-------- ASSTR Standard Headers --------
Author: Altan
Title: The Writer
Summary: A writer gets caught up in her own story.
Keywords: exhib nosex
Date: October 2018
Version: 1.00
-------- End of Standard Headers --------
This story is a work of erotic fiction. If you are not allowed to
read such material, or if such material offends you, please stop
reading now.
This story is copyrighted (C) October 2018 by Altan. Permission
is granted for this story to be reproduced and archived in the
context of the newsgroup(s) to which it is posted by the author.
In addition, the reader is allowed to make copies in electronic
format and on paper for his or her personal use only. For all
other uses, please consult the copyright statement in
/~altan/copyright.html.
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The Writer (exhib nosex)
by Altan
It was a dark and stormy night...
Jen looked at the first sentence she had written and wondered
what she was doing. She wanted to _do_ something, but writing a
scary story sure wasn't it.
She looked around her. The night wasn't stormy, in fact, it was
quite balmy. It wasn't even dark outside, with the orange city
glow like a halo in the sky. She tried again.
It was a warm and husky night, filling Amy with
anticipation.
Better, at least she had a heroine now. One filled with
anticipation, even if she didn't have a clue yet what was
anticipated. Jen could use some anticipation in her life.
Wistfully she looked out of the window again. The view had been
the same for as long as she could remember. Maybe the palm trees
lining the road had grown, and sure, the people who used to live
across the street had kept their yard neat and tidy, unlike the
present owners. But nothing had really changed since her
childhood, forty years ago.
Her boyfriend would be here any minute now. Amy looked
at her reflection in the mirror and liked what she saw.
Five feet ten, 150 pounds, with curves in all the right
places.
Yeah, right. A heroine would always be curvy, unlike Jen. Even at
forty-eight she still had a tomboyish figure. Not heavy, thank
God, but no curves worth mentioning. She never did have much to
attract the boys.
Looking at the mirror, Amy wondered if she should undo
another button from her shirt. Tom would love that, of
course. He always wanted her to show more.
Jen looked at what she had just written. _Where is this heading?_
she asked herself.
"Heck, why not," Amy mumbled to herself as she undid a
shirt button. "Let him have some fun, although for the
life of me, I can't understand why he wants me to look
like a slut. Might as well go the whole way."
She undid another button and looked again in the
mirror. With her shirt almost open to her navel, the
shapes of her firm breasts were clearly visible.
Jen was starting to get disgusted with what she was writing, but
felt unable to stop.
She never wore a bra when going out with Tom. Or
panties, for that matter. Tom said it turned him on,
knowing she didn't have anything underneath.
This story was getting crazier and crazier. She may not have had
a lot of experience with men, but she knew what kind of panties
they wanted. Just look around Victoria's Secret.
The doorbell rang and, with one last quick look in the
mirror, Amy went downstairs.
When she opened the door, Tom let out a whistle. "I
like what you're wearing," he said. "Anything
underneath?"
"What do you think?"
He embraced her and slid his hand under her skirt. He
slowly moved his hand up until it cupped her bare
bottom.
Jen put down her pen and looked at the paper in front of her.
_What am I doing?_ she thought. She had sat down with the idea of
writing something, not knowing what. She would sometimes have
that urge, and had written some short stories for herself. Never
showed them to anyone else, though.
Now she was looking at what she had just written and realized it
was heading towards a pretty graphic story, almost pornography.
She had never done anything like _that_ before.
Why was she doing this? What was she trying to achieve? Maybe she
should stop now...
Jen slid her chair back and went to the kitchen to pour herself a
cup of iced tea. Sipping the cold liquid, she read what she had
just written.
To her surprise, she felt a tingling in her belly when reading
her own story. _My God,_ she thought, _I am actually getting
excited by this trash!_
She looked at the paper and thought, _what the heck, no one is
ever going to see this..._ Slowly, she picked up her pen again.
"Leave something for later," Amy laughed as Tom didn't
seem to want to stop fondling her. "Let's go."
They went to Tom's car and Amy sat on the passenger
side. She carefully hiked up her skirt so that her bare
bottom was on the fabric of the car seat. She made sure
that Tom, who was holding the door for her, was getting
a good look at her pussy.
As soon as they got to the highway, Tom put his right
hand on her knee and started to slowly caress her. Amy
spread her legs a little bit, to encourage him to
explore further. Not that he needed a lot of
encouragement. While he kept his eyes on the road, his
caressing went slowly up and down her leg, ending a
little bit higher with every stroke.
Amy resisted the urge to slide down in the car seat and
speed things up. His soft fingers on her inner thigh
were slowly setting her pussy on fire. She knew he was
teasing her, letting his fingers almost, but not quite,
touch her in her private area. Then he did touch,
almost accidentally, and a shiver went up her spine.
Jen suddenly realized her left hand was in her blouse and on her
breast. It felt good, touching the hard nipple through the fabric
of her bra, and she was surprised about that. She had never found
much enjoyment in touching herself and masturbating. In fact, she
had never quite understood what all the fuss was all about. Sex
was fun, yeah, but not that big of a deal. Yet now, just touching
her nipple through her bra made her tingle.
On impulse, Jen reached behind her back, unclasped the bra, and
pulled it out through her blouse sleeves. She went back to
writing, keeping one hand on her breast.
It felt way too soon when they arrived at the
restaurant. Amy waited for Tom to get around the car
and open the door for her, knowing he liked seeing her
with her skirt around her waist.
She could feel the thin fabric of her shirt moving over
her erect, sensitive nipples. The outline of her
nipples would be clearly visible to anyone looking at
her chest.
Jen's own nipples were sensitive and erect as well. Her hand was
rubbing them, squeezing them softly. Some of the buttons of her
blouse had become loose but she didn't notice or care.
Their table wasn't ready when they entered the
restaurant, so they started out at the bar. On the high
bar stool, her skirt fell mostly to the sides of her
legs. Tom stroked her legs while they sipped their
drinks. Amy felt his hand pushing her skirt further and
further up. She spread her legs, not caring what anyone
could see.
In an unconscious reaction, Jen's hand left her breasts and slid
into her pants.
Amy forced herself to look at Tom as his fingers
approached her crotch again. She noticed the man
sitting behind Tom, looking at her from the corner of
his eyes, and realized he must be looking straight up
her skirt. Even in the dim light of the bar, it must be
clear to him that nothing was covering her pussy.
The thought of being completely exposed gave Amy a rush
and she felt herself getting even wetter.
Jen's hand had reached her clit and was rubbing.
To make it easier for the stranger to see, she spread
her legs a little bit farther and put one foot on a
higher rung of Tom's bar stool. This made her skirt
slide back even more, exposing her whole upper thigh.
The man's eyes went wide, and he was so fixed on her
private parts that he didn't notice her smile.
She was rubbing her clit more and more vigorously.
The smile on her face changed to a mischievous grin as
a thought came to her. She leaned over to Tom and
whispered, "Can you spill your drink on me?" She knew
he would understand she was up to something as she
raised her glass in a toast. Instead of touching her
glass, he missed and spilled half his drink on her
chest.
Jen was panting now, her heart was pumping.
Amy got up from the bar stool and looked down at the
front of her blouse, soaked with the sticky drink. She
took a couple of paper napkins from the bar and started
to try drying herself off. She paid special attention
to wiping one breast, then the other. Of course, she
had to push away the fabric of the blouse to properly
dry them off.
Then she picked up the hem of her skirt and started
wringing that. She never seemed to notice that this
raised the skirt all the way up, leaving her standing
in the bar without any cover at all.
With a little cry, Jen came--and came again, as she kept on
rubbing her clit. Then a third time.
"Wow, that must be powerful stuff," a voice said near the
doorway.
Her heart stopped. Actually, it was more as if her mind
stopped--Jen knew she should be thinking of something but was
unable to.
"I guess this is an inconvenient time," the voice continued. "I
can come back later?"
It took all her willpower to turn around. When she did, she
recognized the man standing in the kitchen doorway. Her new
neighbor, he had only moved in the day before. He had come to her
door and introduced himself and she had thought he looked like a
nice enough guy.
"I, eh, look, I'm sorry, I don't..." she stammered.
"It's OK, no need to be embarrassed. I do it all the time myself.
Although I don't generally leave the door open."
Jen realized that she had forgotten all about the kitchen door,
which she usually left open on these warm summer evenings. Just
the screen door to keep the bugs out. Of course nobody ever came
to her kitchen door.
"Actually, I was wondering if I could borrow some sugar from you.
I just made myself tea and found that I'm all out of sugar.
Either that or it's packed in one of the still unopened boxes.
I'd run out and buy some, but to be honest, I have no clue where
there might be a convenience store open around here."
"A cup of sugar. Right. Ehm... sure, of course. I have some sugar
in the kitchen."
She got up, taking a moment to steady herself, then headed over
to the kitchen.
"I'm afraid I'm terrible with names," she admitted. "What was
your name again?"
"Thomas, but you can call me Tom. It doesn't feel like we are
complete strangers anymore."
Jen stopped in shock and Tom almost bumped into her. _Was it him
I was writing about?_ she wondered. _It can't be!_
She pulled herself together and managed to pour sugar in a cup
without spilling any on the counter. "Will this be enough?" she
asked as she turned and handed the cup to Tom.
He nodded and looked at her.
"Oh yes, thanks. I may be way out of line," he continued, "and if
I am, I apologize in advance. I realize you must be feeling
terribly embarrassed right now, and I probably should have just
come back later when I saw you. But that felt dishonest, like
spying on you."
"I see..."
"And I have to admit, you were looking irresistibly sexy. In
fact," he nodded down at her chest, "you are still looking quite
sexy."
"Not really, an old hag like me."
Tom shook his head. "Yes, you do. It's none of my business, but
yes, Jennifer, you look sexy."
"Please call me Jen," she smiled. "As you said, we're not really
strangers anymore."
"Alright, Jen, can I invite you over for a cup of tea? I don't
have much else, I'm afraid, but the tea should be properly
steeped by now."
Her mind was starting to come down from the state of shock it had
been in and Tom's comments started to sink in. He thought she was
sexy. Maybe she had more of Amy inside her than she thought.
"I would like that," she said, resisting the urge to button her
blouse back up. Maybe the night would turn out to be stormy after
all.
T H E E N D
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If you enjoyed this story, please let me know. Constructive
criticism, serious comments etc. are also greatly appreciated. I
can be contacted by Email at altan498@gmail.com. Please use the
word "STORIES" in the subject line of your Email, since messages
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Please check out my Web site at:
/~altan/
for more of my work.
Altan