Wicked Wednesday: Why spoil a moment?

A bizarre and unrealistic fiction fantasy, I know; I really did struggle for any sort of inspiration and wanted to write a happy piece of erotica. This is my sixth attempt; my first attempt didn’t go all that well given I was not in a happy place when I tried to write it.

I am not totally happy with it; I think it lacks some zest and dynamite, but I wanted to submit something that was passable and I hope I’ve done that. As ever, please leave comments. And I am sorry to Molly: I did sort of promise I would have a male-led scene but I need to be in the right frame of mind to write so outside my comfort zone, and I just haven’t been this week! I will try harder next week.

Do you remember your first time with your lover? Laying him or her onto the bleached sand of a sun-streaked beach, or the crest of majestic wind-swept crummock on a warm, sunny day. Or perhaps, it was the luxury apartment of a five-star hotel with views of a sizzling city skyline. Or perhaps, just maybe, it was thirty minutes after you first saw her, bent over a decades-old chair in an abandoned lecture theatre?

No, just me then!

Her name is Charlotte, but that’s incidental. I didn’t know it at the time, or for another six days (and four shags) after that fateful Monday. She had jaw-length dark hair, tinged with purple overtones, the most gorgeous of gentle smiles and a pair of eyes so blue that when I looked hard enough, I saw little mermaids waving back at me.

It was the first day of our new term at University and she was half-an-hour late for her lesson; she shuffled in next to me at the back of the decrepit building and she said nothing to me, but I was hooked. She glanced towards my scribbled notes and I pushed my page of hieroglyphics towards her, getting a smile in return. She said nothing, just kept sneaking glances towards the tweed-covered lecturer and his banal monotone voice, as her pen danced over her lined page of A4, copying my illegible scrawl.

Her hand, rubbed the back of my left hand as she returned my paper to me a few minutes later; I gulped: She was the sexiest girl I had ever seen. My eyes flicked down towards her short tartan skirt and knee-high socks and she smiled at me; my attention on the dreary lesson had long since vanished.

I saw the movement of my peers in my peripheral vision long before I heard them move, and watched as the wondrous beauty bent over to put her files in her bag on the floor; I had to stare and appreciate her pert rear as her skirt lifted. It was calling to me; it was begging me to look.

She glanced behind her and saw that I had been staring at her beautiful behind. I know I blushed, but she said nothing at me, and just straightened her clothing as she stepped away from the rows of desks. We were the last to leave, and as I threw my notes into my bag, I called out to her. “Wait!” She just flashed me her enticing smile.

I scrambled up the steps of the auditorium and pulled at her soft wrist. I went to speak; I wanted to ask her name, what she was study, did she want to go out for a drink, but she put a finger over her lips and looked into my eyes. Slowly, I saw her smirk and then give a coy giggle. Her beg fell to the floor behind her, and she pulled my wrist towards her body.

I ran my hands up her white blouse and she tilted her head towards me. My heart fluttered for a moment and we kissed: a gentle peck at first and then a wild passionate embrace. It was like my long, lost lover had been gone for six months and had returned to me, but I didn’t know the girl, we had never met before. Our tongues became entwined and my hands traced her firm rump underneath her cotton clothing, squeezing the buttocks gently and tugging at her tartan skirt.

She panted as we broke for air, and she looked at me, lustfully. What was going on? I pulled her towards the back row of desks and she stumbled, putting her hands on the back of a chair in front of her, pushing out her rump to offer me full access to her behind. My hands traced up the backs of her taut thigh, and ran pushed the hem of her thick cotton skirt onto her back. I was waiting for a protest but none came. I was nervously excited; I swept my hands over her round bottom and spread her cheeks underneath the lace, stroking her soft skin and running my hands over her gusset.

She groaned, barely audible, and I tugged at the side of her white cotton panties, eager to free the sweet contents they so minimally hid. I was waiting for a response to encourage me or to stop me, but none came; she was offering me no guidance. I pushed my fingers against her soft labia and pressed the thin fabric against her moist cleft; she mewled lustfully. She was enjoying this intrusion as much as I was.

Without hesitation, I pulled her white underwear to the floor and knelt on the worn carpet to kiss her firm buttocks. I examined her, licking my lips as the soft contours of her pussy winked so inviting at me.

My hands slowly parted her buttocks to shamelessly expose the mystery student and I kissed her anus; the first time I had ever kissed the bullseye but it felt so natural, and she pushed her arse into my face. I no longer needed my hands to hold her cheeks apart, and reached around her to touch her slit as my tongue was pushed into her butthole.

She squealed as I snatched at the air through my nostrils and ran my wet tongue over her delicate spiral. She began to squeal and pant, her body rocking gently and pressing against my fingers circling her moist pearl.

I feasted, pushing my tongue deep into the mystery girl and swirling around her delightful opening. She didn’t taste of anything, but her ripples on her skin and her constantly contracting muscles were delightful sensations to this novice.

She shivered and shook. I put my mouth over her asshole and French kissed it, massaging her skin with my lips as my tongue explored the dirty cavity within. It was disgusting, but it excited me. And it excited the young lady, writhing as my tongue and fingers touched her most intimate of places.

I reached to my belt with my spare hand and pushed my trousers to my shins; I needed to touch myself and I needed some release. I felt my firm erection through my coloured boxer shorts, wet to the touch, and pushed the underwear aside. My fingers darted over the smooth shaft of my cock and I began to gently pump it.

My young lady yelled and roared, her voice echoing in the acoustic chamber, as my strumming fingers played musical harmonies on her clitoris. She held her breath and panted, her legs shaking and all of her muscles quivering, shaking and delighting in the tunes my fingers played. She screamed, her body shamelessly delivering her a climax that had her body spasming with lustful energy.

The wild girl slumped forward, baring more of her delicious body to me, and calling out lustful cries into the empty room that echoed. I stood up and wiped my wet face, and leaned behind her. She looked and smiled; that was all the invitation I needed. I pushed forward and allowed her to guide my cock into her wet pussy.

Heaven. Pure heaven. I effortlessly slid into her velvet glove as it kissed and massaged the expectant intruder. She groaned with every thrust, my balls slamming against our bodies as I slowly pounded her aching pussy with my cock.

The sound of our flesh reverberated around the spartan hall as the scent of sex, the distinctive aroma of freshly fucking humans, wafted around us. My hands pushed her tartan skirt further away from her waist as I pulled her back firmly on my cock.

She squealed as I groaned; pure molten pleasure poured from me, and spread around my body. She was wonderful; I was on fire. I was nearing climax and my cock twitched. I groaned and grabbed hold of her waist, pivoting on her hips as I frantically drove my cock deeper and deeper into the sexy young lady.

I was there; I tried to push my climax away, but the sexy minx was angelic in her motions, her body sucking and caressing my spearing dick and making it more welcome. My body was desperate, tingling for a release and I could not resist. I am sure she sniggered as I pleaded with my cock to resist for a little while longer; it refused. I thrust into her as deeply as I could and pulled her thighs towards me.

Waves and waves of intense, glorious pleasure swept up my testicles and through my body, causing me to shudder as I squirted into her. I groaned and rocked gently back and forth, savouring the last of the shocks, enjoying the last moments of our hedonistic dalliance.

I took a few deep breaths and slowly withdrew, the cum on my cock glistening in the feint xanthic glow of the lecture hall. She smiled but put her finger to her lips, telling me I wasn’t to speak. She wiped my deposit from her pussy with her lacy underwear and blew me a kiss as it was deposited in the bin and she straightened her clothes.

I wanted to speak; I wanted to ask her name, or where she was from, but she gave me that look. Instead I leant on the cold wall, my withering cock still dripping with semen, wondering about what had just happened.

With barely a nod to me, she picked up her bag; gave me a wink and smiled. I would see her tomorrow in the same lecture theatre. We had not exchanged a word; there was no discussion; there was no need. Why spoil the moment?

I know this isn’t a great piece of work but I’ve been a bit busy this week with Easter and wanted to write something. Any comments are appreciated.

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  1. I love your description of his/your orgasm, and the way you try to resist it. Strangely I don’t trend to find many descriptions of the male orgasm, and as a woman I’m always fascinated by how it feels!
    Also, bravo for giving it a go- personally I’m rubbish at memes as I find it difficult to write on command( but then I haven’t written anything for ages anyway), and I’m always impressed by those that give it a go regularly.

    • When Marie allows (hint, hint) and provides a clue/inspiration that would fit in with a description of the male orgasm I will write it up in much more detail. I’m sure you know this, but there are different types of orgasm, different intensities and different feelings; but they all feel wonderful (unless it’s a “ruined” orgasm which feels frustrating!)

  2. First of all, thanks for joining in even though you were not feeling well.
    Secondly, for someone who was not in the right frame of mind, you did an excellent job here!
    I too like to read about an orgasm from a male perspective, what you feel when it happens.
    Nice piece of writing.

    Rebel xox
    Marie Rebelle recently posted…BisexualityMy Profile

  3. I think one of the keys of writing for me is banging it out no matter what. Now I know that might sound like a recipe for banal clap-trap that is just churned out but actually I have found that having a writing routine when it comes to my blog makes the words flow better and certainly makes me more productive and one of the real keys to successful writing is… Do lots of it! Yes some will be ok, some with shite and never leave the private work or you and your word processing package and some of it will fabulous but if you don’t actually sit down and write then you know what, it will never be any of these things as you never actually wrote it.

    My point? Yes there is one I promise. Don’t write for me, don’t write for Wicked Wednesday (although do use that as part of a writing routine) don’t write for a perceived audience, write because you love to do it, because the process makes you happy and because you know some days the piece you write…. it is going to fabulous!

    You should congratulate yourself John, you did that, despite struggling with it, despite feeling low you wrote anyway. That should make you smile.

    Molly recently posted…Once A WeekMy Profile

    • I used to be able to just write religiously. I hit well over 100,000 words for NaNoWriMo in November, but since Eroticon I think I’ve taken more care in my writing and been much more critical of myself. I need to remember that everything is not perfect first time but it’s a hard habit to get back into!

      Writing is my escape. If I have a crap day I can lose myself in my characters which is why I like writing stroppy, slightly dominant, complicated women – the soubrettes, coquettes and independent young ladies of this world. I know it’s a little bit easy and stereotypical, but they’ve made up the bulk of my female friends over the years and I adore those people.

      But I can’t keep writing the same sorts of characters rehashed with different backstories,etc. So I will have to write characters that are beyond my “normal!”

      I’m just glad I did manage to write something (my first effort was dire!)

      Thank you for your comment.

  4. I love the freedom of NaNoWriMo to write absolute crap that you can go back and edit later after the flow of the brain has stopped; I actually published a book that way! and worked on writing erotic literature in subsequent years as well. Writing for a deadline can be so much harder; you’re much more concerned about “getting it right.” To Hell with that, not every sexual encounter is that perfect but it is still worth the time spent.

    ~Kazi xxx
    KaziG recently posted…WW & SSS: Waxing EloquentMy Profile

  5. Her name was Jeniffer and I can still smell the spring flowers as we lay in the pasture, her on top of my as her red curls danced in the breeze and…oh damn sorry got sidetracked. Excellent write, thank you for sharing.
    Lord Raven recently posted…Expound on a NounMy Profile

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