Hi all. Ive been around literotica for a couple years now, and although im not new to writing stories, this will be my first post on literotica. Let me know what you think of this beggining to a story. Im trying to decide where to go with it. Story ideas, opinions and grammatical errors are all welcome.
Her hot breathe on my neck was a million fingers gently tickling my skin. Her thigh against mine did nothing to lessen my prominent erection, straining against the bedsheets as if it could smell the pussy. Her hand on my chest, her soft wet kisses on my neck, her lingering tongue on my earlobe. She was tender and sexy and somehow completely unavailable. Just as I knew that her kisses might last forever, I also knew that she could never be mine. It was something that had haunted me from the second I met her. She exumed an air of supremacy, always being the focus of attention without asking for it, becoming the goddess of sex as you knew it without fucking a single man. It was enough to drive me to the point of insanity, and it nearly did.
Claire was always around. Don’t ask me why. We weren’t lovers, we weren’t mates, we weren’t even fucking friends. She didn’t love me, im not even sure she liked me. But she lived with me. For what reason I didn’t know. Maybe just to drive me insane with lust, lust that I hated and despised, the type of lust that played with your emotions, never letting you rest, never giving you a moments peace even though you could care less if you ever saw the woman again. She would come and go when she wanted. I don’t know where she went. She would leave for days at a time, maybe just to get out of my shitty apartment. Maybe to sneak away to some other lover, to another man in another crappy apartment who she regualarly made visits to and drove insane. I didn’t care. I carried out my life largely like she didn’t exist. I would have liked that, I think. To be able to get her out of my head and move on would have been a privelage. But that never happened. She was always there. Like some kind of dog she would always come back.
Her hot breathe on my neck was a million fingers gently tickling my skin. Her thigh against mine did nothing to lessen my prominent erection, straining against the bedsheets as if it could smell the pussy. Her hand on my chest, her soft wet kisses on my neck, her lingering tongue on my earlobe. She was tender and sexy and somehow completely unavailable. Just as I knew that her kisses might last forever, I also knew that she could never be mine. It was something that had haunted me from the second I met her. She exumed an air of supremacy, always being the focus of attention without asking for it, becoming the goddess of sex as you knew it without fucking a single man. It was enough to drive me to the point of insanity, and it nearly did.
Claire was always around. Don’t ask me why. We weren’t lovers, we weren’t mates, we weren’t even fucking friends. She didn’t love me, im not even sure she liked me. But she lived with me. For what reason I didn’t know. Maybe just to drive me insane with lust, lust that I hated and despised, the type of lust that played with your emotions, never letting you rest, never giving you a moments peace even though you could care less if you ever saw the woman again. She would come and go when she wanted. I don’t know where she went. She would leave for days at a time, maybe just to get out of my shitty apartment. Maybe to sneak away to some other lover, to another man in another crappy apartment who she regualarly made visits to and drove insane. I didn’t care. I carried out my life largely like she didn’t exist. I would have liked that, I think. To be able to get her out of my head and move on would have been a privelage. But that never happened. She was always there. Like some kind of dog she would always come back.
Last edited:
