The Naked Pleasures Of

By Mark Cisper

The Naked Pleasures of… is a collection of twelve erotic short stories and one poem. Originally, they were written in the form of poetry when The Insane Poet and The Procession of Pain was being written (these titles will be released in 2015).

The author decided that these stories and poem would be better suited to a book of their own. Thus, The Naked Pleasures of… was created by converting them into a closer resemblance of prose; though, still using some poetic license to give a different appearance then the standard prose writing.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: May 24, 2014
• ISBN: 9781312064102

Book preview

The Naked Pleasures Of

The Naked Pleasures of...

By Mark Cisper

Erotic Short Stories

Copyright © Mark Cisper June 2014

ISBN 978-1-312-06410-2

The Naked Pleasures of...

--Chantal, Celeste, and Teal--

So, there I was with a cup of coffee, a cigarette, and a book, sitting at a table all alone. The cigarette was in my right hand. The book was in the other hand. As I was smoking, I was reading the book.

As I was reading, a beautiful girl walked up to the table I was sitting at and said, "Excuse me, but can I get a cigarette from you.

I stopped reading, put down the book and looked up. I reached into my leather jacket and pulled out my pack, withdrew one and handed it to her. Then I got my lighter and lit it for her

And she said to me, Thank you very much. She was wearing a very short and tight black skirt, with a tight lacy and nearly see-through black blouse. Her hair was really long, about waist length, and reddish-orange--like a hot fire. Her whole body was extremely tight and taut--all of which was perfectly curved and rounded. But her legs...her legs were super long and slender, covered by black silk stockings. As I took all of this into my view, I said, It was no problem; it was my pleasure.

She didn’t walk away. Instead, she stood there for a moment, perhaps thinking. Then she said, Uh, what...is your name? I really...would...like to know.

I sat there for a moment, contemplating an answer and said, Well, I’m known by many different names. There’s The Insane Poet. There’s the Radio Guy. I used to be called Mr. President. Of course, as always, the nice guy or just a fucking asshole. There’s the Cigarette Man. And finally, my name given to me by my parents, Mark. Which one do you want to know?

She said, "Of course, I’d like to know Mark. However, The Insane Poet and Radio Guy sound interesting. I don’t like politics, so I don’t care to hear about the Mr. President. About the nice guy or the fucking asshole, I just met you so I’ll have to judge for myself if they apply. And the Cigarette Man is pretty much self explanatory.

Then I said, Would you like to sit down and make yourself comfortable? Oh, and by the way, what might your name be, since you now know all of mine?

She said, "Oh my, my name is Chantal. Yes, I would like to sit down and get to know you, Mark. But you know its a little cold out here this morning.

So I said as I took off my leather jacket, Yes, it is a little cold out this morning. Here, why don’t you take my jacket to keep you warm as you keep me company with your beauty and conversation? By the way, you do look absolutely stunning and beautiful, Chantal.

She took my jacket and put it on. Then she sat down right next to me, on the same bench that I sat on.

And then I looked at her and said, So Chantal, what would you like to know about me and my many names?

This Insane Poet and the Radio Guy. Why do they call you these strange names?

I was a little distracted, because she placed her left hand on my right leg. But I said, Well, the two names kind of go together. Radio Guy, first off, is because I work for the College radio station. As for The Insane Poet, well, I created the name for myself as a radio personality. ‘The Insane’ part I chose, because on-air, I act really insane. The ‘Poet’ part, well it’s simple really, I’m a poet--Hence, I am The Insane Poet.

When I started explaining the story of creating The Insane Poet name, Chantal started to rub my leg where she had her hand before I started. First, in just one spot. Then, my entire upper leg. Finally, at ‘Hence, I am The Insane Poet,’ her hand was massaging my groin.

Then she said, Mark, let’s have a cigarette and then go somewhere it’s warmer and more private. It is really getting cold out here and a little too active. I know just the place to go for some peace and quiet. Let’s go to my apartment. I know it’s warm there. I’ll make you breakfast if you haven’t had anything?

So, I got out two smokes. I lit hers and then mine. After they were lit, Chantal lifted her left leg and crossed it over my right leg, where her hand had been before. I could not help myself anymore. I took my left hand and ran it up and down her stocking covered leg. When it got to the inner thigh, Chantal gave me an approving nod and a mischievous smile.

As we smoked and I massaged her inner thigh, we filled the time with small talk like: How old are you Chantal? Twenty-five. What about you? Twenty-eight. Where are you from? Paris. Ever been there? Paris, no. Europe, yes. Places like Austria, Hungary, Croatia, Italy, and Greece. Do you drive? No. I do not. Then we’ll take my car to my apartment. Are you ready to go Mark? Yes. Let’s go.

When we got to her apartment, she said, Excuse me a moment, Mark. I’m going to change into something more comfortable. Make yourself at home. Sit down and take your shoes off, if you wish. Then she turned and went into her bedroom, closing the door.

I sat down on the couch and removed my shoes and socks. A few minutes later, Chantal came into the living room. She was wearing nothing but a pair of very skimpy black silk bikini panties. Then she said, This is the way I always am in my own apartment, except the panties. Hope it doesn’t freak you?

Then she came over to me and sat down on my lap facing me, with her knees straddling me. She put her hands under my shirt and started to pull it up. As she did this she said, Let’s make you fit in here a little better. You can throw out all modesty here. My shirt was off then. Then she said, Have you eaten any breakfast today? I nodded that I had not. She said, Then I will cook you an authentic French meal. She left my lap then to go prepare my breakfast.

In about ten minutes, I was getting really aroused by watching her swing back