Tag: Romance (erotica)

Flash: With the Moon Watching Other Places

Erin Penn

Woman in Forest

Original Image Courtesy of Neill Kumar of Unsplash
Cropped by Erin Penn

Rating: Mature

With the moon watching other places, the lake at the end of the world captured the far lights and milk of the heavens in a pool of midnight black. The pure waters reflected the stars, joining Helio and Gea in perfect union. Henna waited in the fir trees watching the unmoving starlit water.

For the last four moonless nights, he had come and the forest nymph lips lifted in a small smile as the male’s new habit continued. Gods and men preferred to protection on nights Luna did not watch, for without Her light a soul did not have a guide through the dark into the Future Day. The male strode clothed in plant and animals from the path forest animals had beaten to the water.

His linen shirt and leather pants were quickly stripped. Henna tried to restrain her gasp as the man stood skyclad. He half-turned to her stifled sound. His body rippled with lean muscles. He was the most beautiful mobile being she had ever seen. She could feel his eyes search the shadows of trees, but she stood her ground motionless. The night was deep and the forest by the lake was hers.

One or two human hunters made it this far in their ranging. Gods had sometimes crossed the lake in their boats. But no village was within two days walk of the lake. Rarely did Henna see humans or other creatures not of her forest and she could not say if the male was either god or hunter.

He was clever. She had not been able to find his encampment the night she was bold enough to follow him. His eyes may be human weak, but his hearing was as sharp as tree’s ears. She knew not why the forest was hiding his home from her; how he commanded the loam and pines not to whisper his secrets to her. Henna had been tempted to send a songbird to a sister nymph to see if others knew of such magicks, but such action might mean sharing her male with someone and she could not bring herself to risk losing him just yet.

The man dove into the star water; widening circles, rippled, doubling, tripling the light. Assured of his diversion, Henna made her way closer to the area he had released his clothes. This night she meant to see his face and know him god, human or nymph. She yearned nymph as only such a being could she lay with; all else was forbidden.

Sinking down into the moss struggling to tie the forest to the lake, Henna blended in two body lengths from where his garments were discarded. Her red hair darkened from tree bark to garnet stone. She willed her skin to change from dappled light to sand sparkle. Then she drank in the sight of the male and waited.

He stepped from the water dripping black diamonds. Her hazel eyes followed the glittering rivulets flowing from his darkened tresses over shoulders bear-broad, a chest boulder smooth, abs rippling like rapids to a manhood as stout and thick as oaken root. His face, she must see his face, but he turned his back to her while he wrapped his waist-length hair around his fists and squeezed out drops of light.

Please, she begged Gea silently, may his eyes be stone or sapphire, earth or air nymph. Water and wood were female. But his beauty was so great she knew they would hold the fire of gods; no human or sprite could be so perfect. His face fell into shadow as he picked up his clothes and made his way to the stones where she hid. How had she forgotten he laid on stones to dry before redressing?

He collapsed among the stones beside her, stretching out among the moss. Frozen to immobility, her position let her see only his feet. She feared discovery.

Nymphs were playthings of the gods and thralls to humans who found them. Even male nymphs were either hard emotionless creatures or fickle capricious beings, depending on their element. Why had she been so intrigued? For hundreds of years the pines and deer had been her companions. To seek out a male, however beautiful was madness.

A hand caressed her butt. Henna knew her bare back cheeks looked like smooth stone and she had seen the male stroke the stones around him as he waited for the moss to absorb the water from his monthly swims. The hand dragged the other way, leaving a trail of lighting and fire behind. Another stroke and she felt her legs move slightly apart asking for attention deeper in her being. The hand stilled and she could feel his eyes bore into her camouflaged back, making out a female shape where none should be. The hand spread over the smooth pretend stones and pushed. Warmth and flesh rebounded into the calloused hand.

The male’s hand left her butt-cheeks for a moment and Henna tried not to moan from the loss. She could not keep the sharp yelp of surprise from escaping when the hand returned with a sharp smack. The sensation rippled up her spine and release her breasts from their illusion. Her glamour entire fell as her whole body tensed then released like water from the second slap.

The feet she had been staring at disappeared as the man moved. Henna tried to move as well, but two hands then grabbed her ass lifting it and slapping it both sides soundly. Dew emerged from her crevasse and her legs willingly rooted into place. The moan she had been holding back all night emerged as the male rubbed both sides of her ass and slowly sunk his trunk into her opening.

When she tried to twist to look over her shoulder to catch a glimpse of his face through her mass of hair, the male grabbed a hank and pulled her face forward. As he started to work his way in and out, trembling took Henna like a tree in the wind. First one then another eruption burst from her like pine cones in a fire. The male did not stop, but caught her closer to him as he wrapped one arm around to tease a nipple and the other arm braced him on the moss-covered boulders.

A whisper in her ear announced, “Ah, now little one. Some heaven”

Gea, please let his eyes be stone or sapphire was her last thought before the stars captured in the lake exploded back to the skies for an endless forever and night’s blackness claimed her.

(words 1,100 – first published 1/27/2013 ; republished new blog format 6/12/2016. Originally inspired by a photo on the Breathless Press site; picture is no longer available so recreated it using an unsplash.)

Flash: The Amores

Erin Penn

Arms, warfare, violence – I was winding up to produce a

                Regular epic, with verse-form to match –

Hexameter, naturally. But Cupid (they say) with a snicker

                Lopped off one foot from each alternate line.

“Nasty young brat,” I told him, “whom made you Inspector of Metres?

                We poets come under the Muses, …. – Ovid (translated by Peter Green)

****

“we’re not your mob …” The young beatnik continued urgently, never grokking when The Amores switched  from high poetry to erotic love imagery.

Theodore looked at Nika. The young-looking brunette had put her hand over her mouth when the pretender had stepped up to the mike. A regular like themselves, they knew the boy never wrote his own poetry, and barely understood anyone else’s.  Nika’s hand was now sideways so she could bite the fleshy part to keep from laughing. Or moaning in pain.

It would be rude to laugh. Moaning in pain would be worse.

“you can’t keep your arrows idle – They’re so hot.” Emotive angry rage shot the lines into the crowd.

Coffee snorted out of Theo’s nose. Wiping his greying beard with a napkin, he hid his moving lips behind the cloth. “Can it get any worse?”

Nika left off from gnawing her hand. “I’m waiting for ‘I’m no sexual circus rider’.”

“Zeus and Mercury, that is part of the first poem, isn’t it?”

A giggle-moan of confirmation escaped Nika as she went back to biting her olive-skinned hand.

Eventually the torture, or comedy routine, depending on one’s love of poetry and toleration of youth, came to an end.

Theodore had gone earlier in the evening with one of his limericks. The earnest creative writing crew from the local college never knew how to deal with them. The short poems were always clever, requiring a deeper understanding of English which the children treasured. But the rhymes, however good they were, were still limericks, an affront to their lofty art. Since he was a best-selling author who often spoke on campus, they silently drank their coffee and clapped politely when their professor nodded permission.

The two stayed through last call at the coffee house and the final poem. Two poets continued to show promise, one from the college who somehow was not being stifled by the esteemed professor, and a high schooler who was out way too late on a school night.

Poetry readings were Tuesday. The coffee house had various musicians come in over the weekend. The guitarist on Sunday was the best of that mediocre lot. Nika didn’t have a vested interest in them, so they rarely attended the performances.

Tossing a fifty onto the table to cover drinks and an inflated tip for the hard working waitress who would get nothing from the students, the two left.

“I think I should underwrite a book for Sindee and one for Hampus too.” Theodore commented as they walked hand-in-hand through the quiet parking lot to their truck.

Nika considered, her wide hips swaying to brush Theodore’s long legs. They had the money to spare. “Hampus, definitely, needs to be removed from the cutting machine before his creativity is crushed. … Sindee, hmmm, she’s local. I may be able to inspire her directly.”

Startled, Theo pointed out. “She is still a little young for that in this culture.”

“It’s no always about sex. … Although the child is a dark desire to drink.”

Theo leaned against his truck. He ran a finger across his lover’s lips.

Nika opened her mouth to let the finger enter. Closing her plump lips, she swirled her tongue around the finger. Theo slowly slipped the finger out, hissing as Nika lightly closed her teeth around the end just before he pulled out completely.

Groaning, Theo slipped his hands into the back pockets of Nika’s jeans and grounded his arousal into his personal inspiration. “But it is about sex between us at least, my love.”

“Always, my favorite wordshaper.”

Theodore drowned Nika in a kiss, before the female pulled away to whisper the closing lines of The Amores, Book 1 properly. Theodore knew it was coming. The Muse had to heal the affront to the poem she had nurtured in Ovid.

“ergo etiam cum me supremus adederit ignis, vivam, parsque mei multa superstes erig.” The words steamed between them, promising Theo an immortality unique among the mortals the Muses chose.

“So when the final flames have devoured my body, I shall survive, and my better part live on.”  

(words 742 – originally appearing at Breathless Press 9/17/2013 for the 4/15/12 Sunday Fun – See the picture that inspired the story! – As I do not know the copyright permissions, I have not copied it here)

Passages of The Amores, Book 1 come from Ovid, the Erotic Poems: The Amores, The Art of Love, Cures for Love, On Facial Treatment for Ladies, translated with an introduction and notes by Peter Green. Published by Penguin Books in 1982. A copy can be purchased at Amazon, but clicking on book description.

Latin version from http://www.thelatinlibrary.com/ovid/ovid.amor1.shtml. 

Flash: Provisionally

Erin Penn

Pink Rose Petals Stock Photo

Photo by gt_pann, FreeDigitialPhotos.net

Rating: Mature

“Honey, why are you home so early?” the words drifted through the house. The stairs creaked as she went upstairs. Opening a door, Cheryl stopped midway through having discovered Joe on the bed.

His upper torso was bare, and the lower half of his body neatly covered by a folded and tucked blanket. His arms were stretched above him. Scattered around him was rose petals.

“What on earth are you doing?” she asked.

“Apologizing” said the contrite man. Cheryl’s lips twitched.

“Really?” She dropped her purse on the dresser. “Having sex seems to be more a reward to you, not an apology to me.”

“You say I never let you have control.” He rattled the handcuffs attached to the scroll metal headboard. “You have it.”

“Oh, my.” She couldn’t keep a grin from spreading across her face. She was quite cross with him, but the combination of romance and humor was chipping away at the peeve.  “And just where is the key?”

He nodded to the nightstand, out of his reach. Beside the key was a sweating bottle of champagne, carefully placed on a doily. Points for finding the doilies.

“So you can’t escape without my help.” A teasing warmth edged into her voice.

Fright flickered in his eyes a second. “Yes dear. …. I totally have trust in you.”

She started unbuttoning her shirt. “And you can’t get out of that bed at all.”

“No, you will have to do everything.” Joe’s eyes watched hungrily as Cheryl shimmied out of her slacks and department store underwear.

She climbed on the bed in a kneeling position and slowly knee-walked up his body, taking a little extra time to drag her clit over the tenting blanket. Settling herself over his penis, she reached behind her back and released her bra. Cheryl fell forward to land on her hands, with a nipple hovering inches away from Joe’s mouth. “Oh, I don’t plan to do much. You haven’t properly sucked my breasts since we started having sex. Start making up for lost time.”

Joe moved his head up and his tongue flicked over tip before him. The stimulus made her moan and lean further forward – placing the entire nipple within reach. He inhaled, drawing the areola fully into his mouth. He suckled and swirled his tongue around the sensitive area. Her hips started shifting back and forth, trying to get her pussy closer to his hardening cock.

Suddenly she reared back and panted a couple of seconds. His eyes watched her as she got herself under control. Joe bucked a couple of time to indicate what he would like to do next.

A self-assured smile took over the woman’s face as she ground down until the man stopped moving. “Other side.” She directed as she fell forward again, her generous right breast falling within reach.

He licked and suckled. Releasing the nipple, he blew cool air across the flesh then drew the tit back in. Back and forth between the two breasts he went, while the blanket separating the nether parts dampened with her arousal. Her grinding hips eventually moved the cloth below his cock.

“What the?” she asked looking down. A necklace had been draped loosely around his penis – now not as loose as when originally placed there. She wiggled down to rest her ass his knees to get a better look.

After rediscovering multi-syllable words, Joe explained “Your present. Thought you would unwrap it sooner.”

She unwound the gold chain until the butterfly charm made of gemstones rested in her palm. “It’s beautiful.”

She lifted her arms to hook the necklace behind her nape, displaying her aroused breasts proudly. Rubbing her weeping slit up his leg, she crawled until she was face to face with Joe. The necklace brushed his chin. Staring into his eyes, she reached behind, grabbing his dick, and slowly back down again until he was lodged within her channel. She pushed herself up; her slickness sliding her completely down so her asscheeks rested on his balls. Cheryl then raised herself up on her knees and lowered herself again.

Again and again, until her entire body was jiggling. A scream escaped Cheryl and she collapsed onto Joe’s chest. The random squeezes of her vagina kept Joe hard, but didn’t push him over the edge as Cheryl’s breathing returned to normal. Rolling over to one side, Cheryl’s hand started drifting over Joe’s chest and abs.

“So, presents, flowers, champagne and sex. When’s dinner?”

“Reservations at Andina’s tomorrow. Sorry but my mom couldn’t take the kids tonight.” Joe looked hopeful. “So I am forgiven for forgetting our anniversary was Tuesday?”

Turning to get the key from the nightstand, Cheryl answered “Provisionally.” She unlocked the handcuffs, but immediately closed them around his left wrist and the headboard again, leaving only his right hand free. “Let’s see how tomorrow goes.”

She put the key back in its place. “In the meantime, you need to kiss my ass some more.” Presenting the ass she wanted to be kissed. The maneuver crushed some of the rose petals, releasing a light perfume.

(words 848 – first publication 12/19/2012; republished in new format on 2/7/2016) 

Flash: Light It Up

Erin Penn

Photo: Man in rumpled suit

Image courtesy of photostock at FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Rating: Mature

Trey Warden came from old money. His hundred-dollar haircuts and thousand-dollar suits always looked stunning, and overdone for the bureaucratic agency he and Angela worked at. Those brave enough to pin him down had passed to the rumor mill he felt an obligation to give back to the society that help his family for so long.

Angela tolerated him only because his solution was never just to toss his money at the problem, but really solve the issue. Emergency planning didn’t need money, it needed strategy and tactics – both of which Trey had in abundance … when he deemed to come into work.

Yesterday, with a rare blizzard about to hit and the Queen’s City to prepare, he had graced them with his presence. That was twenty-two hours ago and God knows how many coffees. He lost his tie somewhere yesterday afternoon and the shirt came untucked after the cold pizza was finally consumed.

They had ordered the mushroom and onion pizza while putting final touches on the indigent housing; it arrived when one of the shelters where they were going to put hundreds of homeless burned to the ground. Around midnight they remembered their dinner.

Now as dawn broke, Angela looked out the window of the board room to see the first of the flakes flying by. “You can go home if you want.” She said. Her voice creaked with exhaustion.

Taking off a jacket worth more than a year of his token hourly pay, “No, some of us need to stay here.” He placed the jacket on the back of the chair beside her and sat down.

Her head dipped up and down, maybe in a nod, maybe in nodding off. “Just, you, me and the dozen of others sleeping in the cafeteria.” She had sent the single parents home once everything was back in order from the last minute emergency. The balance of her staff would man phones, help the department of transportation, and keep the plan moving for the next two days. Thank goodness the blizzard was polite enough to hit on a weekend, so no schools were in the mix.

Spinning the thin leather-like chair so he faced her, he commented. “You could catch some z’es in the waiting room.”

Angela grimaced, “Have you tried those seats? Besides, it doesn’t matter, I am light activated. I will be getting my second wind soon. You?”

“I am emergency activated.” His black eyes danced. “I won’t need to sleep for several days.”

Her mocha eyebrows met as she tried to process that piece of information. “Ex-military?”

He shook his head. The man was a miser about his past, and Angela’s review of his HR jacket didn’t come with any juicy bits. Not like the juicy bits of his muscles bunching and loosening as he stretched beside her. Technically she was his supervisor, but she was not in charge of his reviews or his continuing employment. He was hired at the mayor’s request five years ago, and she wasn’t certain anyone had the power or daring to fire him. She had no clue how far in he was with the present mayor.

“So what do we do now?” he asked. His long legs remained stretch across her egress and she could feel heat radiate through the expensive fabric. For a moment she fought the urge to stretch her legs underneath the bridge he had created, then she gave up. No real reason not to go with the flow. The red rays of dawn filled the room rejuvenating her.

“The press releases are delivered. I’ve already prepped the mayor and Jerome to be talking heads for the morning shows. The sand trucks are running, and the E Team is working the streets to get everyone into shelters.” She thought a moment as she moved her legs up a little until they were skimming the bottom of his trousers. “Did we touch base with the oil and electric utilities?”

“At six, ten, two and six again.” Trey responded same business tone she had been using. But his mouth tilted in a half smile. His coal black eyes lit with embers, meeting hers. He causally sat a little more upright in the board room chair, bringing his legs in solid contact with hers. “Is that it?”

“About everything that needs to be done for the next hour or two except bring the generator online now that the wind has started. Kassandra is covering the phones.”

His smile widened and slid his legs down hers before leveraging himself out of the chair. “Well then, off to the basement to light things up.” He offered her his hand to help her stand.

Angela felt the moisture begin to pool between her legs as she took his hand. God, this is just what she needed to get through the next two days. She hoped Trey wouldn’t be whiny about it afterwards.

She glanced over her shoulder as they entered the stairwell. He was watching her ass with abandonment. Nope, the man was not the whiny type. Rich and privileged, but also competent and strong. And definitely all male. Her breasts tightened in anticipation.

(862 words – originally appearing in Sunday Fun on Breathless Press 11/14/2012)

Kassandra, mentioned in passing in this flash, went on to have
her own story in “If You Love Me…” on January 23, 2013.

And then that flash expanded into my first book

(Click on the cover below to be taken to the Amazon page)

Honestly Cover - Small Size