Erotic Tales for the Visual Woman

I paused at the doorway and looking in the bedroom. There Jen was, engrossed in her laptop – and she was naked. She was in bed, lying on her back with the laptop screen propped against her upraised legs. No matter how many times I’ve seen her, each time was fresh and new … and each made my heart beat faster. My eyes traveled along her long, slender legs (I really owe the stairmaster, I thought) and paused for some time at the curve of her delightful bottom. My eyes then darted to her exposed and erect nipple. I find myself licking my lips and leaning forward as my eyes linger there. “What’cha doing”, I asked stepping into the room. “Reading some delightful fantasy” she responded. I tossed my hat onto a chair in the corner and went to her side. “What’s it about?” I asked. “Oh, just some guy who likes being naked for me on the beach” she nonchalantly replied. I sat down on the edge of the bed and inhaled her aroma. “I can tell it excites you” I said, “and I love your perfume

A story follows, but first I have an explanation and two caveats: As some of you know, I occasionally write stories or take photos at the request of females on this site. This writing is a product of both. As we've discussed many times, there are many forms of CFNM. This is a female oriented type, so the story may not appeal to all men - it's not intended to. It was written for a female audience. There is a drink recipe in the story. I've never tried it. I prefer scotch, wine or beer. However, if anyone has tried the drink or tries it after reading the story, please report back to us. No promises are made as to how good it may or may not be. *************************************** “Yes”, she said, “it is about the control. I absolutely love getting men aroused and then having them not be able to do anything about it until/unless I give permission. It is a core element of the CFNM belief! Woman in full control.... even deciding when/if a man is allowed to fini

When I’d put on my shades, rolled out my towel and slipped out of my shorts, the intention was to let the hot sun and warm sand relax my body and revive my spirits. Both had taken a real beating over the last few days. My company had hosted a series of seminars, parties and events during an annual trade show and as an owner, I was expected to show up and participate in all of them. It had turned into a marathon of negotiations, parties and drinks and then more negotiations. Although I was beat, I still dutifully brought reading material to the beach with the hope that I’d revive enough to try and catch up. With my back to the sun, my notebooks propped open in the sand and a cool drink nearby, theoretically I could get some work done. Working against these good intentions was the sun -warming my bare buns, the breeze off the ocean keeping me at a comfortable temperature but mostly it was an attractive woman who was making her way down the sand dune – and she seemed to be heading rig