Tag Archive | Sensual

Seduced by Westerly Winds

Artist Ed Tadiello; pinterest.com

Romantic Descriptive Flash Fiction:

Gentle westerly winds touched the beach like the caress of warm, delicate fingers. Waves, petering off at the edge of the shore, sauntered up the sand like evocative tongues of foam, licking the beach and returning to the ocean. Heightening stimulation, intense rays of the sun palpated the sand and skin with swelter and kindle. In the breeze, palm fronds whispered words of love and making love and promises to satiate the thirst of the soul for that which fills and fulfills. The smell of coconut oil sizzling on her bare shoulders intoxicated even the breeze with its lingering kiss.

Waratah knew the beach well, the pleasure attained here, the encapsulation of beauty that not only surrounded it, but enfolded her as well. To this place, she would consistently return. To refresh and renew. To relax and unwind. To be one with the sun’s caresses, to know deep solace, resting, ruminating, rendering indulgence and in this place, gratification.

The dream of him here with her, caressing like the breeze, whispering like the palms, intoxicating like coconut oil, palpating like the sun, licking like the waves. It made her heart soar, her body tingle, her tongue wet on her lips, as she spread out on the sand, taken captive once again, here in this place.

Kissing Belladonna

Vintage French Postcard; pinterest.com

Romantic four-line flash fiction:

Belladonna’s kiss was a magical voyage to a world that I only thought existed in illusory flights of imagination.

The instant our lips met, the spark of sheer passion, the blissful caress of our affections, shot through us like the flames of a roaring fire.

With our tongues voraciously dancing and interlacing, all I desired was to satisfy the thirst of her tired soul, forcing her with its sheer intensity to melt into the smoldering fire of my delicious consumption.

“I love you, Belladonna,” I whispered with warm, gentle breath on her ear, nibbling, caressing, my fingers touching her skin, our hearts exploding, our bodies sweltering with what we knew would come next.

What to Do in a Thunderstorm

Artist Raphael Desoto; pinterest.com

Romantic Short Story:

It was my first date with the woman of my dreams, Tansy Kaeller from Vienna. She had feathered blonde hair like lemon sugar and a radiant smile that made her eyes squint and sparkle. When her mouth turned up in a grin, she revealed a slight yet devastatingly cute overbite. Devastating to me because I was the one who fell head over heals in love with her. From her sweet Austrian accent and dainty voice to her soft creamy skin, I loved everything little thing about her. In short, she took my breath away.

On my private multi-acre ranch that evening, we meandered down a dirt path that wound through rose bushes with a view of the stars above as bright as lanterns. The crickets serenaded our walk, but otherwise, it was pretty quiet except for the sound of our voices.

Tansy was drop-dead gorgeous that night, wearing a pink dress that clung to every curve with a generous dip in the front to reveal plenty of cleavage. She was clinging to my arm and her hair smelled like shampoo from perhaps a shower she’d taken before coming out tonight. I could feel her soft breasts pressing against my side, igniting my insides. With Tansy, I felt on top of the world and above all else, I had to tell her that tonight.

I couldn’t wait. I stopped and turned to her and she to me. Her face glowed in the moonlight and I noticed her full lips were wet. Had she steathily licked them while turning to me, or were they always so naturally glistening? I didn’t care, but I knew they were calling out to my lips like a magnet.

We had been talking about stupid things to kill time while we were meandering down the prim rose path – topics like the weather, the ranch, her English learning, the horses I’d ridden that morning, and so on. It was time to get serious. “Tansy,” I began breathlessly, “I have to kiss you.”

Her eyes squinted as she smiled. “Then why don’t you?” she asked, pronouncing the w in ‘why’ like a ‘v.’

I didn’t need a second invitation, moving in and pressing my lips to her wanting velvet mouth, one hand around her back, the other gently holding the nape of her neck. When our tongues met, she moaned and pressed her tongue harder inside my mouth with passionate fervor. We kissed long and wet, indulging deep desires that were bubbling up like a furnace.

But when I lifted my head from our kiss, just to see that beautiful face again, I noticed that her cheeks were no longer glowing in the moonlight. I looked up to the sky and immediately had a sense of what was coming. You get this intuitive sense on a ranch that just before it rains, there is a kind of fresh smell in the air and leaves on the trees turn over one way or another.

Then a rumbling in the distance. Thunder.

“We’d better head for shelter,” I suggested. “If we don’t hurry, that storm’s going to overtake us.” She nodded and we both hurried back down the path from which we’d come. But then some raindrops tip-tapped over us and then some more.

We began to run.

“Are we too late?” she asked, beginning to panic, and wobbling beside me in her high heels, picking up the pace.

The downpour was enough answer for her, coming down in drips at first, then a steady stream, then a heavy shower. Then the crack of thunder. She shrieked and held her arm over her head as a basic survival instinct to shelter herself from the rain. It wasn’t working. Within seconds, both of us were soaked through the clothes and running down the path that was quickly turning to mud.

I led her to the closest shelter there was on my property: a barn. It may not have been a five-star dream hotel, but it had a roof and dry shelter inside, priceless when you’re stuck out in a thunderstorm.

A flash of lightning and another whip crack of thunder chased us in through the massive double doors that I quickly shut behind us when we got inside. We were panting and laughing at ourselves that our clothes were fully soaked and we’d just barely managed to escape the storm.

Inside the empty barn that normally housed the bushels of wheat during harvest time, it was pitch black, so I found her hand easily in the dark and led her to a narrow staircase with creeky wooden steps in the corner. The stairs led to a loft with a low wooden-beamed ceiling structure, so we had to at least kneel down when we got up there.

Tansy lied on her back, catching her breath. Even in the shadows, I could see her breasts rising and falling with every breath she took. Her head was turned to me and was silently appraising my shadow, too.

“It’s the perfect shelter,” she said in her sweet singsong accent. Even though I couldn’t see her face, I could feel her smiling.

Outside the thunder was still crashing and rain was pelting the roof not far above us. When lightning flashed, I caught a glimpse of Tansy on the floor of the loft and my heart melted. I had never seen her like this. She was more adorable than I’d ever imagined. All wet and uninhibited and free.

I reached around for what I’d come up to the loft for and found it, the kerosene lamp. I found the matches in the little box underneath the lamp and lit it up.

Suddenly the whole loft flooded with light, which wasn’t really all that bright but coming from pitch darkness, anything dim seems like the sun.

Finally I sighed heavily with relief that we were finally safely out of the storm, and I sagged down to my back next to her, staring up at the wooden beams, feeling her warmth next to mine as our arms touched and our fingers interlaced.

Tansy turned over and lay on my stomach, her sparkling eyes staring into mine. “Can I tell you a secret?” she whispered as the rain poured down outside.

“I love secrets,” I said, gazing back into her eyes.

“All I wanted tonight,” she said, her breath on mine, “was just the chance to get close to you. Just like this. And now because of the storm, I get my wish.”

I was beaming. It got me thinking that maybe we forget that even though the storm crashes in ferocity, it’s who you’re with in the storm that really matters. I was grateful to be with Tansy. Our lives would never be the same again after that because we’d spent one beautiful night together, not only in the shelter of a barn, but under the shelter of each other, in the midst of the storm.

Wrapping my arms around her, I kissed Tansy again, drawing her close, fulfilling the wish she had made, and the one that I hadn’t even had the courage to wish for myself, believing in vain that it would never come true.

The Kiss That Melts All Restraint

Artist Marco Ortolan; pinterest.com

Four-line Flash Fiction:

After a long, steamy shower that had washed all her cares away, Lucerne patted her bare feet across the cool tiled kitchen floor heading to the bedroom.

A warm cotton patterned blanket, the only thing she could find in his bathroom closet besides towels, wrapped around her slim shoulders over her naked body.

“I can’t thank you enough for your kindness to me,” she said to him, her eyes sparkling in his dimly lit kitchen, her heart bursting with longing for him, “for letting me stay overnight.”

Finally all barriers, all restraint, between them had melted away as he glided right up to her, scooping her into his arms, kissing her with fervent passion, the touch of their lips finding its prurience in their voltaic dance of ecstasy.

The Passions that Drive Us

Artist Ed Tadiello; photo: pinterest

Artist Ed Tadiello; photo: pinterest

Romantic Flash Fiction:

The lake at dawn breathed in meditation, inhaling and exhaling with the gentle breeze of a new day. As a brilliant sun rose in the eastern sky, painting the horizon pastels of magenta, cadmium, and red amber, songs of morning birds welcomed the day. The ripe scent of pine trees permeated the crisp air while tiny waves rippled along the glassy surface that reflected the colorful sky like a mosaic. Far across the lake, the outline of the cluster of forest trees yielded from evening to dawn with the sun burning off the fog that had shrouded them earlier.

I was holding the warm hand of Lilac Honey, my darling lover, as we followed the path along the edge of the lake. Having spent the past three days at my cabin deep in the heart of a secluded mountain forest, I had grown to love her. Before that, I had only lusted after her, and I’ll admit that my original intentions for taking her to the cabin had ulterior motives. She had obviously known, too, but the passions that drove us had overtaken us both, and on the first night, we tore each other’s clothes off and made love for hours on the wooden porch that overlooked the lake, while a steady stream of mountain rain made a fountain-like wall from the edge of the porch roof to the ground.

The next day was supposed to be a thrilling series of romantic activities, soaking up the beautiful nature around us and enjoying each other’s company, but instead we fought like cats, clawing at each other, never satisfied with our answers to each other’s questions and finding stubbornness the ruling factor that eventually yielded to anger and resentment.

By evening, we had made up and were once again on kissing terms, devouring and succumbing to passions that drove us wilder and more savage in intensity. We tore our clothes off like they were on fire and there in the kitchen, we once again made love as we rose together to a crescendo of wild desire.

With naked bodies lying on mink on the living room floor, we held each other and felt warmth course through each other’s bodies like shared electric currents. We kissed for some time, stopped to talk, then kissed again.

This morning as we walked around the lake, I glanced at Lilac Honey and my heart felt as though it was soaring higher than the highest clouds in the sunrise-glistening sky. In the distance, a lark whooped and a woodpecker tapped on a tree. As we held hands, she leaned into me.

I sighed heavily, knowing that our time together was short. We would be heading back that evening, back to the world we both knew would send us in opposite directions.

“I know what you’re thinking,” she said, squeezing my hand. Then she stopped and turned to me, her eyes misty and vulnerable. “I don’t want this to end either.”

My fingers brushed across her cheek. “Then why does it have to?”

“You know why,” she replied, shaking her head, wanting to make it work, to find a way that we could be together forever. “There is a reality that neither of us can escape from.”

“Lilac Honey,” I said, as if about to make a formal declaration, “I swear to you this will never end. My love for you is the escape we seek. My love for you is what will sustain us even when doubts tear us apart or distance seems too unbearable to bridge. I’ll never stop loving you. Like the light of this dawn, it can only grow into a noonday sun. And it will. And so will my love. Isn’t that enough?”

She nestled into me, close and intimate, and I felt her warmth and inhaled her sweet scent. “You’ve captured my heart,” she said. “No matter where we are, I will never be able to leave you. We must never give up hope that one day… We will find each other again.”

“We will,” I said, planting my lips on hers, letting them open like a rose bud in spring as they invited me in, both of us knowing that it was not to be our last.

A Dip in the Ocean of Love

Artist Paul Rader

Artist Paul Rader; photo: pinterest

Romantic Flash Fiction:

Love was moonlight over a calm tropical ocean, the waves lifting and lowering in rhythmic timing, rolling up onto the beach in soft whispers. Leaving my bathing suit on the shore, I waded out into the bath water of the docile sea that soon enveloped my body from the waist down. The tropical cerulean water glowed turquoise from the light of the moon and even at night, I could see clear to the bottom. My feet glided buoyantly over the soft sand below as I drifted out into deeper water. When the level had cleared my waist, I dove under and let the warmth of the salt water enfold every part of my naked form.

When I broke through the surface again, I turned back and smiled when I saw my love. Danica had followed suit and stripped off her bikini, wading into the water after me. The moonlight on her body took my breath away, casting a beautiful image in light and shadow, all at once brilliant and lovely, every sexy curve, every delightful line. My eyes feasted upon her beauty and my heart leaped like a calf bounding on eastern hills.

I treaded water as I waited for her to come to me. With dazzling eyes, she beheld me with love for the one she had given her heart to, and then she dove under with a graceful tuck. I watched as her smooth rear cheeks surfaced momentarily and dipped back under. Then she was up through the surface just in front of me, slicking her hair back and grinning from ear to ear.

“You’re crazy,” she said with a laugh. She had never known me to take such risks before, skinny-dipping under the moonlight at a secluded beach cove far off the beaten path. Sometimes the people closest to us can surprise us the most.

“Crazy about you, Danica,” I said, my hands finding her ribs under the water, sliding down to her curvy hips, drawing her to myself.

When our bodies met, she belted out an orgasmic gasp that turned into a flirtatious moan. “Don’t give me passion,” she whispered close to my mouth, ready to devour it. “Give me romance. Give me all of you. Tonight. Whatever you’re willing to give. I’ll take it.”

Sunsets and Rose Petals

Artist Max Ginsburg: photo: pinterest

Artist Max Ginsburg: photo: pinterest

Romantic Flash Fiction:

Cloud plumes of downy fleece, illuminated in a tangerine glow, spread across the peaceful twilight sky. A balmy breeze wafted through the window into their suite and swept away the tension like gusts over a field of wheat, carried away on a current of love.

Having stripped off his dance top to reveal his fit, muscular physique, Davey gazed into Amaranth’s hazel eyes with mixed emotions. Whenever he was in her presence, on stage or off, his heart palpitated to a beat of pure enchantment, driving the passion inside of him to desire her more and more. It was their secret weapon to constant success on stage, their love for each other that was a powerful, hypnotic, living wave of electricity that bound them to one another.

But their boss had strictly forbidden them to date socially outside of their nightly performances, knowing full well the consequences of what that could bring, especially if they ever broke up. So night after night for almost a year, they would dance the tango in each other’s arms, all the while with the desire for one another reaching a boiling point that they could no longer ignore.

Finally, they had made a decision and it had led to this place, to the Palace suite with a view of the sunset that would symbolize the end of their tour, the day they said goodbye to their dreams. Davey took the rose that he had held in his teeth while they had danced on stage that night and began separating the red petals, tossing them one by one onto the sheets.

Amaranth slid up to her knees on the bed, her hands gliding over the toned curves of his biceps and forearms, her eyes moistening with tears.

“I want this so badly,” she whispered. “But our dreams, our lives as dancers. This job has offered us everything we could ever ask for, and nothing like we would ever find elsewhere. And now…” she hesitated, her breath shallow. “What are we doing?”

“Do you regret this?” he asked her, his hand gently scooping the long curly black hair behind her head. Her beauty once again overwhelmed him, and all he wanted now was to delve deeply into the passion that burned within his heart for her. To kiss her full lips, to take her now on the bed, to consummate their love for each other. But he waited for her answer. If she went back on her promise, he would have to respect that, but his heart would be crushed.

“No,” she said, shaking her head, fighting back the emotion that wrestled with her heart. “I…” she hesitated, sniffling. “Never will I regret this.”

“Neither will I,” Davey reassured her. “I love you, Amaranth. And to me, love is more important than security. Indeed, love is the very security we seek. We will find work. This I promise you. Let us discover our security together, my love.”

And he watched – no, marveled – as the fear in her eyes suddenly melted away, replaced with a confidence he had only seen in her on the dance floor. She had made up her mind and was not turning back. She was choosing him – choosing love.

As he reached down, his mouth melted into hers, their tongues finding each other and building to passionate indulgence. Throwing caution to the wind, they threw their arms around each other and finally let loose the wild passions that had held them back.

As the sunset disappeared over the horizon and twilight yielded to night, the rose petals were trampled under two bodies that had finally found each other.