Erotica (the collected works of Amelie)

By Amelie

At last, available in one collection, the works of Amelie. In this volume are 4 rich, diverse and substantial stories to satisfy the adult appetite. There's romance, escapism, passion and raw sex in spades. EROTICA - Browsing through the pages of an erotic novel opens doors to fantasies that Rachel finds impossible to control. It's not long before she has to find out for herself if such pleasures can really be found. Set in London and Paris, this is indeed a tale of two cities. CANDY SKIN - After a successful first term at University, Skye can't wait to get home to Edinburgh for Christmas. She's dying to get back together with her hot boyfriend Craig and is looking forward to some fireworks when they do. Thankfully, she's not about to be disappointed. The thing is, Craig's father has some ideas for fireworks of his own and offering Skye a vacation job in his sweet shop is only the beginning of a path that he hopes will lead to a sugary heaven. A huge story told in 5000 words. LOVE GAMES - Lesley has finally graduated from the school of love games. As she lies in her bed in a rosy after-glow, she thinks back through all the stages of love-play that have helped to take her to this new high. Another super-sensual story from Amelie, translated by Earl Mantiss-Grey and a huge tale told in 7000 words. HEN NIGHTS - Penny's hen night has been making her nervous. What if things get out of control? Maybe it will all be OK, after all, she has the maid-of-honour to look after her. Unfortunately, the maid-of-honour gets the hots for the limo driver before the evening is even properly underway and it seems unlikely that the evening is gonig to be one for forgetting. When a couple of the girls out for Penny's henny sneak off to the cloakrooms to explore each other and an ecstassy tab is slipped to Penny in the guise of a headache tablet the night turns wild. Please be aware, if you're not familiar with Amelie's work, that it holds explicit sexual content and is therefore for adult eyes only. xxx

• Language: English
• Publisher: e-ROTICA
• Release date: Jun 21, 2013
• ISBN: 9781310913174

Book preview

Pleasure

Erotica

for Fabienne

and Guy De Maupassant

Twelve months we’d been trying and no luck.

Mike came back from the garage at lunchtime as promised.  He hadn’t cleaned up and I could see there was still oil under his fingernails. Not that it mattered. Foreplay was something he left for the golf course when he went out with his mates for the Sunday escape.

I was already in bed waiting. 

Everything was right. My temperature was up and it fitted in with the chart the doctor had given us.

I had the pillow under my hips and the electric blanket was keeping me warm.

Mike didn’t say a word when he undressed.  He hated it when I was ovulating.  The pressure was getting to him, I knew that.

First of all he couldn’t get it up.  It was always like that these days.

I had to give his cock a suck to see if I could bring out the giant I knew was lurking there, but there was nothing.

Mike blew air from his nostrils like a dragon unable to produce flames.  He pushed my head away and picked up the book from his bedside table.

‘Erotica’ it was called.  There was a picture of a woman’s mouth on the front with a cherry teasing her lips.

It’s what he had to do to get a hard on. 

He read holding the book with one hand and rubbing himself with the other until the job was done.

When he was ready he put the book down and thrust inside me.

I’ve never lost the pleasure of feeling him there. It’s like he’s reaching into my stomach he’s so huge. But it’s not the same. Not like it used to be. He grunts, moves back and forwards and never bothers to kiss me. He pushes harder and faster and just before he comes he gives out a moan like he’s in pain. He squirts and rolls off me then lies back like a beached whale.

So his job's done.

He lit up a cigarette and stared at the ceiling.

With the pillow under my hips, I sank down into the mattress and let gravity take his sperm down to meet my egg.  That’s if there was any sperm.

Mike looked at me and seemed to read my doubts.

We’d talked about it.  About him going to the doctor. It just made him cross.

I reached over and touched his hand.

It’ll be all right this time, you’ll see.

Yeah,right. He pushed my hand away and threw the duvet to my side. You know, it would be easier if you were more like Crystal. He reached over and lifted his book, then held it up to me like it was the bible and he was some kind of preacher. Crystal likes sex. Delights in it. She’s a real woman. Why the hell didn’t I marry a real woman.  There was so much bitterness in the way he said it that the tears were rolling down my cheeks before his words were finished.

I watched him as he picked up his overalls and left the bedroom slamming the door shut.

It took me a few hours to pull myself back together.

I’d stayed in bed to help that sperm.  There was no point standing and letting all that work go to waste.

Some women, mothers, say that they can tell the moment of conception as if there’s  been a tiny kick inside them or something. I couldn’t feel a thing.

I cried some more and fell asleep.

When I woke up, the light was already fading outside.

I switched on the lamp and looked at the book Mike had unceremoniously dumped on his side of the bed.

Erotica.

I wasn’t even sure what that meant.

Maybe, I thought, if I read a little and became a little more like this Crystal character...

page 53

EROTICA  - Paris: Day 3

Paris is all I thought it would be and more.

Today I wandered through the streets soaking it all in.

Everyone’s so beautiful.

The men come in all shapes and sizes, but no matter what they’re either handsome or rugged.  Each one of them looks like they know how to treat a lady.

The women are beautiful.  All of them.  Even the old dears who wander with their tiny dogs for company.

It’s the younger ones I love.  They’re so elegant.  Their summer dresses flow off their bodies and suggest untold treasures lying beneath. Their skirts flow like silk as they walk. And it’s not like home. Nobody under the age of forty is fat. Not even plump.  I’m going on a diet soon as my feet hit American soil. But not yet.

By the time I’d got to the top of the steps of the Sacre Coeur I didn’t feel like going inside the church. Instead I just looked at the city unfolding below. I imagined all the heated conversations going on behind closed doors and all the love making that was taking place below. A little electric shock flickered through my stomach as I imagined that, followed by pangs of hunger. 

The smells of aromatic tobacco smoke, frying butter, musty wine and seafood teased my appetite.

I wandered through the square with my mouth watering.

The place was packed with easels and artists and tourists just like me.

Everyone was taking their time, no matter what they were doing.

The cafes were filling up for service and I checked them all out until I found a price to fit my budget.

As soon as I sat, the waiter arrived.

He had on a maroon waistcoat with an old, leather money belt around his hips.

Madame?

The way the word rolled from his tongue made me want to join the lovers of the city.  I squeezed my knees together and ordered a glass of Sancerre.

When he turned to go to get