Charlenes Side Of The Story

Author's note : A short story about blossoming romance and illicit lust between a guy and a married woman who falls for his wiles. This could be the start of a multi chapter story... let's see what you readers think of it. Precious little sex in this as I want to set up the mood. Of course, both characters are over 18.

*****

It has been a topsy-turvy year, and I guess it is now about time I shared my side of the story.

I knew that my colleague at work, Philip, enjoyed writing. I also knew that he enjoyed visiting a certain site that wasn't really a fixed position in my bookmarks. Let us say that the site in question is open to self-written stories of a.... a different style.

When I accidentally found out his screen name on this site, about twelve months back, I noted it down on my little black book. Back home, in the little apartment I shared with my husband, I logged on to the site, looked up his name, and started scrolling around on his stories. I found that Philip was the author of a number of stories, that strangely enough, had large references to my name.

I was shocked, to say the least, but mightily intrigued. I decided to open one of the stories and was thoroughly shocked to read what had been going on through his mind. I blushed as his story featured us in diverse positions, mostly indecent. But I read on, sometimes blushing furiously at his descriptions. He could write, my god, could he write. His words flowed easily, putting me in situations that had me pressing my legs together.

I could hardly believe he could do that to me just by writing. But what amazed me more than the situations, was the fact that he actually seemed to care for me a lot. I could tell that he genuinely had something for me. And I don't mean that it was only sexual, but it transpired that he had a heart that was simply bursting with love and admiration for me.

That set me thinking, of course. I realized that many might have had crushes on me, but only due to my body. And of course, I wasn't even that sexy anyway. I was way underweight. My jaw was strong, I had a Roman nose and ears that stuck out too much. Put together though, it wasn't a bad package, but I still had my doubts. Of course, Philip saw beyond all that.

He genuinely liked me for who I was, attractive or not. I could feel the yearning in his heart just by reading his words... how he wanted to just hold me, or hug me forever... words like never letting me out of his sight.

I have to admit that despite being slightly disturbed by his writing, I was also fascinated and actually proud that somebody could think of me that way. And I am saying this because frankly, after marriage, my life with my husband took a turn downwards.

He had a car audio shop, where he spent hours upon hours, mingling with customers, flirting mercilessly with his female clients, attending more car shows than absolutely necessary, and more often than not, flying to shows three weekends a month. I admit that at that time, I not only felt very lonely, but also unwanted.

So it was only natural that the words on the screen, translated into lovely, believable stories, got me yearning for some action in my life.

I read all the stories in which my name was featured, and every time I could realise that his descriptions of me were so accurate they were downright scary. He got my features down to a pat, even down to what kind of underwear I used. How could he have done it? I think it was only his devotion and attention to me that pushed him to conclusions that were painfully close to the truth.

Alone once again that night, I kept reliving his stories, an itch growing inside me. This fire grew until subconsciously I started to play with myself until I got some blessed relief.

The next morning, while readying myself to go to work, I pondered on what my reactions to seeing Philip would be. Should I let him know that I had discovered his secret? Or perhaps wing it? Or even pretend that nothing was happening? I sighed as I realised that I had no clue how to go about this revelation.

I decided to lay low, and see what this week would bring about with it. Monday went about with a flash, as every Monday does, so we only had limited conversation. His eyes, I could see, were all over my face, studying every tine detail, memorizing it.

Strangely, rather than feeling repulsed, I actually enjoyed his attentions. After all he was a very handsome guy. Medium height, slim without being thin, a cool dresser and always very well groomed.

That night, I had to relieve myself again, coming with a rush as I whispered his name out for the first time. It took me a long time to come down from my high, and I dared another session, my folds already slippery and my nubbin so wet with desire that it hardly took me any time. The glow stayed with me all night, and despite being alone, slept soundly all through the night until morning.

Tuesday was a different proposition to Monday as the work had slowed down considerably. I opened the Kindle app on my PC and started to read the latest offering from Elizabeth Montague, while noticing that Philip had brought his Macbook Air with him, and was typing away like a man possessed.

I rubbed my palms gleefully. That usually meant another story on the way. Between starting a draft and uploading it there usually was a ten day turnaround.

I worked it out simply by remembering when he previously worked like that. All through that day, he pounded that keyboard, and to me it felt as if he was sliding into me gently. I resisted going to the bathroom, and instead decided to make a night out of it. My husband would be coming back home on Wednesday anyway, and though things weren't really great between us, he was always good for a good night.

In the evening I logged in again and took a look, daring to hope that another story was up online. And there it was...

With a surprise I found that the story was spread over seven chapters. I wonder why he chose seven. Probably because he enjoyed the supranatural connection of the number, since seven was the number associated with magic. Whatever, it pleased me no end that he had written a long story, and I suspected that it was more than the simpler bump and grind stories.

I copied and pasted it to a notepad file, a laborious task made even more difficult by the fact that literotica had a certain amount of words to each page. The seven chapters spanned thirty pages easily, and while they were a chore to put in one file, I was happy that I would have enough reading material.

That night I started reading and it wasn't long before I was in tears as his story set out a romantic journey that could only be solved by finding true love following harrowing events. Sure, it was the usual love story, but the fact that I knew Philip well, and of course, being the subject of his love, conjured up a magical tale of damsels in distress and knights of valor fighting to win the bride's heart.

As I put down the printed pages, I was crying as the heroine in the story lay dying at her knight's feet. He cradled her in his arms, willing the love he felt for her vainly try to flow into her, restoring her body to perfection.

His soul wailed in despair as he wandered, lost without her. Finding no solace, the story ended with the gallant knight giving up his life. It was a powerful story, and I sniffled as once again, I was shaken upon Philip's power with words. He could really tell a tale.

I finally drifted off to sleep, haunted by dreams of the impossible.

The next morning I was awakened early by the jangling of the phone at my bedside. It was my husband, who said that he was in the running for a contract and that he would be staying another week in Germany. This pissed me off to no end, and we finally fought it out on the line. I think the words 'Fuck off' eventually crossed my lips once or twice.

And that is when I made the decision to go to Philip. I just knew he loved me. Not only how he looked at me, but also the way he talked to me, both in real life, and also through his words.

I didn't know how to broach the subject, but seeing the printed story on my bedside meant that I just had to come up with something.

It was an opportunity I could not miss... I promised myself that this week would seal the deal.