Love's Perfect Madness

Written for an Erotica Contest


I couldn’t believe my friend Nicky had talked me into going to this stupid party.  I had sworn off men about six months earlier after a string of serious ‘losers’ had passed in and out of my life in quick succession.  Nicky said that the party she had been invited to would therefore be ‘right up my alley’.

It was an eighteen plus venue with a major twist.  When she first told me about it I was reminded of a porn film I had watched once with an ex boyfriend called ‘White Hot Nurses’.  It was of course filled with women in tiny little white uniforms, performing acts above and beyond the call of normal duty on their patients.  The thing that struck me about this film was that there was not one single word spoken throughout the whole thing.  If you can class moaning and groaning as dialogue then maybe I’m wrong.  Mind you having seen some of the acting capabilities and ‘really strong plots’ of some porn maybe it was better that way.

The idea of the mixer was basically ‘sex with no strings’, a variation on the idea of pulling some guys car keys from a basket and going away with him to get it on.  There was no talking, no introductions, no exchanging of names, just pure unadulterated sex.  Photos and sexual preferences were submitted to a website in advance and you were matched with a sexual partner electronically for your encounter.

I had to admit that in the six months since my last boyfriend I had been literally ‘hanging out’ for sex.  Sure, self pleasuring in this modern day and age is perfectly acceptable; however there is nothing more sexually satisfying than having a man to wrap your legs around.  The smell of rubber and the whir of battery operated machinery cannot replace the smell of a man and the touch of his skin against your body.

It was this thought, and this thought alone that had overpowered my logical and sensible brain into agreeing I would go with my best friend to the event.

As we entered the lobby we were greeted by our hostess for the evening, who handed us an envelope containing a brief introductory letter and a room key.

I hugged Nicky before I headed off to find my room.  We had both prepared considerably for the night and had emptied a couple of bottles of cheap white wine before we had clambered nervously into the taxi.

My fingers trembled as I fumbled with the room key and finally managed to get the door open.  It was a small, but beautifully decorated room with a large bed and hand woven rugs scattered on the floor.  The lighting was low and scented candles had been placed in various positions around the room.  There was a small ensuite off to one side, hosting a toilet, basin and a large glass walk-in shower.

As my eyes adjusted to the light I could see that my partner for the night had already arrived.  He was sitting on the end of the bed watching me, holding a single red rose in his left hand.  I felt pleased suddenly about the no talking rule, for it took away any worries about what to say, to a complete stranger that you’re about to have sex with, to break the ice.  No awkward hellos and introductions, just straight to the business at hand.

As he stood up I could see that he was just a little taller than me.  I won’t say he was an incredibly good looking man, because I think that would just be cheesy, however there was something very physically pleasing about him.  The way he held himself with confidence, his vibrant green eyes and unruly auburn hair, and the way he dressed.  He wore butt hugging black jeans, and a casual black dress jacket over a white t-shirt.  The sleeves of his jacket were rolled up to the elbows.  His arms were tanned and shapely.  I felt aroused suddenly just knowing that soon I would get to see his form in all its naked glory.

I was dying to ask him his name, or if this was the first time he had done this, but of course I followed the rules, excited suddenly by the thought that I was actually here doing this.

He was smiling as he crossed the distance between us, extending his hand towards me so that I could take the rose he was carrying.  As I felt my cheeks flush I lowered my head to take in the scent of the perfect bud he had presented me with.  I closed my eyes and breathed it in.  The strong smell filled my nostrils and I felt momentarily giddy.  I could feel and hear him coming closer and I waited for that first moment of contact. I could feel the anticipation building in the pit of my stomach, my heart beating so loudly in my chest that I thought he would surely hear it.

He slid his hand into my own and gently pulled me towards him.  He was warm and smelled heavenly, like sandalwood and musk.  His lips were moist and as they touched mine I found myself responding instantly.  I curled my arm around his neck and opened my mouth to his.  I quivered as his tongue pushed teasingly into my mouth and he kissed me harder, his arousal intensifying.

The rose was quickly forgotten and I dropped it to the floor, then I used both hands to push his jacket from his shoulders.  It tumbled to the ground and he kicked it away as he slipped his feet from his shoes.  I stepped out of my own strappy heels as he kissed my neck and slowly unbuttoned my shirt.  I could feel my nipples harden at his touch through the thin cotton material and I moaned helplessly.  His fingertips plied them teasingly through the fabric of my bra and I reached around quickly to take it off.  I wound my hands around his waist and pushed his t-shirt up so I could feel his warm, thickset chest against my fingers.  His eyes were deep green pools of ocean; wanton and filled with passion as he stared down at my naked breasts.

He pulled his shirt impatiently over his head then took me to the edge of the bed.  As I sat down he pushed himself between my legs, coming to rest in front of me on his knees.  His head was now the same level as my breasts, and he quickly took one of my nipples gently between his teeth, his tongue darting teasingly over its surface.  My breathing grew heavier as I wrapped my bare feet around the back of his legs, easing myself closer to the edge of the bed.  I could feel the heat of his bare stomach against my crotch and I arched my back against him.  My whole midsection was on fire as his fingers caressed my stomach and he popped open my jeans with one expert hand.  My own trembling fingers found the top of his jeans and I pulled them down over the erupting bulge in his boxers.  He stood up to remove them the rest of the way and I admired his athletic form in the candlelight.  He had a soft spattering of tiny dark hairs on his well formed abs and I pulled him back to me quickly, my tongue exploring his navel and the flesh above his waistline.  Then I gently took the elastic of his boxers into my mouth and pulled them down with my teeth.  His hands gripped my shoulders in ecstasy as I took him into my mouth, my own sexual pleasure heightening at his own delight.  I ran my tongue down the length of his shaft, my fingers holding him firmly as he gasped with pleasure.

My nipples ached as he pushed me back onto the bed and pulled my own pants from my legs.  Tossing them aside on the floor with disregard, his eyes never leaving my body he again pushed himself between my legs.  I moaned loudly as his warm fingers found me moist and shuddering beneath the silky material of my underwear then he bent his head and let his hot breath flow over me.

He peeled away my last item of clothing and let his fingers slide gently inside of me, his tongue gliding teasingly over my clitoris in short urgent strokes.

I wondered fleetingly if the no talking rule extended to screaming obscenities at the top of my lungs while my body was inflamed and throbbing at his touch.

I twitched and writhed on the bed, my back arched in complete ecstasy as his relentless kneading continued, his fingers penetrating me in time with the soft flicking of his tongue.  I could feel the pressure building inside of me, coming to a crescendo that was impossible to ignore.  The mild feeling of being physically possessed with overwhelming pleasure swept through my body and I surrendered, unable to control it any longer.  He stared up at me with those emerald eyes, my own satisfaction mirrored in the look he fixed upon me.

I pushed myself back onto the bed as he crept up my body, letting his tongue explore my midriff and breasts once more.  I could feel him pressing into me, urgent and excited.  I found him with my fingers and massaged him teasingly with one hand.  He closed his eyes and moaned softly.  Never before had I felt so much anticipation for intercourse than I did right now with this man who was a complete stranger.  I needed him inside of me.  Sensing my urgency he smiled and pulled back a little, taunting me with a soft prod and withdrawal, once, twice, three times.  I moaned helplessly, desperate to have all of him inside of me, but enjoying the heightened feeling his teasing was invoking.

I grasped his firm buttocks with both hands and pulled him down towards me.  He resisted momentarily, pushing back against my hands as my nails dug into his soft flesh.  Submitting suddenly, he thrust into me and I yelped with pleasure as he pounded inside me, again and again.

His tongue was inside my mouth, his breathing heavy, like mine, as we moved together in perfect time, his fingers clenched over my hands held head high on the pillows.  Nothing else existed in that time except for the two of us, entwined in love’s perfect madness as it roared through our bodies.

When he came inside of me I was sure that I screamed the house down, so intense was my own pleasure.

We lay against each other for a few moments, unable to move, our bodies throbbing and glistening in the sexual afterglow.

I watched him as he rose from the bed, his stunning naked form heaving as he collected his clothes from the floor and dressed.  To save the awkward moment when couples would normally savour the moment with glittering words I instead slipped off the bed and headed to the bathroom for a shower.

Of course when I returned to the room I was alone, the sweet smell of him still on the air as I dressed silently.  It was almost as if he had never been there and the whole thing had been a wonderful dream.

Except for one thing of course.  The rose he had given me.  I remembered suddenly that I had dropped it to the floor in my mindless state and I searched for it now, thinking maybe he had scooped it up again and taken it with him.  Finally I saw that he had left it, picked it up carefully before it was trodden underfoot, and placed it carefully on the bed where we had laid together.

Hidden in the folds of red petals, deep down inside the bud I could see that he had pushed a tiny piece of paper.  I knew it had not been there when he first gave it to me because I would have felt it when I pressed the flower against my nose.  It had been an afterthought, a way of communication when spoken word was against the rules.  I carefully removed the small scrap of paper, the corner of a receipt maybe found in his pocket as he searched for something to write on.  And there was his name and number, written with the blue eyeliner I had tucked into the pocket of my jeans.

I couldn’t help but grin.  The effort he had gone to leave me his contact details obviously meant he wanted to see me again.

I pondered the idea.  I couldn’t deny that our encounter had been fantastic, but was that purely because of the scenario laid on a platter before us?  I wondered if the magic would be broken and it would end up being another dead end relationship like every other I had previously encountered.

Was I a sceptic or an optimist?  Was the glass half empty or half full?  Would it be the same if I came back here again, with another man, another encounter?  Hmm, do I choose door number one or door number two?

The answer, I’m afraid, is another story entirely.