Erotic Stories by Alicia Night Orchid

My guy, Ray, is a rocket scientist. No, it's true. He really is a rocket scientist. We live in Southern California and he works for one of the big aeronautic companies out this way. Because he's a rocket scientist, it goes without saying that he's smart, and I like smart guys. He's also a few years older than me with salt and pepper hair and these blue eyes with crinkles around the edges that have seen a lot of the world. And I like that, too, a man whose knocked around enough to know his place. To top it off, he's pretty good looking in a brooding, Humphrey Bogart sort of way, reasonably fit (we won't talk about that roll around the midsection), and hairy in the right places. I like brooding and fit, and hairy chests and bellies and balls are a big turn on for me. You other girls can have those scrubbed down, lasered up boys—I want a noisy, sweaty, hairy man.

If there's anything Ray's lacking it's creativity. Not when it comes to building rockets—he's plenty imaginative dressed in his white coat with calculator in hand. I'm talking about creativity in the bedroom. Don't get me wrong, he's lusty as the next guy, can even be a little kinky sometimes, and knows what it takes to get me off. But he can slip into a rut. Making love to him can be a little like riding a tractor.

It feels good, but it's kind of boring.

So that's where I come in. I'm not as smart or worldly or hairy as he is, but I'm creative and I know how to spice it up. I know how to be a naughty girl.

Here are some ideas for you girls who want to re-introduce a little naughtiness into relationships. And, guys, if you're not getting what you need at home, maybe you want to share this essay with your little woman. Who knows what might happen if you read it aloud together some sultry afternoon or cold winter's evening.

Eat Naked

A few years ago I belonged to a gourmet dining club. One evening one of our group suggested that our monthly culinary adventures would be more interesting if we dined in the nude. Now, believe me, none among us were prudes, but men and women alike quickly objected. Who wanted to eat a big meal and get all bloated and tipsy in the nude? Let's face it, most of us don't even want to catch a glimpse of ourselves in the mirror after a gastronomic event, much less show off to others in such a condition.

That said, it's different when the only other diner is your honey and you're trying to rev his motor. Here's how I do it with Ray.

I prep dinner in advance. I recommend a light menu with several dishes involving different tastes and textures and plenty of wine. A personal favorite menu is:

First course—Cold shrimp cocktail (two shrimp each) eaten with a split of champagne.

Second course—An espresso cup of a tomato-basil bisque served with a light and fruity pinot gris.

Third course—A poached salmon filet (no more that six ounces) over a bed of couscous and topped with a dollop of tapenade accompanied by a pinot noir.

Fourth course—One double lamb chop (medium rare, please) drizzled with a port wine reduction and washed down with a rich and spicy red zinfandel.

Fifth course—Fresh strawberries and whipped cream.

I set the table, light the candles, and dress in something sexy, for example matching bra and panties, a see-through summer dress, and sandals. I call Ray while he's at work and tell him I've been thinking about him and his beautiful cock all day and I can't wait until he gets home. I tell him I have something special planned.

When he arrives, I greet him at the door with a glass of champagne in hand. I tell him to change clothes and meet me on the deck.

The way it works is this. At the conclusion of each course, we tell each other what it is we love about the other. And we each remove an article of clothing.

I might tell Ray how I love it that he's such an attentive partner (although he isn't always as attentive as I'd like). I thank him for sending flowers, candy, and other little gifts that make me feel special. He might tell me how he likes it that I cook for him. After all, Ray loves to eat.

Then he takes off his top and I unzip my dress and let it fall to the floor. Seeing him looking at my cleavage in my expensive push up bra, seeing his pink nipples through his vest of hair is a real turn on for me.

After the shrimp, we move onto the soup. Here I might say I love the way he sometimes makes love to me in the middle of the night, often surprising me with his unexpected passion. That's when he usually says he loves it when I show up at his office and give him a blow job in the store room. He removes his belt and I kick off my sandals and put my feet in his crotch.

Now we're onto the poached salmon filet and the pinot noir. Champagne and white wine are nice, but red wine opens me like a flower. I remember the first time I let a young man come inside me—that feeling of warmth inside of warmth. That's how I feel when that glass of pinot hits bottom.

I tell Ray I love what an intelligent fellow he is and how impressed I am that he always finishes the New York Times crossword puzzle ahead of me (actually, I resent it because no one should be that smart with both words and numbers). He tells me he loves how I make him feel so confident. He shucks his trousers, revealing a good start on a boner through his under shorts, and I unhook my bra. When I clear the table, I kiss him and make it a point to brush my nipples against his arm. If I'm not too tipsy, I give my ass an extra shake on the way to the kitchen.

We really get confessional over the lamb and Zin. I tell him I love him because he loves all the crazy shit I do like writing porn on the web, keeping an online sex blog, and getting up at 2:00 AM to cook a new recipe I've come up with . He tells me that he loves it that I am so crazy, because otherwise he might become a stodgy nerd (no shit, Sherlock). That's when I lift my legs in the air, wriggle out of the panties, and shoot them across the table at him. He drapes them over his head and acts like a dope until I tell him a breathy voice that I need to see his cock.

By now he is granite hard and I'm tingly wet, but the real fun's just starting. I'm going to get naughty now.

I bring in the strawberries and cream and it would make sense that I'd lather his cock with cream and suck him off. But instead, I put one foot on the table and the other in his lap. I search for a fat strawberry, open my pussy lips with the fingers of my left hand, and insert the strawberry with the right hand. The entire time my eyes are locked on Ray, who is looking a little zoned out by now. I swirl that berry around good, slipping it in and out, teasing my clit with it, coating it with my sweetness.

The bigger the berries, the better.

"Are you ready for a taste?" I ask him.

"Yes," he says dreamily.

"Yes? Are you sure?"

"God yes."

I remove the berry and feed it to him.

I feed him the entire bowl like this, except for the last berry. I ask him to remove the last berry with his tongue. By now I'm all sloppy and creamy and just the touch of his tongue on my clit brings me off.

Where you take your evening from here is entirely up to you. By the way, you can also do this with a banana split.

Stroke It

Try this one after an already great night of sex.

Imagine it's the next morning and you wake up with your pussy pressed against his ass and your arm thrown across his chest. You're thinking about the night before and starting to get wet again. But he's still sleeping, right, so you need something to fan the flames.

Here's how I do it.

I run my hand across his ass and very gently reach between his thighs and go for his balls. I love to take those furry little puppies in my hand. I love to roll and squeeze and caress them. I love to scratch them with my nails.

It never fails to get a rise out of him.

When he wakes, he'll probably push your hand away, pat you on the leg, and try to flip you over onto your back. He's thinking he's going to get a little of the same old, same old. But here's where you have to be assertive.

Don't to let him take control.

I can be pretty strong when I want to be (and so can you). Still spooning him, I run my hand down his chest and belly until I find his cock. I wet my hand with saliva and start giving him this slow, delicious hand job.

I just love the feel of his cock in my hand—I mean, I've been a big fan of hand jobs since high school (senior year, when I was 18, of course), but these days I'm better at it. Stroking, squeezing, swirling that pre-cum around. And all the time I'm whispering into his ear how I want him to fuck me in the mouth and in the pussy and in the ass until I scream so loud the neighbors call the police. And all the time, I'm humping his ass with my wet pussy, just grinding him, you know, and breathing hard and moaning.

And pretty soon he's in the throes on this hip storm, humping into my fist and struggling to turn over, because he wants to put it in me. But that's not where this is going. I don't want that now. I want to finish this. I like the power of it, the control of it and, besides, my little clitty is just happy as can be rubbing up wet and slick against him.

So I continue to stroke him and play with his balls. I bring him close, then I back off. I jack him fast, then I slow down. I tease his cock with my nails. I play with his balls some more. I finger my pussy and make him lick my juices off my hand before I'll touch him again. If he's amenable to it, I'll slip a finger up his ass.

And then when he's just about crazy, I bring him off. I take his cock head between my slippery fingertips and tug on it.

Now this is important.

I focus my efforts on just the head, so it feels like I'm sucking him off with my mouth. Except that instead of one tongue it's like three of four tongues flicking at him. And that does it. I mean, even after emptying his balls into me two or three times the night before, he sprays gobs all over my hand and onto his chest.

I still won't let him go. I make him lay there while I rub it into his skin and lick it off my fingers.

When he's calmed down, your man (if he's a gentleman) will ask you what you want.

Well, here's what you say. Say, "Baby I want to be finger fucked slowly and deliberately until I come at least twice."

A tongue is good. A cock is great. But sometimes you can't beat a finger fuck by a guy who knows how to do it right. It makes me feel nasty, like I used to feel when I was a school girl (18 years old, or course) and my boy friend would finger fuck me under my skirt or with his hands down my jeans. It reminds me of the times in college when I'd get on my hands and knees on my dorm room bed and let my boyfriend finger me from behind while the girl across the hall watched (okay, but that's another story).

You know what it is about getting finger fucked? It's all these appendages, in and out and around your pussy. It's about being penetrated with three digits while getting your clit is rubbed with a thumb. It's about a finger up your ass and another in your cunt and the heel of his hand on your clit.

And you know what, by the time he's done fingering you chances are he'll be hard again.

Life just got a little more interesting didn't it?

Phone it In

This naughtiness takes a little more planning.

First, you both have to have cell phones in good working order. Second, you have to find a restaurant or bar where the lighting is good enough that you can see each other across the way, but not so bright that everyone can see what's going on. We like the outdoor restaurants that abound in the Hermosa and Manhattan Beach neighborhoods.

Just be careful not to let anyone one else see what the two of you are doing, because that might be illegal in some states. And if you get caught, don't say you got this idea from me.

For this, I like to dress in sophisticated, business attire—a pinstripe suit, thigh-highs, and heels. Ray usually wears something business casual and carries a book or portfolio to cover up the wet spot he's going to have on his slacks before we're done. Neither of us bother with underwear.

He enters first and takes a seat. I wait a few minutes before waltzing in. I can usually finagle the hostess into giving me the seat I want. I want to be able to see Ray and want him to see me, but I don't want to be right next to him.

We both order drinks, then I call him on the phone. We pretend that we're on opposite ends of the earth. Our conversations and the pacing of our encounters vary, but here's an example.

"Hey, Baby."

"Alicia."

"I miss you so much."

"I miss you, too."

"I need to feel your cock in my mouth so bad you wouldn't believe it."

"You're a naughty girl aren't you?"

"Yes."

"What are you doing now?"

"Touching my left nipple while I'm talking to you." And I do just that, you know, just slide a hand inside my blouse and tweak the nipple. I wink at Ray across the room while I do it.

"Oh, Baby."

"Does that make you hard?"

"Yes. Are you touching you're cock?"

"Yes." And I watch what he does under the table, under his napkin.

We have to take a break when the waiters show up with drinks and take our orders. I go for crab cakes and Ray orders a steak.

Then we're back at it.

I reach inside my blouse and milk my nipple absentmindedly. "Mmmm," I murmur.

"What are you thinking about?"

"I'm thinking about that day at the beach, about how after you mauled my breasts you peeled off my suit and went down on me."

"I love how you smell, how you taste."

"You said I tasted like the sea."

"You do taste like the sea and I love it."

About this time, our salads arrive and we have to cool it again. After the waiters depart, I slide a hand under my skirt and open my pussy lips, dallying in the moisture. "I'm thinking about how you tongue fucked me and sucked my pussy lips. I'm thinking about how you sucked my clit."

"I love to suck your clit," he's breathing harder and I can make out the movement of his hand across the room, but that's only because I know what to look for. "I love how you squirm when I eat you," he tells me.

"I'm squirming now," I whisper. I insert two fingers deep inside my cunt. "I'm thinking about how after you sucked my clit you flipped me over and my ass was up in the air and my legs were open and my face was on the warm sand. I'm thinking about how you were so big and hard and how you pushed the head of your beautiful cock against my pussy."

"I told you how bad I wanted to fuck you."

Here I shovel in a few bites of salad while listening to Ray's heavy breathing.

I see the waiter approach and I tell him to bring on the main course.

"Fuck me," I say into the phone. "Fuck me good, Baby." I finger my clit under the dress.

"I'm fucking you so good Alicia, so good."

If I think I can get away with it, I'll put the phone under my dress and pump in and out with my other hand so Ray can hear the squishy sounds of my finger play. "I remember how full you made me feel," I breathe into the phone. "I was just coming and coming and we were slippery and drippy and all of that."

"And just as I was about to shoot inside you, I wet my finger with your juices and slipped it inside your ass. I'm so close, Baby."

"So am I, Ray."

But so is the main course, so I have to wait until the crab cakes are laid before me, steaming and tasty before resuming the phone job.

Oh, yes, I loved that," I tell him and reach under my skirt again. "Your cock in my pussy and your finger up my ass. Your hot breath in my ear. Ray, oh, Ray..."

"Oh..."

"Fuck, yes."

"Alicia."

In the end I don't need my fingers. I just grind it out against the seat cushion.

"Oh, Alicia, I love you," he says.

"I love you, too, Ray."

See how that works. It's not rocket science, but it's a lot more interesting than staying home.

If you don't want to risk a public setting, try it in the confines of your own home. What makes it exciting is the pretense of being apart, yet tantalizing each other with your voices while watching the other come. Do it while sitting at opposite ends of the sofa, or across your porch from one another. If you are co-workers, try it at work.

Conclusion

Because this is an essay, I need a conclusion. So, in conclusion, here's my conclusion.

Nice is nice, but naughty is almost always nicer than nice.

If you want to soup up your relationship try eating naked tonight—e-mail me and I'll send recipes for my menu. If you don't mind taking matters in hand, give your relationship a wake up call. And if you really want to spice things up, try a phone job—just tell your guy that the stain on his slacks is a small price to pay for hanging out with such a naughty girl.

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