I can feel your body giving in to my fingers, the way they probe the contour of every bone. I can hear your breath grow heavy when I circle my fingers right in that sensitive part of the dip between ribs and hips. When will you open the door?
There’s something about every room I wander into that excites me, makes me aroused, just as if the softest of paintbrushes was running over my flesh, brushing the tips of my nipples with its tender sable. I have to slip my hand beneath my top and touch them through my bra to check, the feeling is so convincing. There they are, erect and willing me into each room, this feeling of arousal spreading, brushing my belly into knots and transferring the feeling between my legs as I realise what it is that affects me so: it is the smell of you.
Flash fiction isn’t something I write very often, but I hope you like this little piece of sexiness for #WickedWednesday’s Coffee prompt, inspired by a(read more…)
As some of you know, I am working on a big project about voyeurism (which I won’t go on about her because it’s a naughty(read more…)
This is the fifth and final part of my erotic short story, ‘Audience for the Marionette’. When we last encountered her, she had performed a(read more…)
This is the fourth instalment of my dark, erotic short story, “Audience for the Marionette”, which features in my forthcoming erotic short story collection on(read more…)