Erotica by Shannon

There's something delicious about anticipation—how it coils low in the belly, how it lingers in the fingertips when you pack your overnight bag with toys meant for pleasure. All week, I'd been aching to share the ways I'd been touching myself, craving the moment I could show R. exactly what I'd discovered. Tonight, I wouldn't just tell him. I'd let him watch.

💋 Ever Wonder About a Sex Club?   She had never meant to wander into that part of town. The rain had started as a whisper, then grew bold, soaking through her silk blouse as she darted beneath the awning of a building with no name—just a crimson light glowing above the door like a heartbeat. Her breath caught. Something about it felt... alive. Inside, the air was velvet. Low music pulsed like a secret, and laughter curled through the room like smoke. She wasn't supposed to be here. Not her. Not the woman who paid her taxes early and always said “no” to whipped cream. But tonight, something had shifted. A man leaned against the bar, his gaze slow and deliberate. He didn’t smile. He didn’t need to. His presence was a promise. And when he finally spoke, his voice was whiskey and midnight. “You’re new.” She nodded, unsure whether her pulse was racing from fear or fascination. “I didn’t plan to come in.” “No one ever does,” he said, offering her a drink she didn’t recognize. “B...

Those Blue Eyes Say So Much:   Sensual Nights ,  Lingering Glances, and the Language of Lust He got into my car, and the moment he did, the air shifted—charged with memory and anticipation. I turned to look at him. His eyes, a deep and mesmerizing blue, met mine with a quiet intensity. I knew that shade. I knew what it meant. Satisfaction. It was written in the way his gaze lingered, in the subtle curve of his lips. Two nights earlier, we had surrendered to each other in the hush of the car's embrace. The memory of that night—our bodies entwined, our breath mingling—still pulsed through me. When we parted, I watched his taillights disappear into the night, my heart whole, my body humming with the echo of his touch. I fell asleep with a smile, the warmth of him still wrapped around me. Now, his gaze pierced through me again, and without a word, he knew. He knew I felt it too. He grinned. I blushed, lowering my eyes, trying to hide the obvious—though failing beautifully. "Did yo...

Saturday Seduction   She fit against me like a secret I'd been waiting to tell. The rain outside blurred the world, but in this moment, everything was sharp—her scent, her warmth, the way her breath hitched when I pulled her closer. She’s here. She wants this. Just like I do. I whispered, “Let’s go up to my nest,” and felt her body respond before her lips did. That little shift in her weight, the way her fingers lingered on my arm—it was all the answer I needed. As we slipped beneath the covers, I wrapped myself around her, my face buried in the curve of her neck. God, she smells like rain and something sweeter. I could stay here forever. Her body molded into mine, and I felt the slow thrum of desire building between us. I pressed against her, not to rush, but to remind her: I’m here. I feel you. I want you. She turned onto her stomach, and I reached for the oil, watching her with a hunger I didn’t need to name. She knows. She always knows. I stroked myself slowly, delibera...

🔥Stress Less, Love More: Keeping Intimacy Alive After 50 Let's be honest—life after 50 can be rich, layered, and deeply satisfying. But it can also be noisy. Between career transitions, caregiving, health shifts, and the quiet hum of long-term partnership, Stress has a way of sneaking into the bedroom and dimming the glow. And yet… the desire for connection doesn't fade. If anything, it deepens. For couples who've weathered decades together, intimacy becomes less about novelty and more about nuance. It's the slow burn, the knowing glance, the shared history that makes touch feel electric. But Stress? It's the thief of that electricity. So how do we reclaim it? 1. Stress Is a Libido Killer—But You Can Outsmart It Stress doesn't just live in your mind; it settles in your body. It tightens muscles, shortens breath, and hijacks hormones. And when cortisol is running the show, desire often takes a back seat. But here's the good news: you've got tools. Breath...

The Orgasm You Have When You’re Alone—But Aren’t A few days ago, I experienced something rare. R brought me to an orgasm I’ve only ever known in solitude. The kind that arrives when I’m alone, unobserved, and completely unguarded. But this time, I wasn’t alone—and that changed everything. We walked across his land, the sun casting long shadows over the Bluestem. He moved the heavy fence to the middle pasture and waited for me. When his hand slipped into mine, it carried the energy of a slow Sunday morning—unhurried, present, and full of possibility. He glanced at me with a flicker of mischief in his deep blue eyes and murmured, “Gun shack?” My body responded before my mind could catch up. I traced the inside of his palm with my fingers, letting him feel where I already was. He tightened his grip slightly, his restraint palpable, and picked up the pace toward his tin-roofed retreat. Inside, the world fell away. R stripped quickly, shedding his smooth exterior. I undressed slowly, teasin...

Charcoal Rain The rain poured steadily, blurring the world beyond my windshield. With traffic stalled and nowhere to go, my thoughts slipped into a memory—one shaped by thunder, charcoal, and the heat of a shared moment. The hum of idling engines faded as my mind wandered. I was no longer in my car—I was back beneath the tree, rain cascading like a curtain around us. He traced charcoal across my skin, each stroke a silent vow. The storm watched as we surrendered to something primal, something sacred. I clung to the rough bark, my breath shallow, my body painted in streaks of ash and longing. He pressed close, his warmth anchoring me against the storm. His hands explored with reverence and hunger, and though the mosquitoes swarmed, I barely noticed. I was too consumed by the way he looked at me—like I was the only thing that mattered. His voice was low, gravelly, threading through the rain like a secret meant only for me. I whispered back, my words trembling with desire and anticipation...