Read The Butcher and Other Erotica by Alina Reyes Free Online
Book Title: The Butcher and Other Erotica|
Format files: PDF
The size of the: 19.62 MB
ISBN 13: 9780802134509
City - Country: No data
Loaded: 1567 times
Reader ratings: 4.3
The author of the book: Alina Reyes
Edition: Grove Press
Date of issue: April 19th 1996
Read full description of the books:
Do It Yourself Erotica Part 1
Rodney sat on the [chair/couch/banana lounge/bean bag] and signalled to the [barrista/waitress/unemployed actress/ online book reviewer] that he was ready for another [coffee/martini/line of coke/red cordial].
She laughed. “How are you going to pay for it? You just exceeded your [limit/time/credit/budget] here.”
“Ha,” he laughed. “Would you believe this is all I’ve got left?”
His thumb pulled down his [trouser belt/dressing gown/ bathers/ stockings] to reveal a massive [gun/wallet/not quite flaccid penis/ chest].
“You know that’ll get you nowhere with me,” she said. “Once bitten, twice shy.”
Rodney looked her up and down, still interested, and responded, “Thrice smitten.”
“You wish,” she said, as she twisted on the tips of her toes and headed towards the bar.
Wendy watched the woman for long enough to see her turn around, hoping that Rodney hadn’t removed his thumb yet.
Both women were in luck. Not suspecting who was watching very much, Rodney had revealed his [steely abs/ butterfly tattoo/ fast receding flaccidity/ three digit intellect].
Wendy had seen enough. Her [book/iPad /cocktail/bong] fell through her hands and struck the floor, not quite smashing, but reverberating like a [gunshot/slap on the face/smack on the bottom/Texan yodel].
By the time Rodney had traced the source of the commotion, all he could see was Wendy leaning over, revealing her [tight calves/ hot ass / voluptuous breasts/bare naked sex].
Rodney stood, gallantly, knowing that now there was no way he could hide his [weapon/wealth/ manhood/adequacy] from this woman he could tell must be Wendy, because it was written so above.
When he arrived at her side, she placed her hand on his [public/private/ erogenous/discomfort] zone and enquired, “Is this for me?”
Rodney didn’t have time to reply. By the time his mind had thought up a response, Wendy had gripped his [belt/gown/cock/ponytail] and determined to remove it and its attachments to her [penthouse/room/ cupboard/lair], where she would extract from them every last possible [pleasure/delight/ squirt/drop] she could imagine without [exploding/coming/ conceiving/deceiving] excessively.
Wendy gathered her possessions and all her [wits/tits/bits/titbits] about her. Fortunately, no one else accompanied them in the lift up to her [penthouse/room/cupboard/lair].
It afforded Wendy a brief moment of opportunity to lower herself to the floor of the lift and assess how much pleasure could yet be retrieved in this private moment of opportunity from her [book/iPad /cocktail/bong].
The question proved to be academic or at least too difficult for Wendy and Rodney to comprehend in the fleeting shortness of the duration available to them.
As Wendy knelt on all fours, Rodney proved unable to resist the temptation to [inspect his face in the mirror/slide his cock back inside his underpants/check his breath/scratch his balls].
No sooner had Rodney attended to his most immediate needs than the lift announced that they had arrived at their destination, “Hello, you have arrived at your destination.”
Wendy dragged Rodney out of the lift by his [hand/ponytail/ earlobe/ nipple ring].
It was a short [walk/nudge/slide/drag] to her room, before she opened the door and [pushed/eased/dropped/flung] Rodney onto the parquetry floor.
“I need to have a shower,” Rodney pleaded.
“OK,” Wendy replied, thinking she might slip into something more [slippery/comfortable/ demure/sexy].
The door to the bathroom didn’t close fully, she’d wondered whether she should complain to the management, but still somehow now it attracted her attention.
Inside, she could see Rodney, naked, soaping his [hands/anus/ navel/ penis], then caressing his thick dark [locks/chest hair/ nose/ penis].
“Can I help you with that,” she asked, “Would you believe I’m a [hairdresser/masseur/ elite escort/ patent attorney]?”
He turned, surprised, in her direction, but didn’t need to say anything to make his point.
Wendy slipped out of her [g-string/gown/body oil/lab coat] and joined Rodney in the warm shower.
Almost immediately, they fell to the floor and embraced each other.
Wendy arched her back and started to suck Rodney’s [earlobe/nostril/ sex/ left testacle].
Rodney [laughed/screamed/ cried/coughed] anxiously. What was she going to do to him?
She took it in her hand and started to [pull/slap/squeeze/ scratch] him rhythmically.
He couldn’t resist her master stroke. “Oops,” he ejaculated, as the [warm/ living/ magical/ holy] substance escaped violently and landed on [the ceiling/ the wall/ her midriff/ the nape of her neck where regrettably she could not see it].
He climbed up on [a ladder/his feet/ his knees/ the white enamel rim of the bathtub] and meticulously [licked/ wiped up/ toweled dry/pooled] his life-giving essence.
“What about me?” she asked.
He stretched her out on the warm wet tiles and began planting [kisses/ caresses/ little plastic soldiers/shrubs] all over her body.
He lifted her hips with both hands and thrust his [slender/fat/ elegant/ knobbly]fingers into her [hollow/navel/ mouth/buttocks], before noticing that she had fallen asleep.
She awoke in bed to the sound of [rain/Christian Television/ the blender/a power tool].
She was so happy, rested and dry, she wondered whether she had found a man who could fix [global warming/her weary soul/ a cup of coffee/the bathroom door].
She sighed, a signal that he took as an invitation to return to the inviting warmth of the bed that invited him so much.
Soon he was next to her, looking her in the eyes, gently, lovingly guiding her hand towards [the glass of freshly squeezed orange juice/the cappuccino/the Saturday Arts and Book Review/his cock].
He loves me, he cares for me, he wants to please me, he wants me back again, she heard the former porn actress on the TV recite from memory.
She drew him [close/out/in pencil/until he was monstrously elongated], raised herself a little and put her arms around him.
He took her head in his enormous non-threatening hands and [cradled it/massaged it/tilted it back until it could go no further/swiveled it 365 degrees like in The Exorcist].
He took her mouth, lovingly, generously parted her lips and inserted more than a mouthful of [orange juice/coffee/ vegemite on toast/himself].
Then he guided her petite ski-slope nose all the way downhill into his [mouth/ear hole/ buttocks/navel].
She resisted, understandably, and mounted him instead. He remained on his back, ever considerate, determined not to crush her.
He looked at [her eyes/ her breasts/ the walls/ his balls] in the ceiling mirror and noticed how vibrant and dizzy his world had become.
She was going too fast, no she wasn’t, oops, yes she was.
They came together that morning, again and again, hundreds of times, [their fluids mingled/their moans blended/ their minds united/their souls fused], so adhesively no mortal could ever tear them apart.
When they awoke, it was mid-afternoon.
“Darling, would you like to go to the [museum/ art gallery/ opera/ movies]?”
“Yes, I suppose it’s our last day here,” Rodney replied. “It’s time someone else entertained us.”
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"The Everyday Grinderman's Erratic Guide to Existencilist Erotica"
This is one of two parts of the Erratic Guide to Existencilist Erotica.
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Read information about the authorAlina Reyes is the pen-name of Aline Patricia Nardone, a French writer best known for her literary treatment of eroticism.
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