up and down, flicking her tongue on
the head and shaft, circling the head with strokes of her tongue. As she did
this, she felt moisture secreting from her empty cunt.
Suddenly, Daniel withdrew his penis from her mouth and quickly stripped her
of the rest of her clothes. He told her to lie back and began to lick first
her throat, then her nipples. His tongue flicked over her hard nipples, then
encircled them. His mouth slowly took in more and more of her large breast,
and she gasped in pleasure as he sucked hard on it.
His mouth slowly glided down her body, leaving wet kisses on her soft ivory
stomach. He kissed the top of her mound and she moaned. He slid fully
between her legs and tasted the moisture of her throbbing cunt.
As his tongue worked her, she struggled to sit up. She couldn't let him do
this!
He looked up at her. Her blonde hair had fallen out of its neat pins, and was
tangled on her shoulders. Her face was flushed, her lips were moist, and her
full breasts were heaving as she stared at him.
"Lie back," he commanded, a mixture of saliva and her juices staining his
lips and dripping from one corner of his mouth, "or I can't eat your pussy."
Jeanine let her body rest on the bed, admitting to herself that she didn't
want him to stop. His tongue flicked on her clit a few more times, then he
drew back.
"Kneel on the bed," he ordered. She rose onto her hands and knees. He knelt
behind her and slid his fingers into her moist cunt. "Now," he said to her,
"I'm going to slip my cock inside you."
Jeanine felt an instant of pain as he entered her, followed by a thrill
shooting from her clit to her nipples. She moaned as he thrust again, sending
streaks of fire to her breasts. Pleasure coursed over her as he stroked her
breasts and whispered, "There's nothing I like better than a little virgin with
a tight pussy and big tits." Again and again he thrusted, and she met him
with every thrust. Just as the last thrill of exploding pleasure dissipated,
she felt him come, his cock pulsing inside her.
They slept for a few hours, and, when they awoke, planned to meet at the same
inn the next afternoon. Finally, Jeanine found something to alleviate her
boredom.
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Eros-List 6, Vol. 3
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