You Write Erotica Lets Meet

You Write Erotica?....

Arriving in Boston, I felt a flutter of excitement mixed with nervous anticipation welling in my stomach. In a moment I would meet her.

Up until now she was a small but beautiful picture on my phone. She'd reached out to me on social media and we'd shared stories. I was impressed and slightly intimidated by her strength and her triumph over adversity. My 'go-with-the-flow' personality was a stark contrast to hers. She commanded the universe to bend. SHE loved MY work?

She has the body of a female warrior and a personality to match and now we're only moments away from an embrace? Do I kiss her? I've come over a thousand miles to meet her. What the fuck and I doing? Am I gay again? I haven't been gay since college. Maybe it wasn't a phase like I'd thought. I put my lipgloss on, grabbed my backpack and took my place in line to exit the plane.

Meeting a stranger over a thousand miles from home was not like me. I tried to calm the butterflies in my stomach but my trembling hands gave me away. I took a deep breath and counted backwards from 5...4...3...2...at the count of one, I was in motion. No going back.

I first saw her from a distance. She greeted me with a warm smile and shining eyes. She tilted her head to one side and enthusiastically waved her hand as if we were old friends. Her eyes seemed to reflect the same mixture of excitement and shyness that I felt.

We decided to start our day with a visit to some of her favorite local spots; museums and art galleries. The quiet, intimate atmosphere and the eclectic art collections provided a much needed distraction from my anxiety.

We wandered through the streets holding hands, laughing and appreciating beauty and art. Each time her silky hand slid into mine my stomach leaped. Her sweet scent wafted into my olfactory senses and I closed my eyes breathing her in. Sparks of electricity rushed through me and I was sure she could see them beaming out, or at least sense it.

After a light lunch and conversation at a nearby café, we headed to the Public Garden. The sun was beginning its descent, casting swirls of gold and pink over the landscape and reflecting a beautiful hue of golden tones onto her warm skin. We strolled along the winding paths, the scent of blooming flowers enveloping us. The romantic vibes were palpable, and I felt an overwhelming urge to tell her that i havent been with a woman since college. Before I could muster the courage, she suggested we head back to her apartment to freshen up before dinner.

The journey back was a blur, my mind was racing with anticipation. As soon as we were alone in her cozy apartment, the unspoken tension between us became too much to ignore. I was trembling again and having removed my jacket I could no longer hide my hands in my pockets. As if sensing this, she took my hand and led me to the dimly lit living room where soft, slow, soothing drum beats played on a speaker in the background.

She made cocktails. French 75. She had to know how nervous I was to make a drink that strong. I took in the scent of her place. The decor was warmly decorated and colorful, bright reds, yellow and orange; my favorite. Her space reflected her personality; strong and feminine.

We sat on her sofa, our knees touching, and she looked into my eyes, her voice barely above a whisper. "I've felt this connection between us since I first saw you...before you arrived" she said moving her lips close to my ear, "Do you feel it too?"

My heart began to try to force its way outside of my chest through my throat. I clumsily gulped my drink and placed it on the coffee table.

Unable to find words, I locked eyes with her and bit my lower lip answering in silence. Understanding the consent, she leaned in and put her lips to mine creating the spark to light the fire. For a solitary moment, the universe paused and a vacuum formed around us taking oxygen away. I closed my eyes and turned my face up at the ceiling while the oxytocin flooded the entirety of my body with a flash of heat in a single tingling wave. I could feel her heartbeat penetrating my body and syncing with mine.

The soft drumbeats pulsated between my thighs sending subtle shudders up my body. She slowly pulled back to see my response. I was found out. She knows I'm about to explode with every touch.

"I'll stop if you want me to," she whispered. I shook my head and bit my lip again, still unable to form a word. Fuck, have I gone mute? I'm a helpless but happy little gazelle watching the lion approach hungry knowing full well what it wants.

Her expression changed, her eyelids were now heavier and she moved closer with more intensity and purpose. She gently guided me to my back on the sofa and straddled my hips. She leaned over smiling playfully as she rested her breasts on mine, our lips met again. We tasted each other, tongues exploring gently and slowly, teasing. Her hands roamed over my clothes and she pressed her body against me seeking to explore all of my soft parts with hers.

Dazed and paralyzed from the sudden onset of this new or long forgotten pleasure, I could only lie still as she explored my body. She sat back and placed her hands over mine bringing me to explore her. First her supple breasts, squeezing softly, then down between her legs she rubbed my hand over her mound as her head fell back and her eyes closed, she let out a heavy sigh. My breath grew heavy causing my body to respond with a low moan each time I breathed out. I raised my hips to meet hers and grabbed her hips, moaning louder now, rubbing my mound hard against hers as if to say "now...yes..." She sat up and smiled, took my hand and led me to her bedroom.

She took off her top exposing her smooth, shimmering, caramel-colored breasts and sat on the bed patting her hand to motion me to sit beside her. Trying desperately to mask my eagerness I sat down, slowly. She commanded in a whisper "raise your arms," as shed the layers that separated us; leaning down to taste my newly exposed skin each time. When we were both stripped bare, she turned toward me and cupped her breasts lifting and rubbing bouncing them hard against mine as she kissed me. She began to rhythmically let out a soft high-pitched moan. She teased my nipples with her palms, then her fingers, then her soft lips, then her tongue, then between her teeth. My back arched in response. I matched her moans.

I grabbed her face with both hands and pulled it back to mine, gently kissing her again. I made my way over to her ear, her neck, then down to her chest where her delicate supple nipples were hard under my circling tongue. Her breasts were soft and tasty, like ice cream cones in my hands; lifting and pressing them together I tasted each one alternating between licking, sucking, biting while cupping and squeezing them between my fingers. I imagined eating whipped cream off of her nipples. I lingered for a long time and came to terms with a self-discovery; my erotic fascination with breasts. This was not like kissing my fellow cheerleaders in college.

I slowly removed the rest of her clothes but her red silk panties were so visually appealing against her skin that I left them on and slid the wet fabric to one side to explore her slippery wetness with my fingers. I rubbed my palm up and down over her pussy spreading her wetness, sliding my fingers in and out to gather more and paint it onto her clit. I slid my body down to the edge of the bed so that my head was in position to taste her. She leaned back on her arms, moaning, and watched with her legs opened wide. I continued to dip my fingers and rubbed her wetness onto her clit teasing with my tongue.

The concoction of aroma and taste was intoxicating. It was in this intoxication that I lost myself. I gave way to instinct that I didn't know I had. I began to move my tongue rhythmically on her clit sucking gently while I moved my cupped fingers in and out of her pussy. She grabbed my head and shoved her pussy hard into my mouth over and over as she screamed.

She commanded me again, this time loudly, sternly with urgency and purpose "get on top of me!"

I obeyed. I quickly straddled her hips and she lifted one of her legs over the top of one of mine putting us both slightly sideways to position our throbbing wet pussies perfectly on top of one another. She shifted forward and grabbed the bottom of my face with one hand. Violent and hungry she thrusted her tongue in my mouth, sharing the taste of our kill. She grabbed my ass with both hands and shook me up and down, then side-to-side over her, our wet pussies rubbing hard and fast. Rhythmically we gyrated, grasping each other, clits throbbing, backs arching, screaming; the neighbors banged on the wall and we laughed but kept going. We were headed to another dimension. I felt our wetness begin to flow down my leg first slightly and now in a steady stream.

The drumbeats were a distant memory, overshadowed by our heartbeats. Moaning, bouncing, rubbing, throbbing, pulsating we erupted in a single unified scream then collapsed on the bed.

We smiled, laughed, caught our breath. We nibbled peanut butter and bananas and exchanged childhood stories then slept in union, wet and warm.

The next morning we woke late. We showered separately so that she could take a work call and talk to the neighbor who was a bit unnerved by last night's sounds. We decided to visit the Public Library, a place of quiet reflection and beauty. Walking through the grand halls, we marveled at the architecture and shared intently our favorite literary works. We connected on a deeper intellectual level and commonality of the love of literature, poetry and rebellion.

In the afternoon we took a leisurely walk along the coast. Witnessing her in her element was the most beautiful part of the weekend. We found a dry spot and sunk down into the sand. She wrapped her arms around me holding me from behind and I leaned back. I wondered what she was thinking. I wanted to make love to her in this place, on the beach, for all of nature to see and appreciate. I wanted to see her bloom and watch her beautiful release on the shore. I closed my eyes and imagined the intense energy being absorbed into the atmosphere while the moon reflected in her big brown eyes.

After a moment, I opened my eyes and daylight flooded in. The gentle breeze and the sight of sailboats drifting on the water lulled us. She moved my hair aside and softly kissed my neck taking my breath away. I reached my hand back and caressed her soft hair and the nape of her neck in response.

She reached a hand down into my jeans rubbing the smooth silky material that covered the bony mound of flesh underneath until it no longer felt bony; now soft and responsive. She continued to kiss my neck and gently held her hand still over the silk mound. She summoned a universal energy with a subtle and patient intent. I turned to face her and we lay down. I slid under her oversized sweater and found her nipple under the thin fabric of her bra. I teased it with my tongue wetting the fabric, molding it to her skin. I pulled the fabric away and licked her nipple hard alternating between sucking, biting and licking. She tasted sweet. I needed to taste the rest of her and I could think of nothing else.

We had little interest in food nor sleep that evening. We spent every moment finding various ways to do the same thing over and over again until the neighbors banged on the wall prompting us to continue quietly.

At the airport, I reflected on meeting her and sharing this whirlwind weekend. Boston had been more than just a backdrop; it had been a catalyst for exploring new facets of my identity and desires. The memories of our time together--the art, the gardens, the intimate moments, the taste of her--would linger, a testament to the beauty of exploring one's true desires in spontaneity and the unexpected paths that lead to profound connections that transcend time and space.