What's Lust Got To Do With It?
Devious Virgins
The Confession
Sharing with Steve
Daring Curves
Bondage Baby
Brazilian Delights
Untouchable Me
Sicilian Stallion
Bringing Out the Best
Taking the Boss in the Bathroom
The Ultimate
Erotic Short Story Collection 23
11 Steamingly Hot Erotica Books For Women
*** As a Special Gift for buying this collection you are entitled to another EIGHT GREAT FREE EROTICA BOOKS not related to any story in this collection and not available for purchase anywhere! For information on where to download these books instantly please see the last page of this book, right after the LAST (11th) story ends ***
Disclaimer: The material in this book is for mature audiences only and contains graphic sexual content and is intended for those over the age of 18 only.
***
What's Lust Got To Do With It?
by
Kim Wilkerson
Sandy checked the time on her mobile phone. It read 10.35pm. She was in bed with her husband on a Saturday night and he was asleep; unable to even watch TV. Highly irritated by the lack of activity or even the desire of any activity on his part, she was left with little choice other than to scour the internet until she felt tired enough to sleep. Her body-clock wasn't rigged like her fifty year old husband's, it was more akin with a woman in her early twenties.
Considering life in general, Sandy decided people fell into two categories: those who derived more from the journey and those who relished the final destination.
Sandy was beginning to realise she was in the former category. She'd spent fifteen years looking for Mr. Right. It had been a complete blast; endless tales varying from the sensual to sexually depraved to the amusing and amorous.
Foolishly she assumed when she found Mr Right, she'd get her happily ever after. She didn't realise that 'happily ever after' resulted in sacrificing the nights of dressing up, drinking and dancing. No one told her constant sex night after night would be replaced with endless DVD box sets. Certainly no one cared to mention the 'castle' where Prince Charming would set up home would be a two-up two-down terraced house shared with her husband's elderly widowed father in a low socio-economic area of South East London.
Being married to someone you deeply loved and feverishly desired was irrelevant if the feeling wasn't mutual. It wasn't that it wasn't reciprocal, but Sandy felt it was all spoken words; no action committing to the physicality marriage required.
Fed up after months of promises with no change in their circumstances, Sandy headed downstairs to set up her computer to alter her life to benefit herself. If her husband wasn't prepared to make the effort, then she could no longer continually exhaust herself with endless endeavours to keep the spark alive.
Sandy didn't feel her needs were unreasonable - what woman didn't want to feel desired at times? With nothing immediate to hand to solve the problem, the best way to achieve her goal was to find willing and empathetic people in similar situations.
Inhaling deeply, she clicked the icon to open the internet. The question suddenly flickered through her mind as to what exactly constituted cheating. Sandy did hold her marriage sacred but the man she was with was slowly destroying her; inadvertently, unintentionally even, but it was still happening. Each passing day she felt herself fracture, her spirit ebbed away with every subtle rejection of her affection or attempt to connect with the man she called her soul-mate.
Tears welled in her eyes, but she had no idea what she was crying for exactly; her decaying marriage or the constant pain her heart was in. Savvy computer skills had her quickly setting up a profile on a website specifically tailored to married people not having all their 'needs' met.
The instant messaging service was active late into the night, which was unsurprising to Sandy. At the end of the day no one wanted to be at home, alone and unloved with their partner in the next room; who wouldn't seek company?
It was difficult trying to find appropriate 'company'. Reading semi-illiterate messages declaring her 'fit' and receiving carefully worded propositions such as 'fancy a fuck', left Sandy cold. Requests to exchange explicit photos or indulging in cyber-sex seemed shallow and empty – a band-aid solution for a wound that required intensive surgery and thorough after-care.
Working from home allowed Sandy the luxury of attempting to trawl through endless messages, leaving her to try and weed out the random strangers that may be after the same or comparable companionship she desired.
She took herself to lunch with the girls she'd grown up with. Sandy worked from home as a high profile virtual personal assistant. Her close three friends had similar positions but worked in large offices in the 'real' world; Janet was an office manager, Keeley a para-legal, Caroline an accounts manager.
They were all in their early to mid thirties, having met as school leavers in a shared place of employment. The original company they worked for had since been acquired and endured various mergers but the girls kept in close contact over the last ten years.
'You seem quiet,' observed Keeley, downing her red wine.
'Relationship problems,' confessed Sandy, the alcohol had loosened her tongue.
'You've not even been married a year,' said Janet incredulously.
'You two seemed so in love at your wedding,' confirmed Caroline.
'Everyone's in love on their wedding otherwise they wouldn't be there,' retorted Sandy drily.
'What's the problem then?' pushed Caroline.
'The problem is he says he loves me but it's nothing but work and sleep. We don't go out. Even when we stay in we don't do anything together. It was only four years ago I was out at least three nights a week. It's not that I ever expected things to stay that way forever, but I didn't imagine my life would ever become... dull.'
'Yeah well, I met Gordy when I was fifteen and we were married at twenty-two. Even with us both at that young age, our lives definitely calmed considerably after the vows. You try an arrange outings with the girls and whatever to snatch a piece of your youth only to find the opportunities become fewer and fewer the longer the relationship goes on,' admitted Keeley.
'You accept that as part of life and marriage then?' asked Sandy.
'I don't know hun,' interjected Janet. 'It's different for us. We all have kids. That development or noticeable change of the 'fun' times becoming rarer and rarer in the relationship is easier to overcome when you have children to share. It's something new to bond you to your husband. It's...'
The unfinished sentence hung in the air.
'Are children part of the plan?' enquired Caroline boldly, asking the question no one dared ask Sandy.
'Allegedly. But he blows hot and cold. With his ex-wife obstructing us seeing his current kids I can't see him delighting in starting a new family.'
'But you had discussed this prior to getting together?' continued Caroline.
'Yes,' said Sandy emphatically. 'But you have to have sex to get pregnant and at the moment I barely get a hug in bed. The TV goes on and he goes off. It's so disheartening. I never thought I'd say it aloud but-'
Her three friends all knew what was coming but waited to hear the end of the statement.
'I think the age difference is a problem.'
'Sweetie you always kn
ew that. You can't pretend this is something unexpected now,' said Keeley matter-of-factly.
'No. What is unexpected is the change in behaviour. I didn't expect to find that within a year of having a wedding ring on my finger I'd transform from a wild wanton woman into a companion. Someone to eat with, assist with looking after an ailing widowed father, cleaning the house and giving the occasional blow job.'
'Not exactly a fairytale picture you're painting there,' joked Janet in a bid to lighten the mood.
'The question is how do you deal with it? How do you find happiness in that situation?' said the ever practical Caroline.
'Or rather can you find happiness in that situation,' specified Keeley. 'What are you currently doing to combat the issue?'
'I've turned into a complete saddo and got hooked on the internet,' professed Sandy.
A silence descended on the once merry band of women. Sandy watched her three friends studying her carefully; undoubtedly judging her but not voicing any of their opinions aloud.
'Is it helping?' ventured Keeley.
'It stops me feeling lonely. The attention from new admirers can be overwhelming; it's incredibly flattering. Texting and instant messaging always has an end point thought. It takes ages to find a decent, half-way intelligent man that you share common interests with. When you lose contact with them because you refuse to take the next step and meet it stings. Really hurts. Actual rejection. Wrenching pain. Which is crazy because you've never met them in the flesh but the amount of time invested via technology makes the relationship feel real and of course I can never, ever display that kind of disappointment in front of my husband.'
'Nothing physical has happened then?' questioned Caroline tersely.
When Sandy asserted that was in fact the case, she saw Caroline relax and remove the harsh judgemental expression from her face.
'What actually constitutes cheating nowadays?' asked Janet jovially.
'Ask a hundred people and you'll get a hundred different answers,' said Keeley sagely.
The luncheon ran into the evening. Sandy left substantially intoxicated, but was no more enlightened about the state of her marriage on her departure from the catch-up then from when she arrived.
Janet's question had her flummoxed. There had always been the clichéd sayings 'look but don't touch' and 'harmless flirting' but technology had manipulated these phrases. Was sending sexually explicit pictures under the category of 'look but don't touch'? Was cyber-sex or vivid and graphic texts merely harmless flirting?
If Sandy found her husband had been engaging in any of those types of activities she would denounce him a cheat, but in her heart of hearts she knew if something like that ever happened between them, there was a serious problem in the relationship and that problem could never be one-sided. Life wasn't like that.
As she strode down the alley from the railway station to the main road on the walking route to her house, a youth riding a bicycle slowed down, flashing her a cheeky grin. She couldn't help but meet his eyes, and nod with a coy smile. Reading the signs correctly he turned his bike round to ride slowly alongside her.
'What's going on pretty lady?'
His use of language was charmingly youthful. Sandy shook her head. She knew it was foolish to encourage the youngster, but at the same time she felt delightfully attractive. At five foot six, medium weight, all curves and no leanness, long blonde hair and brown eyes, Sandy knew she was no cover-girl, but any male attention was always welcomed.
'I'm heading home,' she smiled staring straight ahead, not slowing her pace.
'I can accompany you. Make sure you get back alright.'
'I'm not sure my husband would be keen on that.'
'Then why isn't he here walking you home now?'
It was a valid question. She stopped to look at the boy. He was arrogant and cock-sure of himself but he actually meant what he said. Sandy intrinsically knew if she was with him in any way, shape or form he'd take care of her. Admittedly she'd be a passing fascination, but while the moment lasted it would be all that she had originally longed for as a dreamy idealistic young girl.
She was easily fifteen years older than him. He couldn't have been more than eighteen but there was something about his youth that was beautiful.
'Walk me up the alley?' suggested Sandy.
In the winter night it was dark and few people used the short cut. Grinning, he jumped off his chopper bicycle; offering one arm to assist Sandy up the alley, the other directing the bike. Sandy guided him to the gate of her garage in the back yard. There was an absence of anyone else using the alley.
Looping her arms round his neck, Sandy dragged him into a kiss. His lips were wide, plump and soft. She was surprised at how gentle the kiss was; expecting it to be rushed but he took his time like a teenager new to the experience.
He was five foot eleven, a good four inches taller than her husband. Having to tilt her head for the kiss even in heels was titillating. Yes she loved her husband, but when her hands ran over the rock hard abdomen and equally defined chest, she relished the strength and stamina it represented. He was Afro-Caribbean and the thought of his black hands running up her pale white thighs had her dripping between her legs.
There was an element of chivalry in his approach, Sandy could pretend for the time being it was something more than a random fuck for two strangers. He whispered how beautiful she was in her ear as he moved her skirt above her hips. His large hands stroked her thighs, as her own delicate hands moved from caressing his torso to run up and down his lean muscular back.
Sandy felt the buttons of her blouse popping opened one by one. His eyes were glued to her porcelain skin. Her breasts had been squeezed into an infamous 'Wonder-bra' to enhance her cleavage and he was mesmerized by her bountiful breasts; so white; so plump. Sandy had long since forgotten the days someone had stroked her breasts with such tenderness. She wasn't sure anyone ever had.
His attention was devoted wholly to her. His kisses were never ending as he built up the courage to slip his hand into the elastic of her French knickers. She didn't prevent him or protest in. His inexperienced fingers didn't delve straight for her pussy, rather they lightly brushed her waxed mound. He broke the kiss to catch his breath. Sandy realised, given his age, he'd probably only ever fucked girls, never a woman.
The electricity of his fingertips exploring inside her knickers was refreshing. There was nothing 'wham-bam-and-thank-you-mam' with his caress. He cupped her crotch and closed his eyes, as if trying to record the entire sensation for him to recall at a future point in time. His middle finger ran between her wet pussy lips. There was no way he would be unaware of her sexual need for him. Even her moistness didn't have him losing control.
He stroked rhythmically with his middle finger between her lips until he moved his finger higher in an attempt to locate her clit. She groaned audibly to let him know he'd found the right place. He moved his finger round the clit, never making direct contact. She wanted to grab his hand and guide him but decided to let him learn how it worked for himself.
When he finally did touch her bud, she moved her hips to incline him to exert pressure on it. Following her lead, he looked like the cat who got the cream when her legs quivered at the sensation of his fingers laid on such a small but sensitive part of the female anatomy.
When he smiled, it was no longer arrogant, but amazed. He was amazed by her. He kissed her ear lobes, moved down her neck and finished laying a kiss on the tops of her breasts, overflowing from her bra.
She put her hand to his crotch to feel the outline of his cock. Sandy didn't care for stereotypes, she cared for satisfaction. Taking her time she undid his belt and jeans. The brand of his boxers were already exposed, but seeing the darkness of him in the moonlight accentuated his Adonis like physique. His cock bulged from his pants.
Amused she watched him fumbling in his jeans to sheath a condom on his erection. It was good to know safe sex was sensibly provided in the education system. Pulling her close, t
hey kissed. She could feel his erection pressing against her own toned stomach. She wasn't really sure how the sex would take place. With her husband it was normally her on top.
He lifted her with great ease. Sandy had never in her entire sexual experiences, had a man carry her onto his cock. As she sank onto it she couldn't hold back a moan. The stamina and strength she suspected he possessed came into action. His hips bucked as her legs wrapped round his small waist for support.
His dick was thick and more than satisfied her sexual appetite. He stretched her as he pumped himself into her. Spinning round he rested his back against the cement block frame of the garage structure. Resting his back allowed him to bounce her vigorously up and down his shaft.
His eyes held hers as they fucked which was perhaps the sexiest moment of all for Sandy. Occasionally he'd lower his gaze to watch her breasts jiggle in what little light the night skies offered. She was absorbed with this young man physically to the same extent he was with her. Her hands went under his shirt and her nails tore down his back, each time he thrust extra deep inside her.
The Ultimate Erotic Short Story Collection 23 - 11 Steamingly Hot Erotica Books for Women Page 1