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Desdmona's Erotic Story Contests
2004 1K Bedtime Flash Contest
Honorable Mention

Whispering Silk (A Story in Bed)

“Where have you been? I was worried.”

“With a man.”

The single satin bed sheet was draped over her upturned hip. “It’s too hot to sleep. Get in, and tell me everything.” She was perfection personified, a Goddess wrapped in gold.

I slipped off my dress and fell naked into her arms. Despite the heat, my nipples hardened. The fan brushed our hair, cooled our flesh.

“Was he good?” she whispered against my ear, stroking my breast.

“Yes. I know him from somewhere. We connected so fast. Maybe a past life.” A subtle familiarity swathed my aching soul.

“Fate has a way of reuniting the lost.”

“He’s married though.”

“Did he tell you?”

“He didn’t have to,” I said. “It’d been awhile for him. I could tell.”

“Then it was meant to be.”

This comforted me from an inrushing of guilt. Forbidden fruit, the sweetest, in a Garden of Temptation. “I kissed him first,” I told her. “He was surprised.”

“Show me,” she said.

I did, fluttering my tongue under her lip. Hers was softer. But no less perfect. “He was scared. He pushed me away.”

“And then?”

“Then he took my hand. He wanted me to touch him.” I paused, drinking in her sigh. My finger trailed to her parted thighs. “He touched me, too.” I mimicked his fever, best I could.

“Yes, that’s nice,” she said, like whispering silk. “Don’t stop.”

My lips were again on hers. “There was no going back,” I said, peering into her wanton gaze. “We needed each other, if only that once. His eyes were wild.” The memory caused me to tremble. “He went down on me, so fast.”

She shifted to her back, pulling away the sheet. I slid down, spreading her flesh with my thumbs, taking her clit in my mouth, sucking it as he had done, gently, appreciatively. She moaned as I had done- a sensual plea for more.

“Did you come?”

“No. I wanted to wait.” My pulse beat wildly to the rapture of the moment. This and one lost encounter that teased my memory, the one that had long turned to dust.

“Was he big?”

Her scent permeated my nose and tongue. “Very.” We had our toys. I already knew which one I’d find.

While I rummaged through the drawer she asked, “Did he talk dirty?”

“He asked me if I liked big cock.”

She laughed, like rumpled velvet. Her porcelain face glowed. A flush of expectancy had tinted her cheeks. I strapped the toy around my groin and jerked the deathless hard-on, rhythmically, in my hand. “He said he was going to fuck me.” I clasped the base, shuffling between her legs, flipping the cool tip into her wet heat. “He didn’t play. He was too anxious.” I thrust it, a hard plunge.

“Oh, God,” she cried, arching slightly to swallow the girth.

My mind swam to sensation being inflicted, just as it had for me hours earlier. I clawed her breasts roughly, pinching both erect nipples. She smiled. I didn’t because he hadn’t. I curled my lip, the pain of ecstasy. “Lift up,” I said, patting her hips. When she did I interlocked my fingers behind my head, pummeling with short vicious strokes.

“He’s good,” she said through heavy breath.

The memory of him dimmed; her slim body stretched like a lithe cat, its purr raucous. Worthy of a Pharaoh’s eternal worship. She soothed my senses, dispelled the tender pain in my heart. I half listened to the untold wonder of Ancient acts.

The toy was slick. I watched it sink in, withdraw as we gyrated together. I inhaled the fragrance of sex. “Your pussy is so tight,” I said, echoing what was past. I folded forward, embraced her shoulders, mouth on her ear. Consumed with softness and the deafening silence of saturated lust, I whispered, “Come, baby. I need you to come.”

She hugged my neck, muscles tightening. Our breasts squashed together, rocking with fervor. “And did you?” she asked. “Did you?” Her thighs shivered before I could answer.

“I did.” I treasured the light ripple that flowed over her feline form.

“What did he do?” Her voice drifted.

“Sit up, and I’ll show you.”

She bunched her hair over one fair shoulder, parting her lips. She knew. I pushed the toy into her mouth. One hand massaged my buttock, the other fingered me. Ensuing bliss weakened me. I cupped her jaw, pulling back, curling against her body. The moment lingered in drenched silence.

“Did you swallow?” she asked with a shallow grin.


The fan cooled our moist flesh. I wrapped us in the sheet. No puff of air could come between us. I listened to her heart slow, holding her hand.

“Are you in love with him?”

“A little.” I had answered without considering the staid confusion of doubt. To protect my fragile emotions I added, “I loved him more a long time ago, in a place I cannot remember.” A distant place. Before the blue waters had drowned Atlantis. Before the sands had made the Sphinx an island. Before Caesar’s armies marched victorious.

“Not all bedtime stories have a happy ending.”

“True,” I said, falling towards a dream that might take me back, remind me of obscure beginnings, where even a Goddess might find inspiration. “But this one hasn’t ended. Not yet.”

And in the distance I heard silk whisper. “Then it was meant to be.”

Canadian winters are long, cold and unforgiving. To ease the pain I leave the harsh reality by stepping into fantasy. I write regularily for a local magazine, fictionalizing folklore into short stories. Paranormal Romance is my first love, erotica my second, noting the step between the two is actually quite short. My prose has been refered to as Gothic, which I accepted as a compliment. Having studied English Literature, History, and the darker sides of Psychology, I make every attempt to braid the three together. So I no longer dread the impenetrable bleak nights. Nor do I mind the vein-streaked eyes that peer over my shoulder as I write.

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To: crystal jade

Desdmona's Erotic Story Contests
2004 1K Bedtime Flash Contest
Honorable Mention