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Six inches of overnight snow followed by temperatures in the high 30’s and 20 mile per hour winds had turned the roads mushy-slushy, a real hyrdoplaner’s delight. Yes, indeed, the snowplow miniminds with the blades on the front of their Ford F-350 dualies were having a contractor’s field day in the shopping center parking lots. The rest of us were closely examining our automobile insurance policies to help make the decision about whether or not we really wanted to venture out. I did.
I had signed up for a six-hour writer’s seminar to be held in the meeting room of the local public library and had paid my 35 dollars, so the slush wasn’t going to keep me away.
There was only one car in the library’s parking lot when I pulled in just five minutes before the seminar’s scheduled start time. Well, hope they have the coffee on. I splooshed through the unplowed parking lot and walked through the library’s glass door, clomping my Redwings on the mat to knock off the remnants of parking lot glop. The meeting room door was open, so I walked on in.
The seminar’s moderator, one of the librarians, turned to greet the one who had been goofy enough to brave the weather and bad drivers.
‘Good morning, Lee,’ she spoke brightly with a smile. ‘I called your house to tell you that we were going to reschedule the seminar because of the weather, but your wife said you had already left.’
‘Hi, Diane. Yeah, I had to plow the driveway to get out, so I left about an hour ago. So, when’s the new date for the seminar if you’re not going to have it today.’
‘I don’t have an exact date yet. The meeting room’s booked for the next two Saturdays, so it will probably be in mid- or late-January.’
‘Well, put me down for it, whenever it is. I hope you didn’t brave this gunky weather to come here just to tell me the seminar had been postponed?’
‘Pretty much. I was afraid that you might think the location had changed. But, I also wanted to make sure the library’s furnace was working and that no pipes had frozen’
‘So, are you headed home now’ I’m sure Don will be glad to see you home early.’
Her bright countenance faded slightly before she spoke again.
‘Don and some of his buddies have headed off to Seattle for the football game tomorrow. I get to spend the weekend doing laundry and housecleaning.’
‘I haven’t had my morning coffee yet. Why don’t you let me buy you a cup over at Jitters’ That’ll let you put off those exciting housekeeping chores.’
Her smile returned. Perhaps she was grateful for the reprieve.
‘I’ll follow you,’ she said. ‘My little Honda doesn’t do terribly well in this kind of weather.’
And off we went.
Once inside the sparsely occupied and minimally furnished coffee shop, with mugs of steaming coffee firmly in hand, we sat at one of the three tables.
‘So, Lee, what made you decide to sign up for the writer’s seminar’ What kind of writing are you interested in?’
I paused before answering, trying to decide whether or not to answer evasively or honestly. Honesty prevailed.
‘I’m going to try my hand at writing fiction,’ I said somewhat tentatively, hoping I suppose that she would not press for more detail. Wrong.
‘What kind of fiction’ Mystery’ Science fiction’ What?’ she pressed.
‘Well’I think I’m going to try erotic fiction.’
Her stunned silence thundered throughout the coffee shop and echoed resonantly off the fixtures. She just stared at me.
‘Earth to Diane. Come in, Diane?’ I tried to lighten the mood.
She started to speak, her lips seemed to move, but no sound was forthcoming.
Finally’ ‘You mean, like, romance novels?’ she asked with a hopeful tone in her voice.
‘No, more like explicit sexual stories,’ I offered bluntly.
‘Why do you want to write porn?’ Her voice was getting stronger again, but her tone was more inquisitive rather than challenging. ‘Besides,’ she continued, ‘It doesn’t take any special talent to write that drivel.’
‘Actually, I’ve already written a few stories and posted them on an Internet site. Several readers have emailed compliments and constructive criticism to me.’
‘I’ll bet,’ she spat.
‘Diane, you’re suggesting that writing erotic fiction takes no talent, but I disagree. Have you ever read any?’
‘Not exactly,’ she answered with just a hint of reproach.
‘Well, it’s been my experience that it takes as much skill to write good erotic fiction as it takes to write other types of short stories. A well-written one still has to have plot, character development, pacing, and, of course, sexual details. It isn’t just a bunch of four-letter words thrown in for effect. I mean, think about it. Human sexual interaction is a great experience. Wouldn’t it challenge you as a writer to be able to portray that with clarity and precision on paper?’
‘Except,’ she countered, ‘You know as well as I do that the purpose behind sex stories is less about artistry than arousal.’
‘True. To be candid about it, I do want to arouse the reader. In fact, I hope that whoever is reading the story will feel the insurmountable need to relieve himself or herself as quickly as possible, pendik escort but not until he’s finished reading the story. The thing is, poor quality writing can neutralize the effect, whereas good writing enhances it. I want to paint literary images that are so vivid, so unforgettable, so graphic, that the reader actually feels the presence of her literary sexual partner. But I want to also have the story be plausible. If the reader says to himself or herself, ‘Oh, that could never happen to me,’ the I’ve failed. On the other hand, if the reader can project herself into the plot, if she can become that sexually desirable woman, if she can live out her fantasies through the character, then it seems to me that the writing has succeeded.’
‘Well, Lee, it’s clear that you’ve put some thought into this, but I’m really not convinced that what you’re calling erotic fiction has any real value.’
‘Diane, before you condemn me, will you at least read two or three of my stories’ You said Don was gone this weekend, so you can pull them up on your computer at home, privately.’
‘Does Carol know you’re writing these stories and putting them on the ‘net?’
‘No, why?’ I asked.
‘Well, if you’re so sure about the literary validity of what you’re doing, it seems to me that you ought to at least let your wife know what’s going on,’ she replied smugly.
‘Look, Diane, you know Carol. Her idea of adventurous sex is twice in one night, at home, in bed. Any suggestions about variation, role-playing, or anything even more risqué and I’m cut off for a month.’
Diane blushed at my candor, but she quickly recovered.
‘Well, I do understand about sexual needs,’ she replied. ‘I think that Don’s religious upbringing constrained him a bit too much as well. All right, I’ll read some of your stories. Tell me how to find them on the ‘net.’
I gave her the Internet site’s address and the titles of my stories. I also imposed two requirements on her. First, she had to give me her honest opinion of the stories after she had read them. Second, there was one particular story that she must read last. I explained that the reason for that would be immediately clear to her.
She agreed. We finished our coffee and left.
The following morning, Sunday, I arose early and checked my email addresses (I have two: one public and one very private.) There at my private address was a message from Diane: ‘How about a cup of coffee’ Jitters at 10 a.m.?’
Carol had come to bed late, or early depending on your point of view, at about 5 a.m. after staying up all night for an old movie marathon on cable TV, so I knew she wouldn’t be up before 1 or 2 p.m. Her idea of an exciting Saturday night.
As I pulled into the shopping center parking lot in front of Jitters a couple minutes before 10 a.m., I saw Diane sitting in her little white Honda with its engine running. I pulled alongside in the adjacent parking space, and she motioned me to get in with her.
‘Good morning, Diane. Shall we go in and get some coffee?’ I asked cheerily.
‘No, not right now. I think we had better discuss your literary efforts and your choice of characters in private.’ The interior of her car was comfortably warm, but icicles with very sharp points formed on her words as they left her mouth.
‘Fine,’ I said, knowing exactly why she wanted privacy. Diane had been the model for the female lead in my last internet story. Though her character’s name and employment had been changed and the location was not precise, everything else about the character was Diane. And it probably didn’t help that I was the male lead and that she and I had a wonderful albeit fictitious sexual encounter of the best kind.
‘How could you possibly write a sex story about me’ And how could you even think of having sex with me when we’re both married?’ she asked with too-even calmness.
I paused before answering. It certainly hadn’t been my intention to offend her. Indeed, her character was a very strong, very intelligent woman with very normal and understandable sexual needs.
‘Diane, all of my characters are based on people whom I know. If you read the stories carefully, you saw that all of the women are portrayed as real and natural as they can be. Were you really offended by my characterizing you as a strong, intelligent woman to whom I was intellectually as well as sexually attracted’ Did that really hurt your feelings, because if it did, I will certainly apologize?’
The hard lines in her face softened, as did the edginess in her voice.
‘I suppose I should be flattered that you think I am physically attractive enough to be a character in your story. And I doubt that there’s any chance that anyone will ever know it was me?’
I interrupted her before she could continue.
‘Diane, it wasn’t that you are physically attractive enough, it is that you are sexually attractive. That’s what I was trying to get across in the story. A woman can exude sexual attraction without having big this’s or huge that’s. Not that there’s anything wrong with your physical attraction, but it really is your intelligence and all the rest of your personality that makes your physical escort pendik charms even more appealing. That you don’t publicly flaunt your sexuality enhances rather than diminishes it.’
She blushed profusely and said nothing, so I went on.
‘I’m curious about something’and I know it’s none of my business, but I’m going to ask anyway. Don’t you have sexual fantasies’ I know I do. And my writing gives me a chance to express those fantasies graphically and with no inhibition.’
‘But your stories were so vivid, so real. At least some of them were. It’s almost as if you were recounting real-life experiences. They hardly sounded like fantasies.’
‘How many of my stories did you read?’
‘All of them.’
‘Well, two of them were real, though the names were changed to protect the extremely guilty. ‘A Good & Trusted Friend’ and ‘Digital Manipulation’ actually happened. If Carol were to ever read the stories, she would immediately recognize the woman in ‘Digital Manipulation’.’
‘My God, Lee, you’re an adulterer!’
‘Oh, c’mon, Diane. Haven’t you ever fantasized about being with a man other than Don?’
The startled look on her face gave me her answer before she spoke hesitatingly.
‘Yes, I have, but it was only a fantasy. I would never even consider a sexual relationship with anyone else.’
‘If you’ve fantasized it, you’ve already considered it, Diane. Remember what the character Sheri in ‘A Good & Trusted Friend’ said: ‘One more thing,’ she said. ‘Only my husband can make love to me. Tomorrow night, I don’t want you to make love to me. I want you to fuck me.’ Sheri, though that was obviously not her real name, understood that she could effectively have a great sexual relationship without betraying her deep love for her husband. That she was able to do that with me resulted in one very incredible night of sex for both of us. Then she went home to love her husband no less that I love my wife or you love Don.’
‘So, Diane,’ I continued, ‘What did you really think of the stories’ Did they arouse you’ Did you find yourself wishing, even just a little bit, that you were one of the women?’
‘Well, I’Oh, hell! Of course I did! I’m not going to lie to you. I think most women wish for the kind of orgasms that your characters have. I mean, most of us have the once or twice a month, roll me over, put it in, pull it out, and go to sleep kind of sex. Who wouldn’t want to try different things in different places with different people?’
He spontaneous candor must have caught even her by surprise, because she began to blush again.
‘Oh, my God. Did I really say that’ What I meant was?’
Before she could continue, I put my finger on her lips to quiet her.
‘Diane, you don’t need to explain. I think that now you understand completely why I write erotic fiction.’
I paused, my finger still on her lips, my eyes penetrating hers, communicating my desire for her.
Our eyes still engaging, I slid slowly across the seat of her car so that our bodies were side by side and touching. The look of anticipation in her eyes told me she knew what was coming but that she had neither the power nor the wish to resist.
While we were still in the car in the shopping center parking lot, I brought my lips closer to hers. Just before our lips met, I tenderly slid my finger from her lips, down over her chin, underneath her jaw, and then to her neck. My fingertips caressed her throat as our lips tasted their first kiss.
Diane’s sigh told me to continue.
‘Do you want me to stop, Diane?’
First, ‘Yes’,’ but then as I started to pull away, ‘No,’ she whispered urgently. Her long-unfulfilled needs boiled to the surface and first suppressed, then obliterated, her marital restraint.
I brought my lips back to hers. She pressed hard against me, parting her lips to let my tongue paint lovingly on her lips and teeth and to find her own longing probe. After what seemed an endless kiss, she pushed me away.
‘God, I can’t believe I’m doing this,’ she panted.
I looked deeply into her eyes again and recognized the equal of my own lust.
‘But you do want to continue, don’t you Diane.’ It was a statement, not a question.
‘Yes, but not here. My house.’
‘Are you sure you want to go there?’
‘God, yes! It’s close, and I’m already too wet to go anywhere else.’ With no hesitation she put her car in gear and began driving. I was still sitting close to her on the Subaru’s bench seat.
I leaned my head close to her’s so she could feel my hot breath in her ear.
‘When we get there, you are going to be an uncaged tigress, free to do whatever you choose. I will kiss your delicious body, taste you, touch you wantonly, feel your sensual, sexual tension strain against me. I want you to feel what it’s like to focus your own full sexual power.’
She had difficulty keeping her attention on her driving. As I nibbled at her ear, my right hand moved slowly and tantalizingly down her throat to her upper chest. She gasped audibly when my fingers crept under the fabric of her dress, under her bra strap, and then worked their way downward until my hand covered her left breast pendik escort bayan entirely. I felt her nipple growing taut under the warm pressure of the palm of my hand. Then, I steadily drew my hand outward, dragging it tenderly across her nipple. She whimpered and bit her lower lip, trying to retain some control, as the exquisite sensuality of my touch hit her.
She could only breathe hard and nod slightly in response to my whispered inquiry, ‘You liked that, didn’t you, Diane?’
As we turned onto the mile long road that approached her country home, I slowly moved my hand across her chest, then downward over the bodice of the crimson-colored dress. Her anticipation was building. I rested my hand on her dress over her right thigh, then moved it slowly to her knee. My hand on her right knee, I began to pull up the hem of the mid-calf length dress, exposing her lower leg, then her knee.
I touched the inside of her lower thigh just at her kneecap with my bare hand. She accelerated the car along the private road toward her house. My fingertips pushed gently upward along the unstockinged skin inside her right thigh. My fingers spread wide to cover more of her leg, to expose her to the sensations for which she had longed. She struggled to maintain control of the speeding car, all the while spreading her legs, perhaps involuntarily, yet wanting the touches to intensify.
Now we were less than a quarter mile from her house.
I could feel the humid warmth emanating from inside her as my fingertips approached the edge of her panties. As first one finger, then two, then three slipped under the edge of the material at the top of her thigh, I felt the lush thickness of her hair. Wet, warm, unshaven, beckoning.
Her car braked to a hard stop in the carport. She slammed the gear shift into park and turned to bring her lips against mine in a crushing, passionate kiss. Her tongue lashed out at my lips, assaulting them with delicious force.
My own sexual desire mounting, I moved my hand further over her mons underneath the panties. As much as the confinement of the car and the steering wheel in front of her would allow, she thrust her very hairy womanhood against my hand, all the while continuing to ravage me with her mouth.
In an instant, she broke our kiss.
‘Inside! Now!’ Her sexual power had seized her vocal cords, and she growled with a deep, throaty hoarseness replacing her usual soprano voice. . Her eyes flashed with insistence.
As she left the car, she didn’t bother to smooth her dress. After all, who but me would see her out here in the country’ I got out of the car and walked toward her as she fumbled to finally insert her key into the back door’s lock. Before she could unlock the door, I spun her around and drew her to me. Her outer coat was still unbuttoned, and her dress was disheveled, but she didn’t seem to notice as she pushed hard against me. I surrounded her body with my arms while we kissed, then clasped her ass cheeks and pulled her hard against me. My erection was straining hard against my trousers as I ground it against her covered pussy while we kissed deeply. Our minds were becoming blurred on all else but our sexual satisfaction.
My hands slid down and pulled her dress high up around her waist, exposing her barren legs to the chill of the winter air. She gasped audibly into my mouth as the coldness hit her legs and damp panties, transferring an icily erotic surge to her womanhood. We continued to kiss each other passionately as I mustered my concentration to turn the key in the lock and push the door open. Somehow, still entangled, we pushed through the back door and closed it behind us.
Now, any prying eyes and social constraints locked out in the winter air, we both began tearing at each other’s clothing, not caring about damage, only wanting to quickly feel the intimacy, the exciting and arousing friction, the sensual heat and wetness of our bare skin against the other’s.
We were both unrestrained. Each touch, each kiss, each bit evoked a sigh, a cry, a sound of unbridled release, and renewed touching and fervor. While my tongue lashed at Diane’s taut nipples, painted harsh circles around them, flicked them enticingly, I felt her hand surround my full, thick erection. Her urgent tugging, the tentative stroking, told me, perhaps subconsciously, that she had never felt this kind of freedom to sexually explore with her husband. Her hands roamed my shaft, then underneath it and gently caressed my sac. I groaned in satisfaction, pleasing her, encouraging her to continue, telling her just how exciting she was.
We somehow found our way into the family room where Diane pushed me very roughly onto the oversized sofa. In an instant she was on top of me, kissing me, mumbling explicit obscenities into my ear, biting, almost flailing. Her mouth sought my own nipples and bit them roughly causing me to cry out more in lust than in pain. With my cry she turned her face to mine; predatory sex shone in her brown eyes. I began to feel her wet pussy rubbing against my very hairy right thigh. The abrasion of my hair against her clitoris increased her fervor; her pace quickened, and her cries increased as tears began to roll down her face. Now her fingernails dug into my chest and back as she clawed for a better hold. Our screams of pleasure mingled together, and I knew she was getting closer to an explosive orgasm.
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