Steamy

Really Darlings, Miss Virginia is finding it most difficult to write a full-fledge erotic story every week. Perhaps she was a bit ambitious initially in saying she could get one up in time for each and every Friday. Every other week, or even once a month seems to be more reasonable, you see. While Miss V does have loads and loads of brilliant ideas floating around in that dear little head of hers, she is simply not able to find enough time to get them all down on the page. Oh, my what a predicament!

But dears never fear, Miss Virginia Prude is not without resources. What she would like to suggest to all her lovely Steam Room guests, is that we all try our hand at writing the teeniesty weensiest piece of naughty prose. What do you say? Are you up for it? (Oh my, Miss Prude does seem to be ever so inclined to the obvious metaphor, doesn’t she?)

To prepare the Steam Room for this project, Miss Prude has set aside her regular reading of Miss Manners’ Guide to Excruciatingly Correct Behavior (a must-read for every good Southern Girl like herself.) Instead she has been enjoying the rather refined work of Miss Susie Bright, author of any number of books and collections of erotica, and mistress of the most informative and scholarly webpage. Now gentle readers, Miss V will be the first to admit that some of Miss Susie Bright’s work is slightly-too-brash for the most sensitive of the evangelically inclined. But Miss V must say, she has enjoyed it all rather well, in spite of the occasional discomforting blush. At any rate, this week Miss Virginia has been reading Miss Susie’s, How to Write a Dirty Story (of which she has an autographed copy, so la-di-da darlings.) In this helpful text, Miss Susie is ever so kind to have given her readers any number of helpful writing prompts, some of which I look forward to using as the impetus for future steamy stories. It is her suggestions in How to Write… which have inspired me to start a little story and then ask you, kind readers, to finish it.

Please recall that Miss Virginia’s Steam Room has a policy of being “heavy on the hot, light on the nasty,”(TM) so please do refrain from allowing your characters to engage in threesomes; cheat on one’s spouse; be too awfully submissive/dominant; or get involved with anything other than the most delicate of tie-me-up-tie-me-down play (what else are those satin dressing gown sashes for , darlings?) And of course, Miss Prude hardly thinks she has to mention that nothing should be done to any character against his or her will. We simply do not play that way in this particular Steam Room. All of those things may be just fine for some audiences, but they tend to be a bit much for the Vodka Tonic Ladies. We don’t want to send the VTL into the dangerous sort of heart palpitations, now do we?

Now do remember dears, that you can post a comment in all anonymity here at the Steam Room. Oh, Miss V does Does DOES hope that at least one or two of you dear, dear readers will wrap this little story up in the comments for her! If you get quite verbose dears, and manage to exceed the comment word count, simply serialize your story in any number of consecutive comments, or better yet, mail the entire tome to Miss Virginia: MissPrude at live dot com. Don’t forget to let Miss V know if you’d like anything you send her to display your name (or pen name) proudly!

Alright then darlings, at long last here’s your prompt. I know you’ll do Miss Virginia proud….

Valerie had what she supposed was a somewhat uncouth habit — she liked to read in the nude. To her reading sans clothes seemed to signify total relaxation– it had something to do with peeling off the uniform of work clothes and remaining completely unadorned in her own skin. Her bedroom was her favorite place to read. Propped up against a stack of pillows, Valerie let her breasts relax from a taxing day of being pent up in underwires. Her cooch didn’t mind the airing out either, and all around she was unbothered by the pinch of a waisband or the chaffing of some unrequired piece of elastic. Valerie paused from her reading a moment and glanced in the mirror besides her bed. She thought she looked well, posed as she was, with her ’sexy librarian’ glasses perched on her nose.

Today, in this unseasonable heat, the sheets felt cool on her pale skin, sliding across her legs in the most caressing of ways. Although the book at hand was nothing more erotic than Dickens, the sensation was beginning to moisten her libido. The breeze stirred the thin curtains of Valerie’s window, and it occurred to her that there was always the possibility her across the-quad-neighbor might have (his or her) windows open too.….

The Lake House

a steamy story from the imagination of miss virginia prude

Though it would be thronging with friends in just a few short weeks, the lake house was quiet this early May weekend. Just a few of the co-owner-friends came out so soon in the Spring. Only four of the eight fair-weather residents were here now, and two were out hiking when she heard him call her name from the sleeping porch.

The chaises lay there, all in a row facing the thinning forest and the lake front beyond. They’d yet to unroll the striped awning, and though the sun was shining down in full force on the house, it was still cool in the midday at this time of year. Alec was reading on one of the chaises, a blanket near by in case it got too cold. “Kara,” he called, “come over here.” And he extended his arm towards her from across the veranda. She crossed the threshold and walked towards him, taking his hand. He drew her wordlessly down to lay at his side.

They had often lain like this, mostly platonic, friends enjoying each other’s closeness and warming themselves with each other’s gentle heat. But that was before. Before they hit the second half of their 30’s. Before real life rushed in. And most importantly, before their break ups.

Kara had recently ended the most significant relationship of her life—an eight year saga that sank with a vengeance just three months ago. Its emotional undertow still sometime pulled her under into the damp world of loss. She was only just now staying above the surface for extended periods, gulping great breaths of air in her renewed singleness. Sometimes, Kara thought she could see a distant but possible shore where she might be happy again.

Alec had divorced a year ago, after finding his wife in bed with his closest friend – two life supports collapsing at once (and two less visitors to the house on the lake.) He had recovered more quickly than Kara, telling everyone that he had known it was over before it was over. In truth, it was the loss of his friend that hurt more than the end of a marriage that had always been thin-ish – like a drink when the ice has melted into it.

Now they were both “getting back to normal,” as their friends described it, and the lake house had been a healing shelter for them both.

Kara lay with her head on Alec’s shoulder, while he curled his arms around her. Soon, he was stroking her hair, pulling his fingers through the long silkiness of it. Except for this stroking motion, they lay very still. Each felt the heat of the other’s skin where it touched in the areas that were newly exposed after a long winter of turtlenecks. Kara’s bra strap slipped below the capped sleeves of her stretchy knit top. Alex’s bicep brushed against it where his arm emerged from his plain white tee.

Kara reached out tentatively and stroked the skin of his neck, drifting from the stubble on his jaw line to the edge of his shirt collar. Once….twice…again, before slipping the pads of her fingers under the neck of his shirt, and sliding along the edge of his collar, pulling down just slightly to expose the light hair on his chest. At this gesture, Alec turned on his side and rotated her towards him. He grasped the back of her thigh, throwing her leg over his hip, making her jeans stretch tight over her ass. He wrapped her body around him like one who had rehearsed his movements in his mind. Kara breathed sharply inward, then smiled at her friend. Their faces were just inches apart as he pulled their bodies even closer together with a hard tug. Kara immediately felt his hardness against her pelvic bone and tipped into press it. Alec’s breath came out with a hot sigh.

Without speaking they did what they always should have done, their mouths finding each other, consuming lips and tongue and skin in hungry mouthfuls. At first he held her head in his hands, pressing her to him in his eagerness. Then his fingers trailed down her hair, her neck, along her breast bone and the v neck of her shirt. When he reached the edge of her simple bra, Alex plunged his fingers under the soft fabric to pinch her nipples. The pleasure rushed into her chest like a hot drink. Kara moved against him then, pressing her hips rhythmically against his cock, rubbing him through their jeans like teenagers at a drive in movie. (They had known each other since then, after all.) They looked at each other with eyes wide and laughing. “Finally,” was the unspoken message, and their hands flew to take off the other’s clothes—Kara pulling off his t-shirt, Alec dragging away her blouse, swiftly unfastening her bra, slipping it off her shoulders with an appreciative gaze at her breasts, pink and firm with arousal. He bent and kissed each one lingeringly, taking her into his mouth like ripe fruit, like soft chocolate.

Again they paused, looking at each other with glee, Kara stroking the contours of his chest, his abs. She was straddling him now on her knees, and the crotch of her jeans pulled up a little, rubbing her with enticing friction. Alec pulled her down even tight against him and she felt her jeans pull up into her wetness. Kara closed her eyes, her tongue slipping out to lick her lips. Alec’s fingers moved to her buttons, undoing the fly, releasing the zipper. She rose up on her knees, moving her legs together and between his spread thighs so he could slip her clothes down over her hips, jeans and panties peeling away as one. Almost immediately Alec had lifted her a little higher on her knees, his hands under her buttocks, his face already buried in her hair. Kara groaned as his tongue flicked forward to her clit, lapping her with more hunger than she had ever seen in any man before. She bore her hands down on his shoulders and his drifted up to her breasts, finding their way by touch, pulling hard on her tits as he ate her.

Kara ground almost involuntarily against his face, unaware if she was being a fair lover, totally unselfconscious in her hunger to peak. He was already drenched in her juices and within minutes her body crashed into a pulsing orgasm. At her sharp cry of release, Alec maneuvered his hands between her legs and thrust his fingers into her to feel her pulse. He sucked her a few more times, moaning with a sort of satisfaction, then leaned back against the chaise, more than faintly triumphant.

“Proud of yourself, are you?” teased Kara from her stance above him, her fingers drifting lazily through her pubic hair and down the insides of her thighs.

“Definitely.” was his cheeky reply.

“Well then,” she said rolling off the chaise a little awkwardly and stripping her pants off all the way, “I suppose turnabout is fair play.” Alec reached out one hand to stroke her hip, drifting down her leg to her knee cap, the curve of her calf. Again with the ridiculous smiling for both of them.

Kara stepped her legs wide to straddle the chaise, and lowered herself down onto his upper thighs, her wet fuzz just a fraction away from all his swollenness. She brushed the hair of her cunt against his balls, licking her lip with the tip of her tongue as she stroked the downward arch of each of his hip bones. Reaching for his cock and she wrapped her fingers around him, stroking him lightly, slipping around in the wetness at its tip with the pads of her fingers. She knew she should probably extend this time teasing him; take him into her mouth, get him almost off before really fucking him. But frankly she didn’t want to wait. She’d spent most of the past decade being the proper lover. Now, with Alec, she just wanted to be herself in the moment. Still holding him in her fist, Kara pressed her other hand against his chest, lifted her hips, and slid herself onto him slipping her hand down his shaft and across his hip and she went down. Alec held her hips and laid his head back, eyes closed and she moved herself on him. She pivoted her hips in slow circles, rubbing his chest, watching his face express deep pleasure. After a time she tipped her hips forward and he put his hands on her thighs to feel her muscles flex as she lifted herself up and down the length of him, driving his shaft deeply into her, his head striking the tender spot behind her pelvic bone. Kara began to make short pulses of sound with every thrust, the sound of pleasure bordering on pain as the length of him created a delicious pressure inside her. Alec began that familiar male litany of ‘Oh Gods,’ and her own sound grew louder as his voiced pleasure turned her on and on. He was thrusting now too, in time with her, gripping her ass and driving her down harder and harder. Finally, Alec tipped his hips up higher and harder than the other thrusts, his head thrown back in ecstasy. Kara rode him a few more times, getting a few last strokes of pleasure before he twitched with over stimulus, then slowing to a gentle rocking before drifting to a stop.

“Mmmm.” She hummed as she lowered her self down against him, her breasts pressed against his now sweaty chest. “Yum.”

“Yum, indeed!” he replied, pulling the chaise blanket over them and burrowing his face against her now messy hair.

“We should do that again sometime?” Kara asked, tracing around one of his nipples with one fingernail. Though she was trying to be casual, she knew she hadn’t quite kept the worried sound from her voice.

Alec drew back against the chaise cushions, moving away from her slightly and tipping her head up so he could look into her familiar brown eyes. “Yes.” he said steadily, “This—and more—again, and again, and again….”

…recommendations of steamy things to wear for curvy girls.

Dahlings! Miss Prude is ever-so-sorry, but she in unable to produce another Steamy tome for you this week or next, as she is gallivanting around the globe with a younger man. She will however give you another brief suggestion from Miss Virginia’s Closet.

Now, please recall that Miss Virginia’s recommendations are especially for curvy girls, so this suggestion comes with a caveat. Miss V does not think this little (and she does mean little) get up is especially, shall we say, supportive of certain curvy parts. But Mr. Prude gives to two thumbs up (among other things that are up), so she is including it here for her braver readers.

Everything in this “skong” stripper get-up is fully accessible. It’s already pretty inviting with the mesh and the tininess, but the split-cup bra makes it even better. Split cups may not make any sense when it comes to foundation garments, but when it comes to getting frisky they are ever so lovely if you partner wants to play tongue-and-seek those  perky little nipples of yours. (At least those don’t start sag with the rest of the parts, right darlings? They are always read to sit up straight like a good girl should.) True, “skong” may not be a real word, but if your tango partner likes the view from behind this will certainly do the trick. Sadly this get-up doesn’t come with a pole, though you could order one here. Get into this outfit with a pair of hooker heals and you’ll be ready to shake your money maker with the best of them. (Swing those tassels darlings!)

Miss Virginia will be back in a week or two with a new Steamy story. Good- bye darlings. Don’t do anything Miss V wouldn’t do–and well, that does leave you with quite a few options–even though if you are evangelically inclined. Ta Ta!

Stress Reduction

A Friday Fantasty

The dull sounds of über warriors shooting each other descended through the floorboards to Tamara’s bedroom. Her older son Jacob was waging war on the gaming system and the twins, just 5 years old, were his dedicated audience.

Tamara knew they were too young to watch that kind of video game, but the younger boys had been hellions all day long. At one point, she’d even found the cat skulking around the house with wet Incredible Hulk underwear tied to its tail with a twist tie. This meant three things:

a)      one of the twins had waited too long to go and was currently going commando

b)       the sandwich bread for lunches tomorrow was drying out on the counter

c)       the cat had lost all will to live.

Tamara knew she couldn’t face one more harsh reality without committing infanticide. The moment Jacob came home from middle school, she had plopped all three of them down on the couch with a bowl of Doritos. She did not care how many acts of gaming violence they were witnessing or how many chips were getting embedded into the sofa cushions. She just did not want to deal with one more parenting crisis.

In the relative sanctuary of her bed room Tamara kicked off her sandals and lay curled up on top of the bedspread. The afternoon light filtered softly through the curtains and in moments she was drifting in that soft-focus world between sleeping and waking. She heard the front door click open, registered the sound of the boy’s distracted greeting to their Dad, but could not rouse herself to get up. Instead she curled herself away from the bedroom door and buried her head in her pillow.

“Babe?” Chris queried as he opened the bedroom door. “That bad, huh?”

Tamara rolled over on her stomach and buried her face in the pillow. “What happened?” he asked, as he deposited his things on the floor and sat down on the edge of the bed.

“Hellions.” Tamara moaned. “Mayhem.”

“Babe, I’m sorry.” Chris rubbed her back in gentle circles. “I’ll order us pizza.”

Tamara exhaled slowly as Chris’ hands continued their pattern. Encouraged by even this little response, Chris moved his hands lower down Tamara’s back, working the tight muscles around her tailbone. Tamara moaned again, and he drifted down her hips to work the deep tissue in her buttocks. “Babe, you are so tight.” He observed. No answer.

Assuming no news was good news in the amorous front, Chris slid his hands down the back of her legs and pressed the folds of her peasant skirt between her thighs. “Honey,” Tamara whispered, almost whimpering, “I can’t. I’m so tired.”

“All you have to do is lie here.” Chris replied.

“I don’t know,” she said dreamily, drifting into the comfort of his hands stroking the stress from her body.

“I know just where you need to loosen up.” he said in a throaty whisper. Chris slid up her skirt up her legs, running the flat of his hands up her thighs, and then lightly stroking own again with the tips of his fingers. Tamara let her legs fall a little apart. Chris repeated his strokes a few times, then let the upward stroke extend just a little further until his finger tips touched the elastic edge of her panties. Boy shorts. Chris knew Tamara thought of these as “practical,” but they totally turned Chris on. He liked the way they framed the curve of her rear, and even though there was far more material there than the special- occasion thongs, he could still pull the pliable fabric aside enough to —well, to do just about anything he wanted. He fingered the edges of the black fabric, then slid his fingers up one leg opening, touching soft hair hiding there. As he moved his hand more deliberately between her she tensed a little, then exhaled softly and relaxed. Chris stroked her with two fingers, first gently petting her like a kitten, then splicing her hair with a gentle push. Tamara moaned as Chris slipped in between her folds, stroking her hooded clit with little flicks of his finger tips. He was pleasantly surprised to find that she was already wet, and he knew in moments her clit would swell past its hood, eagerly seeking his fingers. He circled the area delighted, then, before she got too close, slid his fingers down to lower regions.

Chris knew from past experience that Tamara held all her tension in three places. The large muscles of her hips, the long thin muscles of her arms lower arms, and the tight hot opening of her cunt. He’d already worked the curved sides of her ass, and frankly, he was not that interested in her arms, elegant though they may be. With a push Chris slide both fingers into her and she let out a soft breathe of pleasure. Envisioning his way on to other things, Chris let his fingers slide deep into her and back out, in and out, in and out as Tamara’s breathing continued to deepen. On a last outward stroke, he took the pads of both fingers and circled along just the rim of her cunt, pulling the edges out gently, tugging the skin where the muscles felt tightest slightly up and towards her ass

“Ooooh. That feels so good.” Tamara moaned.

“I know,” he answered. Across the room on his side of the bed their dresser stood with a large oval mirror. The mirror reflected back to him the goofy, pleased look on his face. Seeing himself there in his shirt and tie, fresh from work with hand up his wife’s cunt turned him on immensely. The half-baked hard on that had been his since he saw Tamara’s legs on the bedspread now got serious, and he felt himself swell against his slacks. Hot with the thought of being inside her, Chris stroked around her tight red curve on more time, then added a third finger. He knew she liked to be full. One thrust. Two. Three. Fourfivesix. Now she was moaning incessantly, smothering the sound in her pillow. Chris was grateful for the battle that was going on upstairs on the Xbox. He could please her as much as he wanted and the three boys wouldn’t hear a thing.

Chris felt powerful now as the strain of the day washed away from Tamara and drenched his fingers.  “Do you want more?” he asked. She lifted her ass slightly off the bed in answer and Chris added the index finger of his other hand into the fray, stretching her as far as he could, pulling her cunt open wider as his other hand moved in and out rhythmically. He could feel Tamara’s tension release under his touch.

“Oh God!” Tamara groaned into the pillow.

Now that she was fully aroused, Chris could feel the rippled sponge of Tamara’s g-spot. He’d moaned and licked his lips. He’d recently become an expert at working this pleasure zone, and in just a few thrusts of his hand and come-hither curls of his fingers he could feel her juices rushing over him as she came. Tamara half-shrieked with the intensity of the sensation. But Chris didn’t want to stop just because she’d orgasamed once; he knew he was capable of more. He repeatedly stroked her from deep within to the very edge of her cunt, pulling down hard on the lip of her opening at the end of each stroke, stopping just short of real pain. Again with the moaning.

Now Christ was starving for his hot little wife, his cum beginning to weep down the sides of his swollen head. Abruptly he pulled out his hand, gasped Tamara by the hips and rotated her on the bed until she lay on her stomach with her legs hanging over the edge. Chris’s sticky fingers flew to his belt pulling it out from the buckle. He undid the button on his slack, pulled down the fly. In seconds his cock was spring out of his boxers. He thrust his pants down around his knees and three Tamara’s skirt up over her back. Her black boy shorts were pulled to one side, a darker patch of wetness showing where they were soaked in a wide swatch all around the crotch. Chris stripped them off her, watching her ass jiggle as she shook them off her ankles. Tamara slid off the bed further stretching her legs so that her calves were tight as she stood on her tip toes, her ass high in the air, spliced open and dripping. Chris grabbed her by the hips and pulled her close, thrusting his cock into her well-lubricated cunt. Tamara moaned and threw her hands out in front of her on the bedspread, clutching at the fabric. She turned her head to one side as he thrust into her. He could see the top of her head in the mirror, her sandy hair tousled with her earlier thrashing. He saw the stripes on his work shirt, the dark split of his tie, the hungry look and his face, the movement of his torso as he fucked her. God, she was so wet.

“Yes! Yes! Yes!” Tamara had started to moan rhythmically with each thrust. Christ knew he would peak soon with that kind of encouragement. She slid her right arm down the bedspread and under her body, curling up slightly so her fingers could reach her clit. Chris knew he’d been dragging her swollen goodness against the textured fabric and that he was bumping her deliciously against the edge of the bed. Tamara was working herself hard, getting close to a second coming. He upped the ante, increasing the speed of his thrusts; angling his cock up deep and high; concentrating on the long slip of her skin from his head to his crotch. One. Two Three. Tamara arched her back and almost screamed in release. Chris felt himself explode within her, his cum flowing out around the edges of her cunt, joining the cream that already spilled out onto her thighs. He froze for a moment pressed all the way into her; feeling the waves of pleasure moving up and around him; his hands pulling her hips tight against him. He rode her a few more undulating pulses before folding over her and resting his chest against her back. They were both panting heavily. Chris reached up and pulled Tamara’s hair away from her face, so he could see the curve of her neck and whisper into her ear.

“Feel better?”

His only answer was a sort of humming moan.

“I guess I better go order that pizza.”