Erotic Stories by Alicia Night Orchid

You think you can break things off, disappear for months at a time, chase those geeky equations and global dollars around the world, shack up with god knows who in Pakistan and Tajikastan and wherever else you hang your hat, then skate back here as if nothing's gone down.

You think you can move in and out of my life with no regard to the toll it takes on my heart and my mind and my body.

You think you can just show up at my door, unshaven and travel weary, dressed in those baggy gray trousers and wrinkled blue shirt, a silk sport jacket thrown over your shoulder, looking leaner and hungrier and hotter than the last time I saw you.

I don't know.

You're twelve years older than me, you're graying around the ears, you're hairy and unkempt. Even when you're here, your mind is somewhere else, designing circuit boards, re-engineering the Space Shuttle, figuring out how String Theory unifies the gap between Einsteinian and Quantum physics.

But you are dark and hard and angular, like all the men who have gotten inside my soul. And you are so fucking smart, so razor-edge keen, no nuance escapes scrutiny, dissection, explanation.

I want to hump your mind as much as your body.

And you know it.

So, here you are, the morning after your unannounced arrival, sleeping open-mouthed and naked across the room, sprawled across my damp and sticky sheets. And I'm here pecking out my life on a keyboard, sipping coffee and feeling shaky and spent after you made me come too many times to count, after you wrung pleasure from me like water from a wet towel, after you used me and bruised me, and made me beg for more.

You sonofabitch.

You knew all along exactly what to do. The proffered apology. The "I can't live without you, baby." The "You make me a better man." The ""I've missed you so much." The "We're so good together." The "I'll make this work this time."

You knew how to eat my food and drink my wine and listen to my words. You knew how to push through my meagre resistance, undermine my defenseless defences with your wit, your humour, and your goddamn blue eyes that are so bright I'm blinded every time.

You fucking sonofabitch.

And there you are now, waking, your eyes on me. Your hand reaching for me, as if you could beckon and I would follow. As if I'd get up out of this chair and snuggle up with you.

I won't do that, but I'll do this.

I'll set my laptop aside and unbutton your blue shirt that I picked up off the floor this morning and threw over my shoulders. I'll open my legs, so you can see my pussy outlined in the white crotch of the clean panties I slipped into a little while ago. I'll pinch my nipple and bite my lip while watching you sit up in bed, naked and hard in the dim light. I'll push my fingers around the thin membrane of fabric that separates my cunt from your view. I'll focus on my clit that just hours ago you sucked until I screamed. I'll pull the fabric aside and show it to you.

Is that what you want to see? The folds and rilles, the pink and the darker flesh of my outer lips, wet and swollen with more want than words can describe. I'll separate my slit and show you how my clit throbs like a little heart for you. I'll open myself for you, yearning again for your long, hard cock to fill me up, fill me up baby.

And yes, I'll stand and wriggle out of my panties, bend over, and show you my ass. I'll spread my cheeks and offer you the pucker and the darkness and tight grip that clinches you and won't let go when I come with you deep inside me there. That hard dark come from being fucked in the ass.

You promised me that. Or did you forget?

I return to my seat on the chair and you stride across the room, dick in hand. You think I want that? You think I want to touch it, suck it, drink from it? You think I want those swaying balls and that tight butt?

You promised me all of it. Or did you forget?

Come here, baby.

I love the way your cock tastes of you and me and both of us together, left overs from last night. With one hand I stroke you, with my other I finger myself. You know this about me, you know I can't mouth you without getting so excited I have to touch myself. I have to rub my clit, finger deep inside my hole. I have to. I can't stop.

You know this you sonofabitch.

And then you withdraw, denying me your flesh, yet stroking it only inches away from my lips and open mouth. Your eyes lock on mine and mine on yours and our hands work in concert.

You sonofabitch.

You want to know if I'm close. And I tell you that I am. Oh baby, I'm lost in it, squirming in the seat, thumping against it, finger fucking myself for you, you, you. There's never enough.

You sonofabitch.

And when I come, I'm screaming it out and thrashing it out. And it was never better, never harder, never more welcome, even though I'm raw and thirsty and weak from our lovemaking last night.

And you're still not done. When I open my eyes you're standing over me, cock still hard, hand still stroking. And you're in total fucking control, when I'm lost and washed out like flotsam on the sea.

You sonofabitch.

And you want to know if I want it.

Yes, god yes.

Do I really want it?

Please, please, give it to me.

Where do you want it?

On my face. Please, give it to me.

Mouth open, tongue out, like a chick in the nest waiting to be fed.

Do you want it?

Give it to me, please. Give it to me.

And there it is, milky and warm, and I lap and suck it up like it's life itself. It's on my lips and cheeks and chin. It's dribbling between my breasts and I'll never wash it off. I'll never turn it down. I'll die if I don't have more and more and more.

You sonofabitch.