http://www.etlc.info/index.php/erotic_blog/ en hi@etlc.info Copyright 2013 2013-03-11T10:04:08+00:00 http://www.etlc.info/index.php/erotic_blog/etlcerotic/ http://www.etlc.info/index.php/erotic_blog/etlcerotic/#When:05:25:34Z Introduction This category is for books that contain a substantial amount of “adult” content.  Specifically, if the book contains graphic depictions of sexual activity in more than a couple of chapters, it would be best to choose this genre.  How to Access Books Click on the link of a book to read its description. 2011-03-15T05:25:34+00:00 http://www.etlc.info/index.php/erotic_blog/etlcbound_-_sample/ http://www.etlc.info/index.php/erotic_blog/etlcbound_-_sample/#When:10:04:08Z Bound Lucy Pireel (author) Amelia sat behind her desk, smiling at the approaching man. Raphael Gleave, today's most eligible bachelor and singer of the hottest band she’d ever seen, had just walked into her office. The man looked even better in real life than in the tabloids. Muscular, tall and a gait that showed agility and strength. Looking him up and down, her gaze lingered on his crotch. Hmm, a nice package too. She batted her lashes and said, “How can I help you, Mister Gleave?” Anna would not believe who was at her desk today. Girlfriend, you’re going to eat your heart out. She kept a straight face, but grinned on the inside. He lowered himself into the chair on the other side of her desk and leaned back, taking a relaxed position, legs wide and arms on the rests. His lips curled up into a half-smile, showing a cute dimple on his cheek. His blue eyes sparkled when he looked at her nameplate. “Miss Wild,” he drawled. “I need to hire temporary help. The kind that knows what to expect.” “Do you have preferences, Mister Gleave?” She knew hers. Wouldn’t it be great if he shared them? “Any special wishes we should take into account?” He chuckled. “She should be athletic. Not too tall, well groomed ...” At that, he watched Amelia as if waiting for her to speak. When she kept quiet, he pursed his lips. “Right,” he said. “By well groomed, I mean presentable under all circumstances. Even when she needs to keep up with me while I’m running.” “Do you prefer blonds or brunettes?” Not a question she’d normally ask a client who came in looking for a high-end secretary or PA. In this case though? She wanted to know. “Brunettes.” He stared at her expectantly. “A bit like you. Not that it really matters though,” he hastened to add. “I’m staff, not personnel.” But I’d make an exception for you. “I guess we could probably work something out, depending on your wishes.” “I demand a lot of time. Seven days a week for the next six months while my secretary is on maternity leave. If I need to go to a social event, you’ll accompany me. Give the tabloids something to chew on. Maybe they’d drop the eternal bachelor story for a change. You know, be on call 24/7?” “That will cost you. We normally only do office hours. But I guess we can accommodate you, seeing as your line of work doesn’t really have regular hours.” She could envision all sorts of special treatment for him, but she had to stay professional. “Let me see who we have available for you. If they're agreeable, we can give you a quote.” “I’d like to hire you. Do the paperwork when you start tomorrow and pay yourself whatever it takes.” Then he slid a Black Card across her desk. “I will see you tomorrow morning at six sharp. Get yourself decent running gear and bring a memo-recorder. I’ll see you at the Zoo, don’t be late.” He rose and left her office. Pireel 2013-03-11T10:04:08+00:00 http://www.etlc.info/index.php/erotic_blog/etlcbound/ http://www.etlc.info/index.php/erotic_blog/etlcbound/#When:09:47:40Z Bound Lucy Pireel (author) Product Description A young, successful woman finds herself attracted to a man who is known for his promiscuity. She has no idea if he wishes to play with her the way she wants him to. While working together, they become closer. When she finally dares to reveal her desires, he only only asks her if she's ready to say 'please'. After she does, the games begin. But where will they end? About the Author Lucy Pireel loves to write and read. She does not limit herself to one genre, but writes what she thinks would work for a story. At times it means writing Science Fiction, or fairy tales, while some are pure erotica. She is glad to successfully self-published her first three books, while editing her full-length, paranormal, erotic novel at the same time. Of course she writes more too; there are always new ideas for stories playing through her head, ranging from flash to full length novels. Lucy enjoys long walks in the great outdoors, or twist herself into a pretzel while doing yoga. All to unwind after a day of writing, or editing. At the moment she lives in the UK and enjoys the country and its people very much. She's very much a peoples person. Should readers want to ask her a question, she's easily found on facebook. Or visit her blog at Wordpress. And for the really interested reader/fan, she even has her own author site (http://www.lucypireel.com) Pireel 2013-03-11T09:47:40+00:00 http://www.etlc.info/index.php/erotic_blog/etlcundisclosed_-_sample/ http://www.etlc.info/index.php/erotic_blog/etlcundisclosed_-_sample/#When:01:47:53Z Undisclosed Desires M. Peters (author) Chapter Five He's driven you mad already? And here I thought you'd at least reach four hundred before I had to lock you away. “Be silent, Amaroq,” Keith replied distractedly, pacing back and forth on the thick rug in the sitting room where he'd spent the day hiding from the sun behind the great swaths of velvet that served as curtains for the bay window which overlooked the street. All day long, he'd heard the comings and goings of the townspeople, and never before had he felt so trapped. Keith had spent daylight hours within bustling cities before, but never one that contained the one man whose movements he was desperate to track. All day, he had been unable to rest, captivated by the thought that Javier might come, or even that he would pass by on the street in pursuit of some errand or another. Amaroq covered his eyes with one great paw. You're obsessed and it's not even over someone worthy. Now, that duke in England? HE was interesting.... and that servant girl of his, with those green eyes? I would gladly have made puppies with her. “The servant girl with the green eyes,” Keith repeated uncomprehendingly. “That is not the most outstanding of descriptions. Do you know how many servants I have seen with green eyes?” And long auburn hair, down past her back? So straight and soft.... She looked like a Celt, but she spoke such pretty French... And she really liked dogs. Amaroq flopped onto the rug by the fireplace with a wistful sigh. You just have no taste. Keith glanced at him and then started as he placed Amaroq's description. “Oh, yes! Yes, of course I remember Margaret. She was a beautiful woman; that you did not charm her to your den is a sin,” he commiserated, laughing. Amaroq lifted his head, growling at the sight of mirth dancing in Keith’s eyes. Stop teasing me, or I'll find your love interest and bring him home to you. “And how is that a threat that would leave me cowering?” Keith reclined in the great chair by the fire, watching his wolven companion with interest piqued more by the mention, he had to admit, of Javier's possible appearance than by Amaroq's countenance. It was the wolf's turn to look smug. I didn't mention in how many pieces he'd be when I brought him to you, did I? He leapt to his feet as Keith jerked up from his chair and chased him with the book he'd been attempting to read that morning. Finally, having chased Amaroq up into one of the third story rooms, where he would hear his nails clicking on the marble if he came back again, Keith returned to the front room and settled by the fire, trying to return his attention to something -- anything! - more productive than wondering if he would ever see Javier again. He wandered the room, wondering if he dared to open the heavy velvet curtains to study the street outside, and knew he did not. He paced the length of the room until he heard Amaroq's claws clicking on the marble as he'd known they would. Dusk is come, and I'm hungry. Can I pass you unmolested, or will you chase me with bad literature again? “Thomas Malory's works can hardly be considered bad literature,” Keith replied, wondering why he was offended that a wolf found his taste in reading materials less-than-desirable. “The man was a criminal and a rapist. Why should you waste your time with his work? Or is it because you're identifying with him?” Javier leaned against the open doorway, warily regarding Amaroq even as he spoke to Keith, who jerked and stared at him in surprise. He had come. He's here, he came! Why has he come? Is he armed? Yes; why did he come? I need him. Does he want me? Keith cleared his throat and rose, slowly approaching the younger man who leaned so casually against the wall. He was as beautiful as Keith remembered, though he knew the passage of a single day couldn't be responsible for more change than, perhaps, a lessening or increasing of weariness around the eyes. But it didn't feel as though it had only been a day since he'd seen the boy last. “Amaroq, go. Leave us for a while.” Gladly. I want to be able to eat tonight and every night. Why can't you have better taste in men? Keith scowled, and Javier noted how fierce the man could look when he wanted to. The sight of that ferocity had a fair amount of effect on him, and he was glad he hadn't belted his tunic so that the fabric was lifted to display his groin, as was the custom. “When I want your opinion on my choice of lovers, I'll ask for it. Out.” Javier scowled, both at the idea of the man so casually insisting they were lovers already without first consulting him and at the fact that he'd spoken to a dog as if the thing could speak to him. I can speak to him. I can speak to you, too, but you're not worth my time. Amaroq sat on his haunches and regarded Javier coolly with an expression of arrogance more befitting a feline than a wolf. “Dios!” Javier swore, backing up fast as Amaroq rose and padded towards him, his tongue lolling out. “Get this thing away from me!” Mmm, you've been lying with that wife of yours. Maybe I'll go and visit her for a while. Think she'd like lying with a real man after having put up with you? Even if she sees this shape, lying with an animal is still a step up from lying with you. “Amaroq!” Keith thundered, advancing on the animal. “Get out, and do it now before I decide you won't come back!” The wolf shot his master a startled look, as though it understood. Javier supposed, though, if it could talk, it could probably understand, and when Keith took another menacing step towards it, it fled. Javier leaned back against the wall, eyes wide. “What in God's name are you?” He demanded at last, when he felt his voice could support words without reverting to the trembling tones of a boy. “You... That ... thing, you can hear that thing - that's not a dog, is it?” Keith shook his head, amused. “No, and I daresay he'd bite you if you called him one. Amaroq is a werewolf. Man and wolf in one. In my language, I know him as le loup-garou, but in your language, I think he is known as el hombre lobo.” Javier nodded. “The man-wolf. I thought the stories said they could only change during full moons...” He let the words trail off. Why am I discussing this? This is madness! There's no such thing as talking dogs or men who can change their shapes! I must be dreaming; if I open my eyes, maybe I'll be at home, and Ofelia will be looking at me... He shut his eyes tightly and then opened them again, but the elegant sight that had met them before had not melted away during the seconds of blindness he had imposed upon himself. The fire still crackled merrily in the hearth and the thick stone walls were still adorned with their rich tapestries. The marble floor was still cold beneath the thin soles of his soft boots - and the man was still watching him. There was amusement in his twilight eyes, though he said nothing and did not move from his spot near the fire. Javier looked away uncomfortably from the direct gaze, and then forced himself to look back immediately, defiant. Keith's eyes crinkled as a smile touched his lips. He was careful not to show his fangs - one supernatural event at a time, he supposed, or he might break the boy, but he couldn't help his mirth. “The world is full of strange things, my boy. You know, when I was younger than you, they still believed the world to be flat.” Javier snorted. “People still do. People are stupid.” Keith laughed. “Only as a group. Alone, they can be quite interesting, so long as they are ... stimulated correctly.” He watched for a reaction to his carefully-chosen word, and got the one for which he'd been looking. Javier's lips parted the slightest bit and he shifted uncomfortably, looking away for another brief moment before his snapping green eyes returned to Keith's features. “Stop baiting me!” He growled, pressing back against the wall. “I am a married man, and you are a ... a ... cheat,” he finished, somewhat lamely. Keith threw back his head and laughed, not caring now what the boy saw. “I?” He demanded incredulously. “Who won most of a man's savings before that same man retired for the night? Who insisted on continuing the trick, to gain more wealth from the others who stayed even after the first person left? You are calling me a cheater?” “If they don't want to lose money, they shouldn't play the game,” Javier replied roughly. He hadn't seen Keith's fangs; he'd been too busy trying to control his temper. “That should be a piece of advice you should give yourself, rather than cheating like mad to gain money you don't deserve,” Keith purred, stepping away from the fire and heading towards the boy in the doorway. “Only when you admit that you couldn't have won that duel without cheating like you did!” Javier shot back, all-too-aware of Keith's increasing proximity. “I would have cut your head off and mounted it on a pike that night if not for your dirty trick!” “One good turn deserves another,” Keith replied, enjoying the younger man's discomfort at his closeness. “I was simply showing you what it feels like to be on the receiving end of someone else's deceptions...” Javier's features closed, and his eyes became cold and hard. “I know what it feels like, Frenchman.” Keith sighed. “Back to that again, are we? Call me by name, please, Javier. And if you know what it feels like, why do you do it?” “Winning some money from a man too stupid to see he's being cheated is not the worst sin I could think of. Cheating on a duel and almost killing a man in doing so is worse. So is seducing him away from his wife.” Keith watched him with hooded eyes. “You would have killed me for speaking the truth. How is defending my life against your wrongly-drawn blade a sin? And have you never before been tempted away from your wife's arms? You'll lie if you say no, though I do believe it's sheer stubbornness that kept you near instead of some moral obligation. They said you'd stray, so you won't, just to prove them wrong.” Javier grunted, unable to say anything against Keith's words. Hadn't he been thinking about that very same notion this morning? He looked up, about to say something anyway, and found Keith standing there, mere inches from him. The words stuck in his throat and froze there as he stared up, aware for the second time that, for a Frenchman, he was tall. Javier was taller than most of his compatriots, who stood, if they were lucky, half a foot above their wives, but Keith held at least four inches' worth of height over Javier, which meant he had to be at least as tall as that Plantagenet monarch he'd read about in England. One of the Edwards, he thought, and then shook his musings off and pushed at Keith's chest, having nowhere to backpedal because of the wall's cold countenance behind him. “Get away from me,” he demanded. When Keith didn't answer or back off, Javier's unease grew, and he pushed again, but it was as fruitless an endeavor to try and knock him over as it was to try and move the wall behind him with his bare hands. He doesn't look solid, but it's like he's made of granite! Why won't he move?! It was then that Keith did move, and Javier glanced up from his perusal of his own hands on Keith's chest just in time to watch Keith's lips descend to his. For a wild moment, Javier fought, struggling against the diamond-hard grasp of the Frenchman, but Keith's only response was to deepen the kiss and draw Javier closer against his body. Keith's strength was not visible to the naked eye, Javier found; his hands and arms were lean and thin, and his fingers and their movements were graceful to the point of displaying a slight effeminacy, but their grips were powerful. He wasn't as broad across the shoulders as Javier was, but there was more strength in his chest and back than Javier had ever felt in anyone, even the weapons-master who had taught him swordplay so many summers ago. And no matter what he did, Javier could not budge him. For a moment, he knew paralyzing fear, the likes of which a woman who is about to be raped must feel, and he was further horrified by the notion which next occurred to him. He didn't really mind. His body was yearning for more of Keith's hot kisses, and the older man seemed to know this, as he slid his lips downwards, across the freshly shaven expanse of Javier's jawline. Diego had done the job himself just before his master had left for the day. His hands ran smoothly with the grain of hair and then against it, and the exquisite wonder of the softness of Keith’s hands against the rough-smooth grain of his cheeks very nearly drove Javier mad. He leaned into Keith's embrace helplessly, opening his eyes only once. Once is usually enough, and this time was no exception. Keith's hair had come free of the ribbon he'd used to tie its wealth back behind his neck, and a few locks tumbled freely over his shoulder, burning darkly in the firelight, and suddenly, the view brought to mind the last image Javier had of his wife, of her sable hair tumbling freely over her damp breasts as her maidservant scrubbed the sweat of the sex he and Ofelia had shared from her naked body. He jerked and shoved at Keith, later coming to the realisation that he only managed to move him then because he'd caught him by surprise. Keith staggered back, his eyes opening wide, and caught himself before he could fall. For a moment, he stared, and then he shook his head, seemingly angry. But when he spoke, his voice was quiet and filled only with regret. “Why do you deny yourself, Javier?” Still, he could not - would not, Javier insisted - pronounce his name correctly. That accent of his was always making it three syllables instead of two. The infuriating sound of it gave Javier’s skittering nerves something to which they could cling. “I deny myself nothing!” He flared angrily, shoving at him again, but Keith had stepped back out of range and he stumbled forward. Strong arms caught him and he looked up only to be sucked into the midnight pools of Keith's eyes. They were beautiful to behold; the pupils were black raindrops in an endless sea of dusky blue etched with light silver that reflected the firelight back in rainbows. Javier's lips parted as he stared into them, lost as so many others had been before him, and then the moment was gone as Keith angrily turned away. So many others, yes, but Javier was more than that, more than they had ever been to him, and he couldn't even voice why he believed that to be true. There was ... something. Something about this golden-haired, fiercely-angry wild man, and it was something that Keith could not ignore. Keith understood that the man was married, and that he -- to his credit! – believed himself to have a commitment to his wife that went beyond making sure she was safely tucked into bed at night and had ample foodstuffs in the house to break her fast in the morning, but ... But what? My desires are pulling apart a family, a family already made angry and ragged by the loss of their child or children, and what have I to show for it? No remorse; no, for if I regretted my actions so much, I would leave this place and try to forget the golden man before me... but I will not do that. I cannot do that. He watched Javier, who stood scowling at him for a moment more, and then stalked out, slamming the door of the palatial home behind him as he did. Keith stared after the boy, inhaling the last vestiges of his scent as they drifted away on the air, listening to the fading thrum of his heartbeat as it passed even from his far-reaching hearing. I will have you as my own, Javier. Even if I have to wait until your lady is slow with age, I shall have you. Only once had he made a fledgling of another human, and his brother had hated him for it for the last three hundred years. He had never dared again. But if that was what it took, if Javier would not consent to be his before he had laid his wife in the ground and given her soul to whatever god there was, then he would bring Javier across the veil which separated Keith's own soul from the thrumming commotion of human life, and he would wait for him. He would wait forever if he had to. Mark my words, Javier Alvares Estas. You will be mine, even if I have to do the unthinkable. Peters 2012-08-05T01:47:53+00:00 http://www.etlc.info/index.php/erotic_blog/etlcundisclosed_desires/ http://www.etlc.info/index.php/erotic_blog/etlcundisclosed_desires/#When:01:32:34Z Undisclosed Desires M. Peters (author) Product Description When a vampire named Keith D'Ameron arrives in Seville, Spain during the beginning of Spain's Golden Age, he never expects to be captured by the siren's call of a single heart-beat - not when there are so many others thrumming around him. But its call is impossible to resist - and, he finds, so is the man in whose body that pulse beats. Discovering quickly that he cannot get Javier Estas out of his mind, Keith determines to make the young man his own - but he must decide whether he will share the deepest of his dark secrets with Javier in order to do so. Peters 2012-08-05T01:32:34+00:00 http://www.etlc.info/index.php/erotic_blog/etlcsomething_-_sample/ http://www.etlc.info/index.php/erotic_blog/etlcsomething_-_sample/#When:02:35:43Z Something Different S.A. Reid (author) The room was nice for an old British hotel, which was to say substandard compared to the meanest Holiday Inn. The bed was only a full, the carpet was patched, there was no mini-fridge and satellite telly cost extra. The room had been retro-fitted with a toilet and sink, at least, but the shower was down the hall. James limited himself to one quick glance around. Staying focused on the client was essential. So the moment the door closed, James pushed himself into Michael's arms, lifting his face eagerly. "Since last week, all I've thought about is you. That huge cock, I have to see it again," James said with the usual simulated breathlessness. At least in Michael's case, the reference to a huge cock was literally true. "This time I want you in me. I need you, I need you so bad, I-" Michael's hand moved up. Gently he slipped two fingers over James's lips, pressing them down and holding. He kissed James's forehead. "May I undress you?" Thrown off his game - no one had silenced him in mid-patter before - James nodded. Letting himself go loose-limbed, he didn't resist as Michael removed his jacket. Underneath he wore a short-sleeved t-shirt; Michael pulled it off, mussing James's hair and carefully stroking it back into place. James hoped he should be flattered by Michael's stare. It was intense, devouring, almost intimidating. The hotel room was chilly. James's nipples stiffened into hard pink nubs as Michael continued removing his clothes. Michael undid James's belt and unbuttoned his fly, working the tight blue jeans down until James obligingly lifted one foot, then the other. Once the pants were off, James had a feeling such a methodical man would remove his socks before heading up to the main event, and he wasn't wrong. Michael freed James of each sock before gently pushing down his shorts. Michael's hands were trembling, that cannibal stare now locked on James's semi-erect cock. "Touch it," James said. Michael hesitated. His breath sped up. He wanted to. He really wanted to. James took Michael's long-fingered hand and closed it around his cock. "See? Easy. So what'll it be tonight? What do you want?" "I want to fellate you." "Steady on! You want to fillet me?" James gave an incredulous laugh. He knew better than that - clients as green as Michael couldn't stand to be laughed at. But fortunately Michael didn't seem offended. "I want to, um, perform oral sex on you." "All right." James tried not to look as dismayed as he felt. The odds were slim that he'd be able to come, and not coming could be disastrous. Best to put Michael off the notion, quick. "Mind you, all my condoms are spermicidal. Little tart on the tongue. But you know the drill, safer sex and all that ..." Michael shook his head. "No condom." He spoke like a man who'd been fantasizing about this particular act for days. "No? Very well, then. Cheers." Grinning as if delighted, James sat on an armchair as Michael knelt before him. James wished he had a secret weapon - porn on the telly or a butt plug - but no. He'd just have to imagine something sexy. A BMW or a Mercedes, maybe... Michael kissed the head of James's cock. The kiss was long, wet, vibrating with suppressed desire. Then his tongue began working down in hot, precise circles. Eyes open, unhurried, his licked every millimeter, holding James's cock steady as he stroked the base with his thumb. Then Michael took James entirely in his mouth, squeezing his lips around the root, sliding up and down. It was the best beginner suck-off James had ever had. He found himself grinning, digging his fingers into Michael's hair and pushing his head up and down. Dribbling a little pre-cum as he focused completely on the sensation, James felt his asshole clench and thought maybe, maybe... But then he heard Michael's belt unfasten. Heard his trousers unzip. Those two unmistakable sounds threw everything around James into sharp relief. He was in a strange room with a man he didn't know getting fucked because it was all he was good for. The possibility of orgasm popped like a soap bubble. Michael, at least, was getting there, giving himself a proper wank with James's cock still in his mouth, softening as it moved in and out between his lips. At the last moment Michael released James's cock, made a choked noise and shot a white jet against James's inner thigh. "You ... you didn't ... like it," Michael gasped, still shaking with his own climax, barely able to speak. His eyes were open and focused on James's cock, red and limp and gleaming with spit. James didn't know what to say. Kevin and Cunt-Boyfriend were back together. He owed his landlady two months' rent. His telly was on the fritz and it seemed like no matter how many men he fucked, there was never enough money to get ahead and put a little by. James wouldn't be pretty enough to do this forever. Where would he be in ten years? In twenty? For a second he felt like he would cry. "Earlier. You put your fingers over my lips. Why?" "Because you were lying." Michael tucked himself back into his shorts, zipping up his trousers and fastening his belt. "I don't need that." "Most people love it," James said truthfully. "I don't. It's distracting." Michael nodded toward James's limp cock. "Why didn't you enjoy the fellatio? What did I do wrong?" He didn't sound particularly angry. James felt close to tears again. If he said the wrong thing, his bi-curious suburban family man would bugger off and find a nice cheery rent boy without any issues. And James was sure to say the wrong thing, because everything he touched turned to shit these days. "You didn't do anything wrong. It felt good. Maybe go a little faster next time, but otherwise - good. I just..." James drew a deep breath. "It's hard for me to come with men I don't know. I have to get used to a client first." "So last time. I thought you climaxed. You pretended?" James sighed again. "Men pay me to make them feel good. And not just physically. If they realize I don't like it as much as they do, I'll get knocked about. Put in hospital or worse." "But it makes no sense." Michael seemed to be speaking to himself as much as James. Rising from the floor, he shifted to the bed. "I mean, I can pay you to take your clothes off. To touch me. To let me touch you. But I can't expect you to have an orgasm on command, no matter how much money I give you. And the fact that you won't, even though it would be easier, even though it would be safer ..." Michael lifted his head. He looked James in the eye as if forcing himself to admit something ugly, something difficult. "I think it means you won't sell out. Not all the way. There's a part of you no one can buy. Not with money. Not even with violence." James had no idea what Michael was talking about. Sitting down beside him, he placed a hand on the other man's arm. They made an odd pair in the room's framed mirror, Michael fully dressed and James completely nude. "Believe me, I sold out all the way a long time ago," James said. "But the fact that you get why I can't just ..." he snapped his fingers, jealous of the ease with which other males shot off. "It means a lot. I like you, Michael." Michael's eyes locked with his, light green and acute. James didn't flinch. "Do you like me?" "Too much." "No such thing," James said with a saucy little wiggle. Inside he thought, give it three weeks and he'll never want to see me again. Reid 2011-11-06T02:35:43+00:00 http://www.etlc.info/index.php/erotic_blog/etlcsomething_different/ http://www.etlc.info/index.php/erotic_blog/etlcsomething_different/#When:02:12:51Z Something Different S.A. Reid (author) Product Description Tired of his life's endless grind, family man Michael Maguire allows himself one night of deviation. Desperate for something different, he seeks a prostitute in notorious Brixton Park. But Michael, searching for a girl out of PRETTY WOMAN, instead finds blue-eyed, beautiful James Campbell. Tempted and stirred in ways he never imagined, Michael embarks on a sexual adventure with a rent boy from London's infamous Bethnal Green. And what begins as a purely sexual exchange gradually transforms into something else, as James finds himself in desperate circumstances and Michael is moved to help. Drawn increasingly to James, Michael finds himself facing up to the iniquities in his daily life. And finally he must deal with a horror that threatens to explode Michael's safe, conventional existence. Reid 2011-11-06T02:12:51+00:00 http://www.etlc.info/index.php/erotic_blog/etlcfall_into_erotica_-_sample1/ http://www.etlc.info/index.php/erotic_blog/etlcfall_into_erotica_-_sample1/#When:12:37:36Z Fall Into Erotica: An Autumn Anthology Samantha Whitney, et al. (authors) Extra Credit, by Samantha Whitney Copyright 2011 Samantha Whitney http://www.samanthawhitneywriter.com “Damn it!” I screamed, staring in disbelief at the list of grades. “What?” Leah scanned the list until she found her student identification number. “Yes!” She smiled. In her next breath, she turned to face me, wincing. “I’m sorry, Gina.” “It’s fine.” Tears formed in the back of my throat. “I’m glad you’re passing.” “It’ll be okay. We’ll study together for the final.” “There’s no way I’m gonna get a hundred percent on that final and you know it.” I took a deep breath, trying to contain my tears. “I might as well just plan on being here another year.” Leah put her hand on my shoulder in an effort to comfort me. I couldn’t even concentrate on the words coming out of her mouth. All I could think about was how my future hinged on that grade. I couldn’t graduate on time the next spring without that class, and it was only offered during the fall semester each year. I thought for sure I’d gotten at least an 85 on the latest test, which would bring my average up to a C before the final. But I was wrong. I got a 66. And, according to my calculations, that meant I couldn’t miss a single question on the final if I wanted to end the semester with a C. I had a better chance of turning back time to start the semester over than getting anything higher than a 70 on the final. “I’ll be back here again next fall.” I wailed openly in the hall outside the professor’s offices. Thankfully, the only person in sight was Leah, who pulled me in for a hug. I really didn’t want to spend another year in school. I already had a job lined up through an old college friend of my dad’s. None of the other students in the Economics program had job offers or interviews of any kind. In fact, most of them had already planned to go on to graduate school because the job market was so bleak and they had nothing else to do. I didn’t want to go to graduate school, and with my grade point average, I was pretty sure they wouldn’t even accept me. The job offer was a secret I kept from everyone, including Leah. But it was all contingent upon me getting my degree no later than the coming spring. So, in short, I was screwed. I cried so hard in the hallway, I almost didn’t feel the graduate assistant’s finger tapping me on the shoulder. Sniffling, I pushed Leah away and turned to the finger. “Yeah?” “Here.” Gayle, Dr. Morgan’s tall blond graduate assistant, handed me some tissues. “Sorry, I heard you through the door.” She gave me the same pained wince I’d just received from Leah. “It’s about your test grade?” I wiped my face and blew my nose in the tissues. “Yeah.” “I’m sorry.” Gayle bit her lip and tensed her jaw. Her eyes darted from me to Leah, then back to me. “Can I talk to you alone for a sec? In my office?” I saw Leah shrug. “Okay.” I followed Gayle down the hall and stepped inside her office. She closed the door at once and lowered her voice to a whisper, looking around the room as if someone was around to overhear. “There might be some extra credit.” “Extra credit?” My tears dried up immediately. I took one last sniffle before continuing. “How?” “Shh.” She put her finger to her lips, widening her blue eyes, pleading with me for silence. “Don’t say a word to anyone, alright? Not your friend out there, not anyone. You got it?” I made sure to whisper this time. “Sure, sure. Tell me what I have to do.” At that point I would’ve licked dirt off the bathroom floor if it would’ve given me a way to pass that class. “Well, I can’t say anything for certain, but I’ll check with Dr. Morgan and get back to you. I’ll give you a call tonight to tell you one way or the other.” Gayle swallowed, then looked in my eyes, nervously. “Are you busy this Saturday?” “Saturday?” I thought for a second. “I’m supposed to help my boyfriend’s fraternity with a fund raiser.” “Can you clear your schedule? He likes..” She shook her head frantically. “No, wait. Forget I said that last part.” Gayle took a deep breath. “Can you cancel your plans, if necessary?” “Yeah. Of course I can. If it’ll get me a C in this class I’ll do anything.” She smiled, her eyes lighting up. “Good.” Nodding slowly, she put her hand on the doorknob. “That’s really good. I think you might have a chance.” Before she opened the door, she turned to me for the last time. “If your friend asks what we were talking about, lie. Tell her I offered to tutor you or something. But tell her nothing else. If anybody finds out about this, the deal’s off, you got it?” “Yes, yes. I got it. When you call I won’t even act like it’s you.” “Good.” The hours crept by as I waited - rather impatiently - for Gayle’s call. It finally came at 11:29 PM. She told me in an odd, cryptic manner that I was to show up at Dr. Morgan’s that Saturday morning at 9 AM, sharp. If I was late, the deal was off. She asked me three times if I understood, then asked if there was any possible reason I might be late. She strongly advised me against drinking on Friday night to decrease the likelihood of me waking up with a hangover that morning. Our conversation lasted about three minutes, and it was mostly her telling me not to be late, and begging me not to discuss it with any of my friends. I tried several times to ask what this extra credit actually entailed, but she cut me off each time. I decided it didn’t matter anyway. There wasn’t much I wouldn’t do for a passing grade in that class, and that included sexual favors. I sure as hell wasn’t above performing a blow job on occasion to get something I really wanted. I had a feeling that my dad’s friend, Bill, who had gotten me the job offer at his company, wanted something from me in return. But he seemed more like a “strip for me and let me play with your tits” type of guy. Dr. Morgan was different. He seemed too smart to have such simple needs. Before bed, I went online to find his picture in the staff directory. I stayed awake that night, staring at the ceiling, with fantasies running through my head. He was actually kind of hot, in the ‘sophisticated nerd’ sense, but I wondered if his glasses were what gave him that nerd vibe. I could never really tell what his body looked like because he was one of my only professors who always wore a suit and tie. What I did observe was that he was tall with broad shoulders, he had a full head of light brown hair, and he looked good for his age - which I estimated to be about 45. What could possibly be his request? And why did I have to show up at his house on a Saturday morning? I’d be disappointed if it was just a blow job, although I’d happily oblige. Was there a wife? I’d never heard him mention one in class. Would I be involved in a threesome that day? Three restless hours and two orgasms later, I finally fell asleep. I had to call Kent, my boyfriend, on the way to class to break the news that I wouldn’t be at his fraternity’s fund raiser that Saturday. He was pissed, but he’d get over it. It was another one of those events he’d kept a secret, not wanting me to know I’d be on display. What he didn’t know was that I actually enjoyed helping out in that way. They wanted me and a few of their other hot sorority friends to entice people into buying more beer at their tailgate party. I had a feeling there was a bit more to it than that. His fraternity was bleeding money and they were all willing to do whatever it took to keep the house’s finances afloat. I responded by telling him that I was going to use my petite, size two body and long, wavy brown hair to help myself, for once. When he pressed me for more information I hung up the phone and walked on into class, anxious to see Dr. Morgan. It was Thursday, and the last time I would have his lecture before Saturday’s clandestine meeting at his house. I had no idea I was late when I walked into the classroom. The other students were all heads down, taking notes as I breezed in. All eyes were on me as soon as Dr. Morgan cleared his throat. “Late, Ms. Romero?” I stood just inside the door, listening to it close softly behind me. “Uhh...” You are the hottest fucking thing in the world, Professor... His eyes locked on mine, then drifted below my neck for barely a second before coming back up to finish staring me down. The tone of his gruff voice was more demanding than usual. Or maybe it just seemed that way because it suited my fantasies. “Well?” Dr. Morgan adjusted his glasses. “Don’t just stand there. Take a seat.” He looked down at his notes. “I trust your tardiness will not become your new norm.” I took the closest empty seat and watched him restart his lecture, hoping nobody noticed me squirming in my chair. There was no way I could focus on the lecture with the anticipation of Saturday looming over me. Dr. Morgan had gone from ‘tough professor’ to ‘man of my fantasies’ in less than twenty four hours. Those things I’d never noticed about him before were now all I could see. His piercing blue eyes... the sensual way his wide jaw moved as he spoke... his full lips that I imagined showering kisses all over my body... At the end of his lecture, Dr. Morgan told us all to stay seated while Gayle, who entered the room as he mentioned her name, passed around an important flier. His gaze met mine for approximately one second as he brushed past her on his way out the door. I had no idea what kind of flier the other students received, but mine was just a handwritten, unmarked street address. Gayle didn’t even make eye contact with me when she slung it my way. She’d mentioned something on the phone about privacy and the school computer system, and how she couldn’t email me anything but she’d give me his address in person. Like I couldn’t just look up his property tax records myself to find out where he lived? Duh! Not only did I already know he lived at 244 Palmwood Drive, but I knew his full name and how much he paid for his house. I also knew that his wife’s name had been removed from the deed a year earlier. And I couldn’t help noticing his very ring-less fingers during the lecture that day. At least he wouldn’t be cheating if something happened... unlike me. But was it really cheating if I had to sleep with my professor to get a good grade? A grade that held the key to my entire future in the midst of the most dismal job market any graduating class had ever seen? Kent would never have to know. And besides, it wasn’t like we were married. He was just a college fling, and honestly, a bit of a pain in my ass. Over the next few days, my fantasies about Dr. Morgan grew increasingly vivid. I imagined him taking me from room to room in his house, fucking me in every position imaginable. Sometimes he was rough, sometimes he was gentle. Maybe he’d be into something fun, like having me strip, and then masturbate for him. Mmm... or maybe he’d make me beg to suck his cock. Saturday finally arrived. Following Gayle’s vague orders of “wear whatever you want and plan to stay anywhere from one to eight hours,” I showed up promptly at 9 o’clock. Under my black mini skirt and blue and white striped cardigan - which I chose because it looked so studious - I wore a matching red bra and panty set that I bought the day before to wear with my matching red stilettos. I couldn’t wait to show myself off to Dr. Morgan. I rang the doorbell and waited patiently for Dr. Morgan to answer. I gasped when the door opened and I saw light blond hair. “Gayle?” She waved, weakly, peering around the door. “Hey.” “Are you gonna let me in?” Why won’t she open the door more than a crack? And what the hell’s she doing here on my big day with the professor? Gayle’s head disappeared. I heard her sigh, loudly. Then the door opened wide enough for me to walk through, with Gayle hiding herself on the other side. The house was nice. Classically decorated and very tidy. But I had little time to take it in. I was about to ask where he was when Gayle slammed the front door and grabbed my wrist, hastily leading me to another room. “Where are we going?” I asked, keenly aware of the rapid click-clock sound of my heels against the hardwood floor. “Shh. There’s no time.” She led me through a few more rooms, then to a hallway, and finally we reached a study. Dr. Morgan sat at a desk, wearing a nice button-down shirt and tie--his usual clothes, minus the suit jacket. He turned to look after we’d already taken a few steps inside the door. Without a word, he took off his glass and placed them carefully on top of the desk, then stood up. Gayle guided me to stand in precise spot and nodded for me to stay there. I folded my hands in front of me and stood perfectly still, awaiting my fate. Gayle’s presence was a little unsettling to me, disrupting my titillating fantasy. Why hadn’t she told me she’d be here? Dr. Morgan stood directly in front of me, about two feet away. He folded his arms across his chest and sat gently back against the edge of his desk, looking deep into my eyes. I shuddered. I had no idea I’d feel so intimidated in his presence. The room was dead silent and Dr. Morgan’s stare was so intense, I thought about trying to run out of the room. Why was he so quiet? After a few seconds that felt like an eternity, without breaking our gaze, I wiped my sweaty palms on my skirt and put my fists straight down at my sides. I concentrated all of my effort on trying not to fidget, which was difficult; my nerves needed some kind of release. I’d never stared into someone’s eyes for so long before, and I had no idea what I was supposed to feel. Should I be anxious? Aroused? Scared? I jumped back when Dr. Morgan’s abrupt voice filled the room. “Nervous, Ms. Romero?” he asked. I swallowed. “Yeah. A little.” “Why’s that, exactly?” He cocked his head slightly to the side, his arms still folded across his chest. “Umm...” I bit my lip and looked at Gayle, who only made me more nervous with her intent stare. My eyes darted back to Dr. Morgan. “Well, I came here for extra credit and now I’m just standing here in your house and you’re staring at me.” He nodded. “And why do you need this extra credit?” I looked down at the floor. “I have a job offer...” “What’s that again?” Dr. Morgan interrupted me. “Don’t look away from me. And speak up.” I sucked in a breath and stood up straight. His eyes narrowed a little, increasing my anxiety. “I... uhh... need to pass this class because I have... a job offer.” “Yes, I know,” he said, “Bill Cottingham’s an old colleague. I must say, I expected much more from you, Ms. Romero.” “What?” I tried to stay perfectly still but inside I was trembling. He knew the guy who had promised me a job? Dr. Morgan chuckled. “I saw him at a banquet before school started and he told me your name and that he’d already planned to hire you. Imagine my surprise when I learned what a mediocre student you were.” “Shit,” I whispered. “You know, I have half a mind to let you fail and let this job pass you by. Maybe let it go to one of the more deserving students.” Tears welled up in my eyes. “You’d do that?” “No.” He sighed. “Now, pay attention. That’s one of your problems, Ms. Romero. I think you’re too busy with extracurricular activities to give your studies the attention they require.” “But...” “No.” Dr. Morgan shook his head. “There’s no ‘but.’ The truth is, there are students at this University whose hard work and intelligence would do a much better job of reflecting our academic prowess. But you,” he laughed, “you’re the type of girl who knows how to get what she wants in life, aren’t you?” “Well... I never thought about it like that...” “Of course not. That’s just life for you isn’t it?” He stood up straight and took one step toward me. “It’s just how things have always been for Gina Romero. Bill made it sound like maybe you’d promised him some sort of... gift... if he hired you.” My mouth dropped open so wide, I halfway expected to see Gayle dutifully bending down to pick it up from the floor. I couldn’t even speak. He continued. “What is it you expected to happen today? I see from your high heels and short skirt that maybe you thought you could bribe me.” “You mean I can’t?” I asked. There was no use hiding it. The man had my number and I was too scared to try to think of a way to defend myself. Dr. Morgan’s expression softened. He gave me a quick glance then ran his hand through his hair, laughing. “I can’t say the offer isn’t tempting. You’re an attractive girl. But no. I have a deal for you.” “What is it?” “I’m going to give you another chance to pass each of my three tests again within the next three weeks. You’ll study all week, and each Saturday morning you’ll come here to take a test. In fact, you can get started this afternoon. Gayle will help you study for the next few hours.” “But what if my grades don’t improve?" He took one more step toward me until I could feel his hot breath against my forehead. Having him so close reminded me of how horny I’d been for him all week. I was disappointed that things weren’t going the way I’d planned, but there was a spark of hope left in me that I might be able to work my way into those fancy dress pants. The spark grew into a small fire when I saw the way he peered down at my body, squinting, like he thought I wouldn’t notice through his narrowed eyes. But I always knew when a guy was checking me out, and that’s exactly what he was doing. “Well?” I repeated my question, feeling a bit more daring. “What happens if my grades don’t improve?” He smirked. “I’ll take you over my knee and spank you.” I sucked in a breath. “You wouldn’t!” Gayle broke her silence. “Oh yes he would.” “Enough,” he said, as his eyes flew to her. Then he turned his attention back to me. “So, how’s that deal sound to you?” “Uhh...” I said, “I’m not really sure, Dr. Morgan.” “What? Do you not wish to pass this class and get that big job you were promised?” “Of course I want that job. But, with all due respect, I think I’d rather just take the spankings.” “Excuse me?” He looked at me like he thought I was nuts, but a little smile worked its way across his lips. “You’d rather just get spanked than have to take these tests again?” “Yes.” I nodded. “That’s the deal, right? You never said I wouldn’t get the extra credit if I failed. You just said I’d get spanked.” “But I expected you to at least try the tests again.” I shook my head. “I’d rather have another option.” Dr. Morgan‘s neck quickly turned a shade of pink. “Is the class really that bad, Ms. Romero?” “Uh...” My mouth hung open as I searched for the right words to say. The anger in his voice made me nervous. He opened his eyes wide, tilting his head. “I’m waiting.” I bit my lip and turned to Gayle, who was absolutely no help. She met my eyes for a split second before looking down at the floor. “Well, are you lazy or stupid? Which is it?” Dr. Morgan put his fists on his hips and straightened his posture. “Why would you rather be spanked than study for the tests again?” My shoulders moved in what was supposed to be a shrug but my arms felt weak. “Answer me. Lazy, or stupid?” he asked. I couldn’t think of an answer that was going to get me out of this. Tears welled up in my eyes. “I don’t know what it is. I studied like crazy for the last test.” I tried not to, but I sniffled, immediately wiping my face with my hands. “Maybe I’m just stupid.” I didn’t look up at Dr. Morgan. I stared down at the floor, breathing in and out as slowly as possible, determined not to completely break down in front of him. Soon, I heard him pacing the hardwood floor, mumbling under his breath. I smeared the last of my tears from my cheeks and lifted my head. “I’m sorry I did that in front of you.” Dr. Morgan stopped pacing. All anger had drained from his face. One of corners of his mouth turned up. “It’s okay. I think I was too hard on you.” He turned around and sat back down at his desk, typing as he spoke. “I have an idea. I don’t think you’re stupid, Ms. Romero. I think maybe you just need a little help.” He stopped typing and met my gaze. “A few days ago I went over some of the essay questions you’ve answered on the tests this semester. They definitely show you’re not stupid.” He inhaled and turned back to his computer to type again. “And I think I should’ve given you more points on some of those. I might do that for a few of the other students as well.” In dumbstruck relief, I watched him. He went on to tell me he’d make sure Gayle tutored me for the final and that I was sure to have a passing grade at the end of the semester. This time I didn’t ask what would happen if I didn’t pass. I simply remained still, nodding as I listened. When he finished, he stood up and barely made eye contact with me on his way out the door. He said he had to be somewhere and Gayle could show me out. I drew in a deep breath and turned to Gayle. “Wow. I can’t believe it.” She rolled her eyes. Then she pressed her lips together and glared at me until we heard the sound of the front door closing. Her words sounded like a hiss. “I can’t believe you just did that.” “What?” “What?" She laughed in a short burst and threw her hands up in the air. “Life’s just so easy for you, isn’t it? Show up here in your cute little outfit. Shed a few tears.” “I thought you’d be happy for me.” “Really? Do you know how much work you just added to my schedule? Now I have to tutor you for hours every week instead of just tutoring you today.” She pressed her lips together, fuming. “I’m already under enough stress.” “I’m sorry. I didn’t know this was going to happen.” “Yeah, whatever.” She sighed, shaking her head. “Let’s just get out of here. I’ll email you a study schedule on Monday.” We spoke less than five words to each other as we left Dr. Morgan’s house. ~ I knocked on the door of Gayle’s office. It was Tuesday afternoon and time for our first tutoring session. “Come in.” I opened the door, unsure of what to expect. She hadn’t made an appearance at Dr. Morgan’s lecture that day. “Hi Gayle.” I gave her a big smile even though she barely glanced my way, keeping her head down as she worked through a stack of papers on her desk. “Hi. So, did he act weird to you in class today?” “No. It was like nothing even happened.” I stood at her desk, hoping she’d look up at me. Finally I set a pretty little yellow box on her desk beside her stack of papers. “What?” Her blue eyes drifted lazily to the box, widening when she saw my gift. She looked up at me. “What’s this?” “They’re your favorite, right? Sunshine Bakery? Chocolate sprinkles?” Gayle’s face showed a hint of grin. It quickly became a scowl. “Trying to butter me up or something?” “Just trying to make this easier for you. I’m sorry you went to all that trouble for me and all it did was cause you extra work. So I did a little Facebook stalking. I know it’s not much but I’m really grateful to you." She crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair. “Did you also find out that I’m trying to lose weight? I’m on a strict diet and I shouldn’t eat this.” “Oh. I’m sorry.” I felt so foolish. I’d done something to upset her when all I wanted was to repay a sliver of her kindness. But as I observed her sitting there, I knew she must be lying. “Look, I know you have every right to be pissed off but you don’t have to lie to me. Okay? That’s just petty.” Gayle’s mouth dropped open. “I’m not lying! I’m trying to lose twenty pounds.” She shook her head and looked back down at her stack of papers. “I guess you wouldn’t know what it’s like. You could probably eat a dozen of those and never gain a pound.” “What the hell are you talking about? You don’t have any extra weight to lose.” I sat down in the chair beside her desk. “Look, Gayle, I’m in a sorority and I see this all the time. I’m gonna tell you what I told Sarah McElroy two nights ago. You’re thin!” I stared in her eyes. “Now eat the damn cookie. Or, in your case, the damn cupcake.” Gayle smirked. “Whatever. We need to get started.” For the next hour I took notes as Gayle and I discussed some of the topics of that day’s lecture. We were about halfway through when she opened the box and took a big bite of her cupcake. We shared a brief smile and continued the rest of our session. ~ By our sixth tutoring session I knew I’d made progress. Gayle had an easy way of explaining some of the most boring concepts and making them practical to me. It also seemed like her anger had cooled off. For the fifth and sixth sessions she greeted me with half-hearted smiles instead of her usual apparent resentment. I knew she wasn’t completely over it, though. Occasionally she’d remark about being tired from having so much work suddenly dumped in her lap. I told her I was sorry several more times, and each time she continued on like she didn’t hear me. We were deeply engrossed in a discussion about the inflation rate when she jerked forward in her chair and reached behind her. “Shit!” Gayle stood up. “What’s wrong?” Her face twisted as she slid her hand under the back of her shirt. “I felt a snap. This is so embarrassing.” “Let me see.” I got out of my chair. “No, no. I’ll run down to the restroom.” “No, seriously. I live in a house with a bunch of girls, remember? Let me take a look here.” “Fine.” She let out loud sigh and turned her back to me. I lifted her baggy T-shirt. “How old’s this bra?” It was clearly broken, hanging against her back, the two sides unable to connect. “The hooks are all broken.” “Yeah, I was down to my last hook.” The tag had completely faded to a light gray. “Is it laundry day? You have nothing else to wear?” I let go of her shirt and let it float back down. “No.” She turned around to face me. ”This never happens to you?” “No.” I rapidly shook my head. “I’ve never had that happen to me. I think you wear really old bras." I looked at her chest. “And your boobs are huge." She laughed. “No, I’m serious,” I said. “Is that why you wear these baggy clothes all the time? Because you don’t want everyone to see you’re not supporting those things properly?” Again she laughed. And just then, her stomach growled. I gasped. “You’re still on that crazy diet.” I looked in her eyes. “When’s the last time you ate something?” “You know, you don’t have to be hungry for your stomach to growl.” “I know that growl. I hear it all the time from my sorority sisters. It’s the frustrated growl of hunger.” Gayle put her palms against her stomach. “I’m fine. Don’t worry about it.” She went to her desk and opened a drawer. “I have to be somewhere after this and I need a few of those really big safety pins.” “Oh! I have some. I always have safety pins.” I sat down to rummage through my backpack. She was still shuffling through supplies in a drawer when I out pulled my emergency supply kit and handed her four large safety pins. “Here,” I said. She slammed a drawer shut and stared at the pins. “You carry those with you? That’s smart.” I nodded. “Oh yeah. I learned the hard way. A bad zipper. Cheap fabric. Windy day.” I groaned. “I always have this little supply kit full of stuff every girl needs for emergencies like these. You need help?” “Uhh... yeah.. sure...” She stumbled over her words. Gayle pulled the back of her shirt up and leaned forward in her chair as I used the safety pins to hold her bra together where her hooks had failed. “Okay,” I said. “Stand up. See if you think it’ll hold.” She pulled her shirt down and stood up. “Yeah, I think it’ll be fine.” “Jump up and down a little.” “No. It’ll be fine.” “I’m serious. I can use more pins. You don’t need the girls flopping around out there unsupported and those pins coming undone and poking you in the back. Just do a little hop.” “Fine.” She rolled her eyes, then jumped off the floor about one inch. “There. I’m supported and it feels like the pins are intact.” “Wow. They’re still bouncing.” I couldn’t take my eyes from her breasts. Their movement was practically hypnotic. “Damn, they’re big.” “Yeah, you said that already.” “Gayle, I know it’s none of my business but I don’t understand why you’re always hiding your body. I thought these were probably just the clothes you wore around campus but if your bras are all falling apart I have a feeling...” She grunted. “You sound like my mom.” “Sorry.” I wanted to tell her she needed to listen to her mom about this, but her downcast eyes told me I should keep my mouth shut. I was still on thin ice with her. She sat down in her chair. “We only have three more sessions before the final. And you really need to pass that thing.” I walked to my chair and lowered myself down. “Just so you know, I’d be happy to go shopping with you if you want. I do stuff like this all the time. You’d be shocked at how many of my Freshman sorority sisters come to school each year wearing the wrong stuff for their bodies. We can even do it this weekend. Or next weekend when finals are over.” She shook her head and looked down at the textbook in her hands. I sat on the edge of my seat and extended my hand to touch her forearm. “Just give it some thought. You’ve done so much for me. I wish you’d let me do something to help you.” I kept my hand on her arm, hoping she’d respond. Finally, she turned to me, holding my gaze with her pretty blue eyes. I swallowed. It was lovely how her long, blond hair framed her face... her flawless skin... her delicate cheekbones... Gayle bit her plump bottom lip for a moment. “I’ll think about it.” She cleared her throat. “Let’s get back to this. Inflation rate and gross domestic product. This will definitely be on the final.” “Uh huh.” I licked my lips and picked up my book, finding it much more difficult to concentrate this time. ~ Whitney 2011-11-04T12:37:36+00:00 http://www.etlc.info/index.php/erotic_blog/etlcfall_into_erotica_an_autumn/ http://www.etlc.info/index.php/erotic_blog/etlcfall_into_erotica_an_autumn/#When:12:20:29Z Fall Into Erotica: An Autumn Anthology Samantha Whitney, et al. (authors) Product Description Adults only! Five short, erotic stories from five authors: The Coach’s MILF, by Brandie Buckwine; Dirty Hot Mess, by Summer Ellis; The Cusp of Libra, by Ellison James; Amy and the Plumber, by Nikki Palmer; Extra Credit, by Samantha Whitney. Whitney 2011-11-04T12:20:29+00:00 http://www.etlc.info/index.php/erotic_blog/etlcsafe_with_me_-_sample/ http://www.etlc.info/index.php/erotic_blog/etlcsafe_with_me_-_sample/#When:14:36:10Z Safe With Me, Volume 1 Shaina Richmond (author) Tyler’s Point of View Tuesday, October 5, 2010 I saw her walk inside the coffee shop. I didn’t know the pretty blond’s name but I was sure we had a few classes together. As she walked to the counter a strap of her backpack caught the top of t-shirt, pulling the material tight against her left breast. It lifted her shirt, showing a little of her soft stomach. She stopped walking and stood still while she yanked the bottom of her t-shirt back down to her waist; her left hand tugged vigorously at the backpack. I heard her groan as the strap stayed in place, holding her plump, massive breast captive. I chuckled and took a sip of my iced tea. After a half hour of studying the not-so-exciting world of municipal bond markets, my classmate’s struggle was a welcomed distraction. My eyes focused on the gorgeous breast twenty feet in front of me. It was covered by a thin, pink cotton t-shirt that did nothing to hide the firmness of her nipple. She wore a white hooded sweatshirt over her t-shirt that didn’t look heavy enough to keep her warm on such a cold day. Should I try to help her? Surely I was strong enough to loosen that stubborn backpack. And, in doing so, I could make a clever comment about how cold it must be outside for her nipple to get so hard. She’d laugh and toss her head back; her long blond hair would fall off her shoulders onto her back in slow motion. Thankful for my help, she’d lift up her shirt to give me a better look at her tits before I rip her clothes off and throw her down on the dirty hardwood floor. Shit, I gotta stop watching so much porn. My cock tightened against my zipper. I shifted my weight in my chair, trying to move things around without being obvious. Finally, her backpack let go of her shirt. She shook her head and walked toward the counter, carrying the backpack on her arm like a purse. “You alright?” The barista chuckled. “Havin’ some trouble today?” She smiled. “Yes, actually. It’s been one heck of a day already.” He leered at her while she scanned the menu on the wall.  “I’ll have a large iced latte,” she said. “You want whipped cream? It doesn’t come with it but I’ll give it to you anyway,” he said. Does he really think that’s impressive? “Aww, that’s so sweet of you,” she said. “No problem.” He gave her a dorky smile. “What’s your name?” “Susie.” “Susie…  I’m Greg. Nice to meet you.” “Nice to meet you, too.” She smiled at Greg, then slung her backpack over her right shoulder and walked away from the counter, stopping not far from my table. I saw her bite her lip as she scanned the room. I turned around in my chair to assess the seating situation. I hoped she needed to prepare for the next day’s test in Finance 202 so I could invite her to sit with me without looking desperate. I imagined her tits accidentally brushing against me as we huddled together to discuss our questions. Maybe I can reach across her for a pen while her hard nipples casually dig into my arm… I felt my cock push against my metal zipper again. “Susie! Iced latte!” “Thanks, hon!” She gave Greg a little wave and another smile, then she picked up her drink. I glanced at the table to my right and saw a guy lean forward in his chair, watching her intently as she stepped away from the counter. I knew it was time for me to pounce before the other guy could offer her a seat. I waved. “Need a place to sit?” She turned toward me, her head cocked to the side. “Yeah. Do I know you?” “Tyler Campbell.” I extended my hand and rose slightly from my chair. It took all my effort not to stare at her chest as I introduced myself. “Susanna Lombardi.”  Her hand felt cold from being outside but her skin was soft. I gently moved my arm up and down to see if her tits would bounce a little as we shook hands. They did. I’m evil. “Lombardi? You don’t look Italian.” Shit, my flirting skills are rusty. “Yeah, I get that a lot,” she said. She sat down across from me and put her backpack on the table. While she was busy getting her books out, I used the opportunity to stare at her for a few seconds, unnoticed. Her t-shirt fit loosely, showing her supple, milky white skin down to the top of her cleavage. I imagined those huge, milky white breasts attached to her soft, plump body, bouncing up and down on top of me. My eyes went from her cleavage to her eyes when she spoke again. “I know I’m too light to look Italian. A lot of people think I’m nuts for not trying to be darker. But I don’t wanna look like a leather purse when I’m 30.” I chuckled. Her voice was low for a woman, with a hint of a Southern accent. “There’s nothing wrong with your paleness,” I said. “You shouldn’t try to change the way you are. It’s very nice.” I wanted to pay her another compliment but I was too distracted by my visualization of her soft, naked body and the thought of my tongue gliding across her hard nipple. I couldn’t remember another time when I’d been so flustered by perverted thoughts of a beautiful woman I’d just met. “That’s very kind of you. But it’s easy for you to say. Darker complexions are way better looking, at least according to the demographic in this town.” I could see straight down her shirt when she leaned across the table, casually laying her forearm across mine. “See the difference? You make me look like a ghost.” After a few seconds she drew her arm back as if nothing had happened. I hope I don’t have to stand up for a while. I hadn’t gotten hard in public since the tenth grade. I’d never been so attracted to a girl who looked like her before. Skinny brunettes with dark complexions usually caught my eye but I couldn’t remember reacting to any woman like I had the soft, curvy blond with ivory skin sitting across from me. The hint of peaches and vanilla that wafted toward me when she leaned over the table made me want to be near her even more. Susie took a long look at my hair. “I love your hair! It’s so healthy it makes me sick. You don’t see many long-haired guys around here.” My hair was long but not quite halfway down my back. I wore it down that day instead of my usual ponytail. “I’m Indian,” I said. “Uh, I mean, American Indian, mostly. My mom is half Indian and half something else. We’re not sure what.” She laughed, to which I responded with nervous chuckling. Damn, I need to be careful before I say something really stupid. I picked up my iced tea and took a sip, trying to get my thoughts in order. “Well, Tyler, whatever genes your mother gave you, they’ve made you very handsome.” Without pause, and without eye contact, she changed the subject. “So, are you studying for the test in McCray’s class tomorrow?” I wondered if I should respond to her compliment. I decided not to, considering how quickly she’d moved on. But at least I knew what she thought of my looks. “Yes. You?” I asked. “Yes. I should’ve studied more for the last one. I won’t let him get me this time. He’s tricky but as long as you go through the examples in the book, his tests are a breeze.” She paused to drink her frozen coffee before continuing. “I did that for the first test and got a 98. I got a 90 last time because I was lazy. Don’t spend too much time on the lecture notes.” “That’s good to know. I’ve gotten a 92 and an 84 so far. Maybe we could go through the examples together?” I asked. “Yes, I’d love that.” Her gray-blue eyes widened. The way she smiled and responded to my unusually dorky conversation made me breathe a little easier. “So,” I asked. “You said your name’s Susanna, but I heard you tell Greg at the counter that your name is Susie. Which do you prefer?” “I don’t care, really. Susie’s fine. But it sounds like a little girl’s name. Call me whichever one you want. I just ask that you pick one and stick with it. I’m like a trained dog. If I get used to your voice calling me Susie, I won’t know who you’re talking to if you call me Susanna.” I laughed. “I’m serious.” She giggled. “I’m such a weirdo. Some people call me both. So, you can call me either one but make sure to use them equally or I’ll get really confused.” I smiled, knowing I was already in the first stage of developing a serious crush on her. We opened our books to discuss the text. In less than an hour I’d moved to the chair on her left. I made it look innocent enough, like I just wanted to be close enough to compare my work with hers, side by side. My arm got to brush against her breasts a couple times….by accident, of course (ahem).... I was sure she hadn’t noticed. Our conversation deviated from the books in front of us quite a bit as the hours flew by. She immediately recognized a line from one of my favorite movies when I quoted it, leading to a long discussion of obscure movies we both liked that most of our friends hated. That led to a discussion of TV, then video games. I’d never met a girl before who liked video games as much as I did. I was usually afraid to tell girls I’d spent a year of my life addicted to an online role-playing game but she admitted to playing the same game. She shook her head and blushed when I tried to get her to admit just how long she played. Susie was so very different from the boring girls I’d met since I transferred for summer school in May. She was quirky and interesting. Talking with her was easy, like catching up with an old friend. It would’ve been even easier if I could’ve controlled my thoughts of ripping her clothes off. Greg’s shift ended at 8:00 pm. I only knew because at approximately 8:01 pm he plunked a frozen latte down in front of her. “It’s on the house. And it’s decaf. Want you to be able to sleep tonight.” He winked. Yeah, I bet you do. “Wow, thank you. I love the customer service here.” She smiled and picked up her free drink. “I’ll be back.” “Good. I’ll be here.” And then he left. Damn, I thought. Blond hair and big boobs will get you a lot of free things in life. “Does that kind of thing happen to you a lot?” I asked. “What?” She asked as she placed the straw in her mouth to drink from Greg’s frozen decaf cup of desperation. Fuck, why did she have to put her lips on that straw while she was looking me in the eye? I almost lost my train of thought. “Oh please. You know what I’m talking about,” I said. “No, not a lot. But I like to be nice to people. I believe you reap what you sow. Kindness goes a long way.” So do blond hair and big boobs! Not to mention her plump lips, complexion like a porcelain doll, and a deep, sexy voice that could make serious money in the business of phone sex. Everything about her drove me crazy. I was glad the table covered my lap. After about 9:00 we stopped trying to steer the conversation back to the finance test. Instead, we bounced between more important topics, such as how much we both hated the color yellow, we both preferred snakes to spiders, and the fact that we each had Facebook accounts we barely used because we hated drama. She went on to ask about my family and their ties to the reservation. I gave her the whole story about my grandmother leaving to marry a white man. After hearing my own voice for longer than I felt was necessary, I told her we didn’t have to talk about it anymore but she begged me to go on, her eyes wide as she listened. I forgot what I was talking about more than once as my eyes wandered to her lips, and occasionally further down her body. I tried to hide my disappointment when I looked at my watch to see both hands pointing at 12. Have we really been sitting here that long? I had to think of ways to see her again. Maybe she could use a study partner? Was it desperate if I asked for her number? “I had a great time studying with you, Susie.” “Me too, Tyler. I can’t believe it’s already midnight. This might’ve been the fastest day of my life.” We stood outside the coffee shop. Her gorgeous pale skin glowed in the light of the full moon. I wondered if she would think it was weird if I hugged her goodbye. I was desperate to know how her fleshy body would feel against mine. Damn, I also wanted to feel it under me and on top of me and in positions I’d only seen online. Maybe I could give her a ride home? It wasn’t safe for her to walk alone. Besides, I also wanted to know where she lived. Maybe next time we could study at her place - maybe her bedroom. “Do you need a ride home?” I tried not to sound too hopeful. “I usually take the Drunk Bus from the Rec center a few blocks away,” she said. Ahhh, the Drunk Bus - a University method of transporting students between facilities late at night to cut down on drunk driving.  I’d been warned to stay off of it unless I wanted vomit all over my clothes. “My car’s right here.” I gestured toward the parking lot. “Why don’t I drive you instead?” “Are you sure? The bus goes to Bailey Hall and I usually just walk a few blocks home from there,” she said. “A pretty girl like you shouldn’t be out walking alone at night. Come on, I’ll drive you. I insist.” She grinned. “Okay. If you insist.” I wish I knew if the grin was in return for my compliment, or for the ride home. We walked to the small gravel parking lot beside the coffee shop. “Here’s my Cadillac,” I said. I drove a champagne colored 1980 Chevy Malibu I’d rebuilt by myself a few years earlier. It wasn’t the sexiest car in the world but I loved it. “Ooooh! Is that a Malibu?” Her mouth hung open. Is she actually excited about this car? “Yes.” I was stunned that she knew what it was. “I knew someone who had one like this. It’s an 80, 81?” “80,” I said. “It has a lot of power, right? I drove it and loved it. I could outrun anybody on the road. I like a car with power. When I hit the gas, the car better move.” Looking back, I’m pretty sure that’s the moment I fell in love with her. Richmond 2011-04-21T14:36:10+00:00