Welcome to the Erotica Reading Room, where we post prose and poetry from our hearts and our loins.
Between Heaven’s Thighs
Bare to my touch or adorned
With silk or nylon stockings
They are the many landing lanes to heaven.
My hands crave the flesh of your thighs beneath them
My eyes alone are insufficient to caress your calves , as they taper to your Feet and pointed toes
My mouth must taste what lies between
As I apply my best oral skills
You buck and thrash…and a smile must adorn my face.
I firmly hold your ass as your legs close around me.
I redouble my efforts as I hold my breathe and count
The battle between thighs and tongue.
Then the shakes begin
Like a tazer had been applied
To the base of spine
as orgasm squeezes the last of the air from lungs
And the crushing pressure of your legs brings tears to my eyes.
Afterwards we lay opposite each other, our legs entwined in a Möbius Knott
I reach up your still quivering leg and feel dampness that pulls a gasp from your throat
I could spend an eternity
Between Heaven’s Thighs
-Trevor Jones, Asheville 2015
Ecstasy on A Tuesday Afternoon
My lover’s hand glides across my flesh, feather-light
The fingertips tracing the barest caress from shoulder to hips
Following the curve of my full buttocks
A shiver moves through me
I undulate against the sheets, feeling everything.
My nipples pucker, like two hard raspberries
The heat begins to build between my legs, a gentle throbbing, then more insistent
A hand closes on my ass, hard, pulling me closer
I’m melting, melting, my heart is bursting, my breath catches in my throat
His lips are against my neck, teeth, oh,
the rough scratch of his chest hair teasing my nipples
inflamed, I am. in flames I am
My lips (above and below) swollen
My nails dig deeply into his shoulders as my back arches
Orgasm washes through me like baptism
I spread my legs and welcome him like the brand new day
– Rebekah Darcy Beneteau, October 21, 2014
Sleeping Beauty Lies
By Trevor Jones
Once upon a time, or so the story goes
Sleeping Beauty is awoke by passions throes.
But let me clear the air and speak true,
she neither slept nor had beauty too.
She was a homely churl and a brat to boot,
With pox marked skin and a blackened tooth.
Her father had betrothed her to an ancient man,
But she was too willful and so she had hatched a Plan.
“A witch has cursed me!
And sleep I must for all eternity.”
Only true love’s embrace shall wake me from my slumber
and betwixt his legs the mightiest of lumber.
I would Like
by Trevor Jones
I would like to say I made her cum.
I would like to say I made her gush & writhe.
I would like to say I played her body like a cello –
bringing forth music that moves one to tears.
But alas, I know different,
For she arouses herself-
Her wetness growing between her legs & soaking the sheets.
A woman’s orgasm is her own.
I am lucky if I get to be witness & an instrument in it’s making.
Each gasp from her throat matched by a sway of her hips.
She gets closer and closer.
Her eyes peek out from half closed lids and she smiles her cheshire grin.
She knows how much I like watching.
Even more she knows how difficult it is to keep from cumming while I do so.
When finally she cums I can take it no longer.
My teeth clench, face contorted.
My body spasms and I let out my breath and seed in one massive burst.
I would like to say…
We arouse each other.