Creative Writing: Boudreaux

His soft, gentle, fingers trailed a flame down my arm as he let them trace it down to my hand that lay across my stomach. I sighed, content in our lovemaking. Myles’ blue eyes showed his satisfaction in having pleasured me so well. We both knew that it would not last long- it never did. Just his eyes upon me, initiated pleasurable pulsations that began deep in my pleasure place and then traveled through my body. When he licked his lips, I felt it down there… He knew I would soon want him inside me again and the curl of his lip showed his pompous, superiority over all things sexual. He leaned over me and let his tongue trace around the nipple of my left breast before he nibbled at it with his lips and then suckled tenderly. When I began to moan softly, he took my mouth with his and kissed me deeply, his tongue exploring the depths of my desire. His hand left my breast and traveled down to the soft fleshy mons between my thighs. Slowly and gently, he probed until he had me begging him to penetrate me. I wanted his large phallus inside me, but he continued to tease, his lips trailing fire over my body; he wanted me to beg for it.

Memories of the night before became a vivid memory in the recesses of his dimly lit mind, underneath the sunlight's intruding yet blissful gaze and the sensation of silk against his bare skin felt like a euphoria, a river of midnight encased his slender figure and with the scrunch of his refined nose and furrowed knit of his thin eyebrows, he rose from his slumber. Delicate fingertips leisurely danced across the silken sheets which lost its assuaging warmth only to discern that he was gone, Padding through the spacious house far too big for two alone to fill, and too much of a burden for one to find comfort in. To see his lover, clad in a suit that managed to take his breath away immediately

I loved Louis and craved his touch… wished he would hurry home, but in the same thought desired Boudreaux… I wanted to be with him; my body burned with desire for his touch. I stood quickly and told Angelique that I must leave; I needed to rest before the Feast of Ghouls that was to take place in the Place d' Armes later that night.

Paul hushed him with a gentle kiss, never tiring of the sensation. He rid himself of his own pants, now as revealed as the other. Joseph took the fingers that were cupping his face into his mouth, rolling his tongue over each of the digits diligently. Paul let out a deep groan “My god Warren, one day I’m gonna have to put that mouth of yours to good use.” Joseph smirked around his fingers, running his tongue along the side of his middle finger. The fingers were pulled away and his mouth was busied with kissing along Paul’s neck. Paul pushed his legs out wider “You still wanna keep going?” He asked softly, because if they were going to do this, they both had to want it. Joseph nodded quickly “Oh god yes. You have no idea” And with that, Paul slid a finger in slowly, making sure to make it more pleasurable than painful. When Joseph was comfortable he added another finger, stretching him out slowly. Joseph arched his back, moaning at the unfamiliar sensation and trying to adjust to the odd feeling. Paul stroked the smaller man’s cock gently as he spread his fingers, Joseph rocking into his touch, so lost in the feeling, he almost didn’t notice the third finger slide in next to the others. Once he was open enough, Paul slicked himself up and pushed in slowly, rolling his hips. Warren clung to him, eyes clenched shut in pain and

His hand moved to caress her face with light, gentle strokes, his hand glided around to cup the back of her neck. He angled her face to the position he desired, his firm mouth insistent and relentless in his passionate attack on her senses. He licked her sweet lips in slow, luscious strokes savoring the taste of this woman that inflamed his desire beyond reason. His tongue lightly probed the sealed seam of her lips till they parted with a slight sigh with his gentle

“I don’t want us to stop seeing one another,” I whispered. “I need you, Boudreaux.” and I did need him. It was as much my fault as his that we had become lovers, and no matter what, I did not want that to change. I loved Louis, but I also loved Boudreaux; I knew that. Setting there touching him… his scent surrounding me, I wanted him badly. I was glad I remembered to bring the jar Marie had given me- for if my calculations were correct, I would need it to prevent pregnancy.

After Lucinda had given me this letter, I put things into motion. As Francois had me watched like a hawk, there was only one place I was free from his henchmen’s icy stares, the dressmaker. He allowed me to have a new dress fashioned when there was a social event where I needed to accompany him for appearances. He liked to parade me in front of Creole society coerced to portray the image of being happily married. We had such an event coming up the first week of June.

About ten thirty that morning, she sent a servant to ask that I join her for brunch. It was just across the street so when the time came, Benét helped me dress and then I walked over. A handsome male servant ushered me in. It was my first visit to the townhouse since my marriage to Louis. I blushed, wondering if he was one of

Entry 1: Bibliographic Entry Sante, Luc, and Alexandre Dumas. The Count of Monte Cristo. New York: Barnes & Noble Classics, 2004. Print. A.

Kicking off his boots, he quickly stripped off his clothes until he stood naked under the light of the full moon. He could feel his cock swelling, his arousal igniting a fire in the pit of his stomach, the warmth radiating over his bare flesh. His spine tingles with anticipation, and moving forward, he climbed onto the bed and wrapped his arm around Tom’s narrow waist, he placed his lips against the delicate contours of his lover’s ear and kissed the warm flesh. “Baby, wake up,” he

But the three children had not seen an onion. Indeed, they had not seen much of anything during their ocean voyage, which had begun when the Baudelaires had pushed the large, wooden boat off the roof of the Hotel Denouement in order to escape from the fire engulfing the hotel, as well as the authorities who wanted to arrest the children for arson and murder. The wind and tides had quickly pushed the boat away from the burning hotel, and by sunset the hotel and all the other buildings in the city were a distant, faraway blur. Now, the following morning, the only things the Baudelaires had seen were the quiet, still surface of the sea and the gray gloom of the sky. The weather reminded them of the day at Briny Beach when the Baudelaires had learned

Marianne met Henry in the middle of the hall, where he took her hand again, and led her up to her seat. He took a moment to pull out her chair, and his hand lingered on her shoulder for half of a second. He slid into his seat beside her as his father stood, beginning to make a toast about unity and chivalry, and the power the two kingdoms would have together… Marianne tried her best to pay attention. Truly she did. But it had been a long day, and even longer weeks preparing for this day. Sea journeys and carriage rides and scalding hot baths… What sounded best right now was a warm bed.

After meeting Fraun, he led me and Vanitas down into what I guessed was an underground passage that opened up to a sun lit huge cavern with a hole in its roof.

After I achieved orgasm, Boudreaux slowed down his intense desire and made love to me. His lips covered every inch of my body; his tongue explored every orifice, iridescent trails of fire slithered through me. He artfully brought me to climax over and over again until I pulled his head from between my thighs and begged him to stop. I began to cramp and bleed heavily. Of course, I could not blame Boudreaux; it was entirely my fault. I was so sexually aroused that I could not stop his initial penetration even though I knew that I should because I wanted him inside me so badly. And, even though I made him stop after having several orgasms, the desire was still there. I stayed sexually aroused; the more I experienced, the more I wanted. Even cramping and bleeding heavily, I desired Boudreaux to hold me and fondle me… I wondered if the incubus that made love to me on the Night of the Ghouls had filled me with such insatiable desire that only grew in strength as I matured. At this rate, I would become one of them… a sexual demon! I knew that if I were to

“The very fact that she thought she had spotted him was certain proof that there was nothing devilish to be found, for the devil would certainly never be stupid enough to let himself be unmasked by the wet nurse Jeanne Bussie. And as if hell smelled of sulfur and paradise of incense and myrrh” (Suskind 14-15). The 18th Century was a time of intellectual curiosity and experimentation which is based on an abiding faith of human reason to unlock the ambiguities of nature and society. Grenouille did not fit the criteria that one believed humans should have during this era. As a result, Grenouille found himself attracted and enthralled with the scent of unadulterated young ladies, females who were pure at heart and body. “Grenouille's case was nothing of the sort. There was not the least notion of God in his head. He was not doing penance nor waiting for some supernatural inspiration. He had withdrawn solely for his own personal pleasure, only to be near to himself. No longer distracted by anything external, he basked in his own existence and found it splendid. He lay in his stony crypt like his own corpse, hardly breathing, his heart hardly beating--and yet lived as intensively and dissolutely as ever a rake had lived in the wide world outside” (Suskind