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Lusty Lady

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Friday, July 28, 2006

More erotica brilliance from Stan Kent

Ultimate Undies: Erotic Stories About Underwear and Lingerie

Ultimate Undies: Erotic Stories About Underwear and Lingerie



Stan Kent is offiically my new favorite erotica writer. He is so smart and witty and sexy in his stories. I just reread, for probably the fifth or sixth time, "Solemate" from Naughty Spanking Stories from A to Z 2 last night (out in September) and it's still fucking brilliant. I'm nominating him for every Best Of book out there. Anyway, he also was kind enough to let me publish his "9 to 5" in Ultimate Undies - here's an excerpt:

A sip. A swallow. A sigh. Her words flow steely into the speakerphone, but I sense her satisfaction. Her legs inch apart. I breath. She approves of the coffee. I smile, knowing I have given her the first of today's many satisfactions. I kneel on my strategically positioned cushion. My head bows. She inches forward to the edge of the chair. Her hand cradles my head, toying with the short hairs on my neck as she pulls my face deep into the warmth of her thighs.
Above the muffle of her limbs, I hear her antique clock chime nine.
My work day has begun.
Through demanding sentences punctuated by sips of my lovingly made coffee she dictates terms and conditions to her telephonic audience as she pulls my head under her Versace skirt and washes my face against the taut Wolford nylon cloaking her mound. She makes unflinching financial demands of her buyers as static charges prick my skin. I inhale the damp of her pussy. An amorous cocktail of sex juice and perfume waft into my brain, firing all the right synapses. I am delirious. There is nothing like the penetrating odor of feminine lust through pantyhose early in the morning. It speaks of licentious nights and crack-of-dawn sex raining down a sweet deluge of sticky juices. She is all pantyhose, pussy, perfume and power.
She pushes my head from her lap and presses my face to her knees with a brusqueness I find addictive. She does not deny my craving. Her firm hand grips my neck, guiding my lips from one knee to another in dizzying circular motions of my head. I plant kisses, lingering long enough to soak her skin through the tightly woven fibers of her Wolford pantyhose. The dampened Lycra sticks to my face as she turns my head to a fresh, dry patch of stocking. She pulls me higher, her hand and thighs funneling my tongue back to her sex. Like a cat cleaning its fur, I drag my tongue across the shining nylons, relishing the luxurious texture.

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