Erotic Fiction: Her Black Glasses
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Amy dropped her bags in the front foyer the moment she stepped into the house, her purse and briefcase hitting the entryway mat with a soft thud. I looked up from where I had been sitting on the sofa, my eyes slowly pulling away from the open book in my lap to smile at her over my black rimmed glasses.
“I hate weekend shifts,” she said with a drawn-out sigh, half to herself and half to me. “But at least I’ve got you to come home to, Erika.”
I smirked, sliding my book onto the coffee table, opened against the spot where I had left off. “Yeah, it’s true. You’re pretty damn lucky.”
Amy laughed as she shrugged off her jacket, reddish-brown hair falling over her shoulders, and hung it up in the hall closet. The second the door closed, she sauntered towards me and pressed a kiss to my forehead.
“How was your day?” I asked.
“It really, really sucked. Let’s go upstairs. You can distract me.” That was Amy — always ready to bounce back from a chaotic and stressful day with copious amounts of sex. Not that it was ever a complaint of mine; feeling her body open up to me was one of my favourite things in the world.
I followed her upstairs, slapping her on the ass playfully. She yelped, giggling, and bolted quickly up the steps with heavy feet. I entered the bedroom right behind her, closing the door with an audible click. In the semi-darkness of the room, the shades partially drawn over the windows, Amy and I immediately began to undress each other in a frenzy. I slipped my hands under her button-up shirt, cupping her breast held up by her bra before giving it a gentle squeeze.
Her mouth enclosed around mine, tongue hungrily darting into mine and sweeping across my own. I could feel her quickening breath drawing in and flowing out in short exhalations as her hands undid the top button of my light blue jeans, pushing them down over my hips with a precision that only comes with knowing someone’s body, their curves.
“Erika.” The sound of my name on her lips, of my name whispered into my ear, made me instantly hard. I fumbled over my panties, struggling to pull the lacy thong over my penis and down my thighs. Amy took my wrists in her hands, stopping me from helping myself, and moved me to our bed, where I quietly laid back against the sheets.
Carefully, she rolled them off of me, her eyes locked on that spot between my legs that was aching for her wetness. When she eventually glanced up, it was to look me in the eye, grinning devilishly as she pulled my glasses off of my face and placed them on herself. I watched her drop her shirt, her pants to the floor. Watched as she pulled down her underwear. Watched as she inserted two fingers into herself slowly, moving them in and out in short, swift motions before raising her hand to my mouth. I took the fingers between my lips, sucking them and tasting her on my tongue. She sighed, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips.
“I already feel better,” she mumbled. That was obvious to me already, though.
“Oh, I know.”
As she crawled over me, straddling my thighs and inching up towards my hips, I took my shaft in my hand and readied it for her with long, practiced strokes. Amy put her hand over mine, taking control once again as she guided me into her with a loud exhalation. My eyes closed momentarily, taking in the tightness of her, caused by slight dryness. I reached to our bedside table, grabbing the bottle of lube we kept stashed, and squirted some on my hands to massage on my penis and into her vagina.
“Fuck, Erika. You feel so good inside of me.” Amy began to bounce up and down on me, using the headboard as support as she rode. Watching her above me, breasts bouncing as she moved up and down my shaft, made me feel like I had to cum almost immediately. I told her this, unsurprised by how hot and heavy she made me so quickly.
Amy slid off of me and got down on her knees beside the bed. I swivelled to the side, sitting on the edge of the mattress as she took my penis in her hands and stroked me slowly. When I came, hard and fast, it spurt across her face and onto my glasses that rested on the bridge of her freckled nose, dark frames against her pale skin.
