Gender: female
The erotic feast that my beautiful Violet Myers and I enjoyed!!
My name is Alex, and meeting Violet Myers was one of the luckiest things that ever happened to me. I was just scrolling through my emails one evening in my flat in Leeds when a message popped up: “Your story was brilliant—really loved it.” I replied with a simple thank you, thinking that was the end of it.
Two days later, a Google Chat notification appeared from someone called Violet. We started chatting casually—favourite films, music, weekend plans. After three days of light conversation, things grew closer. We shared what we liked and disliked, our dreams, our little secrets. The more we talked, the more I found myself hooked on her words. She had this warm, playful way of typing that made me smile at my screen.
Soon our chats turned flirty, then openly sexual. We talked fantasies, desires, boundaries. After two weeks, the connection felt deep and real. We both agreed it was time to meet.
Violet suggested a weekend getaway to the Lake District—beautiful, quiet, romantic. She booked a cosy cabin near Windermere with a log fire and views over the lake. The drive up was full of nervous excitement; we held hands most of the way, stealing glances and laughing.
We checked in late afternoon. The moment the cabin door closed, the air changed. We decided to shower together first. In the small bathroom, I slowly helped her out of her jumper and jeans, then her bra and knickers. She did the same for me. Under the warm water, we stood close, letting the steam wrap around us.
I stood behind her, soaping her back in slow circles. The lather built up, slippery and white. I turned her gently to face me. Her full breasts looked incredible covered in foam. I ran my hands over them, massaging gently, thumbs brushing her nipples until they hardened. She sighed, eyes half-closed. I moved lower, soaping her stomach, circling her navel, then down between her thighs. My fingers parted her softly, washing carefully while she leaned against me, breathing faster.
We spent nearly half an hour under that shower, touching, kissing, exploring every inch.
After dinner at a nearby pub—fish and chips, a couple of pints—we returned to the cabin. Violet went in first. I locked the door behind us. She turned, suddenly shy, cheeks pink.
I stepped close, wrapped my arms around her from behind, and kissed the back of her neck slowly. My hardness pressed against her bottom; she arched slightly, a soft moan escaping. For ten minutes I kissed her neck, shoulders, ears, grinding gently while she melted into me.
We moved to the bed. She straddled my lap. Our lips met in a deep, hungry kiss—tongues dancing, hands in hair. I kissed her everywhere: eyelids, cheeks, jaw, throat. Then lower. I cupped her breasts, squeezing softly, then firmer. I brought both nipples together and sucked them in turn, flicking with my tongue, giving gentle bites that made her gasp and giggle.
She closed her eyes, smiling through the pleasure. I kissed her again, long and slow. She responded fiercely, biting my lip playfully, pulling me closer.
After more kissing, I moved down, sucking her nipples harder while she moaned my name—“Alex… oh God…”—her voice shaky.
Then she took charge. She pushed me onto my back, kissed my face all over, pinched my nipples until I yelped. She climbed on top, guiding my hands to her breasts. “Squeeze them,” she whispered.
Later she lifted herself, positioned her wetness over my mouth. I licked eagerly, tongue circling her clit, tasting her fully. She rocked gently, grinding down, her thighs trembling. After ten minutes she slid off, breathless.
She pulled my boxers down and took me in her mouth. The warmth was overwhelming. She teased the tip with her tongue, then took me deeper, sucking slowly. She licked and sucked my balls too, her mouth so soft and wet. I was floating, lost in sensation. She alternated—shaft, head, balls—for fifteen minutes until I was shaking.
I flipped her onto her back. I rubbed myself along her folds, teasing, tapping lightly against her clit. She begged softly. I parted her legs wider and eased inside slowly. She gasped, gripping my shoulders. I moved gently at first, then built a steady rhythm. After twenty minutes she whispered, “Faster.” I thrust harder; the wet sounds filled the room.
She climbed on top, riding me, hands on my chest. I gripped her hips, helping her move. I squeezed her breasts, twisting her nipples gently. She leaned down; we kissed while she bounced. After fifteen intense minutes we both collapsed, sweaty and spent.
We rested, then moved into 69. Her mouth on me, mine on her—mutual, perfect pleasure for another ten minutes.
Exhausted, we curled together. She stroked me lazily while we kissed. We made love twice more that night—once slow and tender, once urgent. We fell asleep around 4:30 a.m., wrapped in each other as the Lake District chill pressed against the windows.
Morning came with the alarm at seven. We showered again—gentle touches, no rush. My body ached in the best way. We drove to a viewpoint overlooking the lake, had coffee, then returned to the cabin by lunchtime.
Inside, I pressed against her from behind, hands kneading her bottom. She reached back, stroking me until I hardened. We kissed fiercely—deep, messy, desperate. She whispered, “Take me.”
I bent her over the sofa, pulled her jeans and knickers down. From behind I entered her slowly, gripping her hips. She pushed back eagerly. I thrust steadily, then harder. She moaned, “Yes… harder, Alex…”
I pulled her upright, one leg over my arm, driving deep. Then flat on her back, legs over my shoulders, pounding until we both trembled.
We collapsed for an hour, my cock still inside her, kissing softly while she rested on my chest.
Later we watched some adult videos on my phone. Violet grinned. “We should try that one.” I laughed—we were too tired—but that night we copied several positions, laughing and moaning until dawn.
Sunday we drove home, already planning our next trip. Violet rested her hand on my thigh the whole way. Whatever this was, it felt real—and we both wanted more.