The Erotic Writer

Four writers for the price of one blog

Behind You

I love your face, and the way you open to be when I climb between your legs, welcoming and loving. I love the ways your eyes close as I enter you, and the smile on your face, reflecting mine as we press against each other. I love leaning in to kiss you, taste you as I fill you, and l love looking into your eyes as I lose control.

But.

When you climb on the bed, or kneel on the floor, or bend over the chair. And you put your hands down, and look back at me over your shoulder, or lower your head to the ground… I think I go a little bit insane.

It is primal, something that predates love, all consuming. The curve of your ass, the parting of your thighs, the glisten of desire between your legs. I am at once completely helpless to it, and, as soon as I touch you, completely in control. For once I do touch you – once my hand has found your hip – nothing will stop me. One touch and all is inevitable, and we both know it, because I hear you moan and feel you shiver as both my hands take their places. All I can do at this point is growl anyway, as I revert, letting something older take my bones. I don’t need to see to find you, make our connection, enter your grip, sink into your heat.

It is stereotypical to feel, to revel, to wallow in the power of it, holding you as I push myself into you. I don’t care. I exult. From where I kneel, or stand behind you I see the beauty I feel under my hands and around my cock. The muscles of your back flex as I exhale onto you. The flesh of your ass ripples as I slap into you. I know my eyes are dilated, locked on you. You have captured me, but it is you who cannot escape. I won’t let you, now. I can’t.

I let one or both of my hands wander, marking the contours of your spine, your ribs, the small of your back. Pressing into your shoulder blades as we come together and apart. I can grip your neck with one or both hands, and I do. I can wind my fingers in your hair and turn you to look back at me, or pull your head back and make you arch so I can thrust more deeply. I do all these things and love them each for their distinct sounds and sensations. I reach my hands around, cup your breasts, find your hard nipples and pinch them, make you squirm under and around me.  I lower to you, curling a hand down to your belly, to your cunt, just above where we connect. If I want, my finger finds your clit and teases, or attacks as I cover you with my body, feeling everything I am doing through your reactions. I pinch, and you squeeze me inside. I exhale hot on your neck and you moan.

If I want, I make you come, holding you locked to me as I feel you flood around me, fucking harder into you against your squeezing contractions. If I want. But then, I want that a lot. You can play at trying to get away, to pull from my grasp, but I won’t have any of it. Perhaps I will simply yank you back, reassert my claim on your hips. Perhaps I will sting you with a slap to the ass or thigh, a not so gentle reminder. For once you are done, if I want, you are all mine. I will pull you to me, or rise up above you.  When I can’t see your face, I become louder, announcing myself, my intentions to you. I want to take you, and I will. The slap of our skin, wet with sweat and more, matches my grunts. I can try speaking telling you how you feel to me, what you make me want to do, but nothing coherent comes out. Besides, you know. You know very well.

And then there comes that point, that moment, inevitable since I first touched you. I slow, warring in myself, wanting to take the last step, and wanting to stay here on the edge forever. I torture myself with you, and you goad me with your body, your muscles, your voice. Words like control and power cease to have meaning. I telescope the instant into an eternity of almost. And then I fall into you. For all the forever I need.

And after, I collapse on top of you spent. Pressing you down for a moment or a minute, before curling around you, and pulling your head back for a kiss as sweet as all that has gone before.

About Monocle

I am the little devil on your shoulder, stroking your neck with my tail, whispering obscenities into your ear, and looking down your blouse. One third of The Erotic Writer blog.

14 comments on “Behind You

  1. moils
    January 11, 2010

    Love, sometimes its just simple raw need… as you said primal.

    moils

  2. cherry
    January 11, 2010

    +1 moils

  3. Deliriumtree
    January 11, 2010

    All the blood left my brain on that one. Panting, all I can come up with is… that was awesome!

    • Monocle
      January 11, 2010

      Thanks! I know exactly where all my blood goes at times like that.

  4. Anonymous
    January 11, 2010

    Beautiful and so very true!

  5. nilla
    January 12, 2010

    Yah…raaaawww…primal…gorgeously written. mmmmmmmmm nommy. The part “words like control and power cease to have meaning”…bravo! Both succumb.
    Both succeed.
    Bravo!

    nilla

  6. Anonymous
    January 12, 2010

    I loved this, it conveys such raw emotion while still being tender.

  7. ALA
    January 12, 2010

    If my hubby talked to me like that… wow….
    *fans face*
    Wow.

  8. Ange
    January 13, 2010

    “I telescope the instant into an eternity of almost.” beautiful.
    this was amazing.

  9. max
    January 29, 2010

    nice, very nice.

  10. RT
    March 14, 2010

    Thank you for being able to exactly describe, with such perfect eloquence, the contents of my mind. Speechless and humbled, with tears of joy in my eyes. Please keep sharing your talent with all of us. It is so important to discover that one is not alone. Thank you.

  11. dani
    December 18, 2010

    {{whimper}}

  12. pL
    September 9, 2012

    Ok I found it, I swear I looked for this page before. I’m glad the first story I clicked on was this one. A scenario I’ve often thought about writing, but now there’s no need. :-) The detail is awesome, and probably what every woman hopes her man is thinking when he is behind her. I love reading about this from a male POV. Who said pictures are more arousing than words? Not me.

  13. tina
    November 7, 2012

    “I telescope the instant into an eternity of almost. And then I fall into you. For all the forever I need.”
    So much lust and aggression, and then that single sublime moment. Beautiful.

Share your thoughts.

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

Information

This entry was posted on January 11, 2010 by in Consensual, Erotica, Flash, Monocle, Romance and tagged , , , , .

Books & E-Books









69

Erotic Anthology

Arm in Arm in Arm

Search by Category

January 2010
M T W T F S S
« Dec   Feb »
 123
45678910
11121314151617
18192021222324
25262728293031

Crimsonian & Obsidian Lens

The Obsidian Lens and Crimsonian contain links to password-protected stories from the Erotic Writers with darker themes. For more information on Obsidian Lens, click here. Email William Crimson directly for admission to the Crimsonian.

Adult Content

This blog contains adult material. If you are a minor, please go. If you are an adult, you are welcome to stay but be warned, this blog contains erotic fiction and images - sexually explicit content abounds. The themes sometimes tend toward the darker and weirder corners. Be your own judge when deciding what to read.

The rights to all stories by William Crimson are reserved by William Crimson. The rights to all stories by Monocle are reserved by Monocle. The rights to all stories by Ximena are reserved by Ximena.

%d bloggers like this: