Miss Marble E-Book

Arcana Roman

• Herausgeber: Boruma Publishing
• Kategorie: Erotik
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2015

Beschreibung

Miss Marble

Leseprobe

Miss Marble

A Flash of Exotic Erotica

Copyright, ©, Arcana Roman, 2015

All rights reserved

Cover image, ©Egorr|Dreamstime.com

Miss Marble

A Flash of Exotic Erotica

Copyright, Arcana Roman, 2015

All rights reserved. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical without the express written permission of the author. The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorised electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials.

Warning: This book contains themes that some readers might find offensive and is unsuitable for all readers under the age of 18.

This edition published by Secret Narrative

Contents

Miss Marble

A Flash of Exotic Erotica

Sample extract from:

Nine Moonless Nights by Arcana Roman

Miss Marble

The sculptor adored women but they frightened him. In every woman he saw wickedness. Their voices, faces and gestures arachnoid. Their hair a web with which to trap him and their perfume was a floating, haunting horror. Everything about women alarmed him. So he lived alone, shunning women; too fearful to marry he remained wifeless. And yet, he dreamed. He dreamed awake and he dreamed asleep. He dreamed of the perfect body of the perfect woman. He dreamed the woman, sick and tired of unbeing, into being and she took possession of his body to find herself a life. She moved into his hands and claimed ownership of his fingers. She filled his mind, clamoured his thoughts all day and all night. Eventually he began to sculpt; he imagined the perfect woman and his fingers and hands began his life’s work. Sleeping and waking he toiled until a life-size, perfect marble figure lay in his studio, dressed in ivory as if alive. He had created a woman, lovelier than any living soul and when he gazed at her, as if coming awake, he fell in love.

His own art amazed him. She was so real, she might have moved. Only her modesty, her sole garment, invisible, woven from the fabric of his dream, prevented her, as if a little ashamed, from stepping into life. And then his love for this woman, so obviously a woman, became his life. He caressed her, dominated by the quest of searching for the warmth of living flesh. His fingertip whorls filtering out the feel of ivory.

“You are so lovely,” he said. “Perfect, beautiful. I feel your living aura as soft as down over your whiteness.”

He gripped her, longing to feel her flesh yield. He half wanted to bruise her and half did not. He wanted to have her living; he needed to have her breathing beside him in his bedchamber.

At night, when the city was dark and woodsmoke filled the air, he stroked her whiteness; he spoke sweetly to her, telling her everything about his world. His life, his art, his longing. He shared every waking moment with her, whispering his dreams as he wished her living. He moved against her, his cock hard; almost as hard as the marble from which she was carved.

The warm living flesh of the sculptor pulsed against the cold, impassive, impenetrable stone of his creation. Infatuated, he stroked her curvaceous breasts and bottom with one hand and his erection with the other. Gently at first, his fingers touched her as they had traced her lines when she came into being. He wet his lips with his tongue; his heartbeat quickened and pulsed in time with his masturbation. Back and forth, faster and faster, a blur of pleasure; his eyes saw nothing but her milky skin. He felt nothing except the need for release, for the climax of ejaculation. Panting, he allowed himself to spout a fountain of pleasure over her marble shell. Spent, he rested, and yet he was not sated. His yearning was profound, unstoppable; she haunted him. His need for her intensified, the sweat of lust cooled on his burning skin, a contrast to her cool facade. He fell into a fitful sleep. She filled his dreams, her perfume swirled his senses; in his sleep his cock hardened, and he dreamed himself to climax.