tagErotic CouplingsAn Author's Dream

An Author's Dream

byxxistential©

The following story is true. Only the names have been changed to protect the innocent (namely me). This really happened to me last week while I was on a flight for work. It was so strange I HAD to put it down here! ---- XXistential

*

I sat in the airport terminal, participating in that most holy of traveling rituals: hurry-up and wait. I had showed up 1 ½ hours early for my flight because this shuttle to Chicago was always packed. Apparently not this time. With no one in line, I was through check-in and security and into the waiting area in less than 10 minutes. So now I had over an hour before we even started boarding. So fine, I'll break out the laptop and work on another chapter of my series, Welcome to my Mid-Life Crisis. Maybe I'll put Frank and Tara on a flight to the Bahamas or something. So here I sit, typing furiously, when I look up and see her sitting across from me.

Red hair, green eyes, full lips, a darker complexion than the average red head, which made the requisite freckles seem pale and unobtrusive. Her breasts were large, maybe not quite D's, but pushing it, and they swung too much as she shifted to be fake. She stood up and bent over to pull something out of her bag and displayed her full, round ass. She was a trim girl, but not overly skinny. With the exception of her hair being shorter than I had imagined, she was the epitome of Tara, the main character of my story.

I was flabbergasted! I had to open the first chapter again and find my initial description I had written, because I didn't believe it myself. There was no denying it though, here was the girl I had created in my mind over six months before. A blast of sunlight streamed in through the window, which gave me a perfect excuse to put on my sunglasses, hiding my eyes. Yeah it was a cheap guy trick, but I could now check her out casually. I was totally in awe of coincidence.

After what seemed like hours, they called the boarding of our flight, and I packed up and shuffled to the plane. When I approached my seat I was shocked to see her sitting in the row behind me. This was now getting scary weird. I tried not to stare as I slid into my seat and stowed my laptop.

Once we got into the air, I broke out the laptop and started writing again. I was suddenly very self conscious, wondering if she could read what I was typing through the crack between the seats. There were only about 30 people on this whole flight, so we each had our own row to ourselves. I slowly glanced over my shoulder and found her stretched out, reading a book, totally oblivious to my presence. It was the first time in my life I was glad a woman didn't know I was alive. I turned back to the laptop and decided to get back to work. Suddenly I caught the scent of strawberries from the seat behind me. Strawberry candy probably, but it was definitely coming from her. I thought it was my imagination, but it lingered for too long. For those who haven't read Mid-Life Crisis, Tara uses strawberry shampoo and I make use of that scent a number of times. Why? Because my wife uses strawberry shampoo and I love it. Strawberries and their scent is definitely an aphrodisiac! I felt like I was in the Twilight Zone and all my senses were screaming. It was the longest 30 minute flight of my life.

We landed in Chicago and disembarked. Being the gentlemen I let her go first and couldn't help but smile as I watched her walk away. It was a nice ass, after all. I shook my head and chuckled and went off in search of the gate for my next flight. It was of course clear across the airport, but I had time. I had a three hour layover. As I walked I found a small pub and decided I definitely needed a drink. I walked in, picked a dark booth in a back corner and slid in. I ordered a rum and coke and broke out the old laptop again. I might as well spend my three hours here. I sat there nursing my drink and typing away for about half an hour, oblivious to my surroundings.

I was awoken from my creative coma by the sound of a throat clearing. I looked up to see the red head from my flight standing before me. "Excuse me," she said in a voice that was way too husky to be real, "but can I sit down."

I smiled suavely. "Of course."

The waitress came up and the girl ordered a drink. Then she spoke again. "Sorry to intrude on your work."

"No no," I assured her, "I'm just killing time, nothing important."

"OH. I saw you working the whole time we were in the air and at the terminal and figured it must be some big project for work."

"Actually no, I'm just working on some stories." About you, I added in my mind.

"Are you a writer?" she asked brightening.

"Kind of. I have a couple of books that are awaiting publication and a fantasy novel I'm working on." I shrugged. "So yeah, I guess I'm officially a published writer now."

"Cool," she said.

"But I don't mean to imply that I'm any good. I'm certainly not famous and you'll never see me on the best seller list."

She giggled. I couldn't believe it. Here I was flirting with this girl, a manifestation of one of the most erotic characters of my fantasies. I paused for a second, remembering that I was a happily married man, but then realizing that my wife wouldn't care if I flirted a little bit. I went to strip clubs with the guys all the time and she didn't cared. So long as I didn't touch she was cool. I had no intention of touching, just having some fun.

"So was that your novel you were working on?" she asked, snapping me from my musing.

"Huh? Oh no. Something different." A completely different kind of fantasy, I thought to myself.

"Can I read something?" she asked.

I froze. My mind racing. I suddenly realized why many writers use pen names. I also realized that writing erotica was easy, so long as no one knew who you were. I was embarrassed, but then I realized, I'd never see this woman again in my life. "I don't know," I said, "are you easily offended?"

"Why is it pretty gory? I love horror movies. "

"Well, it's a little racy actually." She stared at me blankly, not seeming to comprehend what I meant. How do I broach this subject? "OK, let me put it this way. How do feel about erotica?"

"You mean like those trashy romance novels?" She seemed excited by the concept.

"Um, no. A little more hard core than that," I said.

"Ohhh," she drawled, "so like pornographic?"

"Well, I suppose you might say that, yes. It all depends on what you definition of pornographic is."

"how many times does the word cock appear in your story?" she asked.

I stared at her for a few seconds before recovering my composer. "Um, a few. More than a few, actually."

"Ok then, its porn. Let me read some."

Her voice was husky and sultry, and found myself pulling up my first chapter of Mid-Life Crisis. "Before you read this, shouldn't we at least introduce ourselves," I said.

She gasp. "I can't believe it, I totally forgot. The waitress showed up right when I sat down and threw me off." We laughed and I introduced myself.

"Steve," I lied. I wasn't about to give her my real name. I wasn't that brave and XXistential wasn't going to cut it.

"Tara," she said, shaking my hand. I froze holding her hand, my jaw now laying on the table. What's wrong?" she asked.

"Are you messing with me? I demanded.

"No, why would I?" she asked confused.

"Um, just read. You'll see why." With that I passed her my laptop and ordered another round of drinks. I know I needed one and I figures she would too.

She read for just a few minutes and she gasped, he head coming up to look into my eyes. "What the fuck?" she asked.

"Hey you tell me," I said. "I wrote that six months ago. Why do you think I was staring at you in the terminal in Champagne? I'm working on a steamy erotic fantasy story and my main character appears in the flesh in front of me. I thought I was hallucinating at first."

"So this isn't a joke? You didn't find out my name off my boarding pass or something and just write this?

"Hell no, go to literotica.com and look it up!" I was starting get amused.

"This is fucking weird!" she said, shaking her head.

"Now you know what I've been feeling for the last two hours."

The waitress came and Tara ordered a shot of something I had never heard of. When it arrived she slammed it and downed half the jack and coke she had standing by. With a final look at me she went back to reading.

I was amazed watching her read the story. I could see her starting to react to the story as the passion built she licked her lips and her eyes started to sparkle. Her chest heaved with excitement and I saw her nipples harden through the tight blue top she wore. She started fidgeting and rubbing her legs together She suddenly looked up and peered over the screen at me.

"Is this autobiographical, perhaps?"

"Nope, not in the least."

"None of it?" she asked with a disappointed note in her voice.

I was perplexed, and then it hit me. I laughed. "No, much to my chagrin I am not built like Frank. Sorry."

She pouted a bit. "Oh well," and went back to reading. 15 minutes and another shot later she looked up and huskily said one word. "More."

"What?"

"I want to read more. Do you have anything else?" she asked.

How could I say no? I pulled up the second chapter I had just finished editing and she dove in. Her nipples looked like they were gonna explode and she was nearly panting from her excitement. Then the third chapter came and after 45 minutes of reading she was starting to sweat. Was there any more gratifying response than an author of erotica can receive than to watch his words effect the reader this way, instilling a passion that is all consuming?

I can't take this anymore," she declared, "get up for a second."

I was confused, but I crawled from the booth as she requested and she moved around to my side of the booth and turned the laptop to face her. "Now sit down," she said patting the seat next to her.

Warning flags went off in my head. "Um listen Tara, I'm not sure this is a good idea."

"Sit!" she demanded huskily. I couldn't resist. My mind was suddenly filled with visions from Dune and the Bene Gesserit witches using the Voice on weak-minded men to control them.

She pressed her thigh against mine. And leaned close and whispered huskily in my ear, "Touch me."

I firmly put both hands on the table. "Look Tara, I'd love to, really, but I am a married man; happily married in fact. As tempting as that prospect is, and believe me when I say this is the biggest test I have ever had of my fidelity, I can't do it. I love my wife and she gives me a lot of leeway. Just no touching."

"So you can watch then, right?" she said.

"Huh?" I asked, partly confused, partly shocked.

With that she slowly unbuttoned her jeans and slid them down over her hips. "Wait a minute," I hissed.

"If you don't move, no one can see," she cooed in my ear. "Look."

I looked around to see the waitress occupied on the other end of the pub. Then I heard a giggle. "Not at her," Tara said, "at me." I looked over and dropped my eyes to see the red thatch of pubic hair and the smooth lips of her shaved pussy. "Just like in the story," she purred.

With that she dropped her hand between her legs and began to masturbate. There I sat, my eyes glued to her frantically working fingers. I could hear the squishing sounds as she played with her wet folds.

"Gawd you've got me soaked. Those stories were incredible and I could just imagine myself in those stories, Frank's huge cock stretching my little cunt, making me squeal. That throbbing cock jammed down my throat, his cum spilling over my face. Of fuck Steve, I'm gonna cum."

I couldn't believe it. This was something right out of one of my stories. I sat enrapt watching her fingers furiously rubbing her clit, her face contorted. As she hither peak she buried her face in my shoulder and screamed. I looked around to see if anyone had heard her. She panted on my shoulder for a few minutes then sat back laughing.

"Wow! That was awesome! Where have you and your stories been all my life?"

I blushed, embarrassed. She pulled her fingers from her now sated pussy and held them before me. "Would your wife object to you licking them clean?" Tara asked.

The heavy scent of her musk assailed my nostrils and a twitch of pain made me realize for the first time that I was ragingly hard. "I think that would probably cross the line, yes."

"Hmm..." she said with a pout. Smiling slyly, she reached out and picked up one of the empty shot glasses. "So if I wanted to see if your cum is as sweet as Frank's would that cross her line?"

"Umm,' I mumbled as my mind raced. Had she really just asked me to do what I think she just asked?

"Attention passengers, we are preparing for descent. At this time please bring your tray tables and seat backs to their upright and locked positions."

"Huh? I said, staring at Tara in confusion.

"Sir," said a voice shaking my shoulder, "I need you to shut down your laptop and stow it please."

I looked over to see the stewardess looking at me and pointing to my laptop. "Oh yeah, sure," I said. I looked around and realized I was still on the plane, that first flight from Champagne. I snuck a look behind me and there was the red head, sitting and reading her book. I realized I had fallen asleep. The dream came back to me sharp and clear. I started to chuckle to myself. I had dreamt the whole thing.! I had to write this all down as soon as I get into the terminal. I have a three hour layover, maybe I can find a quiet pub with a dark corner booth. I had a raging hardon, just what I needed! I wasn't going to see my wife for another ten days. Oh well, this should make for some really good phone sex.

We landed and being the gentleman I am, I let the woman who had tormented my dreams go first, she smiled shyly and as she passed I caught that hint of strawberries. Was I still dreaming?

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