Erotic Literature

Hello! This is my first post. I chose this medium of publication because it seemed momentarily the safest for my identity. It's not easy being a young woman writer of this type of literature. I want to share with all of you some of my creations. Why do many people think erotic literature is less serious? Let's see what you think, I hope your comments and some points 😉

Penetration

Here was she: lying on the bed, waiting for him to return. She was completely naked, with her legs open. She had her arms stretched out to both sides of her head, tied with a purple ribbon to the headboard of the bed.

When he came out of the room, they both had accelerated breathing. Despite the time, they could always turn on the love and recognize each other in the darkness or light as if they were going back to adolescence. After a while, the air entered and left with less violence: it began to relax. The ceiling, she thought, we should paint it a more avant-garde color, I'm tired of white. And then, waiting made her anxious and accelerated again. He knows I get desperate, that's why he takes his time...

And once more, remembering the pleasures lived just minutes ago, their lungs were going crazy and there was no alternative for her but to lift her head in that limiting position and contemplate the half-open door at her feet and her body without clothes in an expressionist perspective.

Suddenly, an unexpected situation: pain. Something sharp and finite, like a needle, began to pierce the right side of her head. All the energy she had left concentrated on that point. Something was sinking into her skull and was about to dismember her brain. She wanted to press that side against the pillow to relieve the tension but couldn't: it was tied very erotically and she couldn't defend herself. The pain intensified, she needed to grab her head in desperation, scream, move her hands and claw at her hair.

The door opened fully and he entered the room: naked, tall, beautiful. But the scene he found was macabre: she was twisting, beautiful, naked and sensual on the bed, had her face in the highest expression of suffering. And unable to contain her madness and need to decapitate herself, she broke the silence of the night:

- Scratch behind my ear! I have lice again!

Late

Ah, nice: feeling the rain and having someone I love. Feeling your hands on my back in my hair on me. Feeling like my body is being washed away and the water isn't touching me. That there's no more body than your naked and burning body.

Learning

We thought not but learned. Recovered the instinct that, like all people, had killed us culture. Redefined what is good and what is bad. And God sees - although some may think so and others not - and does not get angry: it is great and takes pride because we return to our original animal state by moments, lose language and speech and communicate in the most crude, ancient and effective forms of nature. This night you will blow into me, we will fill with air and start with that breath of life the death and pain that little by little is taking hold of me. The next day: it's indeed a gift to love.