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Poppy Stories

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Simplicity

In the Garden

Garden playtime.

My God, he's strong. That thought was always a turn on for me. Following me into the garden, he nuzzled my neck, knowing I couldn't resist. But, for a moment, I did, long enough to make him force my knees into the soft earth as the scent of poppy blooms exploded around me. Brazenly raising my skirt to expose my ass, he thrust inside, plunging urgently and so fucking hard that I gasped. I soon gushed my juices and he conti...

Whispered_Words

The Other Woman

Stepping out of the shadows, she claims her author...

His words captivated and seduced.   They always did.   Vibrant descriptions that effortlessly painted sensual pictures before your eyes.  Feeling as real as your hand, that lightly floats through the field of poppies that lay before. You always imagined her.  The woman at the centre of his tales, whose erotic encounters you had shared so intimately.    Whose heart you had felt thunder and whose blush had claimed equally....

LostLittleLamb

My Mistress Above Me, and Poppies below

A poet in a poppy field was not expecting company.

The sun above me, the poppies below, and her in-between sublimates what I know. I came here to write; she came here to read. Instead we found something that both of us need. Her lips on my body. Her lust for my cock fulfills dreams before daytime stops. Her skin, tan above me, makes me hard as a rock.  Her soft breasts that hang from her tender body. They tremble. I watch them. When I touched them, she sang. My wife must...

TonyaL

You Can't Judge a Book by it's Cover

When you open a book you never know what you'll find

I couldn't believe it, when I opened my eyes he was beneath me. He looked as I imagined, with chiseled abs and striking eyes. His large thick cock throbbed inside me. I moved in harmony to the sway of the poppies. I didn't want this to end. I wanted to savor every moment. He never said a word but his eyes glimmered with fire. He held my sweater and pulled me down as he released his essence in me.  I screamed out and awoke...

Trystin715

A Memoir of Paris: Prologue

My affairs during the Crazy Years

I celebrated my first manuscript by fucking my first French Communist. It was France during the Crazy Years, the Années Folles. American writers surged into Paris. It was Prohibition in America; I arrived to enjoy the cafes and French culture after the First War. I fucked Pierre-Michel in a poppy field and considered myself emancipated. It was a lustful time in life. My young body gave pleasure where it found pleasure: me...

Liz

Summer Lust

Their sweat-streaked bodies collapsed, slowly cooling in the hazy floral breeze.

Soft moans accompanied the slow trembling plunge onto his hard cock. Her labia stretched tight around his girth as his swollen head raked along her insides until she bottomed out.Strong hands grasped her bottom kneading her crotch to his. His pubic hair grazed her hairless vulva sending tingles to her toes, and her face blushed poppy-petal red knowing her spread cheeks were lewdly displayed for any passerby to see.Her rol...

JWren

Footage

The footage was brief. On second viewing, he disregarded the wild poppies dancing with the tall grasses and concentrated on her: dress bunched at her waist and energetically bouncing on a sturdy cock. He leaned back into the chair’s padded leather. “No sound. Your man was rather distant?” “Yes, Sir Charles, with a powerful zoom lens.” “He did well,” he mused, studying the documents in his lap before placing them on the oa...

el_henke

Defloration

Flower field. Great red poppies. Her favorite. Bees humming. She loves it. I love her. I want her. I took her here. Our first time. She's never done it. We take our time. No need to rush. I want it to be perfect. For her. Seductive words. Ardent whispering. Fingers exploring. Sensual touches. Rock-solid erection. Drenched entrance. I need her. Can't go fast enough... Patience! Go slow. Her pace. She's in charge. She said...

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tams_back_yay

Fucked in the Fields

She knew precisely how to free his mind.

“Sometimes I think you love that typewriter more than me,” she mused, bent over, caressing his shoulders. “I have a deadline, baby. Fuckin’ editor wants a piece about these poppies and I got nothing.” She swung around to straddle where he was sitting cross-legged. Scarlett-painted fingertips lifted her pale-yellow sundress. Her pussy, eye-level and glistening with arousal. She peered down to him and pinched her bottom lip...

icurOK2

In Flanders Fields

Once for Us - Once More for Them

He was gaunt and walked with a limp.  She was beautiful, fresh, buxom.  They walked slowly, looking for just the right spot -In Flanders Fields.  They walked where the poppies blow. They walked between the crosses, row on row.  They sat among the poppies, her skirt spread around her.   "Should we really do this?" he asked. "We should," she said, "for you, for us, for them." He lifted her skirt, moved her red panties aside...

StillUndecided

Click

She gestures to the typewriter, “Why do you insist on using this old thing?”   “The clicking gets me going.”   She unbuttons the front of her summer dress. “I thought I got you going.” She pushes her companion down and straddles them.   “Yes, but I’m always ready for you.” They gesture to their crotch as she grinds against the hard plastic phallus, their breasts bound as hers bounce before her eyes.   She slides the phall...