The Insatiable Romance Writer

When her agent told her she needed photos for her new novel, Louisa had mixed feelings. The last photographer made her look fat. Twenty pounds heavier. She thought that happened only on TV. Sure, she had big boobs, but they were in her genes. All the women in her family were busty. Her older sister consisted only of mammary glands.

She had two choices -- go on a diet, or go to the gym and work it off on a treadmill. Both choices would take time. If she stopped eating donuts she could lose a pound a week. In 20 weeks, 20 pounds. This was simple arithmetic. Going to a health club, and working out, filled her with dread. She was a modest woman and didn't like flaunting her big boobs. Moreover, on a treadmill she always attracted a crowd --- people, both men and women, watching her (and her huge boobs) while she jogged for 20 minutes. Her boobs flopping up and down; people were using their cell phones to take videos of her. When her time was up, while the machine 'cooled down', she stepped off. People applauded. And cheered. And whistled. How embarrassing! And she had to go through this ridiculous torture in every workout until she dropped 20 pounds. She doubted her tits would get much smaller. Maybe her ass, but not her boobs. Her boobs were a 40 DD. She always wore Bali bras.

Louisa was writing a new romance novel. Her books always made the New York Times best seller list. Top 100. But if BSDM novels sold millions of copies, she needed to add some punch to her work. She always wrote about women overcoming huge odds to become successes. Women who broke through the glass ceiling. Self improvement, sort of. She used words the average reader could understand. For example, she didn't use words like 'manhood'. It was not descriptive; made her visualize a guy wearing a hoodie. She loved the word 'prick'. You could imagine a guy impaling a helpless virgin with a tool like that. Prick. It made a good visual. It sounded meaty and masculine.

Her novels were always lurid, because women needed a break from the drudgery of being a house wife. She wrote heavy books, good for masturbation. The men in her novels were just your ordinary every day dumbos. They were not billionaires. They didn't have well defined pecs, or washboard abs. No square jaw. No tattoos. But they all knew how to eat pussy.

Most guys are not porn stars who can fuck a woman for an hour, in every position -- inverted, hanging from a chandelier, or wrestling an alligator. Most guys shoot their load in two minutes, if you're lucky. And leave you frustrated. But they can eat pussy for as long as it takes -- until her heroine was left in a state of mindless hysteria.

Louisa knew her fans were mostly women. Guys would rather watch porn than read a romance novel. They'd never read Gone With The Wind. But women loved it, being over 1000 pages. Heavy enough for a good clitoral masturbation. But those days are gone forever. Vibrators are more efficient, being portable, and more discrete.

Let's introduce Louisa herself. Louisa, in her mid 30's, was divorced, and had only one true friend -- her vibrator. She named it Timmy. Timmy never let her down. First she would masturbate, and then finish herself off with Timmy. Even though writing novels allowed her to subjugate her sex drive, the urge to masturbate was as strong as ever. She enjoyed looking at herself in the long closet mirror. She studied her curvy body. She squeezed her tits together, flattening the firm globes one against the other. She had large heavy tits; they were full but nor overdeveloped. When she released the pointed melons, they sprang erect and resilient, their conical tips quivering. Whenever she handled her tits, the dark nipples always responded. -- hardening and becoming elongated, thickening like ripe buds. She turned her body to look at her ass. Her ex-husband always insisted she had a luscious ass. She cupped her hands over the cheeks of her big ass and squeezed. She pulled the cheeks apart. She massaged them with a circular motion. Her most secret fantasy was to get fucked in the ass by a dominant man. No man, dominant or otherwise, had ever done that to her.

She turned back to look at the mirror. She stood with her legs apart and separated the pink lips of her hairy cunt. She didn't believe in shaving. She stared at the gaping hole. She pushed her own finger inside her cunt, but it wasn't enough. She desperately looked around for something. She finally grabbed a hairbrush off the dresser and stared at it; it was made in China. She shrugged, and pushed the handle up her cunt with a deep groan. She fucked herself with that handle, whipping it in and out, churning her cunt until her body at last convulsed in a shattering orgasm. She was lying down on the bed when her cell phone rang. She answered, "Hello Bob."

It was Bob, her PR agent. "Louisa, hi. It's Bob ..."

She had caller ID. "Yes, I know. What's up?"

"I finally managed to get my guy free for a photo shoot. "

"Oh, that's good. Who are you going to use this time? The last photographer was repulsive."

"You won't have a problem with Marc. He's gay ..." Most of the best portrait photographers were gay.

"Good."

"He'll call you to set up a time. Do you want him to shoot you at home or in his studio?"

"I think home would be better. Then he can help me choose what to wear."

"Fine. By the way, his assistant's name is Annie, and she also does makeovers. So, just wash your face and let her do the rest. OK?" Annie was a lesbian.

"OK, sounds good ..." Louisa said. Every photographer wants his own look. Either too much eye shadow and she'd look like a vampire. Too much eye liner and she'd look like a whore. If her full lips were too prominent, she'd look like a cocksucker.

Marc arrived Thursday morning at 11 AM. Louisa was superstitious; Thursday for her was an auspicious day. He was friendly, seemed easy going -- slim, tall and partially bald. His assistant was Annie. She was flat chested, but cute. Blond with blue eyes. He toted a large camera bag, while Annie struggled with light stands and a tripod.

Annie pretended to be preoccupied but she was looked at Louisa out of the corner of her eyes. She liked what she saw. Enough woman there for Annie and two of her friends. Her mouth watered.

"Louisa, Bob tells me you're a writer. A novelist?" Marc was speaking.

"Yes, Marc, but I write mostly for women. You know -- their hidden fantasies, career oriented, strong independent women. With a strong sex drive ..." She laughed. "I guess all women have a strong sex drive."

"Really? Sounds like you have a big fan base ..." Marc laughed too.

"And growing. Lots of women are dumping their worthless husbands and they're taking karate classes."

"Wow, the world is changing ..."he said. "So what are we going to be shooting?"

"Well, I just don't want head shots. Not your usual book jacket head shot. I want a full page spread (no pun intended) showing me, as I am -- sexy, active, fun going ..."

Annie loved what she was hearing.

"OK, Marc," said. "We'll start with some conservative outfits, and then transition more to your sensual side ..."

Louisa was getting excited. It seemed like Marc was perfect for what she needed. .

"Let Annie do your makeup first, then we'll pick out something to wear."

Louisa wore a towel over her shoulders while Annie opened her makeup kit. She began to apply a foundation on Louisa's face. The makeover took 40 minutes. Louisa looked like a brunette version of Mae West.

Marc wanted to shoot Louisa reclining, propped against pillows. Her first outfit was a strapless chiffon gown. It was red, a bit whorish, but Marc could work around that. It matched her lipstick. Her boobs presented a problem because he didn't want her to look lopsided. Annie was attempting to adjust Louisa's posture so she wouldn't look like a poster outside a strip joint. The more she fiddled with Louisa's boobs, the more aroused Louisa became.

The next outfit was just a top, a camisole. Again with Annie adjusting straps, and stroking her nipples, Louisa was approaching the 'panting' stage. Annie had beautiful hands with long fingers. She played the piano. Marc stood Louisa against the wall with her hands flat back, looking like she was going to be attacked. Her eyes showing fright. The classic lurker pose. He did a few shots of that, but wasn't satisfied.

"Do you have a ladder?" Marc asked.

"Yes, in the garage ..."

Marc figured shooting down on her would solve the gravity problem, and she could move around a bit. Her big ass may be a problem, though. He had Louisa wear a simple drape, so he could adjust it properly.

Marc always kept a black cloth backdrop in his car. He could pose Louisa against a black background. The contrast would be startling.

From atop the ladder, Marc instructed Annie how to position Louisa's arms and legs.

"Have you ever been with another woman" Annie whispered to her.

Louise quivered. She'd experimented with a girl friend when she was in college but never with a woman.

"You have a lovely figure, Louisa. You're a beautiful woman. I would love to eat you ..."

Louisa gasped. No response. No one had ever talked to her like that.

Marc was shooting rapidly now. He liked Louisa's lower body gyrations. Annie's talking to her was helping.

"Why don't you play with your pussy? Do it. Marc won't mind."

But Marc wasn't born yesterday. He knew Annie was talking dirty to Louisa. Annie talked dirty to every woman she met. Most of the women would respond. A couple slapped her face. But every woman loved dirty talk; it turned them on. Not all of them would admit it. Some would even pretend to be insulted.

Marc was still shooting, using available light. Louisa had a glow to her face, her lips were parted. Her big boobs were heaving. Annie was within earshot, whispering to Louisa. "I want to lick your pussy. I bet you're wet ... right?"

"Yessssssssss ..."

"Do you shave your cunt???"

It was getting real nasty now. Louisa shook her head. "I've never shaved it ..." Her hips were undulating under the drape. She was getting wet.

"Great!" Marc yelled from the ladder. "You're looking good ..."

Annie was overcome with a strong urge to attack Louisa. She was imagining Louisa's gash.

"I'm going to change lenses. Why don't we take a break?"

That's all Annie needed. While Louisa was still on her back, Annie pulled the drape off Louisa's voluptuous body, leaving her naked except for her thin nylon panties. She pulled the panties down over her legs. Louisa's pussy looked like a swamp. Her pubic hair was soaked. She had a triangle of cunt hair so thick and curly it almost hid her pussy lips. If Annie looked closely she could see her drooping inner lips peeking out of the thicket.

Annie wasted no time in plunging two fingers into Louisa's cunt. Louisa moaned as Annie rubbed her thumb up and around her swollen love button. Her clit looked like small cock. Annie was ecstatic and fastened her lips to the slippery lump, sucking deeply and lovingly. Her hands grabbed Louisa's boobs, caressing and fondling her heaving jugs. She lapped her tongue over a stiff brown nipple and chewed on the rubber tit. Louisa was moaning with lust. Annie had been suffering since she first laid eyes on Louisa. Like a hungry woman looking through the window of a pastry shop.

She was on the verge of jamming her thumb up Louisa's ass when Marc returned from the car, ready to resume shooting. He saw the two women writhing on the floor and he was not surprised. He knew Annie.

He decided to wait and pretend to have a cigarette. He had quit smoking a year ago, but he didn't want the gals to think he was a perv.

Louisa had never been eaten by another woman. She was on the verge of an orgasm. Her body stiffened as she climaxed. "Arggggggggg ..."

Annie nibbled and sucked at her hairy flaps, and slowly moved to Louisa's slippery inner lips. She ran her tongue around the pulpy interior. Louisa came again. And again. Annie was just warming up. Annie had a tendency to overdo stuff. Marc had talked to her about that.

Enough was enough. "OK, time to get back to work," Marc said.

When they had left, Louisa was amazed at herself. She was so relaxed and felt she had broken through a new dimension. Was there another dimension beyond the 5th dimension? If there was, she just discovered it. This would make her novels best sellers. Her heroines would no longer be captive to convention. Not ass lickers and definitely not cock suckers. They could have their pussies licked during meetings. Instead of looking at dull sales forecasts on a white board. No more burnout. She felt exhilarated.

Marc felt he had some good shots. Bob was going to love them. Louisa would too. Although he didn't normally read romance novels, he was looking forward to reading Louisa's next book. He know it would be a thick book, heavy enough for masturbation. And he might even be in it.