Writer’s Fantasy: Part 2
A shy, inexperienced writer takes a job writing erotica for a magazine, and finds she needs to experience some things before she can write about them. Join Jenny as her “learning sessions” escalate in her quest to make each writing segment hotter than the next. She thinks the journey will just educate her on new sexual frontiers to help her write a better column; she never expects that she might find more about herself, friendship, and true romance along the way.
It was Monday. Last Thursday had been the best day of my life. You know why.
And now, any moment, David would be back. Marissa was upstairs changing. I was pacing between the front door and the couch where the most amazing fucking session in the whole world had taken place.
And in minutes, maybe seconds, David would be here. Amazingly gorgeous, amazingly hot David. David of the long, thick brown hair, and the incredible brown eyes, and the body of a God. David with the sense of humor and… well, you know.
I’ve been a copywriter for a long time, barely eeking out a living just barely above the poverty level. Last week I took a job writing a weekly column of erotica for a magazine. Problem was I had almost no sexual experience.
So my best friend Marissa, who is so beautiful she could be a model, insisted we hire someone to help me get experience.
Enter David stage left. He was better than I could have ever possibly hoped for. Even in my wildest dreams.
There was a knock on the front door.
Enter David stage front, I thought.
I opened the door and there he was in all his glory, looking like something out of playgirl magazine except for his expression which was both wolfish and like a sixteen-year-old who just got his first car and won the lottery at the same time.
“Hi!” he said.
“Hey,” I said, sheepishly and stepped back out of the way so he could come in. He walked in with a great stride. “Marissa’s upstairs changing,” I said. “I don’t know what’s taking her so long.”
“That’s good,” he said. Then he pulled me against him in one sharp move.
“That gives us some time alone.”
David leaned down and kissed me. It was a soft brush of lips at first. He ran his hand over my hair, petting, and tucked my head into his neck. David held me there a while. Holding me in a hug that felt like being wrapped in a cocoon of pure, perfect sunshine. He caressed the outer shell of my ear, sending shivers down my spine, and rubbed my low back in long strokes.
Then he touched the tip of his tongue against the center of my lips, asking permission. I opened for him right away, my mouth, and my heart, and down lower. My core wept, just from that gentle kiss. As I’ve said, getting wet has never been my problem.
David stroked the inside of my mouth with his tongue, a gentle, loving in and out rhythm, and I moaned softly into his mouth. Lovingly, exploring, amazing.
He grabbed the back of my head, changing the angle slightly and put his other hand on my lower back pushing me further into his hips. I could feel him, already beginning to get hard.
And then in a flash he turned the kiss to fast and forceful and full of heat.
Fucking my mouth, raising my blood pressure, taking, taking, taking, like he would suck me down everywhere. It was an onslaught, like a tsunami of sensations with him pushing me fast into a blood boiling arousal.
It occurred to me that I had fucked him but I never kissed him before. But I wasn’t surprised it was the best kiss I’d ever had.
He broke it off. I whimpered.
“My God, I could kiss you for fourteen hours straight,” I said.
“I have something else in mind,” he said.