Museum of Natural History

I was walking through the Senckenberg Museum of Natural History with the rest of the tour group from the Language Institute of Frankfurt when someone grabbed my arm and pulled me into one of the shadowy corners. I gasped and looked up to see who it was – it was him. Immediately our lips met and our mouths and hands hungrily began to explore one another's bodies, tasting and feeling what had for so long been imagined. I inhaled deeply his scent that had caused me instant arousal each time he would pass me in the hall of the Institute. I didn’t even know his name. After several minutes we were both gasping for air and longing to find somewhere we could fulfill the desires of our bodies with less likelihood of getting caught.

Without speaking I took his hand and lead him into a smaller gallery, which was designed to look like a series of caverns and found a space between two of the caves where we couldn't be seen. We kissed again, with no less intensity than the first time, and he slid his hand up under my sweater and bra and cupped my breast in his cool hand. My nipple hardened at his touch and when he began to knead it between his thumb and fingers I gasped. My skin erupted in chills at his touch. I reached my hand inside his pants, sliding my fingers over his smooth, hard cock, and mimicked his every squeeze and caress. I looked up at him with eyes filled with desire. His gaze reflected mine and he leaned down and left a searing trail along my neck with his tongue. With shaking fingers I unzipped his pants. He reached up my skirt and pulled aside my panties and, lifting me up against the wall, he entered me. I moaned softly and wrapped my legs around his hips. I threw my head back against the wall, eyes closed, reveling in the feel of him, in the moment, in the sublime instant gratification of it all. He thrust inside me and my hips moved in rhythm with his to pull him deeper. I buried my face into his neck as I came to muffle my quiet screams of pleasure. My orgasm triggered his and I felt him explode inside of me. He held me there, both of us shuddering, for a long moment before releasing me.

We quickly righted our clothing, yet to speak a word other than with our eyes. We walked out of the crevice and went to find the group. A brief glance and the squeeze and release of my hand and we were back with the tour group as if nothing had happened. I didn't know if it would happen again, or if we would ever even speak of it, but for some reason I liked it that way…

Find the audio version at: http://evaamoretales.tumblr.com/post/53308584244/museum-of-natural-history-find-the-original-text

Original Sin

I stand naked, legs wide, arms clasped behind my back in the middle of a room. It is more brightly lit than the last. Next to me is a small table upon which a broad wooden paddle and a long, leather strap lie. You are standing in front of me, watching, noting my downcast eyes and the way I nervously bite my lip. All you are wearing is a pair of dark pants, your body gleaming and lithe. You reach out and place your finger under my chin, turning my face towards you and lifting it so that my eyes are forced to meet yours. In them you see remorse for having displeased you, fear of the unknown punishment to come, and a hint of nervous excitement. You tell me that I am to look you in the eye throughout the entire punishment. Failure to do so will only increase your displeasure.

You reach for the wooden paddle, measure its heft and run your finger along the length enjoying the silky smooth feel of the wood. A tremor runs through me. It is the first time you have punished me for reasons other than pleasure and I don't know what to expect. Your swing is wide and deliberate, catching me squarely on the buttocks with an explosion of pain. I had not expected such force and tears immediately begin to spill from my eyes. The first blow is quickly followed by others -- catching me on one cheek and then the other; now catching both; some swinging upwards so hard that they nearly lift me off of my feet. It is all I can do not to stumble forward or to give in to the urge to drop my hands from behind my back in an attempt to shield myself. All the while my eyes cling to yours with the desperation that only one so desirous to please can show. You can see each shock of pain reverberating in my irises -- the glitter of my tears only intensifies it. Each blow opens me wider and wider to you. You continue this rain on my buttocks until they are red and raw and you hear sobs breaking through my closed lips.

You lay down your paddle. You breath is heavy and ragged, your skin is coated with a luminous sheen, but your eyes are still dark and dangerous. You are not satisfied. I have not yet made up for the time my silence wasted.

Next you pick up the leather strap -- doubling it to shorten its length. You stand before me and begin to spank my breasts, one and then the other. Your lashes are hard and deliberate, covering each inch of flesh, concentrating the hardest blows on my nipples, which by this point are standing out like beacons. Each slap of leather on skin elicits a moan from my partially opened mouth. It is both agony and ecstasy this combination of physical pain, emotional rending and your intoxicating nearness.

When my breasts are striped pink and white you unfurl the strap and move to my side. One hand squeezes my inflamed buttocks and your eyes are inches from mine. My eyes silently plead with you, but it only increases your resolve. You swing the strap and as it connects with my pubis a startled gasp escapes my lips. You strike again, the leather curling between my legs, conforming to my shape with a stinging wallop. You tell me that I am never to hide myself from you again. You continue to lash my pubic lips until the sound changes from the original crisp snap to a wet smack.

The intensity of being so near you, of trying so hard to please you, of giving myself to you so completely has brought me to that hallowed place where pain and pleasure are so mingled that they become one. You drop the strap and reach between my legs, feeling the silky moisture between your fingers, caressing my red, swollen lips -- a lesson well learned. Your eyes soften and all traces of anger disappear. Tears still stream down my cheeks.

Knowing that after such a hard lesson I would need comforting, you walk across the room and take a seat, motioning for me to follow. You pull me down so that I am curled up around you. My head is on your lap and my arms are draped about your hips. You smooth my hair back from my face and with your thumb wipe the last tears from my cheeks. I press my face close up against you and can feel how aroused you still are. I look up at you, asking with my eyes the question you had hoped for and in answer you reach down and unfasten your pants.

Still curled around you I take you into my mouth...less hungrily than the last time, but with no less desire. It is more about comfort than urgency. This time I go slowly, taking the time to explore you -- the physical beauty, the feel of your skin, your taste and smell -- these are all things that I will come to know and recognize as if they are a part of me, things I will treasure in my memory, things that will haunt me so beautifully...but for now we are both content to exist in this moment. You close your eyes and lean your head back against the wall, breathing slowly and evenly. Your hand absentmindedly strokes my face and hair.

A plethora of feelings engulf me -- surrender, relief, an improved understanding of what you want from me and just a trace of despair. Despair because I know that there will be moments when I fail you and already I know which of us will be less forgiving.

Find the audio version at: http://evaamoretales.tumblr.com/post/53557110438/original-sin-find-the-original-text-at

An Education Begins

Imagine a room – a bedroom – your bedroom – to be specific. The light is dim from candles placed in groups around the perimeter. Small, luminous pools spill from them. The resulting flicker of light and shadow caresses all that it touches. The walls are dark. The fabrics are supple and varied in texture. In the center of the room is a waist-high table upon which I kneel – knees wide, back arched, cheek on the table, arms reaching underneath my body, hands resting featherlike on my thighs, completely naked, hair tumbling off of the edge of the table, so that not even my face is hidden, my half closed eyes revealing tranquility, submission, anticipation and longing simultaneously.

You enter and I feel your presence as much as I hear your step causing a tremor to course through me, followed by a secret moistening, as always in your presence. You approach the center of the room and circle the table, touching me only with your eyes. It sends chills down my spine. You then begin to inspect and explore my body – trailing a finger down my spine, stroking the curve of my stomach with the back of a hand, lifting my breasts one after the other to feel their weight, grasping a nipple between thumb and forefinger, kneading it, pinching it, toying with it until it hardens under your touch, lightly slapping my breasts to see how they sway, noting the slight coloration, pinching my buttocks to test the resilience of my skin; all the while watching my face color, my eyes flutter closed at your glance and hearing the sighs and subtle gasps that are a result of your touch.

You instruct me to remove my arms from between my legs and place them above my head, hands clasping wrists. I comply. You step behind me, widening my legs, arching my back even more severely so that I am completely open to you, completely vulnerable. With one finger you trace my thigh and cup my pubis in your hand, squeezing gently. You remove your hand and open my lips, pinching them, tugging on them, feeling their smoothness and watching the wetness that is a result of your touch. You continue to explore me, pinching my clit, stroking me to see how I will respond, sliding your fingers inside to get a feel for my depth. Without meaning to I find myself moving against your hands.

You withdraw and walk around to the top of the table where you wrap your hand up in my hair and use it to maneuver me into a sitting position – back straight, hands clasped behind my back so that my breasts are forced out. You place a finger under my chin and tell me to look you in the eyes. I find it difficult and you begin to slap my breasts, one and then the other until I comply. You stare into me, which I find more disconcerting than your physical inspection because I know what you will see in my depths – longing, desire, fear and fascination.

You push my chin up higher, so that I am looking straight up and I see a hook above me, hanging from the ceiling. You tell me to grasp it and not let go. From your pocket you retrieve a device, a short leather handle with twenty or so medium length leather strips. You begin in the front, covering my thighs, stomach, pubis, and breasts with repeated lashes. It is an effective tool because it both stings and caresses as the leather forms to and wraps around my limbs and leaves me with a base coat of color – a warm pink sheen to my skin. I gasp and struggle a bit, which only increases your enjoyment. You continue this teasing lash around the back, covering my thighs, calves and buttocks. My skin burns warmly.

From a small drawer in the table you pull out a thin, flexible paddle and begin to spank me with long, hard strokes. The first tears seep out of my eyes and I struggle to avoid the impact, but I never let go of the hook. Part of me wants this so badly, needs it so much that I feel relief as much as I feel the pain. When I dare to look at you I see such an intoxicating glitter in your eyes that through the pain I begin to feel aroused. You stop the spanking suddenly and reach between my legs and are pleased with the moisture you find there. You pinch my lips together and give them a gentle pat.

Next you order me off of the table, onto my knees and then holding my hair like reins direct me over to the bed. You sit down and then pull me over your lap. Your left hand holds my wrists together, arms straight out in front of me. I can feel your cock pressing against my abdomen. And then you begin to spank me, hard and fast, with your bare hand. My struggles are futile. My buttocks and thighs are flaming red and crisscrossed with small, white welts from the paddle. Tears stream down my face but whether they are from the pain, the humiliation or the bone deep relief I cannot tell, but you know which and continue spanking me until I think I cannot take it anymore and beyond that point – the spanks coming sometimes hard and fast like rain and other times slow and deliberate.

You force me to my knees and stand before me, commanding me to remove your belt with my teeth. I comply, my reddened, tear streaked face eager to obey. I unbutton your pants as you remove your shirt and in an instant you are standing, gloriously naked, in front of me. I look away, not because I want to, but because you have not told me I could look at you. With your fingertips you turn my face up and towards you. I stare up at you in wonderment, inhaling the scent of you. It is like nothing I have ever experienced, something foreign, yet familiar, as if I have known that scent always without realizing it. You are beautiful and erect, with a drop of liquid just beginning to seep out. Without thinking, asking or being told my tongue darts out to capture it – I cannot resist. Your hand quickly moves to the back of my head and you plunge yourself into my mouth – knowing full well the distress, the potential pain this may cause my untrained throat. Tears stream down my face, but I do not resist. This is what I have been wanting. You release my head but motion for me to continue. I wrap my arms around your hips and continue to lick, suck and nibble on your cock as it grows ever harder in my mouth. My strokes become longer, harder, faster. I revel in the taste of you and as you explode in my mouth I cling to you as if I am anchored there by some force beyond my will. I gently lick every last drop off of you and bury my face into your warm flesh, but that will not suffice. You force me to look at you so that you can see the complete satisfaction and utter surrender in my eyes and so that I can see the unquenched desire in yours.

You lie on the bed and tell me to kneel over you and look up. I do so and see yet another hook hanging from the ceiling. This one hangs lower than the other. I grasp the hook and you wrap an arm around each of my thighs and pull me lower and lower until my pussy is directly in front of your face, my body stretched taut before you. From this position you see my pubis, the curve of my stomach and my breasts. You open my lips with your fingers and slowly run your tongue the length of me, swirling it up into me – your first taste. As you begin to lick and probe with your tongue your fingers find the welts on my buttocks and squeeze them, eliciting moans in response. Your mouth finds my ever hardening clit and nips at it with teeth and lips. Meanwhile one of your hands parts me even further so that you can reach into me, stroking me in time with your licks. I struggle against you at first, not knowing exactly what you want of me, but with your every touch I let go of my resistance more and more until I give in to you, to the pain of your fingers on my welts and to the pleasure of your tongue and lips. I begin to rock against you, the pleasure building to a point beyond which I have no control. My entire body stiffens as tiny shockwaves of pleasure begin to build one upon the other until they are so strong that a gush of liquid squirts out of me, onto your waiting face and open mouth. The moment my body starts to relax you kneel up before me, closing your mouth onto mine to absorb my cries as you impale me over and over until we collapse against one another, spent, your arms around me, hands entwined in my hair, my hands still grasping the hook above your bed.

I know that this is just the first of many encounters… a beginning … a test…an education and I am overwhelmed.

Find the audio version at: http://evaamoretales.tumblr.com/post/53616169570/education-begins-find-the-original-text-at