Mirror, Mirror…

nudemirror

The power of the imagination is incredible,
as this letter will attest.
What is your favorite fantasy?
What gets you aroused, every time?

Write me at eonserotica@gmail.com
or

Dear Eon,

I have a recurring fantasy in which a mirror plays a major role.  I picture myself naked, approaching a body length mirror mounted on the wall.  I see my pale skin, my skinny frame.  I see the nest of dark pubic hair between my legs.  The soft pale worm of my flaccid penis dangles there, unimpressive when unaroused.
I smirk.  I know how much it grows.  I feel the first flush of pleasure in the knowledge of how surprising my erection can be to a first time viewer.  I remember times where I waited until I was totally limp, small and cold, before disrobing to begin my seduction.  The look of uncertainty on her face as I encourage her to touch it, stroke it.  The incredulous shock that grows on her face even as my cock grows, and still grows.
Once a woman asked me, “When does it stop!?” with a pleased laugh.
I am well endowed, and this pleases me, because clothed, I am not much to look at.  Bony, long and narrow limbed, hunched of shoulder, long-necked with a large Adam’s apple.  Truly, an awkward storklike man.  I have very large hands and feet.  I find this makes it more believable, when I plant the idea in a woman’s head that I might be well hung.  She looks at the parts she can see, the hands with the long, strong fingers, the long feet, the prominent nose, and she thinks, “Perhaps the rest of him, too?”  A woman’s curiosity about a man’s penis will often get her into bed when she has misgivings about the rest.
So I look into the mirror, and I am satisfied with what I see, because I have discovered how to use it to best advantage.  The warmth of my self-regard is spreading through me, now, and my erection begins to grow.  I step closer to the mirror.
The man in the mirror looks me in the eye.  His dark pupils dilate.  He watches me as hungrily as I watch him.  I see the flush of arousal on him, watch him reach for his manhood.  He strokes it unconsciously.  I feel myself grow in my hand as I watch him grow, and I know that he is feeling what I am feeling.
His testacles dangle loosely.  I watch them tighten up towards his body as his ardour grows.  Knowing his eyes are on my genitals thrills me.
I step closer still.
The head of my cock touches his.  Natural lubrication leaks from our tips, mingles.
I glance up to find a smirk on his face.  He turns away from me, glances back over his shoulder.  Leaning forward, he braces himself on the wall behind the mirror and spreads his legs, presenting his ass to me.
I grip the base of my throbbing cock.  My pulse makes it judder and bounce with every beat of my heart.  He slowly flexes his ass cheeks, baiting me.
I step into the mirror.
My hands grip the mirror image of my own hips as I pull his furnace heat back against my crotch.  My skin sticks slightly to his skin, which is my skin.  I feel the sensation of touch, doubled, both sides at once.  Toucher, and touched.  I am sweating, eager.  I press the head of my cock against his asshole.  I feel my asshole pucker, resist.  A shiver of anticipation prickles my skin.  I feel the goosebumps raise beneath my hands.
I spit on the head of my cock, rub the slippery saliva around his asshole with my fingers.  My own asshole twitches at the slick sensation, and I force it to relax.  His anus opens to my cock.  I press inside, slowly, and feel my cock gripped by the hot vice of his asshole.  I feel his cock enter me, pushing past the tightness of my sphincter and probing deeply.  I thrust and receive simultaneously.  I take and am taken.
In the mirror, I pump my cock into his ass even as I am taking his cock in my ass.
The culmination is an overwhelming concatenation of sensation.  The spurting jets of cum leap forth, and I spill my seed inside him.  I feel the hot liquid as it fills me.  The pulsing of his cock as he thrusts and groans in his pleasure.  The slick grip of his asshole as it milks the final drops from me.  The shaking in my knees in his knees.  The tightness in my stomach in his stomach.  The hand reaching around to grasp his cock my cock as it strokes him me to another bucking orgasms and he empties himself into me as I empty myself into him again.
I step back from the mirror.
Seperate from the fantasy.
Sex with myself.
My semen slides slowly towards the floor.

This is my favorite fantasy,
H.V. in MB

*Image from Internet*

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The Unicorn

dragonunicorn

You can reach me at:

or:

eonserotica@gmail.com

Good afternoon, gentle readers!
One of my own, today.
The seeds of this idea were planted a few days ago,
during a conversation with a coworker.
It seems the seeds found fertile soil.
I would love to hear what you think.
Thanks for reading!
Much love,
Eon.

There it was.
(Finally!)
The dragon.
The gods were good.
It was the perfect moment for an ambush.

They had tracked it assiduously for weeks:  From the village, smoking and ruinous, where sooty villagers buried their dead and rebuilt their homes with a plodding, listless stolidity; west, through the farmlands, reading the scatter of cattle carcasses like the careless casting of a mad shaman’s runes; kicking mud and loam from their boots in the depths of primeval forests, finding and tasting the dragon’s spoor, taking the lay of the land from the tops of the tallest trees; further still, slipping down slopes of slithering scree, collecting the sheddings of the serpent’s skin where it paused to roll in the sharp stones by stinking sulfurous springs; across undulating hills like a rucked blanket creased by rivers, following the fear in the eyes of furriers and ferrymen.
To this place, here: a snowy ridge furred by the ferns in which they lay.
They were: Augustus; ever alert, sword in a scarred knuckly hand, shield at the ready, muscles bunching and tense beneath the straining straps of his heavy iron armor.  Proviciam; hugely fat, swathed in furs, eyes narrowed in a ruddy, cherubic face, though his gaze is turned inwards as he silently mouths hexes and charms through his ice-crusted beard.  Grogolex; nearly naked, skin as pale as the snow except where blue veins show through, filed teeth clenched in a shark’s grin, massive axe near at hand.
The three looked over the ridge upon a scene from the grimmest of fairytales.  The dragon, evidently, had espied a unicorn whilst a-wing.  Dropping silently from the air, it had pinned the poor beast to the frigid earth.  There the unicorn whinnied and snorted.  Reptilian claws pricked ruby rivulets of magical blood from its throat.  The dragon maneuvered its long, sinuous body, wrapping its equine prey with a serpentine coil of muscle and scale.  Draconic hindquarters gripped haunches of horse.  A massive, partially scaled phallus emerged.  As the three dragon hunters watched in horror, the dragon flapped his wings for balance and leverage and forced his member deep into the squirming and squealing unicorn.  The dragon’s jaws closed on her skull, holding her still.  A serpentine tongue coiled about the unicorn’s horn, licking licentiously.  Colored motes of light glittered and danced as the horn’s magic was stimulated by the dragon’s perverse stroking.  Glittering shards of energy sparkled and crackled.  The dragon began to thrust with urgency.  His immense member, slick with her liquid magic, stroked in and out of the unicorn’s stretching vulva.  Even from their vantage point on the ridge, the three could hear the meaty percussions of the dragon’s lust.
Proviciam released a sighing breath and ceased his mumbling.  His gaze once more fully focused on this world, he glanced at Augustus and nodded.  The protective spells were woven and firmly affixed.  With that, Grogolex grunted and made to rise, axe in fist.  Augustus’s hand restrained him with a light touch.  The ogre glared and bared his nasty teeth, but Augustus merely shook his head, once, and Grogolex subsided.  The three continued to watch.
The dragon was stroking at a steady pace, now, clearly enjoying himself.  The glimmer of sorcery encased his shaft as he heaved and strained.  He grunted and huffed like a bellows.  Wisps of smoke escaped his jaws.  His tongue continued to slobber and slurp magic from the violated horn.  Beneath the dragon, the unicorn spasmed and kicked, let loose a whinnying cry.  Her powerful haunches bunched, and she thrust herself up, staggered three steps beneath the dragon’s draping weight, and collapsed to her side.  There she bucked and moaned as he pummeled in and out of her.  The dragon, coiled about the unicorn’s body, squeezed tighter still, great loops of his body caressing her heaving flanks.  He released his jaw-grip on her skull and arched his long neck back, and back further yet, until he nearly formed a loop.  His eyes closed in ecstacy.  His steady rhythm became a furious humping.  Wet magic splashed over the snow from the unicorn’s vagina.  Her eyes rolled back in her head as she bucked.
Gradually, a low rumble was building from deep within the dragon’s chest.  The moment had come.  During the dragon’s pinnacle of pleasure, they would strike, and avenge the horrific desecration of this symbol of virginity and purity.
Augustus gave the nod and the three burst from the ferns, avalanching down the far side of the ridge.  Thanks to Proviciam’s thaumaturgy, Grogolex’s speed was superhuman; in less than ten heartbeats he was across the shallow valley and the dragon’s tail was severed at the base, bright blood arcing through the chilly air.  The snow steamed where it splashed.  The barbarian spun with the force of his blow and buried the massive axe in the dragon’s side.  Scales twinkled as they erupted from the impact like sparks spat from a fire.
The dragon’s eyes flew open and his roar shook snow from the surrounding ridges.  But, coiled as he was about the unicorn, pinned by her thrashing weight, he could not rise to meet the unexpected threat.  His head snapped around at the end of his long neck, cracking like a whip.  His chest expanded as he prepared to douse the attacking ogre in draconic fire.
Startled by the timely intrusion and the chance to escape, the unicorn chose that moment to scramble to her feet.  Her sudden movement sent frissons of pleasure coursing along the dragon’s shaft, finishing what the dragon had begun; still clinging to her hindquarters, he roared as he climaxed.  His body arched violently.  He undulated in waves.  His flaming breath vented harmlessly skyward.  Grogolex was thrown to the ground and the axe was ripped from his grasp.
As the powerful cable of the dragon’s body unwound, the unicorn found her hooves and leaped free, bucking and kicking, spilling scintillating serpentine semen from her womb as she went.  Thick and reeking, it, too, smoked in the snow.
Augustus arrived.  As the dragon righted himself, the magic sword flashed in the winter sunlight, and the dragon’s left foreleg came free.  Now gouting blood from three separate and grievous injuries, the dragon’s wings snapped open with a rattling clatter.  He cupped gigantic scoops of air and bunched for a skyward spring.
Proviciam barked an eldritch word.  Thunder boomed and lightning shredded the dragon’s leathery sails, leaving tattered and bloody remnants fluttering from blackened bone frames.  The dragon collapsed in agony.  Together, Augustus and Grogolex (who had recovered his axe) butchered the beast, hewing off great gobs of meat until both were head-to-toe gore.  This accomplished, they paused to rest.
It caught all three dragon slayers entirely off guard when the unicorn returned, at full gallop, and spitted Augustus on her horn like a holiday roast.  A magical discharge from the glittering spike splattered his innards over his fellows and half an acre of virgin snow.  As his ruined corpse fell free, she danced sideways, stabbing down with her horn.  Proviciam’s incantation went incompleted.  The horn had pierced his voice box.  Arcane energies surged without direction.  He crashed to the ground like a boulder falling off a mountain, and there he lay as all his great store of fat began to bubble and boil beneath his skin.
Grogolex stood immobilized with horror.  The unicorn’s eyes were full of rage.  She pawed the ground and tossed her head.  Her horn shone like an icicle in the winter sun.  She charged.  Grogolex was not quick enough.  His axe had whistled harmlessly through only half its arc by the time she plunged her glowing lance into his heart.
The three had made a terrible mistake.  Grogolex knew it as he died, for as he lay there, bleeding out his last, he saw the unicorn make her way to the dragon’s corpse and nuzzle it tenderly.  A single, shining tear fell from her eye.  Her horse quim quivered in remembered pleasure; a few more dragon drops fell free.  With horn ablaze, the unicorn began regenerating her lover.
Grogolex knew no more.

*Image from Internet*

Hello, and welcome to Eon’s Erotica.

IMG_0956

You can reach me at:

 

or:

eonserotica@gmail.com

Send me your favorite arousing fantasies.
Share your guilty, sexy secrets.
Send a passionate postcard.
Send me a love story,
A lust story.
Describe your dirtiest dreams, your most vivid and erotic desires.

How do you masturbate?
Describe your first time touching yourself
Having sex…
Getting caught doing something taboo…
What is your naughtiest habit?
Do you secretly lust for a friend?  A cousin?  A coworker?  A stranger?

Your most personal thoughts and feelings, your intimate confessions, all are welcome here.  The most entertaining, the most arousing of the writings received will be posted here for others to enjoy.  You may remain anonymous or include your return address if you desire a hand-written response.

Ultimately, my goal is to show that we’re not alone.
Always, there is someone out there just like us, someone with the same passions and desires, someone we can connect with on a deep and meaningful level.
I want you to start talking about these things, because through thoughtful discourse comes understanding, and through understanding and acceptance come joy.

We are all beautiful, in our own ways.

With love,
And warmest wishes,

Eon