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Electronic Eros - Volume 1, Number 6
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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"Electronic Erotica", volume 1, number 6.
CONTENTS:
Intro to eEros
Lounging
The Seance
A Pleasant Visitor
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INTRO TO EEROS
EEros is a periodical of reader-submitted erotic fiction. It is published
once a month (currently near the middle of the month) in the 'alt.sex'
newsgroup on usenet. There is a mailing list, but the resources are VERY
limited for supporting it, so if you can read the newsgroup, DO NOT ASK
TO BE ADDED TO THE MAILING LIST. I don't have the time or resources to
fill requests for previous issues, so don't ask. At least one kind soul on
the net has offered to make back issues available for anonymous ftp from
unocss.unl.edu (129.93.1.11) in the 'pub/altsex/eros' directory. The
maintainer of that archive is Tim Russell <[email protected]> or
<[email protected]>. If you don't have ftp access, I'm sorry.
Maybe someone someday will set up a way to request back issues via email.
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LOUNGING
It's godawful hot outside. Not too humid, but the kind of heat that bears down
if you're not in the shade and almost disappears if you are. The husband and
kids are away for the day, she can be more informal. After the morning run she
showers and puts the shorts back on with only a bathing suit top. The day to
herself, she stretches out on the lounge chair in the backyard with her summer
novel.
After only a few pages though, she finds that she just can't get HIM out of
her mind. She can still feel him against her even though they were only
together for 36 hours last weekend.
The backyard is enclsoed by hedges and fences. As her mind wanders she need
not worry if her hand finds itself slowly stroking her cunt from the outside
of her shorts. Her nipples harden as she remebers him rubbing her ass gently
as they rode up the elevator together. They kissed after they came through
the door to his apartment.
She remembers his body and what they did and her fingers slide beneath her
shorts and the satin panties beneath, stroking the lips of her vagina softly.
He had done that too, sitting next to her on the bed, one hand fingering her
while the other carressed her nipples, her chest and her stomach.
It had been some time since she had experienced a new man, with new smells and
tastes, a different smile and life and a new style of loving. Never in a
hurry, he had gently played with her pussy until she was so wet and hot that
she literally pushed him onto his back and mounted him, almost coming as he
penetrated her. He pinched and rubbed her nipples as she slid up and down on
him, grinding herself against and around his hardness.
It was also a time for her to be reassured that she certainly could still make
a man beg her to finish him off, as he did when she sucked him. She loved the
way he squirmed beneath her and groaned, how his stomach and thighs tightened
up when she finally gave him the long hard strokes that emptied his sweet
balls into her mouth.
Each foot is now planted on the deck on each side of the lounge chair. Her
eyes are closed and her back is slightly arched as she slowly fingers herself,
rubbing her wet clit as her mind goes back to the feel of his cock rubbing
against her ass just before he entered her from behind. His cock filling her
pussy and his finger slipping in and out of her ass as he whispered into her
ear the effect watching her muscular back and wonderful ass was having on him
as he fucked her.
The hottest memory was his tongue. Men love to be sucked but they're often
publicly hypocritical about it, using derisive terms to refer to women who
enjoy giving head. Women aren't so stupid, they appreciate men who love to eat
pussy and this man, if he were a woman and roles were reversed, would be
considered a real slut.
He took his time and used his tongue, lips, fingers, nose and face to bring
pleasure to her. So slow and wet at first, the sweet bastard kept her going
for almost an hour. He tongued her ass while a finger squirmed into her and
another tapped her clit gently. Tap...tap....taptaptap. He used long full
tongued strokes that started at her ass and covered her pussy lips and ended
at her clit. His hands, usually cupping her ass cheeks, periodically reached
up to rub her breasts.
She loved it. The idea of a man lying between her legs and catering to her
needs always turned her on and the memory of this man, new, hard and so
accomodating, wanting her to come all over his face after licking and sucking
her for an hour. She had finally grapped his head and taken her release
grinding herself against his tongue, his face. For the first time in a long
time she felt as if she really lost it, didn't care how loud she was or what
she screamed in the night, her hands grabbed his head so closely. His tongue
in the final moments somehow knew just what she wanted. Someone at sometime
had taught this boy but good. Fast wet tongue on her clit making her cum.
Thinking about it a week later on the deck in her backyard, the summer sun
beat down, making her sweat as her fingers rubbed her pussy, pretending that
they were his lips, his tongue, his fingers. She thought he'd probably like to
see her this way, soaked with sweat, nipples showing through her top, hand in
her pants, moving her hips against it.
Yes, if only he were here now...just as she came she thought he was standing
next to her, leaning against the lounge chair, nude. Stroking his hard cock as
he watches her bring herself off...she reaches up and gently rubs his
balls...she can see his muscles tightening and that beautiful look on his
face. She comes, loudly, closing her eyes. As she does she is sure she can
hear him and feel his warm cum spurting across her chest and stomach.....
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THE SEANCE
After dinner the clamor for a seance renewed, and of course in the
end--after the usual mutterings from the Colonel about "poppycock" and
"much better to have a good round of whist"--it was decided.
Accordingly, we cleared the drawing room and set the large table in the
center, covered with a cloth of heavy purple velvet which Lady Elma
produced "to propitiate the spirits." Indeed, the ladies had a great
flutter about doing it all properly--sitting around the table, holding
hands, with our feet placed on the top of our neighbors' (or underneath,
as the case might be) so as to detect any trace of attempted mortal
meddling. For, as Lady Elma most properly pointed out, "There was no
point to doing it at all unless you were prepared to do it seriously!"
At last we were settled, fairly widely spaced at the table, our legs and
arms stretched out to our neighbors, with the candles doused and the
curtains tightly drawn. For a few moments there were titters as people
adjusted themselves---"I say, Harry, don't stamp so on my toes!"--but at
last silence fell, a heavy, expectant silence undisturbed even by the
winds outside.
In such an atmosphere, it is difficult to mark the passing of time, so
it is nearly impossible for me to say how long we waited thus, and I
suppose I had fallen into a sort of reverie (helped along by the wine),
when all of a sudden I became aware of a touch against my leg. I held
my breath--for in my near-trance I was almost prepared for it to be a
ghost--and for a moment nothing happened. Then it came again--a gentle
touch, as of a hand beginning a tentative caress upon my thigh. It
continued--it was unmistakeable--someone or something was stroking my
thigh, and indeed if one could judge from appearances its intentions
were far from innocent, for it slowly proceeded towards my crotch and at
last began lightly stroking the fabric against my private parts. For
the moment I was stunned--still really unsure of the reality of what was
happening, so suddenly had it begun, and also increasingly aware of the
pleasure stealing over me from the touch. I was, furthermore, becoming
aware that I must above all keep still, for my neighbors would of course
detect the slightest motion of my limbs, and after the incident of the
night before I was determined not to be thought the culprit again. But
scarcely had I time to caution myself thus then my self-control was put
to the test, for I became aware of a hand unbuttoning my trousers, and
then suddenly warm, soft fingers were reaching in, grasping my member,
and drawing it, stiffening, forth. The quick touch nearly made me
gasp--I caught myself in time, and deliberately set myself to relax my
limbs lest they betray me. By now I was far too engrossed in the
possibilities which awaited to wonder--or care--what or who could
possibly be touching me thus: fingers were holding me gently, and at
last the unmistakeable warmth and wetness of a tongue touched the eager,
the trembling, the exquisitely sensitive tip of my cock. I shut my eyes
against the darkness, trying to imagine what was happening--lips,
tongue, flashing teeth, my rod slowly entering the welcome cavity--but
suddenly the touch was withdrawn. My cock launched itself helplessly
out into the blackness, into the air, feeling itself abruptly
deserted--I held my breath once more in an agony of hope, and at last!
was rewarded by the delicious sensation once again of a tongue's caress.
It continued--it slowly welcomed more and more of my desperately aroused
flesh into the soft friction. I yearned to thrust still further inward;
the slow suspense was tantalizing torture, the more so because I knew I
_must_not_ move, and the degrees by which the lips--those glorious
lips!--made their soft and lubricious progress first onward and then
withdrawing backward along what felt like a yard of acutely tingling
penis, were nearly unbearable. A centimeter forwards, an inch of bliss
as my whole body nearly shuddered with the deliberateness of it--then an
inch back--an inch of combined pleasure and tension, with always the
fear that the touch would disappear as it had come. I could feel the
tongue as well, moving against the underside of my rod in slow circles
as the lips worked slowly upwards, till at last! I was fully enclosed,
so firmly and warmly held that I could almost imagine myself engulfed in
the wet haven of a woman's sex.
By that time my heart was pounding, and my breathing was in grave danger
of becoming audible--I was thus almost grateful for the pause as this
ethereal lover ceased to move and held me, pulsing in every limb, but
especially in that which was so wonderfully embedded in the ghostly
mouth. All was still silent in the room, and I realized that I had no
idea at all how much time had passed--perhaps the others would soon
become restless and--awful thought!--break up our circle before this
mystery had had its way with me! Whatever it was, it seemed to have had
the same thought, for in a moment I felt it slowly begin again, this
time with a stronger rhythm and a firmness of touch which made me wonder
whether the experience might not be over all too soon. And now, too, a
new sensation was added: that of soft hands once more touching me, this
time sliding over my now slick sex while those gentle, gentle lips still
sucked and licked at its very tip. I felt a dangerous pleasure
beginning to mount as the rhythm went to my head--my whole body was
concentrated in this one member, consumed with the mesmerizing
sensations of my penis, sliding, sliding effortlessly within that smooth
grasp, until in my mind's eye I could nearly see the woman kneeling
between my legs, the penis disappearing deep into her mouth and
emerging, sliding past her lips and their pressure, her tongue and its
exquisite friction, while her hands cradled my balls and added an almost
distractingly delicate tickling to the already overwhelming pleasure.
Then I imagined her beneath me, lying open before me as I entered her
again and again, each time feeling her outer lips grasp me and then her
wet, warm sex give way before my thrust, her hips moving around the root
of my rod and sending pleasure through my belly and bones as I sought to
bury my entire length--nay my entire body--within her. The fantasy was
so complete that at last I felt the imperative sperm surge up within
me--I was in the grasp of a rhythm too strong to resist, and with an
uncontrollable shudder I felt myself spurt forth the pent-up desires and
liquids of a month's abstinence.
I think I gasped--I must have quivered--but as the force of my orgasm
died away and I came to myself I recollected what had indeed been
forgotten in the preceding ecstasy--that I was surrounded by people.
Had anyone detected my agitation? All was silent in the darkness--I
waited in an agony of suspense as the silence drew itself out into what
seemed like hours, and then--"I say, have we got to sit here very much
longer?" came the cheerful voice of Harry Vane. "Yes--I say--it's
deuced dark." "And my foot's gone to sleep!" chimed in Miss Pearson and
Freddy Postlethwaite. A snore from my left announced that the Colonel
was oblivious. The lights came up--Lady Elma, standing match in hand by
the candelabra, asked cheerfully, "Has anyone detected a ghost?"
Various voices responded in the negative--I was seized by a sudden fear
lest my trousers (as absurd though this is!) be unbuttoned--I contrived
to examine them, and found them secure! What had happened? An
ingenious ghost--a cautious ghost! Ah--a voluptuous ghost! I looked up
and caught Lady Elma's smile as she looked at me, archly, and a sudden
suspicion crossed my mind--was that a trace of moisture on her lovely
lips? Or merely lamplight . . .
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A PLEASANT VISITOR
I could tell it had been a long day for you as soon as you walked through the
door. I'd flown in for the weekend, a relatively rare visit and let myself
in with your key. dinner was ready and the food and wine seemed to bring your
spirits up a bit. After dinner and dishes talk of the day, easy cuddling and
some talk of the future.
You suggested a backrub, both to get your kinks out and to help us both relax.
In the candlelight I'm reminded how much a simple pleasure it can be to watch
someone you love undress in front of you. Some things are so mundane but so
important.
Naked beneath the sheets and warm comforters you can lounge on your stomach
while I slide my hands over your shoulders, spine and sides. There's some
tension that I spend some time kneading out, a smile spreads across your face
when I squeeze the right knotted muscle. The wine probably helps, providing a
a fuzzy veil over everything we do and feel.
Originally I'm straddled over you so I can really work on your back but after
fifteen or twenty minutes I want to settle down and slide down next to you,
lying on my side, leaning against yours. I still have a hand sliding over your
back, from the shoulders down to the small, but no anatomical efforts now,
just the warm comforting feeling of skin brushing against skin.
Every few strokes I include your ass and the backs of your thighs in my palm's
tour of your back. You ass and thighs are always nice and strong, from years
of running two miles a day and summers of leader teens on hikes in the
mountains of New Hampshire. Every time I do this I'm reminded of how we
concentrate on the obvious: genitals, breasts. But backs have their own
beauty, their own sensuality. So do fingers, hands, arms, knees. I'm not
usually so philosophical under the influence of soave.
Lying next to you is having its effect on me, especially after three hours on
a plane. I'm concentrating on the small of your back and your ass now, with
occasional forays back to your shoulders. You smell of your day at work and I
taste the saltiness as I lick and kiss a shoulder and then your neck. You
smile again, knowing what I'm up to, probably having waited for me start since
the backrub began.
Stroking your ass I let my hand slip between your cheeks, slightly deeper with
every other move or so, tickling you a bit but also beginning to brush against
your pubic hairs from behind. You part your legs just slightly and giggle,
turning your head toward me and giving me the kind of smile that attracted me
to you in the first place.
I'm still mostly rubbing your ass but more and more a finger or two are
stroking your lips as they slip down, spending more and more time lightly
brushing. You sigh and I leave my hand embedded between your legs, a finger
lying across the length of your exposed lips, lightly moving side to side,
pressing slightly. You squirm a bit and move closer to me, kissing my arm and
nibbling a bit, then licking slowly. My hand starts to move up and down more,
the tip of my middle finger slipping just inside at the bottom of each stroke.
You turn and look me directly in the eyes and move toward me, mouth slightly
open. I feel more wetness and slip a full finger inside you. You moan just a
bit as our mouths meet and tongues slide against each other. I start to move
my finger slowly inside you, moving a bit deeper. You part your legs a bit
more, I slip a second finger inside. My middle finger moves toward your clit,
you're raising your ass slightly off the bed. I'm rubbing your clit very
gently and start kissing your back again as you break off the kiss.
Slowly I lick my way down your back, I've always liked your taste, until I
reach your ass. Your legs and ass are moving slowly against my hand now and
I use the other to part your ass cheeks. My tongue slides down to you asshole
and when it touches and I press against it, I can hear you let out a full
breath. I whisper for you to flip over.
I'm lying between your legs, stroking the insides of your thighs and pulling
gently on your pubic hairs with my lips. Long slow strokes of my tongue bottom
to top along the lips of your wet cunt, slight pause at the end when I reach
your clit. Slow and easy and then drawing your lips briefly between mine, then
slipping my tongue inside. Your left hand slides down and rests on top of my
head. I slide one finger and then two inside and continue licking, more and
more on your clit as you're getting higher, holding my head tighter aginast
you as I start to move faster, still full tongued. It's easy to tell when
you're getting really high and I look up to see that glazed over countenance
through half open eyelids.
Your noisiness really has its effect on me, I'm very hard and becoming totally
immersed in your soundssmelltaste and the fact that you're starting to shiver,
one hand holding my head against you more tightly, the other is rubbing your
nipples. A finger slides against your asshole now.
My thumb is in your cunt and I slip a finger into your ass. I can sense your
close to cumming and I suddenly shake my head from side to side very rapidly
You lose it. Legs and feet sliding against the sheets my face is pressing
against wet musky womansmell held closely by a desperate hand. Your groans
remind me again of how much I'm turned on by the sounds of lovemaking. When I
was in college I couldnt help hear roomates and their lovers. I'd bring myself
off as they did.
I move up over you and we hold each other tight, kisses, whispers, warmth. You
still move against me and raise your legs in invitation. And I thought you
were worn from work. Six weeks of separation can make people very horny. I
slip in very easily. The initial rush almost makes me lose control but I pause
and then start screwing. Your hands slide along my back and sides and I nibble
and kiss you neck and lips. After five or ten minutes it's like a slow dance.
We move against each other. I can feel your muscles holding me, the heat and
wetness are just what I need. You're whispering in my ear, "Baby wants to cum,
doesnt he?", "Go ahead baby, don't hold back."
I move off you a bit and you stroke my chest with your hands. You've decided
that I want this to last a bitlonger and move a hand down to your clit, not
too sensitive to be rubbed.
We're totally out of time. A dance out of time. Good fucking is not just
refusing to answer the phone if it rings, it's refusing to even hear it. Now
we're both very high. Thighs against thighs, sweating stomachs, staring into
each other eyes. The eye contact could be the thing that finsihes us both.
It does. You've been working your clit quickly and slip over some brink,
vaginal muscles taking me with you. I feel it start in my balls and it shoots
right up my back and stomach muscles, rippling through my body. Just like it
always does when we make it last. There are times for quick and hard, but this
had to be slow and smooth. My head snaps up and I scream.
We remain entwined for long after, enjoying the aftershocks and union after
a long time apart.
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End of "Electronic Erotica", volume 1, number 6.
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