Erotica Readers & Writers Association
Home | Erotic Books | Authors Resources | Inside The Erotic Mind | Erotica Gallery
Adult Movies | Sex Toys | Erotic Music | Email Discussion List | Links

Story Gallery | Treasure Chest

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?
Quigleyís Harvest
Mr. Merridawn's Hum
Angelsí 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

Touring Persephone
by Cervo © 2006

Penrose Carrington sat looking at his smooth skin and square jaw in the tall mirror that was far across the room. Surrounded by a heavy golden frame it reported back an image that amazed and delighted him. He could see his own strawberry blonde hair, his pale blue eyes, and the slight cant of his mouth. This last feature always made him seem as if he were softly smiling.

Naturally athletic, he wore his new clothes with the easy grace of a beautiful person in excellently tailored fabric. He reached into his pocket for a cigarette and then seeing the gesture in the mirror, thought better of the risk. Others might smoke here at leisure. He would retain the perfection that had brought him here by not lighting a fag. This was the Century Club, the Olmsted bastion of 45th Street where power came in the form of men whose stride was so great that it made no sound on the Persian carpets. Here they sailed like bold galleons on a sea of grey and blue pinstripe. Penrose looked more suited to a country club and he would be visiting one directly after lunch with Roland Dalrymple, his father-in-law to be, the man to whose tailor Penrose had been sent.

In the Century Club voices never rose above a murmur, and yet if these men made some small gesture toward Wall Street, it could shake the pavement. The spring of 1929 was ending. Some said the year had got off to a shaky start. Others were confident of their grip as the summer approached. Penrose was here looking at them as they, now and then, looked at him. His mouth was dry and even though he had just finished lunch with cocktails, he wanted a drink badly.

Roland Dalrymple walked toward him across the sea of Persian carpets while chatting quietly with a friend who had stopped by their table during lunch. When they drew near, Penrose stood. He waited a couple of beats and then flashed his most winning, if slightly impatient, smile. Roland paused and turned to him saying, "Yes?" with something between mild curiosity and disapproval in his voice.

"Iím very sorry, Mr. Dalrympleó" at which the other man ever so slightly bridled and smiled softly. "I beg your pardon, Roland. I am still getting used to calling you that, Sir. I have to catch a train to New Haven. I have a meeting there and then Iím clearing out my digs at Yale."

"Young Carrington has just finished at Yale, Harvey," said Roland to his companion whose name had never been passed along. Penrose looked at him and smiled. The older man seemed suddenly fascinated by him though perhaps he was just a trifle drunk.

"Yes, well, just starting out, eh? What a long and open road is before you, Young Man," he said with avuncular satisfaction. But before the road could be described, Penrose demurred again and escaped down the wide dun-colored marble sweeping curve of stairs to pick up his hat and depart. Lacking the funds for a tip, he left the attendant one of his most winning smiles which was almost enough to compensate. She was the only woman he had ever seen in the place, and had very pretty eyes above her even prettier figure.

As he whipped out the main door, he saw a champagne bottle rise from the hood of a yellow Packard Phaeton parked at the curb with one wheel on the sidewalk. The bottle landed in the back seat. The car was an endless creamy yellow vista of polished steel. It was adorned with burgundy detail and what seemed a ton of chromium on its long low slung body. Two angels sat upon the hood. The first was the winged figure that Packard had provided. It stretched forth its arms straining with deco diligence to race toward a glistening future.

The other angel was a girl named Persephone Dalrymple, his fiancť. She lay against the windscreen on her side looking crosstown toward the Hudson. Her short yellow dress set off her finely-toned, small, perky body. Persy Dalrymple had silvery blonde hair and great violet eyes made larger by her tiny, slightly upturned nose. Her mouth had full lips that were just slightly open to reveal the permanent start of her smile. Her outfit was given gravity by her bone tap shoes and cream pattern stockings. A long string of pearls gave the ensemble ťlan as they snaked down and around her breast. The cleavage of her dress was cut quite low so that the plump curve of both of them was visible. There the pearls rested in the warmth between her high, perfectly matched, small breasts.

Finding her this way, unexpectedly, made his heart pound like a hammer. He started toward the car but then she spoke as though she had not yet seen he was there. She said to no one in particular,

"My Daddy guards his baby girl when she lies down to rest,
And just because I love him so, I always do my best.
God care for me and Daddy too when I sleep in my bed,
For Daddy and the Lord above protect my sleepy head."

Then she slowly turned her large eyes to him and looked at him through her long dark lashes, "Daddy kept you in there forever, Penny."

"I didnít know you were going to be here."

"Neither did I, but we ran out of champagne."

"We?" he asked seeing no one else in the car.

"I and the Packard. We have a very strong relationship," she said slipping off the hood onto the high fender and then deftly sliding down it to land on her feet. The carís suspension dipped ever so slightly like a great palfrey helping a princess to dismount. She walked to him and threw her arms around his neck. Raising her lips to his, she hesitantly pressed them against his until at last he could resist no more and pulled her to him.

"And now you, of course, which makes three. We three. You, me, and the Packard, all by our lonesome on 45th Street. You better stop kissing me or Daddy might see. You donít want him to punish us, do you?"

Penrose tried not to flinch or glance back up at the windows of the club, but the effort gave him away. Persy backed away from him looking up and shading her eyes with exaggerated effort.

"Nope, I donít think heís watching. Not now anyway. Arenít you glad to see me?" she asked switching gears. She was fond of such sudden changes of direction.

In truth he was not that glad to see her. He had things to do. He owed his bookie some money, and he needed to get his stuff out of his room at Yale before they chucked it in the trash. On the other hand, the nearness of her was completely irresistible. He was drawn to her in a way he could never deny.

He could neither think nor speak around her when he wanted her this way, and moments before the heat of her skin had been searing the palms of his hands from under her wisp of a dress. Even in the torrential roar of Manhattan, his senses focused on the smell of her perfume, her skin, and the scent of her hair as he remembered it just now against his cheek.

He had to seem in control of all this in case Roland was watching, but also because the more his adoration for Persy grew, the less control he had over their relationship. He had tried to restore balance. He got drunk a couple of times with his buddies just to dull his senses. Then he drove all the way to Cambridge to seduce a sour matronly girl from Radcliffe he met at a tea. None of it brought him back to the earth. He never quite knew who or where Persy was, and so each moment with her was a sudden and often terrifying discovery. He had developed the habit of following her lead like her puppy.

It would not do to be her spaniel at her heel even though he would not have minded that at all. He had to assert herself with her and become her master. He longed to make a good impression on Roland as a man who was up to being his relation.

"I have to catch a train, Persephone," he said patiently.

"Oh poo," she said, " You do not."

"I have to go to New Haven."

"Well maybe you have to go there, but you donít need to catch a train. You have a nice big Packard with the top down and only one empty bottle in the backseat, see? And a sweet little buttercup. That would be me."

Penrose looked at her. In any other girl, all this cuteness would be revolting, but in her it was a commentary on the person she pretended to be. It was her cover. Between them it was a joke at which they both could giggle behind their hands when she behaved this way. It was a secret pact between them that bound him to her as one of the few that were allowed to see beyond it.

She tossed her clutch into the car and trotted around to the driverís side. Then she got in and patted the front seat next to her. "Come," she said. "Why resist?"

Something told him he should.

"Donít want to be seen letting a girl drive you? I know you are a big boy. Isnít that enough for you at least for now?" she asked. She patted the seat again. He looked at her tiny slender fingers that were the petals of her lovely hand. He got in. The leather seat was a miracle of comfort after dodging the piercing gaze of her father during lunch. He leaned back, shoved his boater over his eyes, and pointed his finger forward toward the West Side.

"That way," he said with authority. "Better move," he said. "Weíll get a ticket."

"Hah," she said and paused to slick down a spit curl next to her eye.

Clearly she did not think a ticket possible but she hammered the accelerator anyway after popping the clutch into gear. The long, heavy roadster squealed in front of a taxi and cut off a truck as she slammed across Sixth Avenue just behind the green light. The Packard snarled, roared, and shoved its way across the island in fits and starts. Penrose was able to hide it but he was a little rattled.

"Iím pretty good, hunh?" she said stopping at Twelfth Avenue. Horns screeched and balled behind her as she adjusted the hem of her short dress for discretion.

"Yes", he said thinking about the smooth surface of her thighs.

An hour later they had fought their way out of the City and were on the Saw Mill River Parkway heading north toward Westchester. It was hardly a direct route to New Haven, but directness was not interesting to Persy Dalrymple. She turned off the parkway into a little town where there was a road house. Inside, she bribed the bartender for two martinis made with something that might remind someone of gin, if it had been made in anything other than a bathtub.

Penrose looked nervous again. "You donít think ladies should drink gin, do you, Penny? I suppose you think I ought to have a chauffeur, donít you? Well, I am a modern girl, and I donít fancy being someoneís lap dog, do you?"

Her eyebrows rose and she gave him a look of challenging enquiry. "Lap dog?" he said. "I donít think so, Persy, but I do mean to take care of you, you know."

"And will you buy me Packards, Penny?"

He looked out the window at the car and having no idea what such a wonder would cost these days, he said, "Weíll see."

"Yes, we shall. Daddy had the peddles lengthened just for me so I could reach them. Itís a big car you know, the Packard." Then without missing a beat or stopping to inhale she said, "Do you know I only got one really bad spanking when I was a little girl, Penny. It was because I brought home a dog."

"A dog?"

"Yes, he was a mutt. My father said we could not have him around the pure breds. He was angry with me, but he shot the dog. Then he spanked me as hard as he could for making the dog suffer. I couldnít sit for three days without wincing. Come on, letís go," she said and danced out of the bar having tossed off her drink.

One could pull off to the side of the parkway to enjoy the trees or look at a pond. Not much later, Persy pulled the car into a siding and they walked across a mowed field in the twilight to a stand of young elm trees. She pushed him back against the rough bark and then leaned against him letting the full pressure of her breasts and hips mould to his. He started to kiss her.

She said, "Shut up" rather roughly. Then she undid his tie and tied it around his eyes.

Unprovoked, she repeated, "Shut up, I said," and then she pressed her hand against his chest shoving him hard against the tree. "Shut up," she whispered and in a second, she had whisked off his belt. Then taking his wrist, she gently brought it around to the back of the tree. She rested his palm against the smooth downward slope of her belly as she reached around to get the other hand. He could feel a small cushion of pubic hair beneath the fabric of her dress. Was she wearing panties? He had seen no lines in the drape of her dress. Then she yanked the belt hard around his wrists and pulled it tight enough to hurt. She wrapped the end around his wrists again and buckled it.

He began to speak but she came around to face him and said, "Shut up," in a very quiet voice. She slapped him firmly across one cheek, paused a moment and then slapped the other. That done, she placed her hand against his cock to feel it growing untilóalmost as an experimentóshe squeezed his balls abruptly. He winced and yelled.

"You boys are so big, so hard, but so fragile too." She squeezed again harder and he squealed softly with surprise at the pain.

"That hurts," he said in a very low voice. "That really hurts," he said, but this time in a smaller voice.

"Well, yes, I suppose it does. I mean that was the idea," she said and pressed her fingernail under his balls and upward into his crotch. At first he stiffened in her other hand, but then the pain began and made him writhe a bit.

She kissed his ear and whispered, "Oh, Penny, I just donít know if you are up to this. Be a big boy now for Persy."

But he could no longer speak to answer.

"Weíll see," she said. Then she undid his trousers and let them drop to the grass. She opened his shirt and took a nail file from her bag. With this she made ragged tears in his undershirt until she could reach his nipples which she pinched a little fiercely. Then she took hold of his shorts and yanked them to his knees.

He opened his mouth to complain but she was ready. She took her lace handkerchief from between her breasts and grabbed his nose. At last he had to breathe and opened his teeth at which point she shoved the perfumed cloth inside.

"There now you are such a sweet child and without one naughty word of complaint." She took hold of his cock and began to roughly slide her hand along its length. She knelt in the grass and kissed the slit at the tip which made it jump like a fish. She slipped her fingers between his legs and worked them upward until she found the spot in back of his balls again.

Using her sharp fingernails she eased her fingers back toward his anus where they had to be allowed to go or they would cut him. Once there, she slipped her finger inside to the first knuckle and watched his cock bounce and drip in the purple twilight. Sinking her finger tip deeper and deeper, she took his cock in her mouth and began a slow dance of gathering momentum. She fucked his ass as she sucked his cock each in a counter motion that drove him back and forth against the coarse tree bark marking his back and ass.

She tasted the clear fluid that his cock released and then felt his body gathering to explode. She sucked and bit him to urge and slow his coming. She sucked and bit some more. Five times she brought him to the edge and bit him to prevent him going over the edge. Then at last in an iron grip, she jerked his length until he roared into the night and came in bursting streams over the grass before him.

"Well how was that, Sugarplum?" she asked as she plucked the handkerchief from between his lips.

He made a groan and then a grunt. He could not speak.

"Mmmmmhmmmm," she said," I think it was just fine, donít you? So prettyósuch a pretty, pretty, pretty boy."

Finally his breath calmed, "You canít. You canít do this to me," he said.

"Oh now, are we feeling a little used? I canít, you say? Canít? No, not unless you let me just the way you did just now. But you can see that I most certainly can do thatÖand more. Be a man, Penrose, and admit it. You like it. You love it really."

"Iím not a dog, Persy. I canít be tied and made to be your pet."

"No? I suppose not." She backed away from him to look him over now more carefully.

"You know the dog, Penny? He was not just a pet. He wanted to be near me. He would have endured anything for that, and he did."

Minutes later she was gone. The rumble of the great Packard pulled out onto the Parkway and the low saloon slipped into the darkness for points unknown and undeclared. The sun set. He was alone.

© 2006 Cervo.† All rights reserved. Content may not be copied or used in whole or part without written permission from the author.

Bio:†Cervo lives in an aged brownstone in a curiously eclectic part Brooklyn with his dogs, an otterhound and a puli as well as his cat, his friends and his tenants. He gardens whenever he has a spare moment in his backyard. Around him live the chic of New York in the hottest neighborhood in the City which is also inhabited by gangs, derelicts, real estate developers, whores, and sundry creatures surviving in a nearby pestilential canal. Inspiration to him is like flirting. It often starts as a disturbing brush with the sensual.

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


  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.

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

Mťnage 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