“I forgot about study hall, Nicholas, but perhaps we could have a little privacy here at this table,” she said, as she sat down indicating for him to sit across from her. About that time, several other students come over to her as asked if they could talk with her when she was finished. Naturally, she said that they could, so they hung around about a table away. Samantha knew that they would need more time and privacy than this for him to breach the subject that she knew was on his mind.
“I tell you what, Nicholas, here, take this. It’s my cell phone number. Call me after school and we’ll meet somewhere so we can talk, okay?”
“Well, okay. Are you sure, Mrs. Jones?”
“Absolutely, call me.” she said, with confidence. There was no way that she was going to chicken out after Crystal brazenly told him to confide in her. It just wasn’t fair.
“Okay, I’ll call you at four o’clock then, and thanks, Mrs. Jones.”
The prim and proper Samantha Jones drove home, fixed herself a sandwich, changed into something more comfortable, more erotic, and became Crystal Summers as she sat down in her library to continue with a book that she was writing.
The thing about writing erotica is that you really have to concentrate and delve into the characters, their lives, their needs, and of course, their sex. It’s easy to write about going to the store or on a vacation, or perhaps describe a room. When you attempt to describe two people having sex, it’s something altogether different. You have to live it, experience it. What that means is that you have to feel it, smell it, taste it, and sometimes swallow it. When you describe the first penetration of a sweet wet pussy, you must sense your own hips undulate and thrust upward with his first penetration. You feel the stretch as he slides through your tight opening. There is no way that a writer can describe sex without getting physically turned on themselves.
Crystal had just spent the last three hours describing in explicit detail, the first time a young couple had sex, and she was very turned on. She was, in fact, white hot for an orgasm. She was reaching for her favorite toy when her cell phone rang.
She had lost track of time. Glancing at the clock, she realized that it must be Nicholas and she needed to calm down, somehow
“Hello?”
“Hi, Mrs. Jones, it’s Nick. Do you still have time to meet me somewhere?” he asked, trying to keep up his courage.
“Yes, I do, Nicholas. Do you know where I live?” she asked, with a slight quiver in her voice. All of a sudden, she wasn’t quite as sure as she was earlier.
“Yes, Mrs. Jones, I know exactly where you live.”
“Good, Nicholas. Why don’t you come over to my house? It is fairly close to the school and, if you would like, I will make us some tea when you get here. Besides, if you need privacy, this is probably the best place.”
“That sounds great, Mrs. Jones. I’ll be there in about five minutes.”
“About five minutes? Okay, that’s perfect. I’ll see you in a few minutes, bye, Nicholas.”
“Crap, my bottom is dripping and aching to be stretched by this big rubber dick and I have to set across from Nicholas and listen to how he wants to write an erotic romance,” she said, aloud. Then she thought about the clothing she was wearing and laughed. She had on a skimpy top without a bra and sexy panties.
What would Nicholas think if I were to answer the door dressed like this, she wondered. “Okay, Crystal, I think that you need to go upstairs and change back into Mrs. Jones,” she said, laughing aloud again.
Nicholas pulled into the long serpentine drive that lead up to the house, which sat quite a way back off the main road. He hadn’t been this close to her house before, and it seemed a lot bigger than it appeared from the street. As he walked up to the front porch, Mrs. Jones opened the front door.
“Hi, Nicholas, please do come in,” she sai, in a sweet southern manner.
“Hi, Mrs. Jones, you look great,” he managed to get out. He was nervous. His knees were a little wobbly, something he hadn’t expected.
“Why thank you, Nicholas. Why don’t you come into the kitchen and I’ll fix us some hot tea? Would you care for some?” she asked.
“That would be nice if it’s not too much trouble.”
“None at all. I was just about to make myself a cup when you called,” she said, feeling the wetness between her legs as she walked toward the kitchen. I should have taken them off and put on a pair of dry ones, she thought. She turned around and motioned for him to sit at the counter while she made their tea. They made some small talk. Mostly about school, and what he thought he was going to study in college. They didn’t talk about anything serious. Neither one of them wanted to start the real conversation until they could devote their full attention to the subject matter. They both knew that it was, most likely, going to be stressful for both of them.
“Here, let me carry that for you, Mrs. Jones. Where would you like it?”
“Here, set it on the coffee table. We can sit here on the couch and take all of the time we need for you,” she said, as she poured a cup of tea for each of them.
“Do you care for some lemon or sugar, Nicholas?”
“No, thank you, Mrs. Jones.”
“Okay, Nicholas, what is it that you wanted to speak with me about?” she asked, as if she didn’t already know. She took a deep breath trying to calm her nerves.
“It’s kind of hard for me to come right out and say it. I know it should be easier, but I need to give you a little background first,” he said, as he went on and told her that his mother liked to read erotic romance. He told her how he had asked his mom about the book she had been reading. He went on to say that since he and his mom had such a close and open relationship, she had told him all about erotica and how it excited her when she read it.
“You must have a very modern mother, Nicholas, a lot of parents wouldn’t think of telling their children something like that. Most parents like to pretend that they don’t even have sex any longer,” she laughed.
“Yea, Mom said that Dad liked it when she read them because she was more than ready for him when he got home,” said Nicholas, as Mrs. Jones laughed.
“Nicholas, have you told anyone else about this?”
“No, no one. Mom said that it wouldn’t be a good idea even though there isn’t anything wrong with it.”
“Your mother is right. It is a rather personal thing. Why are you telling me about it?” she asked.
“Well, I asked Mom if she would let me read one of them and she gave me one from her favorite author, and I really liked it.”
“Most young men your age would,” she said, smiling. She was reminded of the wetness between her lips when she crossed her legs. She looked up at him and felt a little queasy with how close they were. She thought briefly about the taboo that would be associated with it if anything were to get out of control.
“Since that first book, I have read pretty much all the ones that mom has and a few of the ones that are available on line.”
“And?” she asked.
“And I think that I could write erotic romance, and with some practice, I think that I could compete.” he answered.
“And,” she asked again.
“I wanted to ask you, if it would be possible for me to write an erotic romance for my final paper?”
“I don’t think that it would be appropriate, Nicholas. They are pretty descriptive aren’t they?”
“Yes, they are.”
“I don’t think that the school would appreciate it, and what do you think that the other students would think? Many of them have never been exposed to anything like that. Their parents would be outraged and I would most likely get fired,”
“Mrs. Jones, you said that we could write about anything that we wanted to write about and preferably something that we were interested in. Besides, why do any of the other students or the school need to know? I would really like to get your impression of how I handle the subject matter, and whether or not you think that I might be able
to market my stories if I decide to try.”
There was a very long pause. Samantha took a sip of her tea as she nervously bounced her crossed leg up and down.
“Let me get this straight, you want to write an erotic story for your final grade in my class, and you say that the other students wouldn’t have to know about it? Do you promise that you would never tell anyone else about it, not even your mother?”
“Yes, I won’t tell anyone else about it. Only you would know.” After pondering what he said for a short while, she decided that she would let him do it if he would be discrete, and she thought that he would.
“Okay, I’ll let you do it as long as you tell no one, and you email the story to my personal email address,” she said.
“That’s great, Mrs. Jones. I really appreciate it.”
“Okay, what are you going to write about, Nicholas? What is your story line going to be?” Nicholas knew that this would be the hard part because he was not sure she would tolerate him doing something this personal.
“It’s about a student, and his infatuation with one of his teachers. Their interaction in class, his feelings toward her, and his imagination as he describes their relationship,” he said.
“Don’t you think that this is getting a little personal? You are talking about us, aren’t you?” “Well, yes. I have to admit that’s how I got the idea.”
“Nicholas, in this story of yours, do they have sex?”
“Yes.”
“Do you intend to describe this sex that you imagine they have in any explicit detail?” she asked, feeling herself becoming more aroused that she had been before.
“Yes, that’s what erotica is all about,” he answered, trying to be as confident as he possibly could.
She thought about this for a long while. She should have seen this coming. She should have known from the email that he sent to Crystal what he intended to do. She just didn’t think that he would actually go through with telling her how he felt.
“Nicholas, since this is getting so personal, and I think that describing what your imagination sees as sex between the two of us qualifies as being personal, I need to ask you a couple of questions.”
Neither of them could really believe how far this conversation had taken them in just a few minutes.
“Okay, I’ll answer anything you want to know,” he replied.
“Nicholas, are you sexually active?”
“If you are asking me if I am a virgin, the answer is no. I really don’t consider myself as being sexually active because I don’t have a steady girlfriend. So, I’m not having sex right now.”
“I’m curious, Nicholas, because I don’t have any way of knowing how experienced you are. Therefore, how do you intend on getting the background information that would enable you to describe these sex acts? The sex acts that you intend to do with me, on paper, that is.” she asked, as she tried to control the desire that was building deep within her loins for this young man. However, her imagination was going wild, and she was losing ground.
“I’ve had sex a few times but not like the sex that is described in erotic novels. Most of what I will use is going to be a compilation of what I’ve read, what I see in my imagination and what I fan...” He was going to say fanaticize about, but he stopped himself just in time, he hoped.
“Were you going to say fantasize about? Is that right, Nicholas?”
“Yes, Mrs. Jones.”
“Nicholas, you know that nothing will ever happen between us, you know that, right?” she stated. Her heart began to pound as she thought about him, wanting her.
“Oh, Mrs. Jones, absolutely, I would never suppose that I would be able to…”
“To what, Nicholas, have sex with me? You do know that if we go ahead with this, little project of yours, that we never would be able to have sex. Right?” she asked.
“Yes, Mrs. Jones, I know that. I would never disrespect you in any way. There is absolutely no disrespect in my thoughts toward you. Quite the opposite, in fact,” he answered.
“Even if both of us wanted to, understood?”
“I understand, Mrs. Jones, I will be careful, no one will ever know I wrote the paper and you and I will be the only ones that will ever know about its existence.”
“Nicholas, we have had some very frank conversations this afternoon over our tea. These conversations could get me in a lot of trouble if they were to get out. I have never even considered having sex with a student, Nicholas. Yet, you are going to write about having sex with me, in detail, and then I’m going to have to read about it from your point of view. I’m only human Nicholas. I haven’t had sex since my husband died three years ago, and you are a very handsome young man who fantasizes about having sex with me. This is a very slippery slope Nicholas,” she said.
They both needed a few moments to gather their thoughts. She went to the kitchen to warm the water for another cup of tea. She poured them another cup and sat back down.
“Mrs. Jones, I, I respect you so much. I hope you know that. It’s just that I have had these feelings toward you for a long time now. I know that we will never have sex, but I feel better somehow just knowing that you know about my feelings and how much I care for you,” he said.
There was another long pause in their conversation as she thought about this last revelation. She thought that he just wanted to have sex with her; she had no idea that he actually cared for her. Her feelings of lust for this young man were growing. She felt that twinge, that little spark deep within her groin that she recognized as her libido. It was reminding her that she was indeed very human with very human needs. It was her womb, and it was telling her that she wanted this young man knowing that it would never be. However, apparently she was unable to clearly communicate that back to her womb because it felt to her like it was doing body slams within her pelvic cavity screaming put it here, put it here.
She took a deep breath and a sip of tea trying to ignore pressure growing within her loins.
“This has been an interesting afternoon Nicholas. This is not what I expected, not at all. Nicholas, do you know that you have an erection right now, just like the one you get in class sometimes?”
“Yes, Mrs. Jones, I am painfully aware of it. I don’t seem to be able to control it when I am around you.”
“I can see that. That’s one of the more interesting differences between men and women, Nicholas. Women can see when a man is turned on. However, women can be turned on, and the man may never know it unless she tells him,” she smiled, calmly and pleasantly without the slightest hint that she was in any way interested in his story. The cool demeanor that she was expressing toward Nicholas on the outside was a far cry from the molten turmoil that she was experiencing in her pussy “Was there anything else that you wanted to talk about, Nicholas?”
“No, Mrs. Jones, I didn’t have anything else, that was it. So, a … it’s okay if I write about us?”
“We have been talking about sex for almost an hour. We have talked about sex between the two of us, Nicholas. I guess if I can talk with you about it, I should be able to read about it, so yes, you can write about us,” she said with a weary smile.
“Oh, thanks, Mrs. Jones, I hope it’s going to be good.”
“I imagine that it will be, Nicholas,” she said, as she walked him to the front door.
“You better get that imagination of yours going. You only have three weeks to get it finished and handed in, or in your case, email it in. Here is my private email address, Nicholas.”
“Thanks, Mrs. Jones, I’ll see you in class tomorrow.”
She closed the door behind him, dropped her skirt on the floor, reached down, and stuck her two middle fingers into her saturated opening.
“Oh, fuck that feels so good,” she said, as she walked over to where they were sitting. Her fingers and the back of her hand were wet, one from her pussy, and the other from the inside lining of her panties. She sat there rubbing her g-spot with one hand while she rubbed and pinched her cl
it with the other. Her pussy was so hot from thinking about Nicholas that she was already close to coming. Lying back on the couch, she was fiercely fucking herself with her fingers, thrusting them in as deeply as she could. She grabbed her right wrist with her left hand trying to get more traction and deeper penetration. She jerked her pelvis repeatedly, matching the thrusts of her hands.
“Oh, fuck, Nicholas, fuck me with that big cock, yes, yes, oh fuck yes,” she moaned, jerking her hips into her hands as her orgasm rocked her body. She moaned, and jerked hard three more times as the pleasure of her climax gushed through her and then slowly ebbed giving her the relief that she so desperately sought.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, what am I going to do with you Nicholas? You are twenty-three years younger than I am, and I want you to fuck me. There, I admit it. I want you to be my first in three years,” she cried out before realizing what she said.
Her orgasm made her feel much better. However, she did not go back to writing. All she could think about was Nicholas and wonder what his cock might look like, what it would taste like and how it would feel deep inside her.
Here she was, opening another sedating, bottle of Sauvignon Blanc. She went outdoors and sat under the rear veranda. She took a sip of wine and she wondered how his lips would feel on her pussy, and how his stiff tongue would feel shoved in her wet slit.
“Who the fuck is infatuated with whom, and who the fuck is fantasizing about whom?” she asked, aloud. How did I get to this point, she wondered. It seemed to of happened in a period of a few short days of harmless flirtation.
No one knew who she was except her publisher. Samantha Jones, this prim and proper southern belle in the morning and, then in the afternoon, she transformed into this sex starved insatiably wanton whore, Crystal Summers, she mused and chuckled. What was she going to do with Nicholas?
She knew that it was wrong to have sex with him. Her mind kept telling her that it would be so wrong, but the longing and pain deep within her body kept telling her that she needed him, and wanted him as much as he wanted her. She was getting wet and horny again just thinking about the possibility. However, in reality, she knew that it was just that, a fantasy and that nothing must ever come of it.
Mrs. Jones' Secret Life Page 3