Showing results by narrator "Christina May" in All Categories

About the series: "I want to tell you the story of my life. Or at least a part of my life. A part of my life which is all me, but which is hidden. My sex life. That is what I was made for. It is what I do best" The world is full of men, and the first-person narrator in this series is a female Don Juan, who simply cannot say no. Eva loves her husband and her kids, but to her, they are not enough. Her life ceases to have meaning without the exciting feeling of a new adventure, so when the opportunity arises for an erotic experience, she takes it.

About the series: "I want to tell you the story of my life. Or at least a part of my life. A part of my life which is all me, but which is hidden. My sex life. That is what I was made for. It is what I do best" The world is full of men, and the first-person narrator in this series is a female Don Juan, who simply cannot say no. Eva loves her husband and her kids, but to her, they are not enough. Her life ceases to have meaning without the exciting feeling of a new adventure, so when the opportunity arises for an erotic experience, she takes it.

The house is silent. Jacob and I are the only two who sleep in the main building. I haven't slept in the same bed with Joel for years, because he snores. At least that's what we tell one another. I've always been a sensual person. This summer, in particular, I've been aching for touches and intimacy. There's something about Jacob. Joel's younger brother. Something firm and exciting. A spark that has not yet dwindled. A danger he has not yet learnt to respect. This short story is published in collaboration with the Swedish filmproducer Erika Lust.

I got a text message. I shouldn't have looked at all. I grabbed my phone to switch off the sound ahead of time so it wouldn’t disturb the meeting. But of course, I couldn't help checking the message: "No other women can be as wet and as tight as you. Painful how much my body misses yours. P." That's not the kind of text you should receive right before stepping into an important meeting with your boss.

"We drive on through the dark night. I let my fingers run across my breasts, across my stomach and underneath my dress. I can feel how my heartbeat is making my skin throb." When all you can think about the day after your wild 30th Birthday party is how you need a good fuck, it’s time to do something about it. She can’t wait any longer. She wants sex, even if that’s all it is. It should be passionate and it should happen now. She sells her most expensive Birthday present and orders a taxi. Her next destination is whoever she matches with first on Tinder...

"I quickly turned my head and saw her standing behind the middle window in the living room, staring out at me. She came out soon after, still in her kimono with the flamingos. She handed me a glass of ice water. I put the glass to my mouth and envisioned her naked body." Henry is employed on a drilling rig in the North Sea. He works 12 consecutive hours a day, every day, for 14 days. After the two weeks he goes back to the mainland for a break, to spend time with his friends and bachelor-colleagues. He spends his nights with women, pleasuring them and letting his emotions run free.

"He pushes her against the wall in the shower. She lifts her legs over his hips, making him carry her weight. She can feel the bulge in his trousers pressing against her pussy. It's as hard as his flexing biceps." She knows that it's not appropriate. She knows that she shouldn't be reading this here, among all these other people. But she can't help herself... "Seduced in the Library" is an erotic short story about a woman who finds pleasure in a romantic erotic story in the library. Sarah Skov is a pseudonym for a young female author.

"She smiles as she thinks about the time they drove out to the forest. She parked on a small dirt road at the forests’ edge. Back when it was so warm that they had to open the windows to cool off. Back when the smell of the dew-soaked grass and the song of the blackbird made its way into their car. Back when she screamed out her orgasm, making the birds go quiet." This short story is published in collaboration with the Swedish filmproducer Erika Lust.

"Now I have my orgasms as often as I have the time, as often as the desire strikes me, and I can find the money. I don't have to think. My master knows what I like. He does everything I've been craving for so long. He corrects me, ties me up and beats me, he forces me. He likes his job. I know he does. He has had orgasms as well, the last few times I've been there. The pamphlet from the clinic doesn't mention that. He didn't when I first came. He shouldn't have the energy, with all those clients. I try not to be proud of it, but I can’t help it.

"The ice cream is the final dish. He arranged the dessert beautifully on the plate, but instead of complimenting him, I let my index finger slide into the ice cream. I turn towards him and look into his eyes, and bring my finger to my mouth. I open it slightly and observe how his gaze follows the ice cream. I wrap my lips around my finger and suck it loudly." Every night after work Anne comes home to an empty apartment, but that’s where she feels the most alive. She watches the movements of a young sexy chef in her favorite reality show.

"I feel my breasts getting tight and sore, as if they were about to burst. I'm leaning casually against the counter, but what no one can see is the man's hands squeezing my breasts, making the skin peek out through his fingers. If I stand perfectly still and concentrate, I can feel the tingling sensation of the small dark hairs on the back of the man's hands on my lower arm. I hold my breath and let out a quick gasp as I raise my head to observe him. I meet his gaze." This short story is published in collaboration with the Swedish filmproducer Erika Lust.

"... the sight of him was making me feel confused and dizzy. Heeding a sudden impulse, I pulled my dress over my head and threw it to the floor. My knickers were wet with sweat and desire. I pushed them down so that they ended up in a crumbled heap next to the dress. The window glass was chilly against my naked breasts, and the tension was mounting in the core of my body. All my thoughts were swirling around this young man’s body, his experienced movements and powerful muscles." This short story is published in collaboration with the Swedish filmproducer Erika Lust.

"This hotel has something unique, which no other hotel has, as far as I know, and which is exclusively for the very wealthiest of the patrons. It's called PLAYROOM. It's a place where you can pay to be the voyeur of a couple having sex. The guests at the hotel can also have sex with one another there. The exciting and unique aspect is that there is a pair of eyes on the opposite wall as well, which look through a hatch that closes as soon as the sex is over." This short story is published in collaboration with the Swedish filmproducer Erika Lust.

"Are you ready?" You ask me in a much softer tone of voice, with a smile that lets me recognize my girl. Turning around, you let your hands run over your buttocks. I can't help touching myself. You turn back around, thrusting out your nether region, making a show of how you open your bodystocking. You hitch it up slightly, letting me catch a glimpse of your small shaved pussy. I reach for it but you slap my hand away. You straddle me, lick your index, middle and ring fingers, reaching down between your legs where you are, and where I am now. Then you sit down.

"I put my hair up and find the ingredients to make a birthday cake with pineapple, macaroons and marzipan. Pineapple makes him taste nice when I'm giving him a blowjob, unlike certain other things such as asparagus. I like it to taste nice when I swallow." This short story is published in collaboration with the Swedish filmproducer Erika Lust. Her intention is to depict human nature and diversity through stories of passion, intimacy, lust and love in a fusion of powerful stories and erotica. Cecilie Rosdahl is a Danish author and artist.

"Dreams grew large in the 1960's, but we were convinced that everything was possible - even fucking your professor on his desk, with the rest of the university walking back and forth out in the hall without a clue." It's so many years ago, and yet, the Parisian freelance journalist cannot help thinking about her old professor every time she finishes an article. She thinks about the unforgettable hours spent in his office, how he would take her on his desk, slowly sliding inside her, making her more wet than she had ever been before or since.