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Proud and Prejudged : Being a Fabulous and Erotic Adventure of Clara Brooks

Proud and Prejudged : Being a Fabulous and Erotic Adventure of Clara Brooks | Erotica | Scoop.it

As Clara closed the book on the last page of Pride and Prejudice she’d slipped from her world of fact into fiction.


“It’s really such a shame,” she thought to herself. “I always wished Lizzie would end up with Wickham. He’s not at all a proud stuck up prig like Darcy and he’s unspeakably hot. Still, I’d totally fuck the brains out of that lovely Darcy, too.”

 

The scene: A quiet sheltered British wood that borders a lake on a pleasant summer afternoon, perhaps an hour’s drive from London. Not a soul for miles to disturb the calm, and no sound to be heard save for the chattering of the birds and the melodic moans of pleasure that sing from a pretty, naked young girl named Clara Brooks.

 

The girl: Eighteen year old Clara Brooks. Something of an awkward introvert, raised by her parents to be a doctor and currently attending UCL medical school, but her heart isn’t in it and dropping out next year seems possible. She prefers to spend her time reading and thinking about the finer things in life: namely chocolate ice cream sundae, classic literature, amigurumi and sex with tall dark men. She prefers to hide herself away and read about the exotic lives of others to socialising with her friends, but in company her pleasant and warm persona shine through regardless and she’s much adored despite her geekiness.

 

She’s pretty as a peach, or so said her friend Matilda. Her delicate face, brown eyes, long chestnut hair and fine, pert slender figure are certainly a popular attraction at parties.

 

The event: Clara gently slips off her light dress and lets it fall down to the floor. She stops for a moment and sighs, enjoying the cool summer air as it caresses her tingling skin. Then she removes her lacy bra and panties, sliding her hands sensually over her body as she does so. She lies herself down gently in the wet grass beside the lake, breathing in sharply as the clammy cold soil touches her skin, further arousing her. Clara closes her eyes and slowly pushes two fingers inside of her aching tight pussy lips, then gently works herself towards a blistering orgasm, fondling her breasts and nipples, and wriggling her body around frantically as she does so.

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...and Clara Dances

...and Clara Dances | Erotica | Scoop.it
… and Clara Dances, Like a Feather in the Wind.­­  La donna è mobile Qual piuma al vento, muta d'accento e di pensiero.

 

Clara span round and around. Naked men sucked one another to satisfaction as they watched Clara spin around and around on her point. They watched as she span but she could not watch them, for she was locked tightly alone in a world of darkness, a cover on her eyes forbidding access to the dazzling colour; forbidding access to the succulent pleasures of the male sex she so greedily desired to feast her eyes upon. She couldn’t have them, she could only spin around on her axis and dance.

 

And so Clara danced, and as she did, although denied vision, her sense of enveloping sound and music increased. She heard the rough whine of an old needle scratching a record as the light tenor voice of Pavarotti singing an aria from Verdi drifted pleasantly across the room. She heard the slow incessant drip-drip-drip of water from a tap, picking out every painful note of its ceaseless rhythmic torture. She heard the pop of a bottle uncorking and the slow dank pouring of wine in a glass, and she smelt the spiced cherry grape of the delicious vintage Cabernet she’d been expressly forbidden to taste. She heard the light, gentle tap-tappety-tap of her own bare feet upon the ground as she danced around graciously in time to the music, her feet picking out and accentuating the beat, as light as a feather in the wind. She heard the soft sounds of sex from every corner of the room, from far away and close beside her, and she could feel fucking warmly embrace her. She heard the sound of bodies pressed tightly against one another, the slow salivating suck of cock slipping deep down into a hot willing mouth. She heard moans of pleasure sing out, drowning out the melodic cries of Pavarotti. She heard the shrill shriek of male orgasmic lust and she heard the light slap of balls, and the swishing jet-spray of cum as thick members thrust hard in and then emerged softly from their adoring pleasures.

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She Wakes

She Wakes | Erotica | Scoop.it

Her body lies sprawling, naked and peaceful, an erotic adornment to the stark crisp linen of her bed. The dawning sun shyly observes her calm and unmoving beauty, for she lies perfectly still but for the soft regular rise and fall of her small delicate bosom. Strong male hands run lightly across the tips of her breasts and grab hold of her curving hips; a firm cock slides gently inside of her; and she wakes.

 

The first coy greetings of the morning sun tentatively shine through and brighten the room, illuminating her precious nudity. She yawns, stretches out her arms, and then blearily wipes away the encrusted sleep from her sticky eyes. The bolder rays beam their warmth across her smiling face and neck, bringing welcome heat to the exposed breast, recently cupped so tenderly by the man now thrusting his way deeper and deeper within.

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Clara Oswald: Into the Vortex (An Erotic Doctor Who Fantasia - Part One)

Clara Oswald: Into the Vortex (An Erotic Doctor Who Fantasia - Part One) | Erotica | Scoop.it

The central unit of the TARDIS’ slowly rose and fell with a dynamic, rhythmic whirr, propelling the mysterious craft forever onward, to continue its fantastic journey through space and time, while Clara lay dreaming,naked, in bed. A strange hand lovingly caressed the console, clicking buttons, pulling levers and twisting dials until the soft whir became a deafening roar and the motions of the main pillar increased in fury and vigour until the control room was awash with movement and noise; a deafening alarm, then a crash followed by an uncanny silence. And through it Clara slept on; and Clara dreamed on.

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Beautiful Secrets

Beautiful Secrets | Erotica | Scoop.it

He was so beautiful.

 

He didn’t see me hiding away in the dark deep of the shadows. He didn’t know that I was there and he never could. He must never know. That I cherished his beauty was my deepest, darkest secret and it cloaked me with shame. My voyeuristic love of watching from a distance as he stroked his cock to climax swallowed me up in self loathing, but I was compelled to do it, and could no more resist the urge to hide myself away and watch his private performance than I could refuse to eat or drink.

He didn’t know that I knew his secret. I could sense the pangs of guilt that stole up on him as he tried so hard not to idly browse to the inevitable dirty websites; they were, afterall the reason he came here alone. If she knew he was sure that his girlfriend would leave him, his parents, he thought, would loathe him, his friends would tease him, his Church ostracise him. He slipped away in secret because he was compelled to, as I was compelled to cloud myself in guilt and watch.

Is it such a sin to bathe in the seas of such a beautiful act?

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Clara's Dream

Clara's Dream | Erotica | Scoop.it

“How did I get here? I don’t know where I am.”

 

Clara closed her eyes and gently floated away into an uncertain alcoholic euphoria. She could just hear the gentle ticking of a windup clock marking out every single beat of time; marked out as every gentle beat of her heart marked out a beat of her pleasure; marked out every bead of sweat that gently formed and then trickled down her delicate naked back, down over her soft pleasant round buttocks and slowly dripped cool wet patches, unnoticed onto the floor.

 

Smells of Clara’s perfume and stale, long forgotten vodka hung in the air, mingling together eccentrically in Clara’s dark place, a sensuous chanel tinged opium. The hot, sweet sweat of sex consumed her, leading her ever onwards into heavier indulgence.

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