Welcome to the home for original erotica written by Anaïs Rosso. This site is intended for adults 18/21+ only.


Posted on March 26, 2019

It’s late afternoon. You’ve been in your office all day chipping away at your work. I’ve tried not to disturb you, busying myself around the house with various chores.I’ve tried to be a good girl today in all honesty, but I can’t ignore the growing primal need I have of you.


Posted on January 27, 2019

Hues of blue, purple, red and gold danced across the sky as the sun’s last golden rays kissed the ocean’s horizon. The sounds of the ocean waves mixed with the sounds music as the waves gently crashed upon the shore. The gentle breeze carried the scent of the sea as it smoothly ran his fingers through her unbound curls sending the scent of jasmine to him. Her laughter a melodic wind-chime as he twirled her about the bonfire. Her white lehenga flowing about her as he spun her, the sun-warmed sand finding its way between their toes. He watched her keenly, grinning as they danced, marveling at the beautiful contrast of the skirt and choli top created against her dark skin and long blue-black curls. She could feel the warmth of his body through his linen pants and shirt as he held her close.

Need: Thirst Series Part 2

Posted on December 24, 2018

I swallow convulsively, my mouth void of any moisture. I stare out the window, the lights passing before my unseeing eyes as you navigate your car through the city. Soft jazz drifts through the speakers, but my ears do not hear. My heart thunders frantically against my chest as I recall my words to you in the restaurant. I marvel at how so simple words can threaten my very air supply, yet change the course of our entire evening, perhaps our very lives. Typically, we would have had our dessert, kissed one another on the cheek, and departed for our respective spouses, but not tonight.

I am jarred from my thoughts at the touch of your steady hand against the skin above my knee. My gaze slowly finds your hand, and I am struck by the warmth that floods me. I watch, transfixed as your fingers begin a slow sensual massage, inching their way up and under the hem of my sundress. My breathing becomes labored as apprehension and desire fuse. I am frozen, unable to stop the gathering wetness at the junction of my thighs at sensual rhythmic approach of your hand.

I hear my name somewhere off in the distance and moments later I recognize your voice. As if in a trance my gaze finds yours. The nefarious glint in your eyes profoundly strikes me as I feel your fingers move higher along the inside of my thigh.

“Open for me, angel,” you growl, your voice thickened with arousal.

With a mind all their own, my legs relax, spreading and granting access. I watch your face, illuminated in brief intervals by the passing street lights, as you turn back to the road ahead of us. I study the lines and angles of your face, a face I’ve glimpsed a million times before. A face so familiar and yet seems so new and different now. The welcoming friendship I once glimpsed has now been replaced by something much more raw and primal. A need.

I gasp, my hips jerking involuntarily as I feel your warm fingers brush against my bare lips. When had your fingers breached the barrier of my panties? In my shock, I am unable to help the tension that slips into my body.

“Relax,” you whisper your eyes never leaving the road.

Taking a deep breath, I force myself into ease, yet my hips jerk once more as a thick finger parts my folds to discover my engorged numb.

“So wet for me baby girl,” you growl with approval, a wicked smile tugging at your lips.

Expertly, your fingers begin a sensual teasing assault on my clit. My eyes close and my head falls back against the headrest. I capture my bottom lip between my teeth in an effort to suppress a moan. Suddenly, your rhythm changes and control of my breathing slowly slip through my grasp.

I open my eyes and look down to my lap. The sight of your hand in my wet lace panties sends a new wave of moisture and tremors through my body. Without warning, a thick finger slips beyond my lips into my damp heat wringing a moan from my lips.

“That’s it, angel. Let me hear your sweet song.”

Curving your finger you begin to pump inside of me, and my hips join your rhythm. My body burns and tinges. Tension begins to creep into my spine, the need for release building. Your name escapes my lips as you drive my body higher and higher, yet holding me just on the sweet edge of oblivion. I marvel at the ease of which you have so quickly mastered my body, and yet I crave more.

“Please,” I plead, my gaze returning to your face.

“Please, what, angel?” you ask, seemingly unbothered by my plight.

“More,” I rasp out, one hand grasping the handle of the car door while my nails of the other dig into the leather of the seat.

“That’s not the proper way to ask,” you reply your finger teasing then retreating from my G spot. “You have to ask Daddy to come properly. You can do it, angel.”

In the haze of my desire, my mind slowly begins to make the connection. My mouth works between gasps to form the appropriate words.

“May I please cum, Daddy?”

My ears catch the growl of approval deep in your chest. “That’s a good girl,” you reply.

I cry out, my arms wrapping around yours as a second thick finger slips into my core. Your rhythm picks up speed as the car turns one corner and then another. I close my eyes giving myself up to the pleasure of your touch against my most sensitive regions, uncaring if you drove us into the mouth of hell itself. My nails dig into the sleeve of your suit jacket as my body begins to spiral out of control. My lusty moans grow louder and louder as I start to climb that delicious stairwell once more. Without warning my body jerks as a loud moan rips from my throat. My body is thrust into space and I shatter into a thousand glittering pieces. I cling helplessly to you as you wring every drop of my orgasm from deep inside me.

I collapse against the seat my body spent as you slow your movements. Through the buzzing in my ears and body, I am suddenly keenly aware of emptiness as your fingers slip from my body. I still cling to your arm, strangely unable to let you go, as if you are some anchor holding me to the very Earth itself.

“Easy, angel,” you whisper as you gently free yourself from my grasp.

Carefully, I open my eyes and slowly begin to take in my surroundings. When did we stop?

I look to you, confused in my afterglow. Slowly, as if savoring your favorite treat, you lick my essence from your fingers.

“Fuck you taste good,” you proclaim sucking the last drop. “We’re here baby girl. Let’s get you inside before I fuck you right here in the car.”

Once again I look around my gaze slowly focusing on the building outside my window. Anxiety grips me once more as realization begins to blossom.

Crave: Thirst Series Part 1

Posted on December 3, 2017

Written by Anaïs Rosso

We’ve known each other for so long and so very well. We’ve been best friends for longer than either of us can remember. We’ve watched one another drift from one broken relationship to another. We’ve celebrated each other’s successes, provided comfort during loss and even danced at each other’s weddings. We’ve also listened to the shared disappointments in our respective marriages. Regardless of what life has thrown at us, we’ve always found the time for our weekly dinners.

And here we sit, in a quiet bistro downtown after work sharing a bottle of wine, our bodies a breath from one another. The scent of your cologne teases my senses mixing dangerously with the wine. Your tie is slackened yet; I can’t help but notice how you still exuded power in this relaxed state. Secretly, I have always adored you in your tailored suits. I’d often fantasized about having my wrists bound with one of those silk ties I’d gifted you with, leaving me defenseless against your passions.

You’re speaking, yet I cannot concentrate on your words. I watch your lips moving and wonder at the feel of them against my skin, gently soothing the spot where your teeth marked me moments earlier. I nod absently, feigning attention as I will my body to behave itself, willing the wetness gathering in my panties to go away. I watch you reach for your glass of wine, and my mouth is suddenly dry. My mind conjures up the image of that strong hand and elegant fingers wrapped around my throat.

I lick my lips and shift uncomfortably in my seat, the wine and present company apparently taking their toll. My mind is a fuzzy haze of lust. I finally bring my eyes to yours only to notice you watching me intently, your dark eyes boring into mine. I have no idea how long you’ve been staring at me. My heart pounds loudly in my ears as long seconds pass. Your gaze takes in every detail as I am transfixed, unable to move. Do you know my plight? Can you smell my arousal?

My eyes widen as your hand settles atop mine resting on the table. A slow wolfish grin appears on your lips as you bring my hand to your lap. Shock rockets through me as you settle my hand on your hardness. Leaning in, you use your free hand to brush my hair back from my neck. Your lips graze my ear as you begin to speak.

“Tell me, darling,” you whisper pressing my hand firmly against your hardness. “Tell me what you crave.”

The Rules

Posted on October 21, 2017

She jerked from her thoughts, the vibration in her picket startling her. Reaching for her phone, she retrieved it from her front jacket pocket the screen casting an illuminating glow in the dim lights of the early morning ferry.

She read the notification and smiled to herself as she unlocked her phone. Bring up her messaging app she read, and then reread the text her heart increasing its pace.

“Good morning, my minx.” the text began. “I know you’re on the ferry. Find the nearest bathroom and remove your panties.”

Un Boudoir à Paris

Posted on June 19, 2017

She walked into the studio, the door chiming in time with her entrance. For weeks, she’d been researching photographers in a bid to find the one that would suit her needs. She was beyond delighted to stumble upon this particular studio owned by a photographer whose list of praises were longer than the Rhine. Since then, they’ve corresponded via email and direct messages with an easy camaraderie developing.

“Un instant, s’il vous plaît!”, a jolly male voice called from one of the back rooms.

“Oui Monsieur. Prenez votre temps,” she replied, stepping fully into the studio. She smiled to herself, excited to finally meet her new friend and photographer. 

Casually, she perused the front parlour of the studio enjoying the sound of soft music drifting from the back. Along the walls hung numerous erotic and boudoir photos, many in the classic black and white, a few with splashes of colour. She took note of how the photographer maximized angles and expertly played with light and shadows. Though erotic in nature, the photos were done with a surprising level of class and sophistication, speaking highly to the masterful skill of the photographer. She knew she was in the right establishment.

“Bonjour Mademoiselle”, the voice called to her once again, prompting her to spin on her heels.