Four Erotic Tales by K. D. West

Four Erotic Tales by K. D. West

Author:K. D. West [West, K. D.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Erotica, Erotic Romance, oral sex, cunnilingus, theater, sex with a teacher, straight sex, sexual healing, actors and actresses, sexual tension, theater sex, sensual sex, ust, rst, actress sex, anthology, bisexual girlfriend, student-teacher sex, morning-after sex, sex with an older woman
Publisher: Stillpoint/Eros
Published: 2013-05-10T16:00:00+00:00


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of sexual initiation and sexual healing

I am kneeling between Ken’s thighs. Though he is still clothed, I am naked. It seems appropriate; he has made me feel naked since the day I walked into his Beginning Acting class five years and a lifetime ago.

“Allison,” he murmurs, his fingers running through my hair.

“Yes, Ken,” I say, unable to disguise the tremor that his voice, his caress raise in me. My eyes remain locked on the raised front of the button-fly jeans just inches before me.

“Tell me what you want, Allison.” His strong, warm voice is low, and I tremble all the more, knowing what he wants me to say.

“I want to heal you, Ken,” I whisper, my voice high, thin, and warbling.

I can hear the smile, even as the lump in his jeans seems to grow, to rise. “Oh, sweetheart,” he says, “you do that every day that I’m blessed enough to see you.”

My heart fills my throat, leaves me breathless.

“But that’s not what you want right now, is it, Allison.” Not a question, not really: he knows me, knows me better than I do myself in so many ways, and I am raw clay before him, the girl he made and remakes, just by looking at me. By desiring me. By speaking to me in that low, throaty voice so full of love, desire, and control.

“N-no, Ken.”

“Tell me what you want, sweetheart.” His fingers trace a silver-soft line down from my ear to my collarbone, and from there to the nipple that aches at the tip of my breast. With middle and forefinger, he gives my nipple the gentlest of pinches, sending a spark all of the way to my toes, back up to the crown of my head, and then down into my crotch, which flowers open, so that I can feel the cool air of the room flowing over then. “Whatever you want, you can have. If you ask.” There is power in words, he always says, and I love the power that his words have over me, that my words give me over him.

“I…” Exquisitely conscious of his fingers, his voice, I didn’t notice my own hands sliding up to the insides of his thighs. They are warm and substantial, even through the jeans, and they ground me, even as they lead me upward toward the object of my quest. “I want… to eat you. Ken. Please.” It has been a month and a half since I have had his cock — thick, heavy, and just long enough — inside of me. In my mouth. In my hand. In my cunt. In…

“You want to suck my cock, Allison?”

“Yes. Ken. Please.”

“And?”

“And…” Why am I embarrassed? Why do I feel once more like the virgin I



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