The Ultimate Erotic Short Story Collection 19

like a predator eying its prey than she did in that moment.

For the first time, Mercy felt like the hunter. It was as if the man, and all his carefully hidden vulnerabilities and fears, were being exposed with every additional second she weighed her eyes upon his. Is this how men always feel, she posited? It's thrilling, she slyly smiled. It's absolutely thrilling, and Mercy's desire for power over this man only began increasing.

Enjoying the thrill of control and power, Mercy pulled her coat off from covering up her body while blatantly lifting her dress and exposing her light gold colored panties. She then began sweeping her fingers across the wet lips of her pussy again, while leaning her arched back into the corner of her seat, deliberately exposing herself more to him.

The handsome well dressed man, with his impeccable style, stumbled into the metal train door while attempting to lean suavely into it because he forgot to first extend his arm in order to brace himself causing him to completely lose his cool.

“Shit,” the handsome man complained in a tone resonating in anger. Mercy began laughing uncontrollably, which only served to piss him off more. Glaring at her with hostility that seemed to light a glowing flame in his swelling eyes, the man stared at her as if he was consuming with rage.

Taking a small step back, the man straightened his spine and closed his eyes for a few seconds before opening them again, as if he was somehow rebooting his mental programming with a server from some evil empire. All the while his stiff prick remained pointing straight up to his head, like an arrow from one of those 'I'm with stupid shirts,' and Mercy began laughing even louder at the thought of that.

Furious now, the man carelessly stepped towards Mercy as if initiating a duel with an adversary while Mercy playfully straightened one of her legs out further, pushing one of her delicate fingers back up her sweet moist pinkness, causing the man to descend one of his knees down to her booth seat, to look Mercy square in her eyes.

“Suck my cock!” the man burst out coarsely in a broken Eastern European accent while his hand grabbed onto her wrist. Stunned, Mercy pulled her arm back with the strength of a hundred lifetimes of preparation and swung her open hand flat across his round face forcing the Eastern European man to tumble down into the aisle of the train like a bruised fruit bouncing around on the bed of a truck speeding down a gravel road.

Reclaiming the thrill of power, Mercy rose to her feet slowly like a smooth elevator and stared down at the scrambling man, quickly noticing everyone else in the train car look towards him after hearing the loud slap that caused him to fall.

“You must be out of your goddamn mind!” Mercy yelled, “trying to touch me like that! You should be ashamed of yourself!” she continued.

The man stared back up at Mercy, completely shocked. His face made it clear that he wasn't used to being put in such a weakened position by anyone, especially not a woman. To think, Mercy thought, just moments ago I was wondering whether or not he was the one I'd choose to let my mouth be dominated by his stiff dick, the same dick she noticed that was now currently pitching a giant tent in his expensive dress pants, while simultaneously being painfully restrained by the shiny belt buckle he was wearing.

Noticing the man was about to yell back at her and defend his actions, Mercy shouted over his broken gasps, “you asked me to shove your cock into my mouth, you sick fuckin' pervert! What the fuck is wrong with you?”

For some reason this situation made Mercy think about his big penis being shoved down her throat so hard she was left gasping for breath, and for a moment her inner thighs began tingling in anticipation of it. What's wrong with me, she continued thinking, realizing these conflicting feelings while being unable to square them out.

Mercy just continued glaring back down at the man, while he continued wriggling and struggling around on the aisle floor like a broken-winged bird trying to fly.

I don't want to be an object a man can control, Mercy continued thinking to herself, I want to be a pleasure challenge he commits himself to fulfilling, not merely a box he can rent to park his dick into. I want a man who wants to do good for me, Mercy emphatically continued thinking, realizing something she hadn't thought before, while continuing to stare down at the European man, who's cracked head seemed to be the cause of all his pride escaping from his face.

I want a man who treats me like the rare young woman I am, a man who spoils me before he fucks me, one who can look into my sultry eyes and direct conversation towards my intelligence not just direct his dick towards my banging body, Mercy finally admitted to herself. God, Mercy continued, I'm really not succeeding at this spontaneous bullshit at all, am I? I'm failing miserably.

The silence in the train car was deafening and Mercy began thinking about the handsome strong chinned man who defended her against Michael T. Cone's stiff coffee covered cock, from the last train car she was sitting in. Maybe that's what I want, Mercy pondered, a man who'll fight for me.

Thinking about the handsome chinned man a bit more, Mercy's eyes couldn't help but stare at the Eastern European man's stiff stilted cock a bit more as he made a few adjustments with his pants to relieve his tent pole from being uncomfortably tugged by his shiny belt buckle. Eventually, the Eastern European man clumsily stumbled back to his unsteady feet, and made his way to the door, where he exiting the train car in utter disgrace.

Returning to her seat, Mercy turned her head towards the window again and looked up towards the moonlit clouds dangling form the sky. She began to think about how lucky they were that they were never alone.

“Pretty, huh?”

She heard a man's deep voice say, startling her enough to turn towards it. She recognized his stony eyes right away and she smiled back at him. His strong chin hung just below his crooked smile.

“It's a nice looking night out there, right?” The man who defended her earlier, looked past Mercy's face, out towards the illuminated clouds in the midnight sky as he spoke.

Mercy turned back towards the window, feeling the train move fast along the tracks, the clouds seeming to permanently remain anchored in their place like pictures hanging from a wall.

“It really is,” Mercy answered him softly, almost bringing the flask to her lips before closing the lid instead of taking another drink.

“Do you mind if I sit?” her defender asked her.

“I don't mind at all,” Mercy replied deciding to restrain herself a bit more than she had before.

Tousling her hair so that it dangled in a chaotic fashion, Mercy and her defender began talking about everything she imagined a man could ask her. He respected her and seemed to see a beauty in her beyond her manicured nails.

Despite her voluptuous curves, the man's interests seem to lie more in her intellect, her goals, and her ambitions, and Mercy never felt more comfortable with a man than this man she had just met.

Mercy, for the second time in her young life, met a man she felt comfortable with almost immediately, and soon became determined not to let her newly ascribed impassivity ruin her pursue of it.

She decided to sit back and just see where the rest of the night might take her…

Relighting the Flame

by Angela Keller

Karissa hissed under her breath as she looked under the hood of her car. From what she was seeing she was pretty sure she was going to need a tow. This was nothing she could fix on the side of the road with the few tools in her trunk.

She leaned back against her vehicle and took out her cell, dreading the phone call she was about to make. The only tow service in town was run by the last person she wanted to see-her ex-boyfriend, Mac. He’d probably give her hell about not taking care of her car, even though she got it serviced it regularly.

She recognized his voice instantly when he picked up, the sound of it still sending a little shiver down her