Erotica Readers & Writers Association
Home | Erotic Books | Author Resources | Smutters Lounge | Inside The Erotic Mind
Erotica GalleriesAdult Movies | Sex Toys | Erotic Music | Links

Story Gallery | Feature Gallery | Poetry Gallery | Treasure Chest
(none) • Erotic Fiction
Queer Fiction
Kinky Erotica
The Softer Side

By Alan
Other News

By Alice Gray
Slick 50
The Fourth Veda
Stolen Hour

By Amanda Earl
Daddy Complex
The Graffiti Artist
Sex With An Old Woman
The Vampire Responds
The Afternoon Circle Jerk Society
Beating the Gothic Out of Her
Real Irish
Mercy and the Man. . .
The Revenant
The Vessel

By Ann Regentin
What Never Dies

By Arthur Chappell
Tedia, Goddess of Boredom
The Too Beautiful Boy

By Big Ed Magusson
The Fix
Like a Brother
Old Dogs

By Brady Sutton
Girls for Leash
The Peculiar Case of...

By C. Sanchez-Garcia
An Early Winter Train
The Doll
The Lady and The Unicorn
Riding the Dog
You Belong to Me
Soul Naked
The Girl With Kisses...

By Cervo
An Evening At...
Readiness Is All
Chinchilla Lace
Fridays At The Benoit
Cruising On A Sea...
Bitsy Takes a Test
Touring Persephone
Are You Kidding?
Quigley’s Harvest
Mr. Merridawn's Hum
Angels’ Spawn

By Cherry Black
Mrs. Priestly
Face Down
Just A Simple Black Dress

By Chris Bridges
The Whitechapel...
Passing Notes

By Daddy X
Nikki Didn't Like It
A Woman in My Position
Never For Punishment
Carnival Ride

By Dominic Santi
Kiss of Peace

By G. E. Russell
Judgement Day
First Love, Last Romance
Snow White
This Desolate Eden
The Glass Cage
You Like It Like That...

By Helen E. H. Madden
When The Angels Fall
Husbands and Wives
The Fifth Horseman
The Monster Beneath...
Neighbor of the Beast
Over the Rainbow
Going Viral
Virtual Love

By Helena Settimana
Highway 69
The Space Between

By Huck Pilgrim
Goodbye Roger
He Sends His Regrets
A Small Favor

By J.T. Benjamin
The Question
Thornburg Sex Survey
Alternating Weekend
Secret Lives and Lusts
What are Friends For
Olivia's Ulterior Motive
Advice From Miss Millicent
The Baby Doll
The Journals of Chastity
Use Me
Zachary's Perfect Date

By Jill
Sheila Discusses ...
It's About Sex
A House On Fire?
Maureen and Sheila...

By john e
I Wish My Dick...
johnny's jackoff journal
Saturday Morning
Ava's Honey

By Julius
In Praise of Pussy
Tight, Tighter, Tightest
You Rang Madam?
The Newcomer

By Juniper Maclay
Lunch Break
The Scientist
Public Transportation

By Keziah Hill
Laying Down the Law
Strawberry Flavoured Joy
The Second Coming
Dutch Masters

By L.A. Smith
Missionary Position
Both Hands

By Lara Nickles

By Lilie Berlin
Naughty Little Girl
Color Less Ordinary

By Mike Kimera
Soft Option
At the Adult Bookstore
Playing With Barney
Deserving Ruth
Till Death Do Us Part
Happy Anniversary
Mating Calls
It May Not be Art...
Living With It...
The Last Taboo
Fucking Ugly
Paying For It
Sex with Owen
Ask Alice
The Sisters
Bar Snack

By Nan Andrews
At Rest
Spirit Guides

By Nick Nicholson
The Room
Grigore & Tatiana
Land of Smiles
The Uniform

By Nikki Isaak
A Rathskeller Jar
The Dread That Stained Kalos

By Oxartes
Maybe You Can Go...
I Am Not A Scorpion
Babylon Nights
Eat Your Veggies
What Would Aristippus Think
The Vow Part I
Fiend in Need Part II
Androids Behaving Badly
Innocent Flower
Eclipse Sex

By Raziel Moore
Invisible Lines (Novella)

By Remittance Girl
The Central Registry
The River Mother
Things Bettter Left Unsaid
The Baptism
The Other Side
I Waited for You...
Pleasure's Apprentice
Fixed in Amber

© 2000 by Mike Kimera

I wake in darkness, cock hard, mouth dry, wondering what is wrong.  Your side of the bed is cold and empty.  The insomnia demon has you in her grip again.  I will probably find you hunched over your computer fucking strangers in chatrooms.  Maybe I should pretend to be a stranger.  Maybe then you would deal with the uncomfortable erection I have woken up with.

The air is cold on my nakedness after the duvet trapped warmth of the bed, but my penis still points the way like a weather vane.  Cockadoodlescrew.

No sound of keys tapping.  No tell tale light under the office door.  No stifled moans as your fingers play tunes on your cunt.  Then I hear the thumping noise.  Something heavy and soft slapping against a hard surface.  This is what has woken me.

You are in the kitchen.  Only the over counter lights are on.  Dressed in a robe, T-Shirt and woolly socks you are making bread.  At 300am.  This is so like you it makes me smile.

Absorbed in your task, you haven't yet noticed that I'm here.  You are lost in the texture of the dough your fingers are kneading on the marble slab.  You are using all your strength to massage the damp, slightly sticky, breadflesh in front of you.  As you turn it over and slap it on the slab, you make a little grunting noise and I know that, if I could see your face, the tip of your tongue would be visible at the corner of your mouth.  Your hands will be warm.  You've told me many times that cold hands make poor bread.  You are sweating slightly as you work.  A flour covered hand reaches to push your hair back from your face.  The fluid sensuality of the movement makes my arse clench.  I want you.  Here.  In the kitchen.  I want my cock in your cunt.

In two strides I am behind you, my left hand over your mouth, my right arm all the way around your waist, my cock pushing into the small of your back.  You stiffen and try to speak.

"Shhhhh.  Knead your bread and let me need you".

I kiss the side of your neck and you lean back into me.  That always makes me feel large and strong.  Being behind you turns me on.  The strength of your small back on my chest and belly, the tempting pliancy of your arse, the smell of your hair in my face, makes me want to hold you by the shoulders and rip you apart.  I want four hands and at least two cocks to pay you the attention you deserve.  You tilt your head forward and I kiss the back of your neck.  This is a ballet we have danced before.

Your fingers return to coaxing the dough.  The movement of your muscles against my chest tortures me.  I put one foot between your legs and push your ankles further apart, so you lean forward from the waist to keep your balance, your fingers sinking into the dough.

My left hand moves down to your breast, feeling it through the cotton of your Tshirt.  So round, like half a grapefruit.  At the beginning of the century in Paris, it was held that the perfect breast would fill a champagne glass.  I am picturing the glass against your breast even as my finger and thumb tease your nipple.

Your fingers are still.  All your weight is against the kitchen counter.  You push your arse back against me.

"Fuck me you bastard" you say without looking around.

I pull your robe to the right, exposing your cunt and arse.  Your lips are wet.  You smell like a warm salt sea.  My cock seems to sniff at you like a dog and then it dives into your folds of flesh.

Every time I am surprised at how it feels.  First the tight hot grasp of muscle around my cock; then pushing through into space; then banging up against the ridged ceiling of this cave.  My cock is a pot-holer squirming and sliding blindly through these fluid slick formations.  That moment of moving from constriction to freedom always makes me gasp.  If my eyes are closed I can almost see my cockhead waving in the dark contours of your cunt.

You groan as my hips slap against your arse.  Later we will see the bruises you get from banging up against the counter.  You look so fragile but I know that, no matter how hard I thrust, you always want more.  My hands are on your hips now.  Your back is arched.  You are a she-wolf howling at the moon.

Your cunt squeezes my cock and I know that you want me to rotate my hips.  I move in a slow figure of 8, keeping my cock fully inside you; imagining a torch probing the depths of your cave.  I bend my knees slightly so I can push upwards from underneath.  I slip out just far enough that all of my cock is grasped tightly then I push through again into space.

You are making small noises now.  You eyes will be closed.  Your mind is leaving me while your body pulls me tighter.  Soon I will be lost to the now of the dance; playing notes not reading them.  But I need more purchase.  My right hand moves past your hips to push against your mound.  My left hand pushes on your tailbone.  I adjust you to an angle where you are up on the balls of your feet, allowing me to fuck hard and straight.

You know what is coming and I think I hear you breath "yes", but the reptile hindbrain is taking over.  Words are just noises.  Warm cunts are for fucking and fucking and fucking and fucking.

Everything now is push and grind and sweat.  I know I'm shouting but I'm not sure what.  Then the cum starts, somewhere in my belly.  A pneumatic pressure that distends time.  My consciousness follows the rush of sperm from my balls through the narrow channel of my cock until it breaks like surf inside you.  Then again.  And again.  Then I am spent.  There is a moment of almost non-being.  The reptile crawls back to its nest at the base of my skull.  I am myself again.

I relax the fingers that are now somehow buried in your arse flesh (another place where we will later find bruises).  My chest hairs are matted with sweat.  My cock slides ungracefully from your cunt.  I notice that you have been resting the side of your face in the dough.  You have one hand between your legs.  Did you come? You hate me to ask.  Like leaving the toilet seat up, it's something you have trained me not to do.  But I wonder.

I step back.  That image of you, fucked and bent-over, makes me almost guilty.  My cock is asleep.  Now I have room to wonder how I can treat you this way.  Until next time.

You straighten and turn to face me for the first time.  You eyes are on mine but your hand is on my soft sticky cock.

"Poor thing," you say, "You'll get cold.  Go back to bed.  I have bread to make.  I'll be up soon".  You pat my balls as if sending me off to school.  Will I ever know what you are thinking?

"I love you," I say.

You let go of my balls and place the flat of your hand on my chest. "I know" you say, then, without washing your hands, you return to kneading the dough.

Leaving the light of the kitchen behind I return to the now cold bed, intending to feel hurt and puzzled, but the pillow and the duvet are your allies and whisper to me that all is well.  As I drift into sleep I think I hear you singing as you knead the bread.

© Mike Kimera 2000. Do not reproduce without permission of the author.

Authors live for feedback!
If you enjoyed this story, send comments to
Mike Kimera


  E-mail this page

Search ERWA Website:

Copyright 1996 and on, Erotica Readers Association, Inc.
All Rights Reserved World Wide. Reproduction in whole or in part in any form or
medium without express written permission is prohibited.

(none) By Riccardo Berra
Ligne Claire
The Girl with Two Lovers

By Richard V Raiment 
Ghosts of Christmas Past
Recalled to Life

By Robert Buckley
Absentee Ballots
Making Her Late For...
Brotherhood Of The ...
Convenience Store
Head Games
Practicing Lovecraft
Coins For The Ferryman
Seeing Is Believing
The Mission
A Weekend in Queens..
The Exchange
Close to Hand
Excess Of Light
They Need Me
Bench Mates
Pre Need
Cthulhu's Toad
The Dog Park
Smells Like Money
Extraordinary Graces
What Now?
You Get What You Pay For
The Angel of Loneliness
The Great Sin
Mere Moments
An Unconventional Friendship
Adam and Eve on a Raft
Dead Man's Switch
Does Immortality come with a Pension?
Embraceable Ewe
A Fragile Desire
Surviving Winter
You're the Only One

By Robert GSK
Still Life

By Rose B. Thorny
The Thing Under the...
Only When It Rains
Power and Glory

By Savannah
Naked Ambition
The Principal of the Thing

By Sidney Durham
Junk Yard Goddess
I'm Only Shaving!
Santa, Baby!
Sometimes I Can ...
Speaking of Escher
The Road Not Taken

By Tulsa Brown
Flesh On A Woman
Half Moon Girl
Debt of Honor

By Valentine Bonnaire
American Daddy-O
Bukowski Girls
Bing Cherry Silk
Colony, Collapsed
Have a Nice Day
l'heure bleue
Once Upon A Time . . .
Red Suede
Yellow, like the daffodils

By William Dean
Stranger in the Bonfire
Great Notion
Kiss Me And Then...
Switch Back
A Hand in the Bush
Buy Me Something
Forest for the Trees
Swap Meet
Burning Man
Port Said
Twisted Faith
Political Asylum

Screen Play
by A.F. Waddell

A Filing Fling
by Addison Long

Ménage A Cart
by Adhara Law

Elevator Shaft
by Alana James

Torn in Two
by Alicia Night Orchid

by Angela Caperton

The Lady-killer
by BJ Franklin

by B.K. Bilicki

The Vacation
by Beth Vox

Frostbite the Ice Pimp
by Chuck Lovepoe

The Accidental Fetish
by Corvidae

So Much in Common
by Daphne Dubonet

The Hand & I.
by EllaRegina

Safari Tuesday
by G. Gregory

The Puss Hater
by Inna Spice

One for the Road
by J. Corvo

Full Serviced
by J.D. Coltrane

Naked Over New York
by J.Z. Sharpe

The Chocolate Wife
by James Robert Sands

Once Shy
by Jamie Smithe

by Jean Roberta

Caitlin Comes Clean
by Jerry Rightson

Something To Make...
by Jim Parr

Melanie and Jay Go...
by jtallen

Peeping George
by Jude Mason

It's Lovely. It's Horrible.
by Kathleen Bradean

The Temp
by Kaye Heche

A Husband's Lesson
by Kim Bax

Better Than a Blow...
by Lauren Mills

Page 12 - No. F
by LilyOrchid

In The Name Of...
by Michael Michele

The Classics
by Nettie Kestler

The Wounded Healer
by Nicholas M.

by Nick Santa Rosa

The Cabin
by P. E. Brink

Post Mortem
by Riccardo Berra

Newly Reformed Woman...
by Seneca Mayfair

by Sybil Rush

by Teresa Lamai

Alter Christus
by Teresa Wymore

Shadows of De La Rosa
by Tori Diaz