Red Hot Erotica: Five Explicit Erotica Stories Read online

  Red Hot Erotica

  Five Explicit Erotica Stories

  all rights reserved copyright 2013byRed Hot Explicit Erotica Press

  Fantasy for Hire

  The Call Girl’s Group Sex Desires

  Kate for Hire Story Number One

  by Angela Ward

  all rights reserved copyright 2013byRed Hot Explicit Erotica Press

  Some days you could call me a girl who gets things done. Then, some days, you could say I'm a girl who gets things done to her. I get paid, but I'm not a call girl, and I'm not a hooker. I'm a facilitator of needs and wants, and I'm proud of what I do. I sleep well at night, and I love the money. I work out of my loft apartment, which overlooks a part of New York I never knew existed until five years ago. Five years ago I started my company, Fantasies for Hire, and instantly transported myself into a brand new world of high class hotels, upmarket boutique fashion and the high life.

  It all happened because I wanted to make people's dreams come true. Fantasies to be exact. If you had to sum up my business in one sentence, it would be this: If you have a sexual fantasy that you want to come true, give me a call. I facilitate the needs of people who can't make these fantasies come true for themselves, for whatever reason, and I don't ask those reasons. It's a pure business relationship (well, sometimes), and whatever they want – I make it happen... for a price.

  Sometimes I take my work home with me, and sometimes I mix business with pleasure. My clients are always satisfied, and if ever a fantasy comes close to something I find sexy, I take the opportunity to satisfy myself into the bargain. It's a win-win situation for everyone, and my repeat clients would tell you the same thing. Of course, discretion is always assured, and the only reason I decided to write this journal is to keep track of the fantasies I enjoyed the most. I heard some British call girl did something similar, and her books were pretty sexy. Maybe someday I'll publish this journal, and the world can read about my exploits. Names, places, and sexual positions may be changed to protect the innocent. In my line of work, however, there's very little innocence...

  I couldn't get the key in the lock, and I was already pissed at being cold and wet. The bunch of keys I was building up needed culling. I had keys on there from maybe ten years ago, and I didn't need them. Why did I keep them? It just made the bunch difficult to wield around when I got to my front door, and get in with bags of groceries or shopping. There were key fobs from previous cars, all the leather faded and scratched from being thrown and dropped a million times. There were a couple of keepsake fobs from relatives and friends, like the rabbit's foot my brother gave me before I moved. It was now missing a little fur, but still in pretty good shape. I wrestled the door open and finally pushed it shut behind me with a foot, throwing the bunch of keys on the kitchen counter as I dropped my bags and kicked off my boots. I huffed as I took off my coat, which had not done a great job at keeping me dry at all. My shirt was soaked to my skin around my shoulders and my chest. My back was wet too, and the shirt was sticking to my skin. It felt horrible. I took off my shirt, my bra, my jeans and my panties. I scooped them up and pushed them into the hamper next to my washing machine.

  Naked, but warm from the air conditioning I'd had the foresight to put on when I left this morning, I walked across to my bedroom, and dug out some comfortable jogging bottoms from my drawer, along with a comfy Dallas Cowboy's shirt I managed to keep from a busted relationship in college. It was a little faded, and didn't fit in any of the right places. That made it an amazing shirt for lounging around in. I didn't bother with a bra. I never got any visitors at my loft apartment, and if I did, I suppose I wouldn't answer the door without a bra. They'd just have to wait until I put one on. Whilst I thought about this little situation, I stepped into some clean white panties, pulled on my jogging bottoms and walked through to the living room, grabbing a towel from the bathroom on the way. I expertly wrapped my hair in the towel and turned on my stereo. The CD whirred into action and the room filled with the strings from an Oasis song, Wonderwall. I'd fallen in love with the band after a recent trip to the UK. Their album just happened to be playing in a music store, and I bought it on account of the lead singer sounding like he was so pissed off with the world, he had to enunciate every sound of the words in the song to let you know. Singing along to the chorus, I went to my satchel, which was hung over the bar stool in the kitchen, right where I left it this morning.

  It had been a busy morning, running to the post office to send out some packages, and some lingerie shopping on 5th Avenue. My apartment in Herald Towers affords me the luxury of having the most amazing stores right on my doorstep. I'd purchased a very sexy Donna Karen fluffy lingerie outfit in pink. Not for me, but for a client. It was all part of the service, and only the best was good enough. The experience I could provide cost my clients a lot of money, but they got the quality I would expect if I were paying the same numbers. It was only fair, I thought. Opening the satchel as I walked, I took out the red cardboard folder, with the name “Jones” on it, alongside the date for the gig. Not surprisingly, I had a lot of Jones', Smiths, and Browns in my Rolodex. I also had a little system to keep track of the clients, which only I understood. Under the surname, I had a three letter code. The first letter signified their first initial. The second, similarly simple, was the second letter of their first name. I very rarely wrote down their full name. The third letter was a “Y” or an “N”. This was an important letter, and represented a Yes or a No. It was an answer to a question I asked myself whenever I took on a client, and helped me decide on working with them in the present and the future. The question it answered; would I fuck them?

  As I carried the folder to the living area, and plumped myself down into the sofa, I took out the two sheets of paper inside. The first was a formal business invoice, with various items on it for the client outlined discreetly and carefully. It didn't surprise me that most of my clients wrote me off as a corporate expense. Smart accounting, if you ask me. I placed the invoice on the arm of the sofa, and studied the second piece of paper for a moment. Listed in my handwriting were a number of ideas and scribbles about the gig. A shopping list usually appeared, along with some costs. I never kept this piece of paper. It would be dropped on the fire the minute the gig was over, and all that would remain would be a folder with an invoice. The services rendered: hospitality consultation.

  I checked off the lingerie on the list, and looked at the next item. I put the tip of the pencil slowly to the paper, smiled, and made a small check. The item on the list read: “Blonde - threesome”. The girl who had hired me would be my own little bonus to myself. I closed up the folder, my work done for the day. When I thought about the fact I'd be paid $3000 for this gig, and probably put in about two hours solid work, I couldn't help but think I had the best job in the world. Thinking about my client, about her slim figure as she walked into the coffee shop to meet me, I undressed her in my mind. I snuggled into the corner of the sofa, removing the towel from my hair.

  Slowly, I reached into my jogging pants, and slid my warm fingers into my panties. I imagined her as she sat across from me at the table in the coffee shop, smiling her nervous but comfortable smile, perfect teeth, full lips. Running her fingers through her fringe, and drawing concentric circles on the table as she spoke. I had already undressed her in my mind, and she was sat opposite me now, in my fantasy, with just her white bra and panties. No longer the shy, nervous woman I met, she held her palms flat to the table, eying me licentiously. People were turning to watch as I sat acro
ss from her with my legs now straddling the table. She took off her bra, to reveal her sumptuous 34D breasts.

  On the sofa, I let out a breathy moan as I stroked my pussy lips and felt them damp under my fingertips. Back in the coffee shop she was looking at me with my legs wide open and smiling, bringing up her hands to cup her breasts, squeezing slightly, rubbing her hardened nipples with her thumbs. She stood up, winking at me as she did so, and climbed up on to the table. In my imagination, I was now mirroring my actions in reality, sat at home on my sofa. She flicked her long blonde hair back over her shoulder as she crawled towards me, and sat right in front of me, staring at my pussy as I gently rubbed each of the lips with two fingers, inside and out. Tingling sensations shot up each of my thighs, into my tummy, and right down into my clitoris. She nudged her butt slowly forward until she was sat just a foot away from me. I looked at her shaven pussy, and as I did, put a finger carefully along my clitoris, and pressed firmly. Moving from side to side at first, then circular, I played with my clit in a slow rhythm, watching as she again worked her breasts up and together, toward her breastbone, cupping them in each hand, and squeezing them.

  Slowly, she brought her hands down to her groin, and teased me by opening her lips wide enough for me to see her glistening juices. I could feel I was close to orgasm, and I knew I was capable of two with this fantasy, so hurried the scene along in my head. I was getting hot now, and I could feel the body heat from my breasts slowly coming up through the football jersey to my neck and chin. In my mind, Miss Jones was now breathing on my neck, and I felt goose bumps rise on the backs of my shoulders. She was now kissing my neck, and her hand was on my pussy. She had her finger inside of me, beckoning forward and then back inside my wetness. The climax came suddenly, and I felt my whole body stiffen quickly as I screamed loudly in the empty apartment. My body vibrating, I fast forwarded Miss Jones until she was eating my pussy, her full lips now buried deep within me, her eyes flicking up toward me as I groaned in pleasure. Everyone in the coffee shop now stood smiling and looking on at us. I sensed men jacking off, getting blow jobs from their partner, women fingering themselves wildly in booths around the room. My fantasy spiraled out of control, as a good looking waiter, naked from the waist down grabbed my hair and jacked off right into my face. I could feel the second climax close now, as I played with my clit hard, my inner thighs now wet from my cum.

  The waiter was now ejaculating hard, splashing on my cheek, ribbons of the thick white sperm jerking out of his huge cock, droplets landing in my mouth and on my lips. He pushed his cock deep into my throat as he came, loudly moaning followed by a low growl. I hungrily sucked his throbbing member, and Miss Jones' tongue lapped at my pussy rapidly. As the second orgasm approached, I grabbed at my hair, as I felt an electricity shoot through my body, in every limb, Miss Jones' tongue hot on my clitoris, the waiter's cock rammed down my throat, I exploded in reality with a scream and a gasp, as what seemed like ten orgasms racked my body and waves of pleasure washed over me. I smiled a contented smile, and, still shuddering occasionally from the orgasm, I hitched up my knees to my chest, and wrapped myself into the corner of the sofa. I drifted off to a peaceful sleep, with the image of Miss Jones in my mind.

  Jake Finally Has Emilia

  An Erotic Romance Short Story

  by Connie Hastings

  all rights reserved copyright 2013byRed Hot Explicit Erotica Press

  In the kitchen, she took out a wine glass and her red wine from the rack. She poured a small amount of wine into the glass, and picking up the wine bottle with her right hand, fingers hooked upward, the wine glass in her left hand; she walked back into the living room, and made her way to the chair that faced the windows. She put her drink and bottle down on the side table, and with the tip of her fingers, pulled the wine glass forward until it toppled and bumped to the carpet, spilling red wine at her feet. She smiled to herself, back to the window so Jake could not see, and then slowly bent down, exposing her rear to the window for more than a few seconds. She slowly crouched down, pulling tissues from the holder on the table, back arched and her bottom in the air, dabbing gently at the stain on the carpet. After about a minute of dabbing at the carpet, she rose, stretching, and running her hands up her waist, she moved her palms round to her breasts, rubbing at her neck and running her fingers loosely through her hair. She slipped the robe carefully to the edges of her shoulders, and then allowed it to drop down to her waist. The feelings between her legs increased at this point, and as she let the robe drop to the floor, she turned slowly to face the window, and lowered herself into the chair...

  Jake had watched in disbelief at Emilia's beautiful body as it passed through the rooms. His hand had stopped caressing his erection, and he was paused as it throbbed in his hand. As Emilia put down her drink, he had moved to his right to get a better view of the living room, semi exposing himself in the light for a moment, and then back into the bushes right outside the window. Two large, thick bushes draped the window and sill on both sides, and he was able to get within a foot of the window of the living room. He watched as she bent down to the floor. Watched as she crouched, showing him the curved angles of her rear, a thong beneath her cheeks. He worked his stiff member slowly, overcome with an urge to furiously pump his hand and come right there and then. Instead he enjoyed every second of the scene, as Emilia now stood to reveal her perfectly formed shoulders and back in the soft light of the room. Her robe dropped to the floor, and he stared as he moved his hand over his swollen and now huge erection, pre-come making a slick lubricant over his whole shaft. As Emilia turned to sit in the chair, he didn't even notice that she would be able to see him if she looked carefully beyond the glass. Did he care? Did he want her to see him, now? He was so lost in the moment that he almost let out a startled shout as the phone in his pocket vibrated. Panic gripped him, and he moved back into the bush out of sight. He reached into his inside jacket pocket, and pulled out his mobile phone. The display, in bold letters shocked him, and he almost dropped the phone. It read: “EMILIA”. He looked at the phone for a second. He was unsure what to do. He was stood in Emilia's garden, with his erection hanging between his legs, and she was calling him. The surreal nature of the moment sank in, and without thinking he pushed the button to answer, and put the phone to his ear,

  “H-hello...” he managed,

  “Hi Jake,” her saying his name chilled his spine, and his passion for her grew just from the tone in her voice. It sounded soft, yet low. He looked through the window at her, as she sat with her legs crossed on the chair, one hand holding a mobile phone, and one hand running through her hair. He robe had parted to reveal her stunning figure, breasts moving up and down as she breathed.

  “Hi Emilia, how are you doing?” he had attempted to sound as normal as he could, stood in the darkness, with Emilia just feet away, he was stroking his erection, gripping the head and easing off slightly over and over again. He was so aroused, that he could almost feel her breath on his face from the phone,

  “Well, I was wondering if you were going to stay in the bushes all night, or if you're going to come in here and tell me what you've been up to out there?”

  The words seemed to hang in the air, and he couldn't believe what she'd said. He was about ready to panic, and then he noticed her smiling through the window. She was smiling. That meant she wasn't pissed off with him, nor was she ridiculing him. She was.... in her underwear, and knew he was there.

  “I thought you'd never ask,” Jake ended the call, and zipped up his jeans. Buttoning himself up, he walked to the front door not ten feet away.

  Emilia opened the door, and the two looked at each other, sensing the gravity of the passion between them. They had waited so long for this, and they now shared a feeling that was almost palpable. Jake smiled, and Emilia returned the smile with a wink, and tipped her head toward the living room behind her,

  “Come on in,” she whispered, and held out her hand.

  The two of them walked hand i
n hand into the living room. Jake took off his hat and his jacket, and they both sat on the plump sofa in the center of the room.

  “So, how... when... I -” Emilia couldn't even think how to say it, but the wry grin on her face she hoped would put him at ease,

  “I guess I owe you an explanation, Emilia,” Jake leaned forward on his seat, unsure of his words, yet curious as to why Emilia was taking this so well, “I've been out there a few times. I guess it started after we kissed that night,” Emilia shifted her position on the sofa. She was now sat with her head resting on her fist, elbow bent and resting on the back of the seat. Her legs were tucked up beneath her, and her left hand rested on her thigh, just below her robe. Her flesh was a soft pink, completely flawless and looked soft yet muscular. Jake imagined how her thighs would feel under his hands, with her body pressed against his. He felt a stirring again in his jeans, and could feel himself returning to the heightened arousal he felt outside. He shifted his position also, and rested his leg on the sofa, bent at the knee, so he was facing Emilia in a similar position, also with his head rested on his hand. He continued, “The thing is, I've always had feelings for you, and they never went away. I have wanted you so much that I had to do something about it. Sometimes I would try to work up the courage to knock on the door, but mostly I stayed out there, just – well, watching you. I feel really stupid,”

  “Don't,” she said, “I have got to be honest with you, Jake, if it had been anyone else the cops would be at the door now. But I feel the same way...” Jake's eyes seemed to absorb this with energy. He looked at her for a second, and she looked back, offering a small smile.

  Jake reached out his hand slowly, and Emilia mirrored his movements. They held hands, and slid closer on the sofa. They were about a foot apart now, and the tension between the two bodies could almost be felt on their skin. Emilia moved first, tilting her head to her right, her long hair swooping down and brushing her shoulder. Jake leaned forward, his right hand leaving hers, and moving toward her waist. As he cupped his hand slightly, and moved it down to her hip, he pulled her slightly closer, and she arched her back. Her chest and breasts moved up and toward his chest, and they were close enough to kiss. Emilia brought up her left arm, and slowly put her hand on his face, her fingers warm against his skin, and fluidly moving around his neck and into his hair. Their lips touched delicately and sensually. Jake could feel his heart beating out of his chest, and Emilia became flushed in her cheeks, eyes wide with excitement. They closed their eyes and kissed passionately. Their hands moved around each other’s body, up and down each other’s back, slowly and deliberately. Emilia slipped her robe down her shoulder and stopped. She moved backward, and smiled.