Mystery, and Romance (Part II)
As with part I, the narrator changes each chapter, with their names at chapter heads…
“This is me,” I let go of Elyse to get out my keys, squat down to unlock my bike, and tried not to grunt getting up. Slinging the locked chain over my shoulder.
“Oh, you rode your bike.” She looked disappointed, but got up on her tiptoes to kiss me. “Call me?”
“Well, you can hop on the pegs, and hold on.” I threw my leg over, “If you want a ride home with me.”
“Your house, to meet your dad?” She stepped up, and wrapped her arms around me. To hold onto my shirt. “The famous Sara Walters,” she laughed.
“Well, I thought that it. Uh!” I had to stand up, to put my weight on the pedal, and get rolling. “Huh, it’s good exercise.” Low impact, compared to jogging.
“Well, don’t work it all off.” She twisted my shirt up to hang on, while rubbing my tummy. “You’re not fat. No matter what the girls say, they’re just jealous.”
I nodded, but somebody must have seen us together, not that we’re trying to hide it, but I got shit from the guys for going out with a nerdy freshman, and they mentioned her weight, too.
She’s soft, and her breasts heaved against my back, but once we got to the hill, I could just stop pedaling, and coast. “Well, you know it’s not about how you, or I look, but. Just the same, I thought that I better get in shape before my metabolism goes away, in my 20s.”
Then, there’s the role-model, of my father. He never let himself go, he jogs, and works in a warehouse. As his day job, he also moonlights as an author, but he doesn’t consider that work. He likes to work, and it keeps him in pretty good shape, for his age. Which just makes me feel out of shape, and self conscious.
Now that all eyes are on us, and she is beautiful. Especially when her cheeks light up, but her body feels hot up against me, so my back starts sweating, and I have to coast to a stop at the bottom of the hill. “You want me to take a turn?” She got off, so I could walk it, but I had to catch my breath. So, I just shook my head. “Nice neighborhood, at least it’s shady.” The trees between the sidewalk, and the bike lane, so we could walk under it, as long as we weren’t riding the bike. “Had I known, I would have ridden my bike, it’s got 9 speeds.”
“Nine?” Just making conversation.
“Yeah, 3 up front, 3 in the back, and 3 more in the hub, which makes shifting gears complicated, but if you do the math, that’s like 27 possible combinations, so it’s easier on your legs, especially uphill.” She felt my buttock. “I’m sorry that I didn’t notice before, but you are starting to tighten up.”
“Well, I just started again, this weekend.”
“Yeah, I used to ride BMX, when I was younger, but I guess I gave it up.” I thought, “Now, it helps me think, too. I didn’t realize it at the time, but all the reading, even though it was based on dad’s real life, he just kept writing as if mom were still here. What might have been.”
If she hadn’t drowned, on their anniversary. They went sailing for their honeymoon, so for a few years after that, they went back, every year. “Huh!” I shook my head.
“Well, maybe we can ride out to the beach, this weekend? It’s all downhill.”
“I promise not to drown to inspire you.”
“Ha, yeah.” She got out her phone. While we’re walking. “Uh!” She shook her head, rolling her eyes.
“Why do you save those, text messages?”
“Huh, I don’t know, maybe I’m hoping they’ll change their tune. Eventually, they’re just jealous.”
“Of me?” I had to laugh.
“Yeah, of you. Even if you weren’t a junior, which underclass girls like. You’re also romantic, and I guess they keep harassing me to get more stories about us to talk about. Not a lot of drama these days.” She coughed, dramatically.
One of the nice things about being introverts is we’re not really exposed to a lot of the other students, not that there is a confirmed case at our school, yet. So, they didn’t close down, but every late season cold, flu, or case of Bronchitis has everyone on edge.
Not to mention the Quarantined cities, where the extroverts are having to learn how to entertain themselves at home. Mostly selfies, on social media. “Huh, so they really want to read about us hanging out, and reading books together.” I joked.
“Well, I just skip past that part.” She sighed, “You have your books, and I have mine, but some of them are starting to talk about reading what we write, together.”
I’m more romance, and she’s more Mystery, but that doesn’t have to be a Murder mystery. There’s all kinds of crimes, and even adultery could be a crime of passion. “Speaking of which, I was thinking.”
“Ha, yeah. I can’t help it. So, what I was thinking was that a man could convince his wife that he was having an affair. Just to make her jealous, and rekindle the spark in their marriage.”
“Well,’ she put the phone away,” What about the woman, I mean.” She thought, “Either the husband, or wife could do that, but which would be better?”
“Well, now that you mention it…” We thought, quietly for a little while, then got to the top of the hill. “Huh, now that i think about it, the wife would have more free time at home, while he’s away at work.”
“Assuming a traditional family dynamic.” The back of my shirt had a chance to dry, then she held on, to work up a sweat together. “Nowadays, most couples both work, to pay off student loans, double mortgages, and deal with inflation, while the minimum wage has been fixed, our whole entire lives.”
I nodded, “So, maybe they’re old fashioned, and Generation X, instead of Millennials. That way, he might have made a modest fortune in the Dot.Com boom, and invested wisely, but he’s not yet well enough off that he can retire early.”
“Yeah, but that’s a good goal for him, and them. Financial independence, and freedom would be topical enough a dream to make it modern. Oh yeah, and she could save his rubbers, so she can leave semen stains in places for him to find them.”
“Thanks!” She kissed the back of my neck. “Maybe you can grow your hair out, and get a ponytail. If not a 90s hipster goatee.”
“Well, it’s getting a little warm for a full beard, and flannel.” We coasted up to a stop, at the bottom of the hills. The last one, and the next one. I felt my chin. “I could try not shaving, just to see what happens.”
She pulled my fingers away, and kissed them. Up on her tiptoes, for me to kiss her.
“Smooch. You know with the baby boom working so hard to make sure we don’t have a future, it’s kinda like a protest, looking ahead.”
“How progressive.” I turned the bike, and headed off for the trail, beside the brook.
“Huh!” She sighed, and let my hand go. “We better find another place to go, from now on.”
“This one getting old?”
“Well, you know how I like spontaneity.” she shrugged, “Or at least the appearance of spontaneity. I know, you like to think ahead, but if you tell me what you have planned, it ruins the surprise.”
I nodded, “Yeah, but realistically, we have to go somewhere that I can take my bike.”
“Leave it, you can just lock it up to a tree, or something.”
“Okay.” Good plan.
“Lets go explore.”
“Well, I grew up out here, so I’ve explored these hills completely.”
“Well, then surprise me.”
I didn’t think about it, I just took her to my favorite place. There’s a drop, where it would be an exaggeration to call it a waterfall, but the problem with that is anywhere else I take her would be anticlimactic, after starting with the most romantic place I know.
“Huh!” I found that the problem with writing erotic stories is that the action is hard to describe, and keep it interesting. Ultimately, we’re talking “The old in-out, in-out.” ~A. Burgess. So then what, you put your right hand in, you pull your right hand out, you put your right hand in, and you shake it all about?
Or, the other technique is the hokey pokey euphemisms, so you don’t get caught writing his cock, her tits, every sentence. Every paragraph, and every page, so it’s not his hard cock. It’s his turgid member throbbing, and then what?
And then what? That’s the challenge of writing, you have to pad it out to a full story, without repeating yourself ad nauseam, and reading other people’s works, even the worst examples, like that garbage he was reading when we first met. “Forbidden Desires.”
That’s the 3rd option. Trying to come up with something that hasn’t been done before, when the maid made some servant fuck a chicken to roast for the party in Ten Little Maidens, and that was like. 1985? I had to look that up. So, it had been out, longer that we’ve been alive, when we’re born.
Going back over the centuries, and even millennia of people writing about this stuff. It wasn’t just internet porn that was killing the genre. It was dying of old age, unless you resort to Sonic the Hedghog furry fanfic, or lolicons getting raped by space aliens with dick shaped tentacles.
What’s exciting in the moment may turn out to be boring to read about, so it’s our job to make it exciting to read about. Without being too abusive, or too dangerous. We have to try new things, so we can write about them, without making any of the classic mistakes. By authors that have obviously never seduced a woman, let alone gotten their hands on them. So, they’re full of impossible sex acts, and corny dialog that would probably turn off a silicone love doll if you tried them on her.
Which brings us around to the back edge of Experience: We already did that, so now what? They warn you about starting too young, I was 14 before I ever even read anything that got me hot, and bothered enough to learn how to give me an orgasm, twice. It’s not Ethan’s fault, living in his father’s shadow. He practically seduced his mother with foreshadowing, and his first book was a 2 orgasm read that I only managed to put down once, long enough to finger out my first.
It wasn’t my last, but we wound up at the brooke, again. “Huh!” I was too horny to wait, so I gave up. Decided once again to get it out of my system, so I could sit still for his next romance, but another problem is that I’m honestly bored by romance, and my boyfriend is a romantic. It’s private, and quiet other than the gentle trickle of water over the log, into the pool that’s a good sized hot-tub to wash the sweat off, only cold, and it always makes me have to pee, first.
“Huh, how do you pee, standing up?” I know, it’s cliche, but if I’m not going to discover anything new, I might as well pretend to be someone who’s so young, and sheltered that she’s never even seen a penis before. Virginity is overrated.
“Well, I can’t.” He held his tummy up, “Not like this.” I sure didn’t pick the short straw, it’s thick, and fat. So fat that you can’t even see the veins bulging out the sides, only hints of them just under the surface. Squiggling around like purple lightning, but I licked my lips. Sitting back on my dress, and slipping my undies off over my shoes. Licking my lips, and unbuttoning the front, so it let the hot sweaty air out, and let my chest dry a little. I shivered.
He put my bookbag down, with the gym clothes rolled up, to pillow under my hair. His pants down, and stretched across the tops of my thighs. My hands pinned under them like light bondage, so I could play with myself, getting it wet. “Smwock. Smuip!”
I like spelling out the sounds, especially the unique words I can come up with, for it sucking into my lips dry, then slipping out wet, and glistening in the green daylight, filtered through the leaves overhead. Take a deep breath of his salty sweat, with the distinctive unique odor of his arousal. He smells like him, my Ethan. “Huh!” I pulled him in by the buttocks, opening my mouth until my jaw locked, and even straining my tongue to reach his balls. Just brushing the hairs with the tip, while his lodged deep in my throat, and getting one last sniff of his pubes while I still could.
Until I was breathless with the spongey head deep in my throat. “Aghl khuh! Cooh! Spoot!” I held my bra cups, to squeeze them together, and catch the loogey like the white creamy jelly I knew was soon to cum. Unhooking the front clasp (Thanks mom!) and then slipping my hands back down under his pants, stretched tight around my tummy before he sat down. Gripping them, and slipping back, and forth. “Huh, huh! Yeah.’ Slapping them together with his thighs, and picking up the rythm. Like his buttocks, pumping in my hands, or practically in my lap, when I bent my knees, just to feel him pump the pedals.
I felt them tighten, tense up, then shake when he finally let the breath out, he was holding so that he didn’t warn me. “HhuhHhuhuhuh!” It didn’t happen that fast, he humped my bust long enough that i began to wonder when he would finish, but what’s there to say? He tittfucked me. Boob banged me, hotdogged my bosoms like a frotteur’s victim.
“Huh!” I just arched my back, to get my neck over the roll of gym shorts, and press the back of my head against the hard book. “Hahhhhhh!” A satisfied sigh, feeling the hot wet splashes on my neck, and chins. “Huh!”
“Shit.” He rolled off. “Is someone there?”
“Huh! Don’t worry about it, probably just some kids.”
“Don’t worry about it?” She ran off in a swish of skirt, and hair, her backpack flapping, and pulling her panties up. “What the?” He shook her head. “She looked like she was about 10!”
“Well, it’s not like we invited her out here to watch, we didn’t know she was peeping on us, and. Huh!” I sat up, which just let the hot mess roll down to the even hotter valley between my hills. “Huh, it’s kinda hot, thinking about it, don’t you think?”
“No, it’s sick, and you’re sick just for thinking that.”
“No, I’m horny. That’s all it is, so a bear shitting in the woods would probably be pretty hot to me, so I better go cool off.” I kicked off my shoes, and pulled my socks off with my toes, before I went to take a dip, but I had to laugh a little, with relief. Once I got my dress off, and got in.
“What’s so funny?” He got in with me, still looking around, paranoid.
“Huh, oh. it’s nothing, I was just thinking that, we just had our first fight. It could have been much worse.”
“Yeah,” he put his arm around me, and kissed me. “I guess it could have been much worse.”
Brooke (g MF [Text])
[The lovebirds were back. They kept coming back to the swimming hole, but that just made me think about my baby hole. I don’t know if she’s pregnant, or not, I can’t tell, but she sure does have big old milk jugs!
I’m gonna have big ones too, which is great. Even if mom does say they’re a pain in the back, boys sure do love them! Especially her boyfriend, or I wonder if they’re married yet? Maybe they are, and maybe not, but just my luck.
It got hot again, almost 90, so I was just so excited to put on my swimsuit again. I know I’m not supposed to run off alone like that, and not because of big bad wolves in the woods, but what if I get hurt, or even drown?
Well, as long as I’m careful, mommy doesn’t have to worry about it. I haven’t gotten hurt in years, and besides, I’d never be able to sneak up on them if it wasn’t just me.
This time, they had a rubber, and when he was done, he pulled it out, so she could slip it off. She kept it, and he asked what that was for. She said “It’s a surprise,” but then after he left. She turned it over, and squeezed it out between her legs. Stuffed it in with her fingers, and I was so curious, I just had to come out and ask.
“What’s the point of using rubbers if you’re just going to put it inside you, are you trying to get pregnant? Because that’s how you get pregnant.”
She just held her finger up, over her mouth.