Turning to face front again, she carefully appraised her breasts. They were not large, but they were pert and attractive, with prominent nipples that stiffened when she was aroused.
The pale skin of her breasts contrasted nicely with her tan. Becky liked the way that her skin went from the dark tan, to the pale color of her breasts, and then back to the dark areolas of her nipples. She reached up and lifted her breasts with her hands, enjoying the heft of them, and she allowed her fingers to lightly brush and tease her nipples.
Becky turned on the water in her shower, and allowed it to run for a minute to come to the right temperature. She tested it carefully with one hand, and then entered. After thoroughly wetting her hair, she worked shampoo into her scalp and rinsed, then used a bit of hair conditioner and rinsed that out also. She took a bar of soap with aloe, and worked the lather over her entire body. She noticed that her skin was pleasantly warm to the touch, and she carefully washed herself all over.
While lathering her body, Becky touched the prominent bud of her clitoris, and began to gently rub the sensitive area around it. I really need to come, she thought, but I better not. Maybe later, after I go to bed.
She finished rinsing and turned off the shower. Grabbing a towel, she patted herself dry and went into her bedroom. I need to get ready, she thought, glancing at the little alarm clock radio on her bedside table. It’s 6:45, and Anthony will be here any second.
Becky dropped her towel to the floor, and opened her dresser. She found a bra and panties and put them on, followed by jeans and a nice short-sleeved top. She remained barefoot.
Becky trudged downstairs, and noticed that her mother and father were dressed in evening wear. Her father, in a dark suit, crisp white shirt and crimson tie, was zipping up the back of her mother’s black dress.
“Where are you two going, anyway?” Becky asked. “You’re both all dressed up.”
“I have decided that your mother and I need an evening out, just the two of us, and I have tickets to a show in the city. We’ll be back late, so don’t wait up.”
Well, that’s interesting, she thought. I will be here alone with Anthony tonight. “Is there anything to eat?”
“Check the fridge, there’s plenty of food,” her mother called as they went out the front door. The door closed behind them, and Becky was alone.
She walked into the small den that was used as her study, and glanced up at the bookshelves for her notebooks. She liked to keep paper copies of all her stories, and she stored them in carefully organized three-ring binders. They stood next to each other on the lower shelf, right above her desk.
Typically, she would type a story on her laptop, refining and editing as she wrote. Every few sentences, she would tap the Ctrl-S keys to save the document on the computer’s hard drive. She wrote her first drafts quickly, but then she painstakingly edited and re-edited them several times before she was satisfied. She then printed them and placed the final copies in her binders. This way, she had both paper copies and electronic versions.
Taking two of the binders from the shelves, Becky brought them to the living room, where she placed them on the small coffee table in front of the sofa. The doorbell chimed, and Becky went to let Anthony inside.
“Hi!” she greeted him brightly, “come on in. I was just starting to look over some of my stories to show you.”
Anthony entered, wearing jeans and a blue Oxford button-down, which he wore untucked. He looked even better now than he did earlier, she thought.
She gestured toward the sofa saying, “Have a seat. Would you like something to eat? I haven’t eaten yet, and I am starving.”
“Mmmm, sounds good,” Anthony replied, as he sat down. He reached for the story binders, and began to leaf through the first one.
“I am not much of a cook, so I was just going to whip up some sandwiches. That OK?” Becky called as she walked toward the kitchen.
“Perfect,” said Anthony. “I don’t really want a heavy meal anyway, but a sandwich and Coke would be fine.”
He picked up the first binder, and turned to the opening section. He began to read her stories while she prepared the sandwiches, and he quickly found himself engrossed with her vivid storytelling skills.
The first tale was about a promiscuous man in his early twenties, Leopold, who hooked up with any woman who was willing. His sexual encounters were varied and physically gratifying, but emotionally he became progressively emptier with each conquest. As time wore on, he required incrementally degrading masochistic acts to reach sexual fulfillment.
“This is pretty dark stuff,” Anthony said, interrupting his reading. “Your use of irony is impressive, with the way Leopold achieves greater heights of physical satisfaction but becomes more and more emotionally crippled each time he has sex.”
“That’s precisely what I was going for!” Becky exclaimed. “You read it exactly right. How about his name – do you get it?”
Anthony looked at her quizzically and said, “Let me think for a minute…no, I think that is probably too subtle for me.”
“I named him after Leopold von Sacher-Masoch – that is where the word ‘masochist’ comes from,” she explained.
“Oh, wow, that is clever. I am sorry it was lost on me,” Anthony apologized. Wow, this woman was smart, he thought. Too smart for me.
Anthony continued to read until he finished the story, and he looked up at Becky with new admiration. “That’s really good. It was almost a ‘coming of age’ story, with Leopold becoming more disillusioned as time went on, but from a very cynical point of view.”
Becky was impressed – this was definitely not just some empty-headed jock with a good body, but an insightful and discerning young man. She always was attracted to the intellectual types, and Anthony had the right physical attributes, too.
“See what you think of the next one,” Becky suggested.
She sat quietly, watching him intently while she ate her sandwich with small bites. He also ate his sandwich while he read, carefully dabbing at his mouth occasionally with a napkin.
The next story was the story of a young woman who went off to college, and lost her virginity with an older man, a professor. The sex was highly charged, and the woman, while inexperienced, was a passionate and creative lover. She was not only willing, she was eager to initiate varied sexual practices with her older lover.
Anthony became embarrassed, and afraid that his own physical reaction was rapidly becoming obvious. Becky also noticed his erection pushing at the front of his jeans.
“Well! That’s pretty hot!” Anthony said, as he finished reading. He tried to adjust his trousers without appearing too obvious. He was not being very successful.
“You look a little uncomfortable,” Becky smiled, moving closer to him on the sofa. She said impishly, “Are you OK?”
“Uh, well, uhm, your story had a pretty dramatic effect on me,” Anthony stammered, as Becky touched him lightly on the shoulder and chest.
“I’m glad,” Becky explained. “That was one of my intentions – to turn the reader on.” She leaned forward, and kissed him tentatively on the mouth. Feeling emboldened, she kissed him again, this time more deeply. Her tongue pushed into his mouth, cautiously exploring, and she began to feel a tingle in-between her legs.
“Well, it worked,” Anthony whispered, when she finally broke away from him. “I am definitely turned on.”
This time he initiated the kiss, and his tongue met hers, probing and teasing for a long minute. When Becky broke away this time, she kept her face close to his.
Glancing down at the front of his jeans, she said softly, “You shouldn’t be left hanging like this. Maybe I can take care of it for you.”
“Yes,” Anthony replied hoarsely, “uh, what did you have in mind?”
“Lie back on the sofa,” Becky commanded. He did as she said, and she boldly reached over to unclasp the buckle of his jeans. She unzipped them, tugged them down to his knees, and then pulled them off of him completely. She tossed them on the living room rug.
Anthony lay on his back on the sofa, now wearing only his shirt and some boxer shorts. The front of his boxers was distended from his erection. Becky leaned over him, kissed him again, and then began to unbutton his shirt. She pushed it off his shoulders, and he sat up just long enough to shrug out of it completely.
God, that’s sexy, thought Becky.
Anthony was lying on his back, now wearing only his boxer shorts. She grasped the top of the waistband of his boxers, and carefully lifted it over and down past his erect cock. She pulled the shorts down to his ankles, and then slipped them off.
Anthony was now lying totally nude on the sofa. His lean and muscular body was hairless, except for a small dark patch of curly pubic hair at the base of his cock. Becky liked the way his tan contrasted with the pale skin around his genitals, it reminded her of her own reflection in the mirror an hour earlier.
She ran her hands and fingers over the smooth skin of his chest and abdomen, tracing the ridges of his rippling muscles. Becky stared at his erection, and allowed herself to graze the underside of his cock with her fingertips. A small bead of clear pre-come was at the tiny slit at the tip.
“You have me a bit of a disadvantage here,” Anthony said. “Aren’t you going to undress, too?”
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