Long Time Coming

It was my first time on site overseeing a development. I'd been sent to keep an eye on things, to make sure everything went to plan, but instead I’d watched you every day for weeks.Watched a single bead of sweat trickle down your throat, imagining what it would be like to catch it with my tongue, to taste the salt of your skin, to feel the throb of your pulse in my mouth. I’d stared at your hands for what seemed like hours, imagining how your fingers would feel inside me. Each day I’d watched as your five o’clock shadow emerged, longing for its scrape against my thigh. I’d inhaled the scent of you with every passing breeze. It had only served to feed my hunger, to keep my desire at a slow burn.

And then it finally happened. 

We were walking back from a late night meeting, passing a flask of whiskey between us, when you stopped suddenly in the middle of the path. We were outside a half-finished building, the midway point of our nightly journey. You looked at me, touched my face, and headed up the walk. When you reached the door you turned and smiled your invitation. I followed.

I stepped across the threshold and saw that you’d already shed you shirt. I dropped mine next to it and followed the trail of your clothes. I found you naked in a roofless room, bathed in a ray of moonlight. I stepped into the shaft of light, so close that my nipples brushed against your chest. They hardened instantly and I felt the familiar rush of moisture that had come to be so synonymous with the sight of you.

My arms slid up and around your neck. In one fluid movement, you picked me up and crossed the room. My legs were wrapped around your waist, my back against the freshly hung sheet rock. You pinned me against the wall with your hips, cupping my breasts with your hands, bringing them to your mouth. Your thumbs, calloused from work, stroked my nipples, rasping against them, sending shock waves across my belly and down to my clit. You took my nipple between your teeth and bit down. I bit my lip. As you licked and sucked, I could feel you cock begin to grow hard against me. My hips shifted, leaving you no doubt as to what I wanted. The tip of your cock nudged against my lips.

You looked up from my breasts, and seeing the wanting in my eyes, wrapped your arms around my hips, walked to the center of the room, and laid me down on the painter’s tarp. My skin was streaked with moonlight and you cast a shadow across my chest as you knelt between my legs.

You trailed you fingertips down my belly and back up, slowly tracing a line between my breasts, ending with your hand wrapped lightly around my throat. Testing the waters. I placed my hand gently on your arm, slid it up and over your wrist, until my it was on top of yours, increasing the pressure. I looked at you through half closed eyes filled with desire and took a slow, shaky breath.

Your free hand found its way between my legs, parted my lips and delved briefly into my wetness. You lifted your fingers to your mouth, tasting me, your eyes blazed. You kissed me, hard and fast. You tasted of whiskey and pussy. Your fingers plunged into me. My hips rose to meet them. I so wanted to be filled. You ravaged my mouth with yours, one hand still gripping my throat, while your fingers fucked me mercilessly. I bucked against your hand, grinding your palm into my clit. My orgasm built and built, until it burst forth from me in a streaming gush of wet. You let go of my neck, knelt down and licked up every last drop.

I looked down the slope of my body and straight into your eyes. They were ravenous. 
You flipped me over, pressing me down onto my stomach, and with your weight anchoring me, slipped your cock inside me. The fit was so tight. You slid in and out, coating your cock in my juices. Opening me. Filling me. With one, swift thrust you were buried to the hilt, every inch inside, a perfect fit.

You lifted my ass into the air, my chest still pressed against the tarp, and began to fuck me in earnest. You held nothing back. Your cock pounded into me so deeply that I thought I might split in half. Your hips bounced off my ass. Your balls slapped against my lips. I cried out, over and over again, you felt so fucking good. I was so close. We were both so close. You slipped the tip of your thumb into my ass, making my pussy even tighter, causing me to grip you even harder. My orgasm crashed around me, blurring the edges of my vision. My pussy clamping down on your cock, stroking it, milking it until you came deep inside of me.

We lay there afterwards, panting, a tangle of trembling limbs in the moonlight.

Find the audio version at: http://evaamoretales.tumblr.com/post/53803301069/a-long-time-coming-find-the-original-text-at

The Price of Pride

I could feel their eyes on me like hands. The whisper of a stare stroking up my thigh. The delicate flick of a glance across my nipples. The room hummed with whispers as they watched me, drank me in, and waited to see what would come next.

It was my own fault. I knew that. I'd misbehaved all day and so he'd brought me here and tied me to a beam a the end of the bar, next to which he sat, quietly, sipping a twelve year scotch, and studiously ignoring me. Next to him, on the bar, was an old fashioned wooden ruler and a long leather flogger.

I whimpered, trying to get his attention. I knew better than to speak. He looked up and gently traced a finger from my breasts to belly, stopping to briefly caress the latter, before slapping me sharply on my right cheek.

He drained his drink, stood up, and untied me. In a calm, measured voice he asked me to face the bar, bend forward, grasp the far side, and spread my legs. I was to be on tiptoe at all times, so that my ass was properly on display.

He leaned in close and whispered in my ear, "Before we begin, I want you to know that I'm doing this because you need it. And because I need it."

And so it began.

The first crack of the ruler left a red stripe on my ass. I pressed my lips tightly together to hold in a gasp. The atmosphere in the bar went from idle curiosity, to lightening charged excitement. You could hear the murmurs of the crowd as they closed in for a better view.

Now that he had their attention, and mine, he began to rain blows down upon my ass mercilessly. I rocked forward against the bar, grasping the edge until my knuckles whitened. I was determined to stay silent, stoic, not to cry out as the ruler struck me over and over again. Even now it was a battle of wills. Having too much pride was what got me into this predicament in the first place, and yet I still couldn't let it go.

My ass glowed red as he traded the ruler out for the flogger. His attention now on my shoulders and back. At times, a flogger can feel like a dozen soft hands caressing you, but not tonight. Tonight he danced the strands across my skin like a swarm of bees. There was fury in his pace as he covered my body with stripes and welts, but I held on. So stubborn. So much pride.

He finally dropped the flogger and resumed his work with my very favorite instrument -- his hand. The force of his blows nearly lifted me off of my feet. The connection between us a live wire. Bruises had begun to blossom in that lovely place where ass meets thigh.  His pace increased. I couldn't even begin to process the pain from one blow, before the next overtook me.

I looked up and saw the crowd, the mix of joy, horror, envy, and arousal on their faces. I knew what I must look like. Eyes wild. Skin glowing. A sheen of perspiration beginning to pool in the dip of my lower back. To see myself reflected, so vulnerable, so on display, it was almost too much. Tears stung behind my eyes. And finally, finally, I let go.

His palm landed against my skin and I cried out, breaking my silence. He looked at me in the mirror and one by one, my tears began to spill. He rested his hand on my burning skin and watched. The moment seemed unending.

"Good girl." he whispered and I was lost.

Hear the audio at: http://evaamoretales.tumblr.com/post/52662952792/the-original-story-can-be-found-at