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Erotic Ramblings - Vol 1 (Beth Kean)

Erotic Ramblings - Vol 1 by Beth Kean


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In this edition of Erotic Ramblings:

Flash. The Adventures of Exhibitionist Emma.

A story of fetish and desire. The first part of the Exhibitionist Emma series of short erotic stories. Follow sexy exhibitionist Emma as she explores her sexuality and the overwhelming urge that she feels to 'accidentally' expose her naked body to strangers.


Sophie Jackson – born to a poor background in the back streets of Manchester. In a world of poverty and unemployment Sophie understands that her prospects for the future are bleak, but Sophie is a positive girl, attractive and slim, she had a figure to drive men wild.
But she does not learn to exploit her feminine charms until she has secured the position of au pair to a wealthy Italian couple in Rome, there Mr Gino unwittingly sets her on a career path that will take her to the very top.

In the short erotic story Sophistication, learn how Sophie’s journey begins.

Product type: EBook    Published by:     Published: 01 / 2017

No. words: 9171

Style: Erotic Anthologies, Steamy and Sexy Stories

Available Formats: MobiPocket (MOBI)  EPUB  PDF  This book has a format which can be downloaded to Kindle


Unbelievable... but it had all started with a pizza, and Emma would be the first to admit that it wasn't even a very good pizza. Delivered early yet still cold, she would have sent it back except for a strange turn of events that had changed her life.
But that had been over twelve months earlier, and happened to be the last thing on her mind as she sat at the station waiting for the train that would whisk her from her old and restrictive life to a whole world of new possibilities in the city.
“So many new chances... I hope.”
Emma smiled, nothing overt, no open display of happiness showed on her face, simply a twitch of the lips.
I can't wait, she thought as she looked along the busy platform, but it's too busy here of course, the smile teased again as she studied the men, waiting, some looking at her, some looking past her, some hurried to make connections, some lingered with plastic capped disposable coffee cups. And not one of them has any idea, she giggled inside and shifted on the hard seat to cross her legs. I'm glad I wore a skirt, but I should have probably forgotten the panties.
The thought was fleeting, she liked to be in control, and too many people equalled too much uncertainty in her ordered mind.
Far too random, she decided and looked up to the platform clock. Last night was good though. She caught the grin before it reached her lips, and closing her eyes she savoured the delicious memories from her last night in her old home, in her old town... the last night of her old life!
She had ended as she had begun... it had seemed fitting at the time, and her hand had trembled slightly as she pressed the keypad of her phone, her anticipation building as the tone buzzed in her ear.
“The exact same pizza,” she had whispered to herself, “I want this to be identical.”
A cheery mock Italian accent had answered provoking a grin. She had set the wheels in motion and the clock had begun to tick. Emma squeezed her eyes more tightly closed and attempted to cut out the platform noise from her recollections. She remembered waiting nervously, her anticipation building by the second, her eyes locked on the front door. The street lights outside glowed through small Georgian panes of obscured glass, she waited for the shadow to appear, the sure sign that the delivery boy was about to push the small wall mounted buzzer and signal the beginning of her fun.
“What's keeping him?” she muttered as the case clock on the mantle over the fire chimed the hour. She understood that he could be a few minutes late, but she also had an agenda. “Calm down Em.” she whispered, she had time, she had allowed thirty minutes, more than enough margin for error.
Eight o'clock, that's okay, she assured herself silently but still couldn't resist stepping to the curtains, and pinching the heavy fabric she peeped outside to the darkened street. He's got half an hour.
“Oh God yes!” she groaned as headlights appeared on the quiet street. Above, on the roof of the small van sat a glowing neon box, Giovanni's proudly displayed on the side. “And it begins!” she added with a giggle and snatched up the bath towel that she had draped over the back of her favourite armchair.
No matter how many times I do this... my heart still beats like a drum, Emma thought as she wrapped the towel around her torso, gripping the loose end under her arm.
“Tight, but not too tight,” she commented as she tugged the bottom a little lower, “And I must cover up.”
On bare feet she trotted toward the kitchen, only a short distance before turning. Blood pounded in her ears, her palms felt clammy as she wiped them on the towel, her breath stuck in her throat as the door panes clouded and darkened, any moment now, she began to tremble.
Although expecting it, the door buzzer made her jump, and Emma swallowed hard before taking a deep breath and calling out in a clear voice.
“Just one minute.”
The doorbell ceased.
Emma padded quietly and confidently to the door, and turning the key she opened it a fraction to peer outside.
No more than eighteen I would guess. She instantly assessed the youth who stood on her doorstep brandishing a box, I would have preferred someone a little bit more mature, but what the hell!
“Sorry to keep you waiting,” she laughed as she pulled the door open wider, “You are here sooner than I expected.” And with a coy smile she nodded down to her towel.
“I'm almost late,” the youth replied, “I'm new to the area, I still don't know exactly where everywhere is yet.”
“Give me a moment to get my purse.” she replied and turning she trotted swiftly to the kitchen. If he's bold he will have stepped inside by now, she thought, not that it matters. “Now it's time.” she whispered, and clutching her purse she strode back into the hall, to find the delivery boy still hovering on the step. Shy and uncomfortable she chuckled inside and lifted her arm a fraction, feeling the towel loosen almost imperceptibly as she walked.
“How much is it again?” she questioned and drew a twenty note, knowing full well the price and the change required.
The boy shuffled forward, and carefully unfolded a printed ticket.
“I'm sorry,” Emma apologised, “This is the smallest I've got, I don't have any change.” and held the note in her left hand as she reached forward and gripped the box in her right.
“No problem,” the youth began to nod, “I've got plenty of cha....”
That was the exact moment that Emma chose to lift her arm, she was practised, seasoned... I'm a professional, she would often chuckle, as she grasped the pizza she released her grip on the towel, her movements having the desired effect as the thick towel slipped rapidly to the floor, leaving her with the box in one hand, money in the other, and mock horror plastered over her face as she saw his eyes instantly drawn to her naked body.
“Oh my God I'm so sorry!” she spluttered in obvious anguish as she dropped to her knees and grabbed the towel in her left hand, lifting it to cover her chest.
The delivery boy had flushed to deep scarlet and Emma felt the wonderful buzz that always accompanied her exhibitionism, you got a really good look didn't you baby! She fought to keep the grin from her lips as he averted his eyes and muttered nervously. “No, I'm sorry.”
“I just got out of the shower,” she began to explain, “I'm not in the habit of answering the door wearing just a towel.”
“No, honestly, it's okay.” he swallowed hard and pulled a fold of bank notes from his pocket, she had obviously embarrassed him and he appeared keen to give her the change due.
“Sorry,” Emma laughed, “I almost forgot this,” and turning to place the pizza on the hall table to free her right hand she clutched the dangling towel tighter to her chest and offered the money with her left. That's it baby, take another look. She suppressed a groan as she caught his eyes glance at the breast that broke free of the covering towel as she reached forward. How many times she had practised the action stood in front of the mirror she had lost count. But she knew that after grasping the towel with her right hand, as she reached forward with the left just the slightest of adjustments of her right hand would bring her full breast accidentally back into view. And my nipples are like rocks! It didn't come as a great surprise. Over the previous year she had learned that the identity of her voyeur actually meant little to her, it was more the excitement of being seen, than who saw!
“Oh hell, I'm really making a fool of myself!” Emma laughed nervously and made a show of hitching the towel higher, “I really do apologise!”
“Please don't worry about it.” The youth glanced back over his shoulder, possibly seeking escape, before counting out the change, “Accidents happen.”

Author Information

Beth Kean began writing in 2014 and concentrates mostly in the Romance genre writing short stories about ordinary people, she enjoys writing interracial romance with strong black women finding understanding white men. Beth also ventures into the spicier side of the romance genre including a few erotic short stories.


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