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Sexy, Adult, Hardcore, Erotic Stories Written by Keith David
It's Only a Massage? (Parts 1 and 2)
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©Keith David, Breathless Nights, 2011

“It is only a massage, right?”

“Of course, it’s only massage,” I reassured with my most boyishly charming and innocent smile.

When Margie bought the gift certificate, she told me a little about Jennifer so I was expecting her when she approached me at the gym, yet I was unprepared for how beautiful she was.

“Margie recommended you highly, but I have to tell you I am quite hesitant to open up like that to a stranger.”

I watch her eyes as we talk, she seems afraid to look at me directly. She is shy, hesitant and ever so slightly awkward. From experience, I can tell it will take some time to get her to open up and relax with me so I decide we should get to know each other a little before the massage. Truth is, it might or might not be only a massage, depending of course on what Jennifer really wants. I doubt she would admit feeling like it might be something more, even to her self. Finding out is part of the service I provide.

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Releasing Tension
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©Keith David, 2011
The hotel room is dark save the tiny glow of the computer and cell phone recharging on the desk. It is quiet too, but I pretty much expected that at 2am. The flight was long, bumpy and crowded; not at all the way I like, but exactly as I have come to expect. The taxi to the hotel was dirty, hot and about 50mph too fast, but as I always say: any taxi ride you walk away from is a good one. That is particularly true around here, so I am just glad to be in one piece.

The tension of many hours of traveling and jumping time zones kinks knots along my back and shoulders. If my muscles were rubber bands, they would have snapped in two by now. I am jet lagged and exhausted but unable to sleep. Knowing work is only a few hours away is not helping.

Tossing back the thick silk comforter, I slide between the tight sheets and lie my head on the large feather pillow. It has just enough stuffing to be firm, but still encapsulate most of my head. Wiggling my toes against the cool, soft sheets, I stretch my legs out against the soreness, but to no avail.

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A Dream of Man
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©Keith David, Breathless Nights, 2011

She sauntered into the room like a Cheshire cat stalking an injured mouse. Some women try to act sexy, but she appeared to exude it naturally from every pore. Her glowing presence seemed to drown the dim glow of candles with a sensual aura. The fragrance of her perfume mixed with the incense and vanilla created an intoxicating blend that danced on my senses and tricked my brain into deeply erotic and naughty thoughts.

Lying on my back in the soft sheets, one side of my red silk bathrobe barely covers the growing manhood beneath it. I study her as she crosses the room slowly, seductively in her white lace lingerie. Thigh high stockings held in place with the four straps of lacy white garters and I notice her thong panties have snaps on the sides for easy removal. Barely restrained behind the thin, lacy material are her voluptuous breasts that I love to eagerly suck and lick, and I can just make out the hard nipples pressing for release and attention. Her image is one of perfection in both my heart and mind; she embodies everything I love about a woman. Sexy, erotic, slightly mysterious, intelligent and she knows what she wants.

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Uncomplicated Fun
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©Keith David, 2011
From somewhere deep within my soul, there is a screaming echo of fear, but I ignore it. She is too captivating to allow the moment to pass unheeded. I know there will be a price to pay for this dalliance, but I cannot resist. Her hot breath swirls around my ear just before she purrs softly,

“Are you ready for your first taste of chocolate?”

The thrill of excitement leaves a small quaking response in its wake and she giggles at the reaction. She knows she has me. Confident, she presses her body tight against me and grabs my ass. I cup the small of her back almost instinctively. Her scent is the essence of hedonistic lust wrapped in sweetness with a touch of lemony vanilla.

The sway of her hips matches the thumping bass of the music and I wonder how this happened so quickly and why it already seems unstoppable. Forbidden fruit is always the sweetest. After weeks on the road, a few drinks, and more curves than any one woman should have, I am putty in her hands.

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