Being an amateur erotica writer wasn't something that just happened overnight. It took many years of failed relationships and poor attempts at picking up at bars to give me all the ideas I needed to finally attempt my first story. I never went to school to learn how to write creatively, but I read a lot of books, which helped me gain ideas on how to use punctuation and form sentences that held a reader's attention.
Before the release of my first small novel, I had been talking to many women who read stories from my blog. They were huge fans and always talked about meeting me. I was hesitant to meet them since they were fans and were more or less band groupies, except for writers.
After the release of my novel, I became far too busy to keep up communications with every woman. Only one of them was persistent enough to keep in touch with me and the fact that she was putting in so much effort was impressive. I had never met someone who was so interested in me before that I figured she deserved a nice dinner at the least.
Once the date was set, she started hinting at the idea of her helping me with my next book. She implied that she could be my main character and that she would give me lots of ideas after we had dinner. I ran the idea through my mind for a few days leading up to the dinner and then finally accepted it as a possibility. I had never slept with someone with the sole intention of them being an inspiration for my writing, but perhaps it would be a unique enough experience that I could turn it into a best-seller.
As we sat across from one another waiting for dessert to arrive, she reached across the table and turned up her palm. I smiled and then reached across to take her hand in mine.
"Are you having a good time?" she asked.
"I am," I replied. "Are you?"
"Yes, it has been a lovely dinner. But I'm really looking forward to a dirty ending to the night."
Thankfully I wasn't drinking any wine at the time because I would have surely spat it out all over the table. Her forwardness was something I wasn't used to at all. I was a nice guy, someone who was more reserved than what I led my readers to believe through my writing. She seemed to have me pegged for a nympho, or someone with an insatiable sex drive. I wasn't opposed to sleeping with her that night for inspiration, but I was very curious as to what she envisioned happening between us in the sheets.
When I took her back to my place, we opened a bottle of red wine and then headed upstairs to my master bedroom. For an amateur writer, I wasn't doing too bad and it showed with my choice of linens on the bed and other furnishings. She seemed to be in complete awe with how my room looked that I wondered if I had distracted her too much.
"This," she began, "looks so amazing. It's like a scene from your book."
"Actually," I began, "it is. I modeled my room slightly after the book, but not exactly as it wasn't really possible to replicate stitch for stitch."
"I love it," she admitted with a big smile as she chugged half of her remaining wine. "Now let's begin."
"Are you calling the shots?" I asked her.
"Absolutely not. You're the writer, the one with the vision. You tell me what you want."
Setting our glasses down on the nightstand, we undressed one another. As her dress was unzipped and fell to the floor, I saw that she wore very sexy lingerie specifically for that night. Every piece was red and matched rather well with the theme of my room.
As she crouched down to suck my cock, she said, "Show me your passion."
I placed my hand firmly on the back of her head to be in complete control of her movements. She used her mouth and tongue so well that I didn't force her to gag on me.
After a while I let go and she went to town, deepthroating my cock like no woman had ever done before. I gasped as she took my cock all the way down her throat and then wiggled her tongue back and forth without showing any signs of choking. I was certainly impressed, but the night was just starting.
"I could let you do that for a whole hour," I admitted to her.
"Oh really?" she asked, after taking my cock out of her throat. "I'm that good?"
"Yes. Yes, you are."
"Well what else would you like to do? You're calling the shots, remember?"
With those words she took my cock back down her throat again and then released it for one final time before standing up face-to-face in front of me.
"You read my book, right?" I asked.
"Of course," she replied. "Why would you ask such a silly question?"
"Then you should know what I have yet to experience," I told her.
"Oh," she said in a very drawn out manner as she understood why I asked. "So you want to do a lot with me then?"
"Exactly. I want to do everything," I said, looking her straight in the eyes.
"The night is still young, but we should start on that very long list immediately."
"Yes, we should," I said with a smile.
Kissing her softly on the lips, I tasted the lingering flavour of wine on them.
As our lips parted, I added, "And since I took a viagra in anticipation of you being the willing and able woman you've portrayed yourself to be. It will be one very long night."
YOU ARE READING
NOT Your Grandma's Book of Progressive Erotica: Vol 8Romance
This is the eighth in a series consisting of multiple, twenty-six story (A-Z) volumes. My take on erotica is one full of teasing, romance, humour and making you think about how oversexualized the world has become. This is mature content due to adult...