Erotica by Shannon

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 ...

They went to Target for his pants. Passing a mannequin, she caught his subtle eyebrow lift at the pink thong on display. She paused—XS. He helped, his touch laced with an impatient eagerness only she could read. At checkout, as the clerk bagged his pants and her pink thong, I blushed. Naughty visions of their night ahead flickered through my mind. He met her gaze, a silent confirmation.  And, a slight shift in his stance said it all before they walked out.

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...

He Glazed Me with His Honey: A Raw Tale of Desire and Surrender The night wrapped around me like velvet—cool, fragrant, and full of promise. After tending to my bodywork clients, I slipped behind the wheel, the hum of the engine a low purr beneath Sade's sultry voice. Her music constantly stirred memories of R—of the way our bodies had tangled in the car just the night before, limbs entwined, breath fogging the windows, the taste of him still lingering on my lips. As I turned onto his gravel driveway, the scent of earth and woodsmoke greeted me like an old lover. I paused, letting the crisp air kiss my skin, my gaze drifting upward into the ink-blue sky. The stars blinked knowingly, as if they too had witnessed our secret rendezvous. I exhaled the day, my body softening in anticipation. Inside, the house radiated warmth—garlic and cedar mingling in the air, the wood stove casting golden shadows across the walls. R had built this sanctuary with his hands, his heart, and his quiet de...

🌙 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...

🌱 May you leave with a seed planted. The news of Rosalynn Carter's passing stirred something in me. She was a woman who stood beside her husband not just in title, but in truth. "Rosalynn was my equal partner in everything I ever accomplished," Jimmy Carter said. "She gave me wise guidance and encouragement when I needed it. As long as Rosalynn was in the world, I always knew somebody loved and supported me." That kind of love—the kind that steadies you, that sees you, that stays—is rare.  And it made me think of R. About a month ago, I stepped out on faith and told R I loved him.  I didn't expect him to say it back. I know how he moves through the world—his love is quiet, steady, shown in what he does more than what he says. I get that. Still, even with that understanding, my fears and doubts crept in -- I'd just exposed a part of me that's a bit shy, insecure, and vulnerable.   They whispered stories I didn't ask to hear. My mind took me on a ...