THE SHEHERAZADE DIARIES 

: 101 Bedtime Stories for Adults.

Written by

The Secret Diarists

Volume 1 : Autumn / Winter

Miles has lost his mojo and the only thing that’s hard in bed is the drive on his laptop!

How can Beth rekindle their flaccid love life?

Dare she try The Sheherazade Diaries : An erotic story every night, for as long as it takes?

Will Miles rise to the occasion or will it all fall flat?

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The Diarists are a group of anonymous writers who have never met and perhaps never will. We came together online to create an eclectic mix of 101 love stories, aiming to stir the passions of the most reluctant lover. Do you need the challenge or are you just curious?

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The First Night ……

Ghassan 

A soft, yet firm whisper, “don’t speak”, enters your blindfolded world. You know she’s there before the voice confirms it; that unmistakable musky scent combines with an undertone of apricot oil to invade your heightened senses. The softest touch of a silken finger brushes the downy centre of your abdomen in slow, circular motions moving teasingly downwards. Not sleeping but just below the surface, inhaling deeply, you are intoxicated by the heady perfume, as a hand slips down to the oily pool that now lies in the well below your belly.
You hear a murmured inducement: “Lest you wake from your reverie, my sweet boy.”
You smell a smoky, woody opiate and willingly sink into a dreamlike state. Too soft this touch upon your thighs, a tongue tip searches inwards, whilst fingers dip into the oil and find their slippery way to your waiting manhood. Tongue and fingers become one in your dancing mind. Yet still the dance goes on.
Her breath is warm as the Mistral in June as you feel the weight of gossamer clad breasts fall upon your unsuspecting face. A gasp, “hush!” A throaty whisper from her now as she places a bud-like nipple to your open mouth and you taste the apricots as she sits astride you:
“Not yet, dear one, not yet….” Her lips so close you feel the breath as she withdraws and slides down to take you in her mouth. A probing tongue lingers and swirls ‘til your single thought is of the utter softness of her and you can hold back no longer. Her wet lips graze your cheek in a parting gesture and she gently removes the silken scarf from your eyes:
“Remember me, as I shall remember you, Ghassan.” You hear the door click shut. Your eyes have yet to adjust but the husky voice and her scent will stay with you, always.