erotic _stories

                                                                                 The Trip:   Chapter 1

    In minutes the sky grew dark and the squall was upon us. A sudden gust of wind made the boat heel sharply and we were thrown to the side, pinned by gravity and the centrifugal force of the lurching boat as it came about. In a moment it righted itself as a good boat should and we were able to scramble to our feet.
    Until now, we had sailed smoothly in a steady 10 knot breeze and made excellent time on our little cruise to New Orleans to see the opening of Mardi Grass festival the next day. Brenda, a lovely southern belle had been eager to come along after I invited her and assured her that the trip could be made in about 10 hours, weather permitting, and that we would not have to spend the night at sea. After all, we had just met the day before and she was understandably hesitant to be alone on a 40 ft sailboat with a total stranger. Actually I was pleasantly surprised that she had accepted my invitation to make the trip by boat in the first place.
    We met at a Medical convention and afterward I had invited her to a cool mint julep. We talked and showed each other pictures of our younger days. She confided in me to being somewhat of a disappointment to her mother who was a professor and had set such high standards that eventually she rebelled and became more interested in exploring her curiosity about life than burying her head in stuffy school books.
     After a while I found myself more and more fascinated by the style and grace of this attractive woman, charmed by the southern lilt in her voice, which was so much more melodic than the staccato sound bites of the northeners. It was obvious that she too was intrigued by my many adventures as a young man and was equally charmed by my dutch accent which still shapes my voice even after all these years. We were surprised how fast time had gone by during our chat and I was astounded how easily this woman had so captured me. I had been very careful to be as courteous and respectful as possible and only made discreet references to my sensual nature and experiences. I knew full well that if we were to have a close relationship, I would have to win the trust and heart of this product of conservative southern upbringing, where physical relationships were forbidden without the mandatory wedding vows. Of course she had matured and exhibited a more worldly attitude now, but still expressed a most charming shyness when I complimented her on her physical attractiveness. At times I felt guilty about my casual attitude toward sex and the sharing of sensual pleasure. I resolved to just enjoy her mind and let matters develop naturally if there ever was to be a more intimate relationship. So when she mentioned that she was going to Mardi Grass, I was a little surprised. I had seen pictures of the festival and it was not an event for the prudish to be sure. But then, she did have an adventurous streak and on whim I offered to accompany her and suggested that we take the trip on my boat. I was ecstatic when she accepted and realized that my credentials and my responsible position in the company gave her a measure of comfort. We agreed that I should pick her up early the following day and when we parted I had to confide that I had a wonderful time and kissed her hand in my most gracious European manner. She blushed, but assured me that she too had enjoyed the afternoon. I knew then that our minds had linked with unexpressed desire and felt giddy for the rest of the day, which I spent in stocking and preparing the boat for the trip. I purchased a bottle of nice Champagne, along with some Orange Roughy, the filet mignon of fish, on the chance that we might spend an evening on the boat and I wanted to introduce her to the feeling of life aboard a sail boat, even if it was moored to a dock in the harbor. I was truly looking forward to spend the next few days with this fascinating and attractive lady.
    The squall rapidly grew in intensity and I needed to reef the sails, lest they would rip. I was never worried about the boat. She was a well built blue water cruiser and designed to take on severe storms on cross ocean voyages.
     In spite of my efforts to lower the sails it was clear that I needed a hand in fighting the pressure of the wind and I shouted to Brenda to help by tugging down on the main sail. But just when she stood up a gust blew the boom over and before she was able to get a good hold, the boom vang broke and the free swinging boom physically lifted her up and threw her overboard. Already on a life line, I quickly lowered the ladder, snatched a buoy from the stanchion and jumped after her. When I approached her, I was amazed to see her calmly threading water without any sign of panic. I was impressed with her courage and offered the buoy for floatation, but she refused and began to swim with confident strokes toward the boat. Then I remembered that she had told me she was an avid swimmer and spent a lot of time in the water. In a moment she reached the boat and climbed up the ladder extending a hand to take the buoy from me, while I followed after her. Soon we were safely back aboard, breathing hard from the sudden exertion. I could not help noticing her full breasts heaving and straining against her wet blouse, revealing the full measure of her voluptuous endowment. My body, still pumping adrenalin, responded in a sudden burst of desire to hold her close and feel her body against mine. I embraced her and she responded eagerly. For what seemed to be an eternity we embraced and found comfort in each other’s arms. Then gently she worked her way out of my arms and told me I had better get the boat secured, while she changed into something dry. Reluctantly I let go, but realizing the wisdom of her suggestion I set about lowering the sails, while she went below to shower and change clothing.
    The squall stopped as suddenly as it had started and in moment the sea was calming. I did not want to risk any further damage to the rigging and decided to motor the rest of the way in. Brenda came back on deck just as I was finished with making the boat shipshape and she sat down to brush her wet hair. Standing at the wheel I watched her as she tilted her head one way then the other while brushing the tangles out. I admired her calmness in handling the situation and realized that here was an extraordinary woman. Someone that could be relied upon as a partner in crisis and a true friend when in need. She was radiant with the flush of excitement and again I felt the urge to hold her, but decided to just fill my senses by observing her actions. I realized I was falling in love with this gorgeous creature, so ladylike yet so brave and efficient under stress. This was a woman to be treasured!
    When she was finished with her grooming Brenda offered to steer the boat while I changed my soaking clothes. Once below, I found her slacks and blouse hanging on the drying rack and could not help but help visualizing the blouse clinging to her body and gently I brushed my cheek against the delicate cloth. Despite the soaking in the salt water and the quick rinse, I could still smell the scent of her perfume and a shiver went through my body. I managed to pull myself together and hurriedly changed into dry clothes. I felt guilty about my sensual fantasy and when I came back on deck, I looked at Brenda with such a sheepish look that she burst out laughing and assured me that all was well. I decided not to tell her about the reason why I was embarrassed for fear of ruining her good mood. Better to quit while you’re ahead seemed an appropriate course of action here. Somehow I felt that this incident might prove to be the key to our continued relationship. Obviously the experience had brought us closer together.
    We spent the rest of the time discussing the adventure and reminisced about other events in our lives that had left lasting impressions. We made excellent time motoring windward and it was still light when we reached New Orleans.
     Brenda had found her sea legs and assisted with mooring and stowing gear. While packing my overnight shore bag, I decided to bring the Champagne. I decided it was not likely that we would spend the night aboard. I was sure that Brenda needed to feel some firm ground under her feet and make full use of the modern conveniences on land. When the boat was secured we went ashore to find the nearest decent lodging and as luck would have it we found a nice bed and breakfast close to the harbor. A reservation had just been cancelled and two rooms were available. When we explained our predicament of not having had anything to eat since early that morning, the innkeeper directed us to an excellent Creole restaurant within walking distance. He was even gracious enough in suggesting that he would not object if we brought some take out orders to the rooms so that we did not have to change again for dinner. Apparently he was a sailor himself and was amused when we gave him a brief account of our adventure. We decided to have our supper in my room and Brenda offered to do the ordering by phone. After freshening up we agreed to a little sight seeing on our way to pick up the food. It was not far but we did stop along the way to visit and discuss the history of some very interesting old New Orleans sites along the wharf. On our way back, loaded with boxes of delicious smelling dishes, Brenda explained the recipes and ingredients used in Creole cooking.
      Back in my room, we drank some champagne, unpacked the food and ate straight from the boxes, passing them to each other and sharing the same utensils. A change had come over Brenda and she seemed so natural and free, sitting across from me on the floor, legs crossed, dressed in a light sweater and shorts. Again I was surprised by her ability to adapt and my smile caught her attention. She asked me why I was smiling and I confessed my amazement and delight of meeting her and sharing this time with her. She was obviously flattered and with a coy look she assured me that she too was having a great time. A sudden impulse made me reach out for her and when she placed her hand in mine I knew that the thought of making love had also crossed her mind. I kissed her hand with such deep passion that I felt her tremble from the touch of my lips. For a moment I thought that she would allow me to go further, but then she composed herself and gently withdrew her hand from mine. It was clear however that she was having trouble keeping her emotions in check and I knew that inevitably we would share our passion and join our bodies in mutual ecstasy.

                                                                          Chapter2 : The Dream

    That night I had a dream. I had not dreamt so vividly in a long time, but it was a strange dream. Flashbacks of my life intermingled with the vision of Brenda standing on the boat, breathing hard, the wind blowing her hair, wet blouse clinging to her body. Our embrace and the wonderfully close feeling we shared that moment. Then there were images of Mardi Gras, people dressed in the most grotesque outfits and some wearing almost nothing at all, dancing with total abandon in the street. Jumbled sounds of bands playing and horns tooting, crazy laughter and shouts of joy. Then at once the dream focused and I found myself riding horseback along a forest path leading to a distant castle. The road lined with large trees, trailing parallel to a small stream, sunlight filtering through the leaves and casting sparkles on the ripples of the water as if the stream was filled with diamonds. I stopped and gathered a handful of water to quench my thirst and wet my face. Then on my way again to the castle, summoned by the Queen.
    Being escorted through the great halls of the castle, I looked around in amazement at the splendor and the colorful clothing at the royal court. Gorgeous ladies dressed in velvet and lace, knights with shining breastplates and pages wearing puffy pants with long stockings and elegant pointed slippers. But all were wearing masks, lest they be recognized. The masks ranging from simple eye coverings to grotesque heads of goats, horses and strange imaginary creatures.
    In the distance seated on her throne, I observed the Queen. She was magnificent, dressed in a moss green velvet gown, cut so low as to lift her breasts in a deep cleavage of milky white mounds. Red embroidery lined the hems of the dress and her legs were sheathed in dark green stockings and moss green satin pumps, adorned with sparkling emeralds. Somehow I knew it was Brenda, but her face also was hidden behind a green mask, fashioned after a cats face, with almond shaped eyeholes framing her eyes, occasionally revealing the sparkle of her pupils in the flickering lights of what must have been a thousand candles. Real hair whiskers and tufted ears completed this masterpiece of craftsmanship. Below the mask, ruby red lips in a natural pout offered an irresistible invitation to be kissed. In her hand she carried a small fan, made from the iridescent green feathers of the male pheasant.
    By proclamation, the queen had announced that she was looking for a suitor. And in order to win her favor, the applicant had but to answer a simple question. The time limit for composing an acceptable answer was ten seconds. As expected the line of hopeful suitors was long and I had plenty of time to gather myself and observe the proceedings. One by one the knights and other noblemen, dressed in their finest outfits approached and kneeling before the throne would announce their name and title. The queen would bend down and behind the fan whisper the question in their ear. Some would look up at her in total confusion and utter incoherent sounds of dismay, while others would hurriedly start explanations of what sounded like an evaluation of the climates in the various parts of the world. Still others would think too long and not meet the time limit imposed by the queen. All were dismissed by a delicate gesture of the green feathered fan.
    When my turn came I confidently approached the queen, head held high and striding purposefully. Near the throne I bowed deeply and lowered myself on one knee to convey my deep respect and desire to serve my queen to the best of my ability. I announced myself as Sir Robert deHolland and in a firm voice asked how I could please Her Majesty. Queen Brenda bend down to me, touched my face with her feather fan and whispered in a low voice,   “ Sir Robert, can you tell me if it is colder upstairs than in the winter?”
      My experiences had taught me the most important object in analyzing a question is to determine the basic reason for the question itself. Immediately I determined that the question was meaningless and therefore the response would have to be of a philosophical rather than of a scientific nature. Calmly collecting my thoughts I responded, “ Your Majesty, be it upstairs or down, winter or fall, when and wherever you are, your radiance gives comfort to us all.”
    The ruby red lips behind the mask broke into a smile and Queen Brenda extended the feather fan to lightly stroke my ears and mouth. Then offering the fan to me, she stood up and announced to the court, “ Sir Robert, in his wisdom, has given me the only answer that would be acceptable to all who have pondered the question. I hereby proclaim him to be my suitor and he may sit by my side.”
     At this the crowd broke in loud cheering and the sounds of music was beginning to fill the air. I woke up to the dawn and outside Mardi Gras had begun.

                                                                        Chapter 3 : Fat Tuesday

    For a few moments I indulged myself in reflection on my dream and what it meant. I came to the conclusion that it was just a flight of fancy caused by an overload of impressions from the events in the last few days and the anticipation of what was to come. Then, realizing it was getting late, I hurriedly showered and dressed to join Brenda for breakfast.
   When I came down, Brenda was already seated at a small table by the window. It had an excellent view of the harbor and the hundreds of swaying masts in the harbor of yachts that also had made the trip to New Orleans for Mardi Gras. My boat was somewhere among them, gently bobbing , waiting for the time she once again would feel the ocean waves against her hull. Later tonight thousands of lights strung from the riggings would brighten the dark waters and the sounds of private parties would waft across the sleepless waves.
    Brenda’s radiant smile and the delicious aroma of fresh brewed coffee which she had ordered for both of us greeted me and when I bend down from behind to kiss her cheek, she closed her eyes and tilted her face to accommodate me. As I kissed her cheek, I placed my hands on her shoulders and gently massaging her muscles I asked if she had recovered from the fall overboard. “No cuts or bruises I hope?” "No, I am just fine” she smiled, "no scars, but I shall always remember that little dunk. I must have looked like an silly goose flying through the air.” Relieved that she was alright, I laughed at the comparison and assured her that she looked more like a swan trying to make an unscheduled landing on ice.
    I left the ordering to Brenda and while we were waiting I recounted my dream. Brenda listened intently and afterward, she clapped her hands in delight. “You have a most unusual imagination, Sir Robert” she laughingly complimented me, “and you have a knack for painting pictures with words. You have given me an idea, why don’t we find some royal costumes to wear. After all, if I am your queen, I want to look the part.”   I stood up from my chair and bowed deeply before her, my arms sweeping the air. “Your majesty, you do me such great honor in allowing me to escort you to the ball” I uttered with mock submission.   “Well, you are my suitor and with your bravery yesterday and your gracious answer to my question in the dream, you have earned the right to escort me” she replied with a regal nod of her head. For a moment I thought I detected a hint of pain on her face, but it passed instantly and I gave it no further thought.
    We finished our breakfast and hailed a taxi to drive us downtown. Obviously Brenda had been to New Orleans before and directed the driver to a small costume shop on a narrow side street, close to the theater section of the city. Once inside I noticed that the shop, located in a typical old New Orleans building, had three floors and I was awed by the variety of merchandise and accessories for every imaginable occasion. Each level stocked to overflowing with handmade costumes from every fashion period ranging back to the time of the cave dwellers.
    The owner seemed to know Brenda and greeted her warmly and with great courtesy. When we explained our preference he directed us to an area dedicated to clothing from the middle ages and excused himself while we browsed for our costumes. Lady Luck still seemed to be with us and soon we found an almost identical replica of the green gown and mask the queen had worn in my dream. Hanging high on a wall we spotted a shimmering green feathered fan. For myself I selected, with Brenda’s help, a dashing but slightly less ostentatious outfit suitable to be worn by a queen’s consort. When we reappeared from the dressing room, the transformation was complete and my dream had come to life. Again I bowed in a chivalrous manner and kissed Brenda’s hand. She smiled and touched my forehead with the fan, “Come, Sir Robert, I place myself into your care.”
   We decided to walk the rest of the way, so that I would get a good feel of the city and its history. Though it was only mid-morning the crowd on the streets was beginning to swell and the closer we came to downtown, celebrants from all over the world came streaming from every direction, until it became an endless sea of color in constant motion and mixing like an ever changing kaleidoscope. A cacophony of sounds from horns, bells, rattles and whistles. mixed with the lively sounds of jazz pouring out from open doors of bistros was almost to much for the ear to take. I could think of only one word to describe the chaos. Bedlam...!!!
     We strolled with and through the jostling crowd and many eyes turned in admiration of Brenda, who was now completely caught up in her role as queen and strode regally among her adoring subjects. We spent several hours dancing and singing and observing the more daring displays of ladies high above on balconies. Wearing skimpy bikini tops or nothing at all the women were jumping up and down or shaking their shoulders, showing their ample breast to the hooting and hollering of appreciative young men below.
    At last, getting weary from battling the crowd we decided to have lunch in a small intimate bistro, where a jazz trio offered a mellow respite from the pandemonium outside. We ordered a simple lunch and listened to the music. The band played mostly old standards and it reminded me of the seven years I had spent as musician on the road. When I mentioned my nostalgia to Brenda she immediately suggested that I sit in for a few songs. I declined but she insisted and as my queen ordered me to entertain her. During a small break between songs the bass player who had been watching her urgings, announced that there was a guest artist and asked the patrons to encourage me to sit in for a tune. I finally gave in and after getting the feel of his instrument I asked the piano player if we could play a simple blues. To my delight he offered an old jazz blues named Huckle Buck. In the old days I had been featured many times on this medium rhythm blues and I still remembered the finger positions for a smooth execution of the melody. When I joined the piano in playing harmony to the basic refrain, the other musicians smiled their approval and after a few moments we fell into a groove. At my turn to solo I was so inspired that my improvisations drew calls from the musicians and crowd alike and when the song was over applause and shouts for more rang out. My fingers, soft from years of shuffling paperwork, were beginning to blister and in order to avoid serious damage to my hands I begged off. Returning to our table I found the owner offering his compliments to Brenda and he graciously told us that our lunch was on the house. Brenda’s face was beaming with pride but when our eyes met I thought that there was a wistful look to her and just before we donned our masks, I was sure that I saw a tear rolling down her cheek. But again I choose to ignore this message of inner conflict.
   We spent a few more hours partaking in the festivities and we had the time of our lives. More than once Brenda would squeeze my hand with affection and rub her body against mine. Or like a little girl she would pull me this way and that, into side streets and small neighborhood plazas with center fountains, where young lovers took full advantage of the loosened city ordinances regarding public moral conduct.
   At last our energy was spent and we found a taxi to take us back to the Inn, stopping on the way to get some wine and snacks. Before we went up to our respective rooms to freshen up and change our clothes, we decided to spend the rest of the evening in my room for some quiet music and making plans for the following day.

                                                                               Chapter 4: The Passion

    An hour later a soft knock on my door signaled Brenda’s arrival and when I opened the door she was standing in the dimly lit hallway, dressed in a sheer white negligee and a white robe to shield her from the evening chill. I poured the wine and locking our arms we drank, gazing into each other’s eyes. We knew that tonight we would be consumed by the passion which had announced itself on several occasions. We listened to some soft romantic music on the radio and tasted from the snacks. We talked about the events of the day while observing the activities in the harbor and drank more wine. The warming alcohol flushed Brenda’s cheeks and at one point she began to dance, robe slipping to the floor and revealing her body, barely obscured by her negligee. Her head thrown back and eyes closed she swayed to the gentle rhythms of the music, using the fan to draw delicate designs in the air. When she moved about the room the lights behind her created a shimmering silhouette, occasionally outlining the full curves of her body when the angle was just right. I watched with enchantment and found myself aroused like a school boy sneaking a peak at his first Playboy magazine centerfold.
    At last I could not contain myself and when she whirled close by me, I grasped her hand and spun her into my embrace. Instantly she melted and molded her body against mine. We kissed standing in the middle of the room, we kissed a long time so tenderly yet so passionately that when we broke our bodies were trembling with desire. Brenda took a step back and with our eyes locked in a silent promise she allowed the negligee to slip from her shoulders. Her pupils, dilated with passion looked like dark pools, drawing me irresistibly toward her. Gently I led her to my bed and we sat on the edge, holding each other’s hands. Then, she placed my hand on her breast and I placed hers on my cheek. With eyes closed we experienced the moment and then I urged her gently to lay back, while I quickly slipped out of my clothes. I sat down beside her and filled my senses with her beautiful body and her perfume which had affected me so that day on the boat.
    Barely brushing her skin with my lips I kissed her neck, shoulders and still lower until I reached the base of her breasts. There, with trembling hands I cupped her breasts and starting upward from the base I kissed and kissed again until I felt her now erect nipples touch my lips. With the tip of my tongue I twirled around the dark aureole and finally embraced her nipple with the whole of my tongue. A low moan escaped from Brenda’s throat and her body shuddered with the tingle of my touch. Again and again I repeated the whole exercise. I could not get enough of her and I wanted to spend as much time as possible in enjoyment of her womanhood.
    Brenda had not moved much during this first real physical contact, one hand resting on my shoulder, the other guiding my hand as I caressed her breasts. But now she also began to lightly stroke my shoulders and back with a silken touch so light, it felt as if she was using the feather fan and in total ecstasy my mind retreated from all other thoughts.
     For a long time we explored each other’s skin and smiled when we touched erogenous zones sending waves of erotic shivers through our bodies. Touching, kissing, inevitably our actions became more passionate and as I became bolder in my exploration of her body she followed suit and soon we were caressing all but the most intimate parts of our bodies.
   Soon we reached the point where time stands still and the journey into total ecstasy begins. Kissing her lower and lower, my hand on the inside of her thigh gently urged her to open her legs and invite me into the garden hiding the most intimate and precious flower of creation. Brenda pressed her head back into the pillow and arching her back she yielded to my insistent pressure on her legs. With deep respect and utmost care not to damage the silken petals, I opened the portal and kissed her so tenderly that her body arched in an invitation to drink from her honey, which glistened in the folds. “ Oh, Robert, don’t stop” she whispered in a half moan, “ I don’t want this to ever stop” With this her body shuddered with a small climax of erotic sensation. I obeyed her request and continued to administer my attention to her sensual needs.
    Brenda’s hand had also steadily moved down my body, stroking my back and hips. I laid down beside her and when her hand touched my manhood my body jerked with an involuntary mating thrust. She held me gently for a moment, then with the lightest touch encircled my penis and slowly, sensuously slid her hand up and down until it throbbed with every pounding beat of my heart.
    No longer able to contain my primal urge I finally entered her and we became one, floating in a timeless ocean of passion and desire. Even then I tried to contain my urge to release, waiting for Brenda to reach her point of no return. Her low moans increasing in intensity, breathing faster and body tensing, Brenda surrendered herself into our passion and digging her nails into my shoulders she clung to me almost in desperation to fill her soul with this moment of total abandonment.
    Feeling her muscles contract in an irresistible demand for my release, she uttered a whispered cry, “Now....my darling.....now!” Her body, shuddering with overwhelming pangs of sweet agony, accepted my release, which grew in intensity as I allowed my soul to spill into her and for what seemed to be an eternity we became complete. Never had I experienced such total merging of body mind and spirit and when finally I was completely spent, I collapsed beside her, gasping for air and trying to calm my racing heart. We laid there for a long time in a tender embrace, savoring the glow in our loins and the closeness of the moment.
     After an hour of touching and caressing each other, we got up and Brenda freshened up while I poured some wine. I resolved then to offer myself to her life and dedicate my life to her happiness. When Brenda returned, still radiant with the memory of our passion, I asked her to sit on the bed while I had an important announcement to make. But instead of happy curiosity, her whole body seemed to shrink and she crumpled on the edge of the bed, head down, hands laying forlornly in her lap.
     I knelt before her and started, “ Brenda, I have been thinking”   She placed two fingers on my lips and in a barely audible whisper she begged me, “Robert, please......please don’t” But having made up my mind I needed to express my deep affection and desire to share my life with her, “I want to marry you, will you be my wife?” Tears welling up in Brenda’s eyes she responded with a broken voice, “I can’t Robert, please don’t ask, you have my heart and you always will, but don’t ask me to share my life with you, because it is impossible.” With a suddenly sinking feeling I tried to insist, “But my darling, I want you, I need you in my life. I can’t imagine living without you now.”   Her body, shaking now with uncontrollable sobs of despair, tears streaming down her cheeks she replied, “I can’t my love, because I am already married.”
    Like a knife, her words cut deeply into my gut and I reeled back at this totally unexpected revelation, “Who is he? Can’t you divorce him?” Shaking her head and reaching out to me with her hands she looked at me with such utter sadness that I too began to cry. “He is a prominent politician and if I divorced him, the scandal would ruin his career. While we are not close anymore, I promised him that while he is in the public eye, I shall play the good wife and hostess. I gave my word and I can’t break it.” She pulled me onto the bed beside her and for along time we lay in silent embrace, each alone with our thoughts. We fell asleep, our bodies and minds needing to recover from the passion and grief that followed.
    When I woke up the following morning, Brenda was gone and on her pillow lay the green feathered fan. With a hollow feeling in my heart, I picked it up and held it to my cheek as she had done before. When I inquired about her whereabouts, the inn keeper told me that she had checked out and taken a taxi to the airport.
     That afternoon at sea, standing aboard the boat, I looked at the endless horizon. I knew that the dull ache in my gut was not from hunger for food and the tears in my eyes were not from the wind in my face. For the first time in my life I knew what it was to have a broken heart.

                                                                                      The End