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Stimulating
Stories About Couples Sex
A Compilation of Literate
Erotica
How Our Love Began
by Harry Merkin
This short
story is a work of
fiction. Names,
characters, places and
incidents either are the
product of the author’s
vivid imagination or are
used fictitiously. Any
resemblance to actual
human beings, living or
dead, business
enterprises, events or
locales is entirely
coincidental.
I almost declined yet another
blind date. Less than two months after a
huge breakup, I wasn’t looking for a
relationship, just a fuck buddy. Was I being
unrealistic? Surely a bright, beautiful and
horny girl was out there, ideally around the
corner, or at least within walking
distance?
I finished getting dressed donning my lucky
vest with its secret pocket for condoms;
last used two weeks ago when I enjoyed the
company of a blonde and busty Tinder-toy. As
an afterthought, I picked up the scattered
dirty laundry, and made my bed in case we
came back here.
Instead of a cab, I walked the nine blocks
uptown to clear my mind of negativity,
rehearsed a few suave lines, and adjusted my
smile while glancing at store windows.
She was already at the appointed corner,
wearing a little black dress and holding a
red umbrella. Her smile was immediate and
genuine. Her voice was almost sultry and I
struggled to maintain eye contact to avoid
staring ravenously at her bust line. Her
perfume reminded me of my most recent ex but
I hastily buried that thought in a shallow
mental grave.
I led her to the door and opened it for her.
She touched my arm, saying, “Thank you.”
Sitting side by side while our sushi was
being prepared, we spoke of her cousin, my
co-worker, who had arranged our date. I
offered her first choice and then ate its
twin. We shared brief autobiographies and
career highlights; then told all, from
childhood to the present. She was and is a
good listener.
I was so comfortable with her. She was
confident and accomplished in so many ways,
yet still humble and happy. She enjoyed her
work but it neither defined her nor consumed
her.
We were kicked out after midnight and walked
and talked for another hour. She asked where
I lived and I asked her as well. We were
practically neighbors.
We decided to go to my place after I
described how morning sun fills my bedroom.
I helped her unzip her dress and gave her an
oversized tee shirt.
She watched me undress.
“Is that your pillow?”
“Yes,“ and she scooted to the other side of
my bed.
We spoke softly and kissed often until we
fell asleep in each other’s arms.
Her phone awakened us. Her cousin asked
about our date. Emily winked at me and we
answered almost in unison. I said, ”Great.”
Emily said, “Wonderful,” stretching the word
out to a lascivious length. Her cousin had
no more questions.
----------
We
washed the breakfast dishes together, then
dried and stacked them.
We embraced. It was more than enough. It was
a prolonged and wordless embrace. Our
breathing synchronized as we became one.
What I felt surpassed pleasure. Our smiles
could not have been any broader.
“I have never felt so complete.”
“Me too. Thank you for not rushing into sex
last night.”
“I can’t believe what I’m about to say, but
sex wasn’t on my mind last night. You were.
Your eyes. Your voice. Your warmth. Your
softness. I have never been so intimate with
someone while keeping my underwear on.”
“I felt the same way,” and she held me
tighter.
I picked her up and carried her to my bed.
She peeled off the big tee shirt and she was
naked.
“I hand washed my panty when I showered.
It’s drying behind your bathroom door.”
I pulled down my underwear.
“Please go slow. I was raped a little over a
year ago and you are my first since then.”
Her revelation stunned me and I looked into
her eyes. I saw only longing and intense
desire, no hesitation whatsoever.
“Are you really ready for this?”
She nodded, “Imagining this moment has
sustained me through the last year.”
“How do you want to start?”
Emily laid back, spread her legs, and
whispered, “Taste me.”
She was already aroused, completely
drenched. Her engorged clitoris was so
ready, but I began by kissing and licking
her inner thighs, then followed my nose.
Her scent had gone straight to my brain,
ricocheted, then shot back out in a spasm
that left me tingling all over. I flicked my
tongue along the edges of her labia, then
circled her opening before sending it
within; slowly licking the inside of her
vagina. She convulsed and moaned. She spread
her legs even more. I increased the tempo of
licking and flicking. She was thrashing
about, arching her back, and panting. I
moved up to suck on her clit and she
exploded, squirting and convulsing and
squirting again.
I placed a finger inside her and she yelped,
placing a hand over her mouth. I froze.
“Keep going. I need you to keep going.”
I reached in to press and circle her most
erogenous spot. She was on fire. Her moans
became deep guttural sounds, quickly passing
from feral to wild. Her second orgasm came
quickly and I added a second finger, then a
third.
“Fuck me.”
I reached for the nightstand.
“You don’t need a condom.”
Her vagina held me tightly, then released
and squeezed rhythmically. Our tongues
twisted and tussled. She thrust her hips and
I began the in and out.
The incandescent moment came too soon. We
kept kissing and rolled together onto my
back. I felt the warm dripping on my balls.
She caressed and pumped my penis back to
life; then mounted me. I stared at her
bouncing breasts unashamedly. God, they were
so beautiful.
“Do you like them?”
I couldn’t answer until my orgasm subsided.
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The End
Harry Merkin (a nom de
guerre) is a
dick-brain who is more
articulate than an arthropod
and has many ways with
words. He tries desperately
not to write like Edward
Bulwer-Lytton, but often
fails.
NOTES
A. This short story is a
fabrication.
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