The Best Erotic Stories.

Never Too Tired
by Aynlee Scott

I know when he is near me. I can sense him approaching from the farthest distance, feel his breath on my skin, warm and labored as it always is. In my mind now he is even there after so long, standing behind me, his husky form pressed to my back and ass as his cock is hard against me. All the visions of our erotic entanglements come back to haunt me now, like a home movie that I haven't seen in the longest time but that I am now playing back in my mind. All of the feelings come back, every little sensation washing through me like that hot breath on my skin, like his strong fingers on my lips. There are no moments in my life that I can compare to the seconds he was inside of me and I would scream from the sheer pleasure of it. I left holes in his back, claw marks along his spine from those times when the ecstasy would overwhelm me and I became human in my most pure, primitive state.

We fucked everywhere in those early days. The more risk the better, the more heightened our excitement. In the movie theater. In the elevator at the airport. In his office during the busiest hours of the afternoon. One of our favorite places to make love was in the backseat of his (now ex-) wife's swank black Lincoln Towncar. The leather seats were so sticky and tantalizing against my naked skin. He'd strip me bare always - never just my skirt or underwear. I always had to be down to my barest necessities. I can recall once after he undressed me, he pulled my body on top of his so that I was straddling his lap and his breath was so ragged as he said (pleaded), "Take out my cock." I reached down and my fingers expertly ripped his zipper to shreds and pulled out his naked sex.

Now we live together. I stay at home and do my writing and he goes to work at the office. All day long I write my romance novels and fantasize about what I will do to him when he comes home. All day long my subconscious plots over the points of flesh, the curves of bones, deciding what will come first in the late hours of the afternoon: fellatio or just good old-fashioned intercourse. It's no wonder I'm so hungry when he gets home. My body is so hyped up, my lips and hands so starved with the want of human flesh and blood that I . . ."

"Still writing?" a voice asks behind me.

I haven't heard him come in. I turn around and look at him with a mischievous smile already forming on my face. He's had a rough day, I can tell. His red tie is hanging loosely at his open white collar, the hand holding his suit jacket limp and exhausted. One of his black Oxfords is untied.

"Honey," I say.

His dark eyes are so passionate even in their weary, almost half-massed state.

"You look exhausted."

"I am," he says, sighing.

I get up from the computer and walk over to him, kiss his cheek as I wrap my arms around him. "Why don't you go lay down on the bed, and I will be with you in a few minutes."

He arches an eyebrow at me curiously as if to say "What are you up to?"

"Just go," I prod, and he obeys, reluctantly disengaging his arms from around my form and walking wearily towards the open bedroom door.

I go into the bathroom hurriedly, the excitement in my rising as I reach the mirror and pull off my silk robe. Beneath it I am wearing a blood red velvet push-up bra that shows off my milky-white cleavage beautifully and a pair of red velvet thongs to match. I take down my strawberry hair and it tumbles about my pale face carelessly. As a finishing touch, I carefully apply a coat of red stay-put lipstick to my full, puckering mouth.

I come into the bedroom and he is lying on the paisley spread like a defeated man. His eyelids flutter as I softly tap on the door with my knuckles. "Knock knock," I say seductively. His eyes shoot open, and they flicker up and down my sexy visage.

"Too tired to fuck?" I ask him. He loves it when I use the f-word. He thinks it's the naughtiest word in any language.

"Never," he says, sitting up slightly.

"No," I whisper. "Stay where you are." I go over to the bed and kneel down on it like a cat. Crawling towards his half-mass body, I command, "Just relax." Seconds later, I am bending over him but not touching him. One of my knees is between his thighs, one of my hands is between his rib and arm. The strands of my hair are almost brushing his chest and neck.

His eyes scrutinize over my face so close to his, looking me up and down as they dare the fire raging inside of me. My eyes flicker down his chest and stomach to the gathering of black fabric between his legs. Erect. Almost fully. He's so big and it is hard to restrain my hands from touching his cock.

Slowly, deliberately, I brush his shirt collar with my fingers. He starts when I rip his tie apart suddenly, caught off-guard by the beast in me. I am amused at his inability to predict me after all this time. One by one, I pluck the buttons of his shirt apart and then I smooth the fabric to each rib, exposing his bare and muscular chest and stomach. My hand runs over the succulent flesh, savoring the pink nipples, the dip of his abdomen, and the soft patch of downy hairs circling his bellybutton and dancing south to heaven. My mouth is hungry for his. I kiss him softly on the lips and my tongue moves against his, my fingers moving down to his enlarged groin without forethought. He moans against my mouth and tongue as my hand squeezes and rubs the head of his clothed cock. Soon this is not enough for me and I fumble to unbuckle his belt with one hand, my other hand moving into his dark hair. I then struggle with his zipper and underwear until I have pulled his cock free of its restraints and it is hard and seething in my greedy fingers.

I get on top of him, straddling his lap, the velvet of my panties rubbing against the skin of his sex, teasing and tormenting him. He bites into my bottom lip and I cry out from the pain/pleasure and then rape his tongue again with my own. His hands move to my ass, gripping it and guiding my body to grind harder against his pelvis. I can feel the tip and length of his cock stroking my clit even through the panties. Soon I am wet and tortured with my want of him inside of me.

He flips me onto my back suddenly, pins my hands to the bed with one hand and strains to rip away my bra with the other. When he succeeds, his fingers cannot resist giving my full breasts their full attention. He pulls and plays with my nipples until they are erect and budding from his teasing, then he bites them playfully with his sharp teeth. His mouth makes its way south, over the slope of my ribcage and the ring in my navel to the edge of my panties. Here he pauses, tempting me until my hand presses the back of his head, my fingers ruffling his hair. Expertly, he pulls my panties down and off with his teeth and discards them to an unimportant region of the room. I open my legs around his face as he bends down to lick my clit in one tormenting swoop. He spreads the lips of my shaven sex apart with his gentle fingers and begins to eat at my insides, sucking on my clit and dipping his tongue into the hidden passage to my womb. I writhe against him in my agony/ecstasy and he uses his teeth to torture me further. My hips undulate as I press my pelvis further into his face, feeling the tip of his nose kissing my clit. His hand grips my breast as I come hard, a strangled moan escaping my open lips.

He comes up to kiss me immediately after, tonguing me hard so that I can taste my climax all in his mouth. I breath the sacred two-word demand, barely audible between our lips, and he is inside of me in a second flat. His hard cock is throbbing and hot as it fills me, painful even after all of our previous penetration sessions. My thighs wrap around his hips as I move my pelvis to meet his harrowing thrusts, our bones jamming into and out of one another. His strong hands reach over my head to grip the bedrails to steady our joining as he bucks in and out of my open body. He grunts and I moan, the sounds coming one after the other as if one is a question and the other an answer. My fingers bite into his hips as he jams in and out of my hot sex, wishing they were holding the bones themselves to analyze the most pure of body mechanics. It seems to go on forever.

I would love for it to go on forever. I could do this till the end of time, have him filling me and hearing his guttural groans of rapture as he takes me violently. I love how loud he cries out when he finally comes, his semen pouring into my womb. It's like the last ejaculation of bliss there will or ever could be. Until next time.


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