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Eros and the Muse

Eros and the Muse

Tag Archives: flirting

In the Stacks

23 Sunday Sep 2012

Posted by Jennifer in Uncategorized

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Tags

bisexual, cunnilingus, erotic fiction, erotica, flirting, lesbian, lesbian erotica, librarian, library, oral sex, public sex, sex, sexual literature

In a cool, softly lit corner of the adult fiction section, Lauren slid a plastic-covered murder mystery into its spot, reading the shelf and adjusting a couple of misplaced volumes back into their proper order. She ran her hand along the fine grain of the antique oak shelf as she crossed to the window and leaned against the sill. Squinting against the summer sun that streamed in through the tall windows, she watched as a patron walked past the whitewashed clapboards of the Town Hall and crossed the flag-lined main street to the front walk of the library. Her crocheted cotton bag bulged with borrowed books, and Lauren smiled, her heart skipping a beat as she smoothed her skirt and stood. Alana’s visit was always a highlight of Lauren’s week, not just because it offered a respite in the long stretch of weekday afternoon quiet, but because seeing Alana would have been a highlight under any circumstance.

The heavy door swung open and Alana came in, dropping her heavy books on the circulation desk with a dull thud. “Man,” she said, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand, “It got hot out there today. I’m sweating like a whore in church.” She looked at Lauren in her simple skirt and light summer sweater, “Damn it, woman, how is it you always manage to look all elegant and put together and shit and I always look like an unmade bed?” Lauren felt her nipples harden as Alana appraised her form. “I like the outfit,” she said, smiling. “You got the whole ‘sexy librarian’ thing working for you today.”

Lauren felt a warmth spread from inside her blossom on her cheeks. The way Alana looked at her made her feel both unsettled and aroused. She had an intensity that Lauren was drawn to, yet at the same time she found it a little intimidating, and truth be told, frightening. She knew Alana had no qualms about sleeping with women. She knew Alana had no qualms about sleeping with anyone, in fact, since she was currently dating both her male yoga instructor and her the woman who was the promoter of her indie band.

It was that intensity that drew her, and the unrestrained and unabashed way Alana flirted with her. Lauren had never been attracted sexually to another woman before, but always felt like it was only because in her conservative upbringing in small town New England she may have missed the memo that it was okay to want to kiss a girl. Because she did want to. And badly.

In the back of her mind she still felt like she might be playing with fire, but as Alana moved around the small library checking out the new arrivals and poking through the new magazines, Lauren decided she liked the warmth.

“Oh, come on,” Lauren countered, “you know you’re gorgeous. And you always look great. Even on a day like today you look cool and comfortable.” Lauren loved the way Alana’s long violet skirt flowed and swirled around her bare legs and how the small silver ghunghru bells tied around her ankle tinkled as she walked. Her sleeveless shirt was hand painted and low cut in the front and Lauren could see the fine sheen of perspiration on her sun-kissed cleavage. It was obvious that she’d decided to forego a bra for the day, opting instead to let her large breasts bounce freely under her light top. Her long, shiny hair was caught up off her neck in a loose twist and secured with a couple of carved hair sticks and the fine, curly tendrils that escaped stuck to her damp skin and Lauren swallowed hard, wondering what it would be like to kiss her there. She was standing close enough to touch her, to smell the subtle aroma of nag champa and warm, moist places.

As she pressed her lips to the soft nape of her neck, she felt Alana’s breath catch in her throat. Her skin was salty and warm and she felt goosebumps rise under her gentle touch. Alana exhaled softly, and Lauren heard the copy of Yoga Weekly she’d been thumbing through thud clumsily against the magazine rack and flutter to the floor. Feeling bolder, she slipped her hands over Alana’s hips, wrapping around her and pulling her closer.

Alana’s hands were on hers, warm and dry, halting their movement, but not pulling away. “Not that it’s unwelcome,” Alana said, tipping her head back and arching her long neck, “but this is kind of a surprise.”

Lauren smiled nervously. “I know. I’m sorry,” she said, pulling away, but Alana held firm to her hands.

“Are you?” she said, turning and sliding a hand around Lauren’s waist. Alana’s fingertips brushed lightly over the curve of her ass pulling her close until their bodies were touching and their faces were mere inches apart. Lauren shuddered, goosebumps rising on her arms.

“No,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m not.”

“Good,” Alana said. “Neither am I.” Lauren felt her knees go weak as Alana kissed her. Her lips were soft and inviting, not insistent, but offering, and Lauren accepted, tentatively at first, and then with increasing desire as any hesitation she may have harbored fell away.

Alana’s hands were twined in her hair, pulling her closer still, devouring her. Lauren leaned back and found herself pressed against the long, oak reading table. She leaned on it, reaching for Alana and feeling her large, natural breasts through the thin cotton of her top. In the dim, lusty recesses of her mind, she felt a fleeting recognition that it was right, that the curves of a woman felt natural in her hands, and as the cognizant thought slipped away, she cupped the soft globes and sought Alana’s hard nipples through the fabric.

Alana moaned and pulled her lips away from Lauren’s. “Damn, girl,” she panted. “You’re killing me. I’m ready to take you right here in the public library.”

Lauren looked at her watch and smiled. “Hold that thought.” She crossed quickly to the front door and turned the heavy brass bolt and snapped off the banks of lights. “Now we’re closed,” she said, crossing back to where Alana leaned against one of the heavy shelves. “It’s a tad early, but no one will probably be in anyway. It’s too nice out and on a day like this…”

Her thoughts were interrupted by Alana’s mouth on hers, more insistent this time, with an intensity that took Lauren’s breath away. Again, she found herself against the big table, leaning back on her hands. Deftly, Alana worked the small buttons on her cardigan, popping them open quickly and letting it fall open. Her breasts were heaving with desire and she could see her own nipples large and hard through the thin lace bra. Alana ran her hands over the hard brown points so clearly visible under the white lace and pinched them lightly, making Lauren moan anew.

Alana pulled the cups down and let Lauren’s small, perky breasts spring free. She leaned down and took one of the quivering nipples in her mouth and sucked it, smiling as Lauren gasped at the sudden, swift pleasure of it. She could feel Alana’s hands on her thighs, seeking the hem of her skirt and gathering it in her hands, pulling it up and exposing the tops of her stockings.

When Alana’s hand made contact with the garter clasp that held her stockings up, she looked up so suddenly that Lauren’s nipple popped out of her mouth with a jiggle and a bounce. “Oh, this is amazing,” Alana said, sliding Lauren’s skirt up around her waist. The white satin and lace of her garter belt lay against her tanned skin in high relief, and the lace of her panties was already visibly moist between the soft curves of her thighs.

“It’s…well, more practical in summer,” Lauren started to explain, but Alana’s fingers pressed against the crotch of her panties made the rest of her thought go out of her head. She spread her legs, letting Alana touch her through the lace, leaning back as Alana’s mouth again found her nipples and drew on them with long, hard sucks. Alana tugged the panties, pulling them up between her lips and rubbing them against her hard clit.

She kissed a trail down Lauren’s midriff, past her flat, tanned tummy and the bunched up fabric of her skirt. Swiftly, she pulled the crotch of her panties aside and pressed her face into Lauren’s neatly trimmed nest of dark curls. Lauren moaned and lay back on the table, sliding back and raising her knees, allowing her legs to fall apart as Alana’s tongue plunged inside her.

Lauren could feel her own juices flowing as Alana worked her tongue over and inside every inch of her aching cunt. She moaned as two fingers filled her, sliding in and out while Alana wrapped her lips around her hard clit and sucked the hard little pearl, making her writhe and squirm atop the hard table top. She could feel the knot that had been building and tightening inside her begin to unravel, even as in the distance she could hear kids’ voices shouting from the outside, laughing as they crossed the town green to enter the library through the downstairs children’s room.

She knew she should push Alana away, make her stop, but it was too late, and she bit her lip to keep from crying out as her powerful orgasm spilled out of her, washing through her pussy and making her whole body buck and shudder. She tried to sit up, to grab her sweater and cover herself, but Alana wasn’t stopping, and wave after wave of pleasure continued to course through her. She was laughing and panting, begging Alana to stop in a low, frantic voice as she heard the sleigh bells jangle against the heavy back door and the sound of kids’ voices being hushed as they entered the cool silence of the library.

Alana stood quickly, raising the hem of her skirt and wiping her mouth while Alana pulled her own skirt back into place and re-did the buttons of her sweater with shaking hands. Alana brushed a stray lock of hair out of Lauren’s eyes and kissed her, letting Lauren taste her own muskiness. Lauren sighed and reluctantly let Alana slip away, trying to compose her face into a some semblance of professionalism as the children’s feet clamored up the stairs. She snapped on the lights and unlocked the door and while Alana thumbed through the yoga magazine she’d picked up from where she dropped it, she settled herself behind the circulation desk and began checking in books.

Forsaking All Others

14 Friday Sep 2012

Posted by Jennifer in Uncategorized

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

boundaries, cheating, conflict, erotic fiction, erotica, Falling, flirting, infidelity, marriage, process, writing

As I sat down to work out a story idea that was scratching around in my brain, I did what I usually do. I think about who the characters are, what they are like, what kind of personalities they have, and what’s going on in their life.

One of the most important things I consider when I’m starting to put the story down on paper is the conflict. I wrote a little while ago about how it seemed to me that stories with no discernible conflict are selling. How it seems that readers are looking for simple stroke pieces and not stories where the sex is less than perfect.

That aside, I still look at the story I want to tell and ask myself, “What is the conflict?”

I’m married, and I’m finding that lately a lot of my stories have had an infidelity theme running through them. I’m not sure why, exactly. After 16 years together, we’ve discussed the issue of cheating pretty often and we know where we both stand.

More or less.

I confess that sometimes I feel lazy when I put married characters in a position to cheat. It seems like an easy conflict to me. But examining the reasons for cheating and getting inside the heads of people who have strayed–people who have broken their marriage vow to forsake all others–right now at this point in my life, that interests me. I’ve reached the point where honestly, I can see it. I can understand why it happens. I have been married long enough to know that marriage isn’t always easy, that happily ever after takes work, and it doesn’t take a whole lot to upset the apple cart. It really doesn’t take much at all, in fact.

I can understand the what if’s that come up. What if he meets someone else? What if her feelings of friendship turn into something deeper? What if you grow apart over the years instead of closer?

I’ve also found that lately among my married friends that the topic of cheating comes up from time to time. In online forums we’ve discussed what cheating actually is. In a world where people can connect emotionally without ever breathing the same air, it adds a new layer of complication. The emotional affair is as real as the physical one, and just as damaging. In my opinion, it’s more damaging.

I believe I’d rather have my husband fuck someone else for funsies than to find out he was in love with another woman he’d never so much as touched.

One of the more interesting definitions of cheating when it comes to online interactions was “Would you do it if your spouse was standing over your shoulder watching you?” If the answer is no, you’re cheating.

I’m still not a hundred percent sure I agree with that, entirely. I tend to be pretty much the same person I am when L. is around as when he’s not. I flirt at the same level in person whether he’s there or not. I’m an open book. I never pretend to be someone I’m not. I’m open and casual and I have lots of guy friends. There is flirting, online and in meatspace.

He’s okay with it. He knows. And he knows it doesn’t mean anything. He understands that it’s not about an emotional connection or about me looking for something I don’t have at home. It’s my personality and part of who I am, and he loves me for it.

But not all my friends can say that. Some of them are very different people when their spouses are around. Normally outgoing, sexy, friendly, carefree people put a muzzle on their personalities, and it confuses me. Why would your spouse want you to be someone you’re not? I don’t get it.

Be not another if thou canst be thyself.

Having said that, my husband I have secrets. We don’t need to know what the other person is doing all the time, or with whom, or what exactly is said. There are things I say to my online friends that I probably wouldn’t say with him over my shoulder. Not because he would disapprove or not understand, but there are things about me–kinks that I enjoy–that depend on secrecy. There are things that are sexier because they’re not shared directly with him.

For the longest time, I kept my erotica writing a secret from him. It was hotter knowing that people were getting off to stuff that I was writing without his knowledge. Not that he would disapprove, and when it got to the point that this little writing hobby might be a paying gig, maybe even (dare I say it?) a career, I told him. He didn’t flinch. He’s not much of a reader, though. I’ve written stories using my friends as inspiration and let him read them, and he’s still okay with it, though the stories themselves were just that much hotter to me when he didn’t know.

There’s something inherently naughty in secrets.

For me, cheating is anything that interferes in a negative way with our relationship. If it comes between us or pushes us apart, that’s a bad thing. If it doesn’t affect us, if it doesn’t touch his feelings for me, or mine for him, I’m okay with it. He can’t say the same thing, though. His definition and mine aren’t the same.

The thing is, if one partner would consider a particular behavior cheating, it holds the other partner to that standard. On the one hand, I can see that because it makes sense. If your behavior puts a wedge between you and your partner, it probably is cheating. On the other hand, I can see that taken too far. I know people with spouses whose are threatened by what could be considered next-to-nothing by any sane, rational person.

It’s not easy to define, and as such, it’s hard for me to ever point fingers and say “That behavior is okay” or “That behavior is always wrong.” I think people are more complicated than that. A person who cheats isn’t always bad, someone who gets involved with a married person isn’t always bad, and the wronged spouse isn’t always a blameless victim.

Shit happens.

Humans are delightfully complicated, and if you let it, it makes for good reading.

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"Two well-assorted travelers use
The highway, Eros and the muse.
From the twins is nothing hidden,
To the pair is naught forbidden;
Hand in hand the comrades go
Every nook of nature through:
Each for the other they were born,
Each can other best adorn.”

--Ralph Waldo Emerson

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