We have an erotic story competition for November..
We are looking or 'true' erotic stories. These don't have to be precisely accurate, but a literary take on an experience you had.
The competition is in full swing, and ends on Nov 30, 2008.
The prize will be something fun, but it hasn't been decided yet. Don't forget to change the names in your story if you need to
keep youself anonymous. And WRITE. Share something fun. You can see our entry on the blog for November 6th. Of course
we are aren't elligible to win.
Email - cwswingers@gmail.com with your entry. The winner will be asked for permission to post the story on the site. As Well as any 'runner up' or stories of note. (We will find prizes for them also).
But write, share. Tell the world about your most exciting experience.
And as always
"Swing Away"
:P
Posts
It was dark, and how I found myself here, I do not know. The night was chill, and my husband was out of town. I lay under a man named John.
ReplyDeletePaul was gone for five days at a time and then home for two nights, and then gone again. He would leave at 3 am on Monday, and be home late on Friday. Friday nights were out for anything sexual, he was always too exhausted. And Saturday was no good because he slept most the day, rejuvenating his mind and body. Saturday night was an option, but life catches up with you when you are out in the field all week, and sometimes Saturday just didn’t work. Sunday, was family day and we spent it with our three daughters, and then my husband would go to bed early, needed sleep to leave at 3 am and start this vicious cycle all over again. He made great money, but we were both dying inside, slowly, each time he left.
My husband had talked to me several times about getting a “mister” that could take care of me while he was out of town. But this just didn’t seem right to me. Even though I had his blessing, it always seemed like cheating to me, so I never pursued it. One night it pursued me.
It was still dark, and I still don’t know how I found myself here. I was lying in my marital bed, naked, and flush with anticipation. I was nervous, very nervous. For before me, lit by the soft glow of white Christmas lights we had adorned our bedroom with, was a man.
His name was John and he had a similar build to my husband, and was vaguely familiar. He had told me that we had met at the company picnic this summer, but I only barely recognized him. I was shocked to see this man at my front door after dark, but he introduced himself as a friend of Paul’s (my husband).
“Paul sent me over, to um-“ He was obviously nervous, probably thought this was a joke, which Paul was great at pulling. He continued “Sent me over to.. um.. take care of you.” He smiled coyly as he finally managed to extricate the words from his mouth.
I was taken aback. Paul had often joked about sending a ‘pitch hitter’ over to make me smile, but I never thought he would actually do it. This had been his fantasy, and I always thought it would remain a fantasy. But here he stood in my doorway, in the cold, I couldn’t just make him stand there. I swiftly decided to let him in and investigate this more thoroughly. I stepped aside to let him in, holding my bathrobe together, not ready to reveal what lay beneath.
He walked past me he flashed me a sexy grin as he rounded the corner, out of site down the stairs, which was were our bedroom lay. Through my shock of his tenacity, I shut the door and hurried down after him.
“Hold on there.” I said as I caught up with him just outside our bedroom door. “I want to talk to you about this befo-“ I was cut short by a passionate kiss, deep and lustful.
“Paul said not to talk. Said you would over think this, and not enjoy it.” His voice was sexy as hell, deep and firm. He grabbed me by the shoulders, gently, and slid my robe off them, leaving me stark naked in the dim light of the hallway. He kissed me again. I felt his denim shirt brush my nipples as he pulled closer. I returned the kiss passionately. He guided me into the bedroom, kissing and stepping in time with me, like a well choreographed dance. We smooched deeply, longingly, lustfully, as we glided across the floor, in step, until we reached the bed. He spun and pushed me backward onto the bed.
“Paul said you like it when the man is in control.”
I nodded, spread eagle, up at him.
He started to strip, and he was indeed built much like my husband. Broad shoulder, 6 foot, and that great V from his shoulders to his waist, accentuated by another V, his abs and hips. I began to get wet thinking about him. He deftly loosed his bonds of clothing, and began to crawl toward me like a prowling panther, the look of hunger in his eyes, until he lay on top of me. I could feel the welcome pressure of his weight, the closeness of his skin, and the strength of his physique. I was ready.
I am not sure when I overcame the guilt of this, it was probably the kissing. I wondered if Paul had given this man instructions on how to get me hot. The kissing, the slight force he brought to the situation. Paul was a bottom, as was I, and we struggled with this often. This man however, knew how to get me going. I’m not into kink, or being tied up, and especially not pain. But I like to be taken. The way the swarthy buccaneer takes the semi-willing maiden. The way Fabio takes the fair lady on the cover of cheesy romance novels. That’s what gets me hot. And that is exactly what John was doing to me now. Exactly what Paul, struggles awkwardly with.
Any thoughts of morality, or guilt are swept aside as John nibbles my ear, and cups the back of my head, fingers stroking through my hair. His other hand is on my breast, and I can feel his large member pressing hard into my pelvis, and putting pressure on my clit. The weight is all but overwhelming, and enveloping at the same time
Suddenly the weight is gone, and John withdraws. I look up at him in wonder, wonder of what is coming next. He grabs my wrists with each hand and crosses them. His left hand is around both, holding me, locked. Firm, but not too much. I could have broken his grip if I wanted to. But who said I wanted to.
Then swiftly, and without warning he dove his face between my legs, one arm above his head holding my wrists, may forearms across my stomach. I spread to allow him better access.
I’m already very wet, and ready for my clit to played with, and I arch my back as he dives in harder. I can feel his face pressing hard against my pelvis, and his tongue lashes at my clit with a ferocity that’s unbeleivable. I pull against his hand that grips my arms, his shoulders come higher up my body, and his face is pressed harder into my crotch. I moan. I am held captive, but I use that to pull him harder into me. He pulls back on my wrists, forcing himself even harder. Our game of tug of war pulls us tighter and tighter until I feel as though he is an extension of my erogenous zone.
I come. Hard.
My back arches almost painfully, and I let out a cry. I feel this orgasm run through my entire body. It pulses like waves emanating from my clit. As I come he presses even harder, it almost hurts, but it feels so damn good.
I relax, as the wave pass. I am in bliss. I smile at my new friend. He smiles back. Still holing my wrists, he slowly makes his way up to face me. I can taste myself on his lips. My wrists are crossed above my head, exposing my breasts completely, leaving me feeling, vulnerable, and I love it. I am that helpless maid on the harlequin cover.
With his one hand busy holding my wrists, he grabs my breast, and kneads it, rolling my nipple between his fingers. He pinches is slightly. I close my eyes.
He kisses my neck, my ears, and makes his way to my mouth, one hand on my wrists, one on my breasts, I am just a fuck toy; A biological receptacle for his manhood. I’ve had my “O”, I want to feel him have his.
He shifts his weigh slightly, using his thighs to spread mine. He doesn’t even need to guide himself in I’m so wet. With a single thrust he penetrates deep inside me. I almost come again. He is slightly bigger than my husband. Do I have a husband, I can’t remember at this point. But John’s dick fills my hungry pussy, and I don’t care about the ring I wear anymore. I just want John. Deep. Filling me to capacity.
He reaches up with both hands and hold my arms above my head. His torso is held up away from mine, and he looks deep into my eyes. He begins to thrust. Staring me directly in the eyes. I can see the lust, the hunger, the needs inside him. It rushes into me. I never wanted something more in my life than I wanted him right now. He thrusts slow. Long. Deep.
It drives me crazy.
He slowly picks up speed. His cock is so hard, I can feel it throb inside me. His gaze never breaks from mine. I’m help helpless now. I couldn’t break his grip if I wanted. But I don’t want.
He pumps faster. Harder. I feel him slam against my out lips. I feel him ram deep within me. I arch my back to accept him even deeper. I pull against my arms to thrust his pelvis harder. I tighten my arms giving him something solid to pull me over his shaft, harder, and deeper still.
John fucks me hard, I’m shifting back and forth across the mattress, my breasts rolling in wide circles with the movement. He breaks his gaze, his eyes close, his back arches.
I feel him thrust deeper than I thought possible, it hurts, slightly. The slight pain pushes me over the edge and I convulse in another orgasm. My legs reflexively wrap around him and help push his pelvis deeper into me. It does hurt now, but my convulsions feed off the pain of his throbbing cock, as he unloads himself into me.
We stay locked in this grip of pleasure for an eternity. Neither breathing, both tense, hoping the powerful shared orgasm will last forever. Pressing painfully hard into each other.
After what seemed like five minutes, the convulsions faded, and our grip on each other eased, and kissed, gently. He was still inside me, and it felt great to feel full. The chemicals in our brains were flooding in, and the high of a new experience washed over both of us. Sweaty, and relaxed we just lay there.
“So, honey. Do you like John?” My husband said still holding me tight. I can feel his heavy breathing, as I know he can feel mine.
“Yes dear,” I sigh pleasurably. “You can be- I mean invite John over anytime.”
And we held each other.
Postscript: This was a real roleplay that my wife and I had. I decided to write it from her perspective, which was really erotic for me. I can’t wait to be “John” for her again. Soon.
“Swing Away”
:P