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.

You Can't Fake the Moisture This morning, sunlight spilled through the kitchen window as he wrapped his arms around me, spinning me gently like a slow dance. His blue eyes met my sleepy green ones, and he smiled with quiet satisfaction. "You can't make up the moist," he whispered, lips brushing my ear. "Must mean I'm doing a good job…" I laughed softly, leaning into his warmth. The kiss he gave me was featherlight, lingering just long enough to remind me of last night—of how close we were, how wild. The living room TV hummed in the background, looping TikToks under his daughter's command, but we were in that kitchen, and we were in our own world. My body still hummed with the memory of his touch, the way our fantasies spilled into whispered confessions and tangled limbs. Moonlight had painted our silhouettes on the wall as we moved together—his hands gripping my hips, my legs wrapped around him, pulling him deeper. We kissed like we were starving. I ...

The shop smelled of Nag Champa—her favorite incense. The moment she stepped inside, the familiar scent wrapped around her like a soft shawl, instantly soothing the ache she hadn't realized she was still carrying. It had only been a few weeks since the breakup, but the memory was still sharp. She'd planned a surprise—fresh sheets, a new down comforter, a quiet gesture of love. No occasion, just a moment to make him feel cherished. She hadn't seen any cars in the driveway and assumed he was at work. There was no need to circle around back; the front was clear. She let herself in, the house silent, just as she expected. But upstairs, behind the bedroom door, everything changed. She didn't scream. Didn't cry. Just stood there, frozen, as the scene unfolded—her boyfriend tangled in bed with his best friend's wife. The sheets and comforter slipped from her hands, forgotten. She turned and walked out, her heart hollowed by betrayal. Since then, she'd returned only ...

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...

🌙 Before Dawn, I Craved Him It's 5:24 a.m. I've been awake since before midnight. My mind wandered through many places this morning, but one memory kept pulling me back: time spent with R this past weekend. I crave his touch. Think of butter melting softly across warm toast. It's not about Sex—not immediately. It's about his hands. The way they move, intuitively knowing where to linger, tease, or press. His touch brings me back into my body, out of my head. And when I'm out of my head, the orgasms arrive—full-bodied, electric. He lifts the bedcovers and beckons me in. I slide into the nook he's made with his body, fitting perfectly into his torso. My lace-covered bum grazes his bush as I settle in. He groans. "I've been waiting all week for this," he whispers, pulling me closer. I tuck myself into him, breath slowing until it becomes one—his and mine. His body heat is a balm. I soften. He senses it. His hands roam, and I respond with breath and mo...

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...