Nocturnal Desires: Erotic Tales for the Sensual Soul

By Camille Towe, Lucy Lastic, S.A. Reid and 7 more

Nine sizzling erotic short stories by various authors, with bits of erotic poetry sprinkled in between to spice things up even further.

Explicit adult content combined with compelling storylines makes this the ideal bedside book for couples to enjoy together. Makes a wonderful gift for your spouse or lover.

This anthology is also a charity fundraiser. For each copy sold, a percentage will be donated to Multiple Sclerosis-related charities in support of a fellow writer who lives with MS.

• Language: English
• Publisher: WPaD Publications
• Release date: Feb 10, 2013
• ISBN: 9781497739680

Camille Towe

I'm an author of erotic tales with a splash of humor. My fairy tale parodies sometimes cross the boundaries of good taste. It's all in good fun, right? We're all adults here.

Book preview

Nocturnal Desires

Erotic Tales for the Sensual Soul

By WPaD

Copyright © 2012 WPAD Publications

and all authors named in this book.

All Rights Reserved by authors

The stories in this collection remain the exclusive property of their authors, who have consented to publish them in this anthology. Authors reserve the right to publish or use their stories in any way they see fit, outside of this collection. No part of this collection may be published, copied or otherwise distributed by anyone other than the authors or the publisher of this book.

This book may not be viewed by anyone under the age of eighteen. It contains explicit adult content and graphic descriptions of sexual acts between consenting adults. All of the men and women depicted in these stories are fictional characters who are over the age of eighteen. The erotica contained in this book depicts all types of sexuality – both heterosexuality and homosexuality.

If you find any of the aforementioned content offensive, then do not read!

You have been warned. Now, enjoy!

~*~

Table of Contents

Dine Sublime ~> Hollie Bolster ~

~> Poetry by: Dan E. Tanzo ~

Stockholm Syndrome ~> S.A. Reid ~

Full Metal Jack-it ~> Camille Towe ~

Night Moves ~> bird ~

Dust Devil Dreams ~> Gypsy Lahore ~

~> Poetry by: Tain Twain ~

Wizard’s Magic ~> Oscar Gray ~

~> Poetry by: Lucy Lastic ~

The Gift ~> Veronica Veil

Summer Storm ~> J. Harrison Kemp ~

~> Poetry by: Ding Flamingo ~

Love on the Boulevard ~> Nick Keeler ~

~> Poetry by: Nancygail Katzin-Nystrom ~

Gotten Eve Eaten ~> Camille Towe ~

~*~

As sinuous as 6

Up, turned to a svelte musk 9

We dine, each sublime

~*~

Dine Sublime

Hollie Bolster

––––––––

She is in the kitchen right where I figured she would be when I arrived. I walk through the door and she turns, smiles warmly, a grin impish yet heartfelt. I smile in return, and walk toward her. She turns back to her task, cutting slices of limes, lemons and oranges to be used as garnish in drinks. I can smell the freshness of the fruits, the citrus tang, and it makes me hungry. What I crave is not on the counter top.

I step behind her and run my arms about her waist, my hands slipping under her shirt to feel skin against skin. I gently tussle her flesh knowing she dislikes it; it makes her think she is fat. I giggle lightly as she protests, but I love this flesh my hands caress. She settles back into me, responding to my touch. I coo softly into her ear, letting my breath hint sweet everythings along her neck. She purrs like a cat in a lap.

She wriggles as if to deny me but her protestations mean little. I know, I can sense she wants me close and I happily cede to her wishes. I reach a hand up and turn her face, look into her eyes and lean in, pressing my lips against the fullness of hers. We kiss, light and playful, then sensuously, deeply. Our lips part and our tongues entwine as serpents in a mating ball. We wrestle and probe, lick and devour each other’s mouths. I drink her in, scenting her pleasure and letting her know mine with quiet utterances. Teasing little grunts and moans, soft whispered mmm’s.

She steps away, suddenly a playful look on her face. Mine shows surprise and dismay at this quick denial of fortune.

She walks to the fridge and opens it, a light mist extrudes into the heat of the room. She reaches in and takes out a beer, pops the top and drinks heartily. She sighs, wipes her mouth and looks expectantly at me.

I’m sorry, she says coyly, did you want one too?

Yes, I reply as if smacked, why yes, I would like one very much. She turns her back to me and digs inside the still open refrigerator and stands revealing a cold, sweating beer bottle. I reach for it but she ducks away, scampers several feet from me and laughs.

Come and get it, she states.

I run for her but she leaves, making her way to the doorway to the yard. I grab her, barely, teasing her shirt from her waist and revealing open skin. I like what I have exposed. She twists sharply as if to escape, but I am stronger, needier, full of desire.

I push her back to the fridge where she stumbles and we laugh hearing things fall and clatter inside. She pushes me back, against the counter, and steps in face to mine, lips to lips again.

Her hands circle my waist and she jiggles my extra flesh as if gaining revenge at my own earlier action. I smile and wrap arms about her waist as well. I cup a cheek in each hand, rubbing, gripping, pulling her closer. Her ass is a marvel of creation; it seems to fit perfectly in my hands. I love it, so round, so curved, so damn inviting.

Her hands have trailed around my hips and linger at the waistband of my pants. I shudder waiting for them to delve further. She is still smiling as am I, but our eyes betray a deeper feeling, a desire made obvious by quickened breath and lurking fingers. Mine have slipped between those cheeks, under and around to the fore. She is pressing into me, into my hands, little shudders making her quake. I am equally heated as her fingers have danced below my waistline and are probing.

I gasp as I feel her hand touch my erection. Her fingers wrap around it and stroke. My hands are rubbing the corresponding parts of her, but still through fabric. Her simple touch makes me mad. I am on fire but I am not ready to release, not yet. She is my desire, my quest, my plan.

Spinning her as if she were nothing, a lightness to be toyed and played, I slip my hands down to her bum. It is glorious, firm and round and welcoming. Not all girls like their asses played with but lucky for me this one does. And I do, too. Dropping behind her, to my knees I place kisses on her cheeks. She likes it for her pushing into my face is definitely a sign. I reach round and free her button, then zipper and finally remove her pants altogether.

I love panties. They are such beautiful pieces of clothing; perhaps it is the closeness to the treasures they hide that causes my fanaticism, but I truly like panties. I run my hands over the smooth cotton fabric, the skin beneath a rippling majesty. I press my hand sideways between her legs, rubbing thigh, pushing against dampness.

She sighs loudly as my fingers express their pleasure on her. Thumb lightly caressing the nub, index and mid fingers stroking the folds, my lips pecking at the cleft, the crack. I inhale her scents, absorbing all I can. I am starving, hungry, famished and wish to dive in and feast. I will, however, take my time, sip and sup.

Yeah, right, I speak aloud and slide those thin white panties down to her knees, ankles, then off. I replace my hand, different fingers probing different places now. Index finger parting the wetness, intruding into the depths of deliciousness. My thumb presses against the small puckered entrance to her bum. Not for long though because my tongue is fighting in my mouth to escape and replace that digit.

Tenderly kissing, lightly dabbing with maddened tongue, I squeeze between the cheeks and dart into her forbidden button. At first softly but with growing vigor, I twist and churn my tongue against her, lapping, licking, twirling and tonguing her hole. She groans loudly and pushes herself back into my face. I gasp for breath but do not let up, probing and delving, parting this glorious opening. Her shaking is proof positive I am succeeding for it is her pleasure I wish to enhance. Moving my head up and down, side to side to side, I lap at her cleft, suckling the lips of her pussy. Leaning forward I force my lips and tongue to her engorged clitoris, gently biting it, suckling it, mashing my face into her. My nose is buried in her ass , my mouth surrounds her wetness, adding my own juices to the already dripping mess. She is grunting now, openly thrusting back and forth, mashing into me. I am not tired; need nothing but more, more, more of her. My hands have slipped inside her shirt and my fingers caress her stiff, steel hard nipples. She seems to be enjoying herself and so then am I. During all this noise, this commotion, I have remained erect, a hardness screaming for use. Now I give in and rise.

I slip out of my pants and remove my shirt. I wish to feel skin on skin. I want the flesh to me meshed and flushed, and the heat and sweat to slick our bodies as one. I press into her, this time my waist brushing hers. My cock slips between her legs and I move rhythmically against her. Her heat and wetness make not entering her a task as I could so easily slide inside, but not yet. I tease and rub, stroke and press, but refuse to enter. Anticipation is fun, fun is enticement, enticement is pleasure to be wanted. She reaches round behind her and grabs my stiffy, her hands gripping in tune to her heavy breathing. She tries to force me inside but still I balk, drawing away from this wonder, this magical place that I want so much.

Finally I cannot take it anymore and let the head slide just through her opening. She gasps, I moan, we melt together and the rest of my hardness follows. Her warmth enfolds me, wraps in her charms, her self, her goddamn fucking vagina is all and everything, the universe collapsed to a point. I remain still, unmoving but fully buried inside her. She wriggles and jiggles. I withdraw and parry, thrusting forward with all my strength. She grunts as animal, I echo her sentiments. We begin fucking, wildly, passionately, frantically. I slap, slam, slip inside her, each forward a bearing of strength and steel and muscle and maleness. She skirts and backs, strikes and flows, to each thrust as if lost. I am lost,