Sunday Snog: Butterfly

My snog today comes from my short story "Butterfly", one of the first erotic tales I ever published. It was originally written for a theme challenge, a call for stories about multicultural miscommunication. The tale revolves around the relationship between an engineer working in Thailand, and a dancer in a Bangkok gogo bar.

This story is romantic erotica, not romance. I don't think most people would consider its ending happy. But I think you might enjoy it anyway.

After you read my snog, hop on over to Blisse Kiss central for lots more sexy lip action.

***

My room was cooler than the muggy night outside, but still humid. The whisper of the air conditioning drowned out the traffic noise from the street. As soon as the door was closed and she had slipped off her shoes, Lek was kneeling in front of me working at my zipper.

I tried to make her rise. "No, you don't have to do that."

She looked disappointed. "You don't want my mouth on you?"

"Of course I do, but..."

"Then let me," she said softly. "I want to." With the hooker, I had to pay extra for a blow job. Lek acted as though I was doing her a favor. As soon as my fly was open, my penis popped out, full and solid as a sausage. She pursed her lips and mouthed the tip, leaving traces of lipstick on the bulb. Then she slithered her tongue down my length, circling the base with her thumb and forefinger while cupping my balls in her other palm. I groaned. It has been a long time since I known anyone's touch but my own.

"Your cock very nice, Pat," she murmured, in between mouthfuls. She took me deep into her throat and kept me there, sucking hard, nursing my cock like a baby at its mother's tit. I'd never felt anything like it.

Already I could feel the come boiling up in me. I began to thrust, jerking my hips, banging the tip of my cock against the back of her throat. She responded by sucking harder, till I felt that her hot vacuum would literally pull the come out of me.

I wanted to stop. I didn't want to come so soon. I wanted to be inside her, those graceful, muscular legs wrapped around me, when I came. But she wouldn't let me go, and finally, I didn't want her to. I twined my fingers in her hair and pulled her head into my crotch, fucking her face until I could bear it no more. The semen surged up my shaft, filling her mouth and overflowing.

She kept licking me gently as my dick shrank back to its normal size. Then she looked up at me and smiled, an angelic smile made sweetly perverse by the creamy remnants of my come on her lips.

"You like that?" she asked archly.

"What do you think?" I pulled her to me and embraced her, tasting my own bitter fluid on her ripe mouth. "That was amazing, Lek."

After a while, I released her and looked down ruefully as my limp penis. "Unfortunately, I was hoping to use that to explore some other parts of your anatomy."

"Never mind," she said. "Long night. You lie down there and watch me. You'll be hard again pretty quick."

 ****

You can read the entire story on my website, which, I am happy to announce, is back on-line after being targeted by hackers.

And if you find the setting of this story interesting, you might enjoy my novel Raw Silk or my novella Bangkok Noir, both of which are set in Thailand.

Back List Blast: Citadel of Women

Citadel of Women by Lisabet Sarai

M/F Multicultural Erotica

When her lover severs their relationship just before a long-planned trip to Angkor Wat, Doa stubbornly decides to travel alone. The marvelous sights of the ancient Khmer empire do little to heal the rift in her heart. Che, the mercurial young tour guide, senses her loneliness and offers her comfort and passion. Their connection is far more than physical - but how can two people from such different worlds have a future? 

Excerpt

Dinner was served on the hotel terrace overlooking a small garden. The moist air was a soft, heavy blanket, laced with the scents of jasmine and mosquito coils. Two dim bulbs lit the scene with a golden glow. Our group sat together at a long table, consuming spicy fish, garlicky vegetables, and mounds of rice. I sat at the far end, nearest the garden, listening to the multi-lingual chatter, the clink of silverware, the droning of the insects in the trees. I had never felt so alone.

All at once, he was there, settling his loose-limbed frame into the chair across from me. He plunked an amber bottle misted with condensation down in front of me. "You look like you could use this."

He took a swig from his own beer. Not knowing what to say, I did the same. The icy liquid slid down my throat.

"Good?"

I nodded and drank again before turning the bottle to examine the label. "Angkor Beer?" I laughed.

"Why not? One of our leading exports." He tilted the bottle back. I watched his brown throat move as he swallowed. "Possibly the only thing most people know about our country."

"Really?" It was difficult to talk to him, difficult not to stare at his mobile, expressive face. Fortunately, the beer offered a convenient alternative to conversation.

We drank for a while in silence. I wondered how I could politely excuse myself.

He replaced his bottle on the table. "You really miss her, don't you?"

My eyes filled with tears. Somehow, though, it was a relief to admit it to someone, even to him. "Yes. Yes, I do."

"Is she your lover?" I'd read Cambodia was a conservative country, but Che didn't seem shocked by the idea at all.

"Was. She broke it off just before we were supposed to leave on this trip."

"Why?" The question was completely inappropriate, but I could see he wanted to know.

I buried my face in my hands. What could I say? How could he ever understand?

I heard the scrape of his chair as he rose. His hand rested briefly on my bare shoulder. "Whatever the reason," he murmured, "I think she was crazy."

By the time I looked up, he had returned to his seat at the other end of the table. "Make it an early night," he told the group. "We've got to be up at five tomorrow." He did not look at me again, but still the imprint of his fingers lingered on my flesh.

Read Citadel of Women now!