NSFW. Erotic Fiction Sexual Themes

Flor sat for as long as it took for the sobbing to stop, which was as long as it took for the memories to die down. She thought about her hand print on The Captain’s ass, how servile this strong man became at her command. He did lick up his semen from the sheet. She looked across the room and saw Barrows embracing The Captain, The Captain’s head resting on Barrow’s chest, just as her head, rested on the Captain’s chest that afternoon. That afternoon? How could it have been so recent?

Beryl reached for Flor’s hand, looked into her eyes and saw the strain from the drama just acted. “Catharsis. Greek. Aristotle,” Beryl thought in single words. She knew Flor’s exertions had rendered her open, vulnerable. Now was not the time to use her. She stood up without releasing Flor’s hand and Flor rose too. Beryl led Flor to her bedroom, to her bed, a Shaker style bed with a Hudson Bay point blanket covering the soft flannel sheets. She motioned Flor to lie down and then followed suit. Flor noticed Beryl sent a text to someone before she turned off the light and cuddled with her.

Flor welcomed Beryl’s warmth, her body pressed against her body, Beryl’s arm holding Flor close. Flor remembered no dreams from that night, just that the scene with The Captain and Barrows and her replayed again and again. Flor, in her recollection, focused on her thrusting up The Captain’s asshole, his cries of pleasure when he brought Barrows off, then when he shot his own load.

Top. Bottom. Switch. Power. Pleasure. Ecstasy. Satiety. When her appetite returned, what would she order from the menu? Or maybe, who would order for her?

She noticed Beryl’s absence, heard a shower running, and walked toward the sound. There was Beryl in the shower.

“Want some company?”

“Get in.”

They showered together as if they had been lovers long used to the other’s body.

“Get on your knees. I’ll wash your hair,” Beryl ordered. Beryl began washing Flor’s hair as Flor’s focused shifted to Beryl’s belly, more muscular than round, and her sex, still covered with hair, though neatly trimmed.

When they had finished and dried off, they walked back to the bedroom. There on the bed, were clothes in Flor’s size, jeans, a cotton sweater, wool socks, deck shoes. No bra, no panties. Hmmm commando. OK.

“I’m springing you. I have some errands to run and I want a breakfast that would make a lumberjack’s meal look like that of a Chanel model’s. You’re coming with me. Cap says OK.”

Off they went in Beryl’s pick up.