Archive for the erotic fiction Category


Posted in erotic fiction, fiction, writing with tags , , , on January 7, 2010 by kimmy

When Serena enters a room, most men (and a few women) sit up and take notice.  Not that she’s drop dead gorgeous; in fact, she might be described as plain.  But for what she lacks in beauty, she more than compensates with an appealing unstructured confidence.

I met her in college, while travelling in Europe.  She was Susan then, a frumpy sophomore from Iowa using a Eurrail pass to get as far away from her midwestern roots as possible.  We spied each other in the bar car and, after coffee and a pack of cigarettes, decided to join forces and head to Greece instead of Zurich.  Plans often changed spontaneously in those days.

Over the course of the next 12 hours, I learned that she descended from fifth generation farmers and was an accomplished equestrienne.  She had competed in a few dressage events in England that summer and although she had placed well, hadn’t captured the prize she really wanted.  I initially attributed her malaise to disappointment until learning otherwise.  Apparently she had discovered another use for her riding crop.

Susan never told me his name, only that he was a petty nobleman from an esteemed family.  He had judged her harshly in the last event, but seemed more than willing to make up for the blow in a private setting.  He may not have thought well of her form, but never forgot her seat.

He spent an entire weekend worshipping it while they holed up in his dilapidated estate in Norfolk.  Until then, she had never considered her plump Iowan figure an asset.  But after a frantic three-day initiation, she suddenly had a new-found respect for it.  She may not have mastered the horse, but she discovered she was mistress of all else she rode.

Her lurid adventures were a fascination.  I had never heard such things openly discussed, let alone whispered, in the strict Presbyterian circles of my youth.  And as she regaled me with hair-raising details, I began to wonder if the buttoned down life I had known was harboring secrets yet to be discovered.

We spent a dizzying week on the beach at Corfu drinking roditys and plotting strategies.  She rebuffed the marriage proposals offered by the lonely middle-aged Greek men, preferring the company of the young transvestites haunting the dance clubs.  She had no intention of settling down to respectable married life, even if it was on the other side of the globe, confessing to me that the orthodoxy of the Aegean was no better than the cornfed one of Des Moines.

We stayed in touch for a while after I returned to university, but our letters became fewer when she relocated to Paris and became a fixture of the swinger’s underground.  The last one was signed Serena, and I knew with certainty that she had finally completed her long metamorphosis and would fly away forever to her new carnal home.  But it made me smile, knowing that she took the trouble to say goodbye to a friend she had known only briefly.  She might have been the queen of discipline, but she never forgot her manners.



Posted in erotic fiction, writing with tags , , , , on December 25, 2009 by kimmy

I’d put your present under the tree, only I don’t fit under it. Santa conveniently placed this gift in an infinitely more comfortable, but less traditional spot.  How he knew is anybody’s guess.  Maybe the missus taught him a few tricks that he saves only for the grown-up kids.

Of course I’ve been a good girl; how do you think I’ve been able to keep my wits about me?   It’s not easy, especially when you pass by so near that your scent fills my head and all I can think about is you pressing against me.  It’s not a crime to dream about you slipping down my chimney and rewarding me, is it?  There’s something so terribly erotic about that form of breaking and entering that it leaves me weak.

But then, there isn’t much about you that doesn’t fascinate me.  It’s like waking up on Christmas morning every day.  Each time I unwrap you, there’s something new for me to discover.  But unlike the thoughtlessness of youth, I don’t want to tear into you only to consume the sweet creamy center and discard the cake.  No… I want to savor every bite.

What an incredible feast do I see before me.  Have you been reading my mind again, enticing me to a table groaning with the most delectable flavors imaginable?  If you’re sitting at the head of it, be forewarned that I’ll push aside the entire repast just to taste the sugarplum on your lips.


Posted in erotic fiction, fiction with tags , , , , on December 7, 2009 by kimmy

I know I’m going to lose myself utterly in this.  When I look about, I cannot see from whence I came nor where I’m going, only the juicy soft and tactile center.  It’s pulsing like a heart, emitting a rhythm which I have no intention of resisting.

Even if that was possible, what would I do with the cadence that’s already begun?  My entire being is vibrating in tandem and I cannot stop its motion.  It pulls me irresistably forward, onto a ledge and into the velvet blackness beyond.

When I was younger and bricked up behind an impenetrable wall, it was easy to dismiss my feeling nature as a random mistake of Providence.   But what I thought were painful lessons in the unreliability of human nature, were actually demonstrations of depth perception and a living reminder of what and who am I.

Without the shield of the wall, I cannot rely upon old habits.  I am forced to look upon this without filter and its profundity amazes me.  It’s contrary to convention and trumps all prior agreements, refusing to be silenced by them or any other arbitrary social custom.

What can I do but yield to it?    There are some mysteries of life which will always remain so, and that excites me.  I don’t want the world to fall under the limited definition of my finite mind, but to expand forever beyond it.


Posted in erotic fiction, romance, writing with tags , , on November 28, 2009 by kimmy

Never have I faced an adversary so fascinating… or formidable.  Though I wear a brave face, my knees buckle when he’s around and I have to hold onto the table.   It takes a lot of effort to curb my mind from wandering into forbidden territory.

He won’t admit it, but I know he’s cast a net and pulls it a little tighter every day.  I can feel it drawing close, channelling me down into the lion’s mouth where he’s patiently waiting like a man assured of victory. 

I’m constantly amazed by his unruffled demeanor.  If he shares my agitation, he hides it well behind eyes that look like the south Atlantic.  Only once did they betray him and it led to my undoing.

And now I’m willingly caught in the snare, but loathe to move until he pulls away the netting and resuscitates me.  Until then, I float in suspended animation, neither living nor dying, waiting only for that moment when all that is within me bursts forth and showers down like rain.


Posted in erotic fiction, fiction, writing with tags , , on October 16, 2009 by kimmy

You might as well pick your side of the bed because you seem to spend a lot of time in it.  I think you’ve taken up permanent residence because as soon as I drift off, I can almost feel you crawl in next to me.  And there you stay, haunting my dreams until I wake up exhausted.

For a while your appearances were so rare, I thought you might have deserted me.  But you were only hanging back, chastened by discovery and slightly dismayed that I was fully aware of your presence.  Did you think I was insensitive to the ebb and flow of your thoughts?  They are as apparent to me as waves upon the sand.

Perhaps it unnerves you to be that vulnerable before me, but all I perceive is beauty and passionate yearning so tangible that I’m never quite sure if I’m awake or dreaming.  And when you greeted me last night, with so many kisses that I lost count of them, the pretense was gone and you were so relieved by its absence that I thought you’d break me in two.

I wonder how long you will keep me company in this dimension.  Some think it’s just a harmless pursuit, locked in the privacy of the mind, but I know otherwise.  Intention dropped into the pool of action sends endless rings before it and there will come a time when the heat from your innermost desire will rise up like a flame and consume us both.


Posted in erotic fiction, fiction with tags , , on September 2, 2009 by kimmy



I dreamt about you again last night.  It was one of many I’ve had since that evening you impulsively dropped your guard and let me see inside your soul.  Did you think I had forgotten? 

How can I when your nocturnal visits have become habitual?  Rarely do I close my eyes and sink into dreamless black sleep.  Instead you hover nearby and grow bolder with every appearance.

I thought the first dream was a fluke, a crazy patchwork of people clamoring for the attention that you paid only to me.  They stood in disarray, unable to break the orbit that we spun.  And I wondered, even as it unfolded before me, why you had so quickly assumed a role in my subconscious.

Or why, with each subsequent dream, you move ever closer.  From across the room to my side…  from standing motionless behind me to holding me, as you did last night, like a prisoner in your arms.  Not that I wanted to escape, I wanted to relish the confinement and remember every detail of how we fit together.

As if from habit, you stood so close that I could feel your breath against my neck and your lips against mine.   But you never said a word.  There’s no need to speak because I know exactly what you’re thinking and what you want.  You have become transparent to me.

It’s curious that at night, when all is quiet and freed from constraint, you grant yourself leave to indulge. And you can’t get enough, can you?  You are like a man starving for the connection that only the muse can provide.


Posted in erotic fiction, love, musings, romance, sex, writing with tags , on May 10, 2009 by kimmy

I must stop thinking about him or I shall go mad.  It’s best not to dwell on things that are unreal.  Even a child knows when to stop pretending.

But I cannot help myself.  I don’t believe he knows just how badly I want him.  Or, how I lie awake at night aching with desire.  He’s never asked me how I feel or what I want.  Instead he keeps me suspended and I wonder how long this purgatory will last.

It’s enough to drive me out of my mind.  I don’t want to play the politely interested friend anymore.  Friends don’t torment each other with sighs and vague promises of heated coupling in the dark.  Yet he shows no inclination to make good on his word, and I’m beginning to despair that it shall never be realized.

This is a torture that no one should experience.  It’s a demanding and fretful creature that if not appeased soon, shall rip me apart.  I can feel it now, tearing at my flesh and goading me into arousal so acute that it’s almost unbearable.

I can do nothing to stop it; even my own body betrays me.  Never have I so intensely loved and desired another.  I didn’t think I was capable of passion this furious and deep, but yet I am.  It’s wild and without logic and I don’t care if it dashes me to pieces on the rocks.  I’d rather be fractured and bloodied than to have never known this bliss.