Introduction:
No one seems to be able to scratch the itch. Billions of minds are constantly creating and (mostly) consuming, always searching for that elusive, ineffable feeling. Countless stories contain the seeds of this sinful tree, from incest and adultery to drugs and bondage. Few are willing to admit it, but far fewer have not sought it out on occasion. It seems a part of the human psyche needs to descend into the depths.
It is as if we know that if we don't leave some scraps at that dark altar, the powers will eventually come and take them and more still. They will wrest control from us and drive us into erotic entanglements that would bring indescribable pleasure but then get us permanently cast out of pleasant company, if not society altogether.
Lancelot and Guenevere. Paris and Helen. The Minoan Queen, whose mad lust made the man-eating Monster in the Labyrinth. Something, something, something forbidden fruit. You all know the story; that's why you are reading these words. You need to feel the scorpion's sting.
For many, it's not so much erotic fantasy as erotic exorcism. We let the lust flow onto the page and send the beast back into the abyss. That's why I'm compelled to write. Because if I don't pour these stories out onto paper, I'll be pouring my essence into whichever container would condemn me to the deepest level of hell.
But what happens when the shadows are no longer satisfied with this arrangement? What happens when the deviant demands more? What happens when the black seed in the writer's mind decides it wants to stretch beyond the confines of the imagination?
Well, you get a story like this, and if all goes according to plan somewhere in the world, a sexy little seed will be planted in the mind of a specific reader...
Roma Vitrix:
James sat cross-legged on the couch and took in the erotic scene in front of him. Two voluptuous young women were writhing together in erotic bliss, locked in the throws of ecstasy. It was a sensuous ouroboros of dancing tongues, groping fingers, pulsing orifices, and hard raspberry-colored areolas. Toned golden skin gleamed in dancing candlelight.
The first femme fatale was his French Fiancé Marie. Her long, dark curly hair, soft white skin, and long, lithe body made her look every bit the Venus. But the dark aura around her was less innocent and more gypsyesque, from her smoky eye shadow to the black La Perla Garter Belt above her hips. There was something mysterious and inhuman about her, like an Eva Green character. She radiated the presence of a woman who knew exactly what she wanted and just how to get it.
Her twenty-five-year-old hourglass body was perfectly proportioned, and every part of her toned marble skin was engorged from the last two hours of passionate sucking and fucking.
Her usually bright pink pussy was as red as a poppy after countless orgasms, and judging by her half-open mouth and her quickening breathing, she was well on the way to another. Every one of the mini contractions of her edging caused a few drops of her man's cum to squeeze out of her fertile depths, mixed with her arousal.
But not a drop was wasted.
The second young woman in the bed saw to that. Greedily sucking on Marie's clit as her fingers rhythmically come hithered, skillfully dancing on the hardening patch of flesh at her fingertips, lay Marie's younger cousin, Naomi. She was a ridiculously horny teenager who, in the past year (and mainly under the corruptive influence of Marie), had gone from innocent virgin to the depths of sexual depravity in the way that only a deeply repressed Roman catholic schoolgirl can.
Barely six months ago, Naomi was still a shy, conflicted lamb in an all-girls dormitory a stone's throw from Saint Peter's Basilica. She had barely even looked at her own sex, let alone masturbated. But visiting her estranged family (and being reunited with her lascivious cousin) had changed all that. Now, her seemingly insatiable sexual appetite had been unleashed, and she seemed determined to make up for lost time.
Even as Naomi kneeled in her white stockings and pleasured her cousin, her pussy was practically screaming at her to give it attention. She wanted James to take her again even though he had only just finished inside her.
James leaned back and surveyed the scene in front of him. It was beyond erotic and into the realm of the dark divine. Marie's young lover lapped and kissed her sex with the focus and intention of a mother cat cleaning its newborn kitten. It was as if her universe stopped at the black silk garter belts that framed Marie's soft inner thighs. The two women seemed oblivious to everything except the velvet vibration enveloping them.
There is something very cat-like about both of them. James thought, watching Naomi's bottom wiggle as he popped a grape into his mouth. The two women looked more like sisters than cousins. There was something primal about them both. From the shape of their eyes to the shamelessness of their wanton sexual urges to the way they moved. They relentlessly pursued their animalistic passion, but every movement was graceful and done with intention. As he watched, James had a flash of certitude that this was precisely how Cleopatra must have carried herself in her countless carnal encounters in this city where all roads lead.
He smiled and slipped another overripe red grape past his pink lips. It tasted tart, like pussy. And it made him hungry. James slid his long acrobat's body from the sofa and approached the bed with its elaborately carved headboard. He felt his manhood stirring. He wrestled his eyes from the perfection before him to stare up at the ceiling of the old Auberge where they were spending the weekend. It was gaudily painted with gold and divine frescos of angels and cherubs. A bit much, but not in Rome. Besides, nothing is better than gold bathed in candlelight to set the mood.
Outside the window, he could see the Roman Forum and, beyond it, the blue lights of a police car flashing in front of the Carabinieri Station. He was stricken with a brief passing insight into the bizarre absurdity of modern man; most of the city's citizens (along with everyone in the nearby Papal State) would be appalled or want them arrested. Only a few thousand years earlier, in the exact same place, far more obscene sexual acts than incest were regularly occurring at Brothels and Bachanallian Orgies all over the city. For centuries if not millennia, no one was the least bit perturbed whether you were fucking someone half your age.
But the world had moved on, and the old gods were slumbering along with most of the citizens. "All the pope's prayers can't stop me," he muttered into his last grape before sucking it into his mouth and smashing it down between his teeth. His attention floated back down to the present, which lay before him in more ways than one. God I love Rome, he thought as he briefly wondered if he was dead or just dreaming before deciding it didn't matter one way or the other, and the remaining sperm in his balls pushed the philosophizing right out of his brain. All his attention was back on the living artwork creating itself before him.
Marie had seduced her younger cousin some months before, educating her about her own body and freeing her from the saintly straight jacket she unknowingly wore. Little did Marie know when she started that she was breaking the chains off a completely certifiable nymphomaniac. The girl had no limits. But Marie didn't mind her cousin's lapin-like libido. She was on her back in the center of the king-sized bed with her elbows propped underneath her and her legs spread like a woman intent on pleasure. Her large natural breasts decadently pooled out to the sides of her chest, swinging ever so slightly with her deep breaths.
Her fingers were clenching Naomi's golden brown shoulder-length hair and directing her to the right places. But her eyes were locked on James. She smirked as she saw him rise from the sofa, stare around himself in a lustful daze, and then giggled as she watched his hardening cock bobbing up and down with desire. It pulsed to the beat of his heart; his tanned, muscled belly and navel were bathed in bronze flame as his eyes settled on her and Naomi. She could see their hunger. Her body quivered involuntarily like you do when a predator stares at you for too long.
Marie's usually dark hazel eyes were almost entirely black with lust. The approaching orgasm felt different this time. More powerful. She felt something primal growing inside her as Naomi's fingers continued their dance. She let her head roll back and surrendered to the determined ministrations of her eager young student. She's quickly becoming fluent in the world's only truly universal language. Marie thought, smirking devilishly as she gyrated her hips, keeping her cousin's tireless tongue exactly where it needed to be.
From his view, standing at the edge of the bed, James saw Marie luxuriating on the threshold of orgasm while the perfect bubble butt of Naomi was wiggling ever so invitingly. Her skin was darker, and her breasts and body were smaller than Marie's, but this only gave the pair a more striking contrast. The flame of the candle behind Naomi caused his sperm to shimmer as it leaked down Naomi's inner thighs like hot wax down the side of a candle. Her pussy was so wet it had begun to soak the tops of her stockings.
James had done his very best not to cum inside his partner's teenage cousin (for obvious reasons), but she had done an even better job of getting him to do just that. Less than an hour before, he had been overwhelmed by his orgasm while inside her, but as he attempted to pull out, she had wrapped her legs around him tight and pulled him in deeper, all the while smirking mischievously over his shoulder at her older cousin, who was watching her young protege with evident pride. Thankfully, Marie had forced Naomi onto the pill months ago, so James was free to use her young body as nature intended without too much risk.
I still need to get her back for that. James thought as he kneeled on the soft bed behind the women and placed his hands on Naomi's hips. He slowly pushed her round cheeks forward and, in doing so, fully exposed her ass and split her bright pink intumesced sex. He could feel the heat radiating from the center of her labia and almost felt weak in his knees as he watched a fresh bead of his ejaculate ooze from her warm depths. It slowly snaked downward towards her erect jewel of a clitoris, beaded for an instant at its base, and dripped down towards the sheets like a bead of honey on the end of a spoon.
There was something incredibly lewd about it. Like a drooling dog. Pure desire, free from even the shadow of the concept of shame. Before the cum could fall from her sex, James caught it with a sweep of his hand and used his fingertips to spread the natural lubricant around her arousal and back into the lips of her labia in slow circles. Naomi moaned and pushed toward his hand, lustfully searching for him, elated to have him return to their coupling. Her pussy practically pulsed with anticipation.
His now stiff erection was pleading with him to be buried to the hilt in the young woman's depths. Still, he took things slow, remembering that despite her wanton behavior and the fact that her sexual instincts would make some whores blush, she was still relatively young and new to this. Feeling him behind her and growing impatient, Naomi removed her lips from Marie's sex and turned her head to gaze longingly at the rippling abs over her shoulder and the one-eyed monster beneath them. He had taken her virginity but given her far more in return over the past months.
