Careful What You Dream For

I had been reading tales of erotica on the web for some time and decided to have a go at it. After all, my experiences and fantasies are just as good as someone else's, perhaps even better. However, conveying the feeling and emotion that goes with them, so that the reader understands, is not trivial.

My foray into authorship started with a simple fantasy that I had been using for years. I knew it inside and out, and decided that, with this familiarity of the material, I could focus on establishing the technique of putting it to the printed word.

It begins with a friend of my wife whose name is Kit. She is a good-looking, slender woman a couple years our younger. Being a professional, she is poised and dresses well. Her fashion sense is exquisite, wearing clothing that accents her body nicely. Many times, I had stolen a glance, or found occasion to chat, just to be near her.

During this fantasy, we are attending a particular social function where there is music, food and drink. As the night wears on, she has a drink or two and her dancing becomes more sensuous and enticing.

In reality, she won't dance with anyone but her husband, Brian. I tend to watch her as I dance with my wife, Laura, who is quite fuckable in her own right. Although I do my best to not upset my wife, or hurt her feelings, I am a typical man, and don't subscribe to the theory that you can only have/love/fuck one woman at a time.

The four of us converse now and then. Each time that I am near Kit, I take in her beauty and try to remember a look, a comment, or a smell that I can use later in a fantasy about her. I am resigned to the fact that this is as close as I'll get to a sexual relationship with her.

Of course, in my fantasy things are different. I somehow dismiss her husband and my wife, and we are left alone. A compliment or two gets her to blush a bit, then strike an alluring pose. My suit coat comes off, I invite her outside for some fresh air, and the next thing you know we are in the parking lot alone.

She stands close, laughing and chatting. After a heartwarming anecdote, she reaches over and hugs me, innocently at first. But she suddenly gets a serious look on her face, stares at me for a moment, then leans up and kisses me.

And so the fantasy continues, and I do my best to fashion the words of my story to describe the events: I hike up her dress, lean her over a fender and fuck her wildly. Each step through the story is a struggle to define my feelings. It is no simple task, given that I have an emotional history with this woman that cannot be readily expressed.

When I finished the story, it read more like a newspaper article than a hot adventure. To the outside reader, it would be nothing more than a run-of-the-mill fantasy that probably started in high school for most people. I decided to go with it anyway. I needed to learn the nuances of producing erotic literature, so I should start with something simple.

After working through all of the menial registration, submission and waiting for acceptance, my story finally appeared in the "New Stories" section of my favorite site. I had done it. I was officially an author of erotic literature. Well, the "erotic" part was debatable, but I intended to improve upon that.

A couple of weeks later, the story unceremoniously moved off the "new" list and into the main library. No interesting feedback, no accolades, and no indication whatsoever that anyone even read it. Not a problem. I still had enthusiasm to write, and I now had the resolve to do better. I was hooked.

Within a short time, we had occasion to gather with friends for a social event, and Kit was there. This time, however, I had the notion of having had her already, given that my "account" had been documented and published. An obscure smile occupied my face each time I encountered her.

As the evening progressed, I replayed the fantasy in my mind, thinking about how I could improve on my descriptions, change my perspective, or even enhance the storyline a bit. At one point, the four of us were standing together conversing. My mind was preoccupied within itself when suddenly my wife grabbed Brian by the arm, waved an exclamation toward someone across the room, and dragged him off briskly.

There I was, alone with Kit, and I found myself removing my jacket and inviting her outside for some fresh air. As we walked out into the parking lot, I was frantically trying to discern reality from fantasy. Had I lost my mind? It was almost like living in a dream. I had been too wrapped up in a fantasy world, and now it was as if I had stepped into it.

We eventually wandered over to where my truck was parked and stood behind it, talking and carrying on as if nothing was unordinary. On the inside, my mind was racing and my heart was beating rapidly. Outwardly, I was trying to remain calm and respectable. My attempt at keeping cool was deemed unsuccessful, however, when she abruptly stopped her conversing.

"Are you all right?" she asked.

"Other than feeling a bit out-of-sorts, I'm fine", I responded. "Why do you ask?"

She gestured toward my pants. When I looked down, I realized I had a raging hard-on that was making a tent of my pants.

"I... You... I..." I stammered.

She had a mischievous grin on her face as she stepped closer to me. All I could manage was a wanton stare. My emotions had moved from confused to embarrassed to lustful in a very short span of time. The look on her face indicated that her emotions were mirroring mine. Time ceased passing as we stared directly into each other's eyes.

Suddenly, we were embraced and kissing passionately. Her lips were softer and more luscious than I had even imagined. She reached down and started to pull up her skirt, then turned around and leaned onto the bumper of the truck.

"Hurry" she said. "We shouldn't be out here much longer. Fuck me now."

I eagerly pulled my dick out through my fly, peeled down the back of her pantyhose and nudged myself into the crack of her ass. My hand reached around to the front, and between her legs. As gently as I could under the circumstances, I worked my finger between her pussy lips to spread the quickly forming lubrication. The head of my dick eased into the area and soon was adding to the mix.

Before long, I had started to penetrate. As I worked my way in farther and farther, she unbuttoned the top of her blouse and unfastened her bra. I reached in and cupped her breast in my hand. In the state of euphoria where I was at that moment, it seemed like the perfect breast.

I continued to drive into her from behind and massage her tits. Her breathing became rapid.

"I'm going to cum", she said. "Hold your hand over my mouth so nobody hears."

Wow, now there was something I hadn't thought of for my story. I did as she requested. Her body started to tremble and I could feel pressure on my hand as her screams were stifled. It didn't take long for me to climax as well, filling her with my jism.

We cleaned ourselves up as best we could and headed back to the party. Just before we entered the building, she stopped me and gave me a confused "we need to talk" look. She started to ramble on, almost incoherently. I caught bits like "I'm so sorry", "I don't know what came over me", "We shouldn't have", and "Please don't".

"Hold it, right there, Kit", I said to her. "I'm not going to leave my wife for you, and you're not going to leave your husband for me. We had a fling, nothing more. Take some time, think about it, and we can talk again later, if you would like. If not, I won't bring it up again, or say anything to anyone. It's up to you. I, however, would like more."

With that, I hugged her gently, placed a small kiss on her forehead and went inside. My head was reeling. I needed a drink. After four or five, I realized that drinking does not help one to get a grip on reality.

The next few days were strange. I spent a lot of time thinking about what had happened. It was surreal, and difficult to comprehend. The story I had written actually occurred, but afterward. In addition, the story now seemed wrong, incomplete, and unjust. Should I fix it? No, that wasn't possible. It was already published; it would make no sense to submit the same basic story just because I was compelled to change it.

I started to doubt that it even took place. Maybe this would end up like one of those cheesy television shows that explains away previous episodes by having someone wake up and realize it was all a dream. No, that couldn't be it. She was real. Our encounter was very real.

Now I was obsessing. The story and the events associated with it were haunting me. I hadn't spoken to my partner-in-crime since that night. She didn't show up on messenger, and we hadn't the opportunity to see each other. My promise not to bring it up unless she did needed to be kept, but I wanted resolution.

I eventually pulled myself together. After all, this was just a simple fantasy gone wild. I had others, and an interesting life that was more fulfilling than just a fling in a parking lot. It was time to move on.

So I started a new story. Fueled by my now-intense lust for this woman, I developed a storyline that continued with her. Perhaps it would help to cure me and satisfy my desire to have her again. It would also give me a chance to ease the slight guilt I harbored toward my wife.

The fantasy began by suggesting to my wife that we invite Kit and Brian over for a cookout. Of course, the way I wrote it up, she thought it was a wonderful idea, and we followed through with plans. I conveniently wrote the kids out of the way by sending them to friends for the weekend and such.

They accepted the invitation, and on a warm summer afternoon, showed up at our place in the country. Kit and Laura were each wearing a sundress, without bras, of course. Sexy white panties could just be seen through the thin material in the bright sunshine. Hey, it was my fantasy; I dressed them the way I wanted.

Eventually I manipulated the situation so that Kit and I were alone in the horse barn. As she was petting a horse, I walked up behind her. I placed a hand on each of her hips, leaned in, and kissed her on the back of her neck. She responded by moaning, tipping her head to the side, and reaching for my hands, which she placed on her breasts.

Before you knew it, we were butt-naked on a blanket in the straw, screwing like a couple of horny teenagers. The sex was hot and quick, so that we could get back before we were missed. We finished, cleaned up, and returned as if nothing had happened.

I fleshed out the story with subtly erotic descriptions and rounded it off with idle banter and innuendo. No awards for this one, but I considered it a good next step for a rookie writer.

It did not, however, relieve any feeling of wrongdoing. Oh well, it wasn't meant to be a confession to the padre. As before, the story ran its course through the machinations of digital publication.

Right after, things turned again to the surreal. I came home from work one day, and Laura informed me that she and Kit had run into each other in town and decided that we should picnic together. A chill ran down my spine. I regrouped quickly and tried to follow my wife as she rattled off ideas and suggestions for the get-together.

The following weekend, they arrived, sans children, and sporting casual summer wear. In particular, Kit was wearing a sundress, just as I had fantasized. The only difference was that she was wearing a sport bra.

As it turned out, when the women had run into each other, they were trying on the dresses. When Laura saw that Kit was wearing hers, she commented on how comfortable she looked and ran upstairs to put hers on. I tried to ignore the correlation to my story. This was just coincidence, and I was determined not to act like a fool in front of my wife and our guests.

Kit acted as if nothing had happened that night in the parking lot. The dinner went well, the evening was fun and we finally settled around a campfire in the yard. I ventured off into the tree line behind the barn to fetch some long sticks to roast marshmallows for s'mores.

On the way back to the fire I passed by the dimly lit barn. I barely made out the shadow of someone inside. When I walked over and looked in, Kit was standing by a stall petting a horse. I stood frozen, with my mouth agape. She looked over at me with that same lustful stare she had given me that night behind the truck, just before we ended up in each other's arms.

As I approached, she turned away and walked toward the pile of straw on the far side. With her back to me, she stopped, pulled the straps to her dress off her shoulders and let her dress fall to the floor. She was completely naked underneath. Looking over her shoulder at me with lust in her eyes, she turned and lay on the straw.

"I want you from the front this time", she said.

Not believing this could happen again, I just stood there. I quickly regained my senses, dropped my shorts and boxers, and approached her. Our bodies touched with a fiery sensation. We grabbed each other tightly, with our lips pressed forcefully together. Her legs wrapped around me, pushing my pelvis into hers as I probed for her pussy with my hardened dick. Within a few lubricating thrusts I was inside of her.

We rolled over a few times, fucking hard, our lips locked the whole time. After several tempestuous minutes, I recognized her approaching orgasm and pressed my mouth hard onto hers to muffle her screams. She came in a fury, squeezing intensely with her arms and legs. When her spasms subsided, she maintained her grip and enticed me into orgasm, as well.

I rolled off her and we laid there trying to regain our breath and composure.

"What brought that on?" I asked.

She didn't respond immediately. Eventually, she said, "I should go", and started to get up.

Before she could rise, I positioned myself over her again, pinning her to the straw. As I looked into her eyes, I could sense confusion. I needed to know her thoughts, so I pressed the issue.

"Tell me what is bothering you", I said.

"I don't know, for sure", she replied. "After that night in the parking lot, I was left wondering what had happened. I never imagined I would ever do such a thing, I just suddenly felt compelled. Then I felt guilty and ashamed, but at the same time, it was exciting. I thought that if I put it behind me and pretended it had never happened, it would go away.

"Then tonight, something came over me, and here we are. Now, I am suddenly beginning to feel the same way again, unsure of why I did this. I love Brian, and I do not want to jeopardize our relationship. I feel the same about you and Laura. I don't want to be the cause of trouble between you."

I tried to reassure her, but had no basis from which to work, since I was just as confused.

"Look, these things just happen, with no apparent reason" I started. "Don't torment yourself trying to figure it out. If it disturbs you this much, then I will stop you if we ever find ourselves in this situation again." (Yeah, right.)

We pulled ourselves together and rejoined the party, again acting as though nothing had happened.

I spent the next few days trying to decide what my next move would be. It was difficult to ignore the correlation between my stories and the events that followed their publication. I was eager to produce another story to see if I was truly influencing real-life events, as impossible as that seemed.

My first step was to devise a fantasy that was feasible, yet highly unlikely. I had already witnessed actions from a person that I believed would not be capable of doing them. Then I started to wonder if this influence was just on Kit, or if it was broader. And how far would I be able to take her.

It was time to expand and explore. I quickly decided that I would pursue a storyline that involved Kit and Laura in some girl-on-girl action. Laura and I had made comment to one another regarding lesbianism and female bisexuality, and why it arouses men so effectively. She made it clear that it did nothing for her, and surmised that the women who participated in such activities in erotic film did so merely to get men to part with their money.

Now I would find out if I was truly in control of surrealism, or just deluded. This may also help me to determine whether it is just Kit, or others as well.

I concocted a scenario that brought the girls together at our house. Late summer was approaching, so I used the pool as the ideal setting for scant, sexy clothing, a relaxed atmosphere, and perhaps even incidental contact. It was almost too easy to imagine their sexy bodies in swimwear, sunning and applying lotion.

As the narration developed, drinks were introduced, an offer was made to assist in the application of suntan lotion, and the conversation turned quite personal. Events start to unfold, starting with sliding a strap off the shoulder and eventually leading to a breast being exposed.

The story was completed with a full account of their bisexual encounter, and rushed to submission. At that point, I didn't really care if I had developed an interesting story for the readers, or even if my spelling, grammar and continuity were satisfactory. All I wanted was to frame a story in which I could participate and satisfy my own real-life desires.

Almost on cue, a few days after the story was published, Laura informed me that she had invited Kit over to work on a project. She asked if I would have the pool cleaned and ready to go, in case they wanted to take a quick dip.

In as calm and uninterested of a voice as I could muster, I told her that I would have the pool ready.

Apparently, I had done it again.

The weekend before the event, I readied the pool area, cleaned the pool, and performed all of the usual maintenance. I also made sure that all of the ingredients for Mai Tai were stocked, and replaced the suntan lotion with that of a lower SPF, hoping that the girls would think that more of it would need to be applied.

On the much-awaited morning, I arose early and went to my office to kill time until the heat of the afternoon would lure the women poolside. Instead of returning to the office after lunch, I drove home and changed into shorts and T-shirt.

The girls were sitting on the deck, tending to their project. When Laura saw my attire, she asked why I was not at work.

"I decided to take the afternoon off", I explained.

"Good", she replied, "Make yourself useful and fix us some drinks."

Absolutely.

Upon delivery of the drinks, I was invited to join them. Work on their project ceased, and was soon forgotten. We visited for some time, sharing stories, gossip and jokes. Other than the notion in the back of my mind of things to come, it was a typical gathering for us.

As the drinks warmed us from within, and the afternoon sun from without, my anxiety grew. I waited patiently for the move to the pool, trying not to appear as though I were waiting for something. As part of my intention was to determine how much influence my writing had on actual events, I decided that I needed to let them happen of their own accord without direct interference from me.

Eventually, however, the suggestion was made.

"Let's cool off in the pool", Laura offered.

"Great idea!" Kit responded.

The girls went into the house, returning shortly wearing their swimsuits and carrying towels. What beauty. I'm all for the bikini, but a well fashioned one-piece on just the right woman is still my favorite. Both of these women wore them well.

As they passed by me and headed for the pool, I turned in my chair and took in all there was to see. Aside from the obvious, two of the sexiest parts of a woman's body are the shoulders, and the top of the ass cleft. The shoulders I could enjoy immediately. Hopefully, the other would be forthcoming.