Erotic
Sensual encounters, steamy narratives, intimate desires
48 stories
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Hold the Stem
He didn't use a decanter for the 2012, just let it sit in the glass until the air forced the fruit to give up.
Julian’s Reed
He doesn’t play the notes so much as he exhales them, a slow, carbonated leak of sound that settles in the low basin of my pelvis.
—if you keep your knees at ninety degrees
Subject exhibits 145 BPM heart rate. Skin is flushed, damp with perspiration, responding to manual stimulation with rhythmic pelvic thrusts.
Elena's Apron
The flour on her thumb looked like a smudge of chalk on a chalkboard, a mark of something being erased or rewritten right there in the steam.
Will You Let Me Taste the Salt on Your Neck?
The flour was everywhere, a fine white dust coating the dark wood of the island and the sweat-slicked curve of her inner thigh.
Sit on the Edge
If you don't stop looking at my mouth like it is some quarterly KPI report, I am going to have to actually do something about it.
Fixative
The camera shutter is a guillotine for time; it chops the continuous flow of our longing into discrete, manageable slices of evidence.
![](https://miscd.fra1.digitaloceanspaces.com/medium/"keep-your-eyes-on-the-knife"-474-cover-1775998845624.jpg)
"Keep Your Eyes on the Knife"
He tasted like the last bit of crusty bread used to swipe a plate of debris—salt, fat, and the ghost of a good red wine.
I Probably Owed Her an Apology Anyway
Her back was arched against the bathroom door, and for a second, the only sound was the radiator hissing like a disgruntled extra.
Silas's Ladder
I watched the way his thumb traced the spine of that first edition, a slow, calloused drag that made my own skin prickle.
Low-Impact Cardio
You looked like you were ready to pitch a Series A to the kale salad, and honestly, I’ve never been more turned on.
Sloane's Ice
She rests the condensation-slick glass against the pulse point of her neck, watching him through the distortion of a cheap, rented flute.