Rough Erotica

  ROUGH EROTICA

  50 EXPLICIT TABOO EROTICA STORIES BUNDLE

  This book is devoted to any and all lovers of the lewd, nasty, and bawdy filth that fills our world. Erotica is not a plague or blight upon society – no! It is a wonderland of fantasy and adventure, a place to live out those wanton dreams we try so desperately to keep to ourselves. Set them free and read on!

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  Temptation Tales

  …for all the naughty tales you can't resist...

  The Naughty Stories

  Story 1

  Story 2

  Story 3

  Story 4

  Story 5

  Story 6

  Story 7

  Story 8

  Story 9

  Story 10

  Story 11

  Story 12

  Story 13

  Story 14

  Story 15

  Story 16

  Story 17

  Story 18

  Story 19

  Story 20

  Story 21

  Story 22

  Story 23

  Story 24

  Story 25

  Story 26

  Story 27

  Story 28

  Story 29

  Story 30

  Story 31

  Story 32

  Story 33

  Story 34

  Story 35

  Story 36

  Story 37

  Story 38

  Story 39

  Story 40

  Story 41

  Story 42

  Story 43

  Story 44

  Story 45

  Story 46

  Story 47

  Story 48

  Story 49

  Story 50

  Story 1

  "A toast," Patrick announced, "to old friendships revisited!"

  The three oldest adults at the table lifted their glasses so that they clinked one against the other. Beneath the pale light of the chandelier, the crystalware sparkled. The white linen tablecloth had been set out, and the good china taken from the cabinet to pair with their most expensive silverware. It had been a long time since Emily had seen the dining room decked out in all of its splendor, but none of the decadence could keep her attention for long. The sight of the hunky guest seated across from her was far too distracting.

  The last time Emily had seen Henry, she'd been eight years old. Even then, he'd left an impression. Over the last decade, the shy little girl he'd charmed and entertained with stories of his travels had grown into a young woman. Emily had just celebrated her eighteenth birthday the week before his arrival, and for as much as she'd grown during the time they'd spend apart, Henry had grown, too. The tall, dark haired man she once knew looked wiser than ever. A twinkle of life in his eyes spoke of new experiences had and new sights seen. So far that evening he'd regaled them with tales of Africa, but the entire time he'd been speaking, all Emily could imagine was how stunning Henry would look amongst the African plains, shirt stripped off to expose his strong core glistening with sweat beneath the blistering heat of the sun.

  "It's a pleasure to be sitting here with you again, all three of you," Henry replied with quaint sincerity. "It's hard to imagine this much time has passed; it seemed like just yesterday I sat across from an eight year old Em, and now look at her — a beautiful young woman at eighteen years old. Where has the time gone?"

  Henry looked every bit the researcher and world traveler he was. His hair was kept respectably short and a little old fashioned, but current enough that it nodded politely to the trends. It had started to turn silver towards the temples, belying his spry body and upbeat attitude. Likely somewhere in his forties, time was catching up with Henry in small ways, but he refused to allow those cracks to chip away at who he was as a person. Even though he was so much older than she was, Emily thought that he looked mature instead of aged. Certainly she found him handsome. Not overly muscular, but physically active enough that his body remained firm and lithe; Henry was a treat on the eyes. The cunning slope of his nose and the hard lines of his jaw further added to his natural allure. This was no high school boy with his head up his ass and uncultured — this was a man who deserved to be respected. Emily thought she'd like to know him much better than she already did.

  "It gets away from you when you're not looking," Patrick, her father, replied. As far as Emily knew, her father and Henry had been close friends since their days in college. Quite a lot of time had passed since then. Now both men were experienced, mature, and content with where they were in life. Patrick had settled down with an academic career and a family, but Henry had always stayed wild.

  "I bet you're regretting it now that Em is grown," Henry said. "Fighting off all the young men pounding on your front door must take it out of you."

  The nomad cast his gaze at Emily for a lingering moment to return Emily's stare, and Emily's cheeks burned red with embarrassment and flattery. She knew she was pretty, but to hear it from a fully grown man unrelated by blood made the compliment all the more thrilling.

  "So far so good." Patrick lifted his fork with a grin. "Not a man has dared approach this house for fear of me. Emily has never had a boyfriend, or expressed much interest in boys. Have you, sweetheart?" The fork sank into a piece of broccoli seasoned with butter and black pepper. Emily's cheeks grew warmer yet.

  "No. No boys. I'm not interested in games and immaturity."

  As she spoke the words, Henry caught her eye. It was hard to tell from the short length of the glance, but Emily could have sworn that something less than innocent lurked in the depths of his startling blues.

  "The girl has good taste," he said. "At that age, boys have little of quality to offer. Relationships are much more fulfilling when they are approached from a place of maturity that young men simply cannot offer at eighteen." Henry looked from Patrick to Emily, fixing her with a pointed glance. This time she did not mistake the look he gave her — veiled lust. Patrick nor Mary, Emily's mother, had noticed it, and when Henry's gaze returned to his old friend, Emily began to doubt it had really happened. Perhaps she'd been projecting emotions onto him and imagining things that we're really there.

  But maybe, just maybe, she wasn't.

  "Perhaps in a few years she'll find a man her age has matured enough for her tastes, and at that point I'll have to make sure these old joints are up for the challenge of fighting off young men," her father said. Henry simply grinned.

  "Well, count yourself blessed, Patrick. Had I a daughter, I'm not sure I could sit there so confidently. Emily is a true gem."

  Emily glanced down into her plate, partially embarrassed and partially too flattered to allow anyone at the table to see her grin. It wasn't appropriate. If her father saw how much Henry's words had affected her, he might begin to suspect that Emily did have an interest in the opposite sex. Boys had never interested her; that much was true. Men were a different story entirely. But Emily had never had a shot at one until that moment.

  They ate dinner at a leisurely pace. Henry and her father spoke of travels and of their work, of hobbies and of tragedies. When the last fork was laid upon the white tablecloth, Mary whisked the dishes away and brought out dessert.

  "Will you stay tonight with us, Henry?" Patrick asked. "Heaven knows we have the space, and it's been such a long time since we've seen one another that it would be a shame to cut things short so soon into the night."

  Piece by piece on pristine white china plates trimmed with gold foil, chocolate cake was served. Emily watched Henry from across the table, trying to gauge his reaction to the invitation. Perhaps to tease h
er, perhaps to appear polite, the man kept his emotions guarded. What cogs turned in his mind she did not know.

  "You know," Henry said with some weight, "I've had a lovely time with you so far this evening. I'd love to take you up on your offer. Is there a spare bedroom that I may use, or will I be taking up residence on the couch?"

  Emily felt herself light up, and she tried to hold back her grin. A little more time with Henry was exactly what she wanted. The casual, flirtatious looks they shared across the table had stirred her blood and filled her gut with the warmth of arousal. Even if Henry wasn't serious, thinking about him in naughty ways was enough to get her riled.

  "There's a spare room for you." Mary seated herself at her place and dug the side of her fork into the chocolate cake on her plate. "I'll prepare it for you after dessert. You boys can settle in the living room and continue to chat."

  "So generous of you. Thank you."

  Dessert continued in placid silence. From time to time, Emily would look up from her cake to spy upon Henry. Most of the time he was engaged in conversation with her father, but from time to time, Emily's eyes flicked up to gaze directly into his. Each time their gazes locked, a chill shot down her spine. It wasn't just that older men were more mature and grounded, but that how young she was in comparison felt so naughty. The thought of a fully grown, experienced man pushing her down to claim her untouched, virgin body as his own had given her more than one overheated night beneath the sheets with nothing but her hand for company. Emily was young enough to easily be his daughter. How other men would whisper and point to see them together in public, envious of him and desirous of her. How many older men would fantasize about her once they knew she'd slept with one of their own? Emily shifted her weight as she sat at the table, her sex slick already. What a fantasy Henry was. And all in plain sight of her family.

  After dessert, Mary disappeared upstairs to fix one of the spare bedrooms, and Henry and Patrick disappeared into the living room to continue to talk and reminisce over old times. Emily passed the living room after seeing that the dishes were washed and spied upon the two of them on her way up the stairs. Henry was seated in a recliner facing the doorway, an easy, content expression on his face. When she passed by the doorway, his eyes flicked to her and his grin broadened, and then he looked away.

  Emily took to the stairs with her heart racing. A simple look was all that it took to speed her pulse up, and she knew that Henry knew as much. He was playing games with her now. What he had said at dinner had been meant to rile her. He was as attracted to her as she was to him.

  The upper floor of their house was spacious, boasting five bedrooms of which only two were regularly occupied. Her father had taken one of the bedrooms as his study. There, the walls were lined with books and academic papers, a desk littered with written works and ballpoint pens. The other two were for guests, but guests were few and far between. Henry would be the first one to stay with them overnight in just about as long as Emily could remember.

  Emily's bedroom was the very first at the top of the stairs, across from one of the spare bedrooms. She could hear her mother rooting around inside, changing the musty sheets and freshening up to prepare for a guest. Instead of offer to lend a hand, Emily ducked into her bedroom and closed the door behind her. Summer break before university meant no homework, but Emily had another kind of project to attend to. Instead of invest herself in books and papers, she invested herself in her appearance.

  At dinner she had dressed modestly, as her parents preferred her to. A white sleeveless blouse with a high collar was hidden beneath a dark turquoise lace blouse, her legs hidden beneath black slacks. None of that was going to cut it. Not tonight. Not for Henry. If he was going to flirt with her, she was going to flirt back. It was time to have a little fun.

  The back of her room was devoted to closet space. Emily parted the white slatted folding doors and observed the clothes she owned, all hung up before her. Prim and proper. Modest. Article by article, she discarded each piece. Nothing was going to cut it.

  She was going to have to try another approach.

  Emily removed her cardigan and top, revealing small breasts cradled in a simple white bra beneath. The pants came next, and she stooped over to pick them up and fold them, placing them in the hamper in her closet. A pair of white panties matched her bra, the back of it hugging the tight, round outlines of her ass. Emily was a slender girl, but she had enough curves where they counted. Many girls had bigger breasts than she did, but what she had was cute and just enough to have fun with. Instead of mature, she was girlish. Innocent. Pure. To Emily, her appearance added to the fantasy. The thought of giving her young body to an older man and letting him do with it what he pleased had her hot.

  Slender fingers saw the back clasp of her bra undone. Over one shoulder and then the other, Emily brushed the straps down until the cups parted from her perky breasts and left them bare. There would be no need for it with what she was wearing, not that her breasts were in need of much support, anyway.

  From amongst her possessions, Emily chose a little summer nightie she often wore to bed. Made of a beautiful, light cotton, it fell high on her thighs to show off her slender legs and tease at the hidden treasures it barely concealed. The neckline plunged to reveal her cleavage in a dreamy sweetheart pattern, and thin spaghetti straps rode over her shoulders to expose the soft outline of her collarbone in full. It was the most revealing article of clothing she had, and although the white color lent it an angelic appearance, Emily was well aware of how seductive such innocence could be. Tonight, she hoped to play it up.

  Dressed, she turned back and forth in front of her full length mirror, assessing herself. Bare footed, bare legged, she was nymph like. Blonde hair fell in lazy ringlets down either shoulder, set perfectly. There was little else to touch up. All that was left to do was to make herself known, and then disappear for the night and take the memory of Henry's reaction with her. Tonight, she was going to cum to fantasies of him until she passed out from exhaustion.

  Emily padded from the room and headed downstairs. Each bare step on the carpeting left her more eager for what was to come, and it wasn't long at all until she'd made it down the stairs and lingered in the doorway to the living room. From where she stood, Henry faced her fully, but her father sat in a chair facing away from the door. If she knew him as she thought she did, Emily was sure he would not turn to face her. To her father, guests deserved all of his attention, and beyond that, often times his thoughts were so scattered he didn't think to pay attention to his family. It wasn't the first time he had dismissed Emily without much recognition.

  It wasn't long before Henry caught sight of her, eyes glancing quickly before returning to her father, and then doing a double take to look back at her for an extended period of time. Surprise widened his eyes just a little bit, enough for her to notice it from the doorway. Emily flashed him a warm smile and pressed her shoulder against the doorway, keeping her gaze on him.

  "Sorry to interrupt," she chimed after a long pause, letting Henry devour her body with his eyes. "I'm going to bed now. I thought I'd say goodnight before I tucked myself in so as not to be rude."

  For the first time since she could remember, Henry was speechless. Although he did his best to keep a straight face and look unaffected, she knew she'd crept beneath his skin. The man shifted his weight where he sat in an attempt to hide a budding erection. She'd hit him in the best of the worst ways.

  "Goodnight, sweetheart," her father replied without turning. He'd never see how his daughter taunted their guest with her body. How she played coy with a man close to three decades older. What a delicate little game it was.

  "Goodnight, Emily," Henry said. Although he did his best to mask it, Emily thought she could hear husk in his voice. Without listening for it specifically, she was sure she never would have noticed, and her father certainly thought nothing of it. Patrick continued where they had left off, discussing the value of geographical surveys in little charted
areas of the world. Emily tuned out of the conversation quickly, but she did not lose focus on Henry. And, try as he might to engage her father with his eyes, he was having trouble keeping his gaze away from her. Emily was determined to give him something worth staring at.

  As she propped herself up from the doorway, one of her hands brushed against the exposed skin of her thigh and ran upward slowly, lifting the bottom of her nightie against her hip to expose the creamy track of thigh beneath and the arch of her white panties. Although the center of her body remained covered, Henry was given his first peek at the fabric of her panties that covered her shaved mound. Emily had dropped her gaze innocently, and when she looked back up with a doe-like expression, Henry was visibly bothered — so much so that her father stopped his story midway through a sentence.

  "Are you alright?" he asked. Henry swallowed hard before he replied.

  "Yes. Sorry. My mind was elsewhere for a moment. Do me a favor, and let's restart from the last sentence."

  Emily's part was done. She'd tempted and teased, and now that she'd played with him and left him flustered, she would curl up in bed and play with her clit until she came to the thought of the man sitting just below her in the living room. The man who would sleep just across the hall from her. Bare feet padded back up the stairs, and Emily enclosed herself in her room just as her mother finished up in the guest bedroom. The timing was fortunate — no one but Henry had seen the state of her undress.