True, absolute, all-consuming seduction is, perhaps, one of the most magical and marvelous things in the universe. What most people assume to be seduction is merely a form of sexual persuasion. If Cyrano persuades Roxanne into disrobing for a tryst, he has seduced her, at least, according to common belief. Only when confronted by a true, magical master of seduction, does one begin to fathom the stark contrast between sexual persuasion and true seduction become clear. One is the shrugging of shoulders and agreeing, the other an unstoppable force of divine nature that shatters one’s soul, reconstituting it into longing, yearning, and horny desire of such magnitude that the entire universe slips away into the void, leaving only bliss, pleasure, and erotic delight in its wake.
Tori’s psyche was splintered by what had just occurred. Her social conditioning and self-image vehemently protested her prior behavior, but other parts of her rebelled against her timid, sexually conservative sides, citing how alive, free, and aroused she felt. Good girls don’t let themselves become possessed by horny lust and then masturbate in public, in full view of anyone that cared to look. The deviant, taboo thrill of being bad overruled her trepidation. Decent women don’t act like complete whores and stand up in the middle of a busy bar, stripping off their panties while everyone watched, commented, and smiled. Tori’s pussy quickly grew soaked at the thought of how indecently she had acted, and she liked it.
Seduction has precious little to do with sex, but the sexual thrill of being in the midst of it cannot be denied. Tori knew what arousal felt like, and this was so far above and beyond just being horny that she couldn’t find words to describe the sensation. There are persuaders, some who know a bit about real seduction, and then there are sex gods, the true seducers. The blonde’s heart beat for him, pining away; her mind was filled with only thoughts of him, romantic, sexual, and nastily perverted. The young woman’s flesh scorched and boiled, longing for his touch, although he hadn’t even touched her once on the previous evening.
Victoria felt truly alive for what seemed like the first time in her entire life, which was a new experience for her. All of her self-conditioning was quickly forgotten, and she mentally justified all of her wants and desires in a twisted, tangled strand of logic that defied both reality and common sense. None of that mattered to the smitten woman; the only thing of import in her existence had become him, especially the way he made her feel.
Emotions, of paramount importance in all things romantic and sexual, overran her heart, body, and soul. Unfettered, increased, and enhanced by his sensual aura, Tori’s entire essence was enraptured, overwhelming, passionate arousal turning her into a quivering mass of horny need. The excitement and pussy-drenching anticipation of what she instinctively knew was going to happen coupled with the combined sensations of being more aroused than ever before and that post-orgasmic, vibrating tingling of bliss had her thoroughly in the throes of a sexual, romantic stupor. Victoria had voluntarily reduced herself to the mentality of a horny college coed, sex, lust, and desire coursing through her.
Of two minds, the smitten blonde tried to talk herself out of her new fixation. Glevin was just another, regular guy. As soon as she tried to convince herself of that, his image came, unbidden, to her mind’s eye, and she lost herself in the vision. His piercing, hypnotic eyes glowed in her memories; his sexy body whetted her lust; and his enticing wit and sharp humor made her drool. The fearmongering portions of her tried to warn her that she needed to exercise caution, but the burning need had grown to such intensity that she rejected all negative notions; he was her one, and that was that.
More akin to adolescent obsession than the romance of adulthood, Tori’s entire day, although she had myriad things on her to-do list, was solely comprised of daydreams and fantasies. The lithe, sexy blonde’s spirit was possessed with sexual fixation and the warm, all-encompassing comfort of feeling truly seen, appreciated, respected, and desired—all at once. The fact that he made her so unbelievably horny while making her feel respected had her brain on sensual overload.
Tori was mentally debating what to wear, finding herself giddy at the prospect. While she had volunteered her entire life story, he hadn’t given her much information about himself. The sense of mystery about him just made her volcanic heat erupt more, fiery lust singing her core. Deeply involved whether she should wear plain panties, a sexy thong, or nothing at all, the light-eyed woman shrieked in surprise when a sound knock rapped on her front door.
“Blooming Love Flowers,” a young woman’s voice said from the other side of the door.
Surprised and curious, Victoria opened the door, wondering who would have sent her flowers. Her parents sometimes sent her flowers for special occasions, such as Valentine’s Day, but modern lovers aren’t exactly famous for their silly, campy romantic gestures. Tori, like a lot of modern women, lied to herself, verbally insisting that she didn’t like receiving flowers. Perhaps, that was true up until that moment, but, as soon as she opened the door, a bewildered look on her face, her mind reversed its decision, and she melted at the sight of the long, cream-colored flower box, wide golden ribbons tied around it, ending in a large bow.
“How sweet,” Tori smiled at the delivery girl. “Who are they from?”
“They don’t tell us that, ma’am. Sign here, please.”
Although she was still dressed in sweatpants and a grubby, old T-shirt, Tori felt like a princess. It wasn’t the fact that she’d, finally, received romantic flowers from a man for the first time in her twenty-seven years of life; the fact that somebody had taken the time to send them, proving that she was on their mind, sent fiery seduction shooting through her veins. She violently tore at the bow, trying to untie it, the ribbons tearing and the corner of the floral box denting as she struggled.
True seduction isn’t just getting a woman horny; it’s all about making her feel. The quivering woman’s mind, heart, soul, and body were all acting in concert. Typically, our thoughts run rampant, jumping to a multitude of topics at once and at random. At that moment, her thoughts focused solely on how he made her feel. By proxy, this meant he possessed her mind. With her body aching for him in lust-filled, yearning and her heart thundering for his touch, glance, and approval, every mote of the blonde’s essence was vibrating in tandem. Though she dared not voice the thought, she was his—completely and utterly.
As deeply as she’d sunk into the depths of seduction, the flowers, trite, campy, but uncommon enough in today’s self-centered world to be charming and memorable, pulled her even down deeper, as if they were an anchor determined to drown her in romance, lust, and bliss. Long-stemmed roses, aromatic and perfect, filled the box’s innards, splashes of green around them. Victoria chided herself over her eyes welling up with tears. She wasn’t the romance-addicted type, but it all felt so unique, entirely different. Then she saw the card, its envelope tethered to one rose stem, between two thorns, by gold, glittery, elastic string.
She pulled the roses from the now-crumpled box, counting two dozen of them, and retrieved the card, careful to not break or bend the stem.
“My eyes pine to glimpse the perfection that is you,” the card began. It was handwritten, in black pen, the penmanship obviously masculine. “My slumbering mind dreamed of only you. My heart beats out the remaining seconds until I see you, anew, in three hours.” It wasn’t signed; it didn’t need to be.
Lost for thought, words unable to form, she just stared, absorbing the sight of the roses, then the card she held, then back. All Tori could do was revel in the moment, letting the amalgam of sensations caress her soul.
He sent flowers! How sweet, old-fashioned, and sexy.
She read the card at least thirty times, thinking that his hands actually touched the card; he wrote the card with his own pen. That meant that he didn’t just make a call; he went to the florist’s, in person, and wrote the card specifically for her. The little rectangle of card stock not only became her new, prized possession, but it also held the faint aroma of roses, and something else… something manly. Her light eyes grew wide and dreamy when she realized that the card smelled of not only flowers but somehow had a hint of his cologne, barely detectable.
Although she hadn’t noted it the night before, except that he smelled “good,” her primal, instinctive memory conjured up his unique scent and how it affected her. Those feelings rushed back, consuming her flesh and gripping her soul. This time, however, the lusty, magical feelings she’d felt were amplified. The scent was subtle, but its effect was to take her already molten libido and make it steam. Earthy, natural, watery, and so alluring, it wasn’t some store-bought or common cologne smell. It grabbed her heart, enshrouding it in feelings of love and safety. That wisp of cologne made her pussy drip, and her imagination conjured how he’d smell when he was nude and sweating from sexual exertion, on top of her as she screamed in ecstatic delight.
The demons of boundless lust clawed their way to the surface of her core, and Tori unthinkingly tugged her gray, simple sweatpants down to her ankles, grabbing one of the blooms. Her thighs spread instinctively as she lowered the rosebud to her overheating snatch. The soft, delicate petals touched her sensitive nub, and her clit jumped in erotic pleasure as the silky, smooth redness sent impassioned, horny shivers up and down her spine.
Leaning back in her chair, Victoria moaned, lost deep in a fantasy of sucking his cock and riding him until she was sated. The soft, romantic rose stimulated her clit, and she rubbed it over her swollen clit, her gestures becoming faster, more frenetic. Moaning, her blue eyes glazing over, she inhaled his manly, enticing scent, sighing, then quickly pulled her shirt over her braless breasts, her movements desperate and needy. She tugged on her tingling, hard nipples, then flicked the edge of the card over them, her moans increasing in volume and urgency.