Return Of Delila Lelongue Pt 01

Recap from "Delila in the Desert"

https://www.literotica.com/s/delila-in-the-desert

Donald (Donnie) Abravanel, a college professor of literature, met Rebecca Birnbaum on a flight from London to his home in Tucson. Through the course of the flight, they struck up an acquaintanceship, then a friendship before she reveals to Donnie that she is Delila DeLongue, a world famous and highly successful writer of erotic fiction.

Answering an invitation to her rented home in Tucson, Donnie spends the evening with her friends, a wealthy gay couple and a famous Italian clothing designer. After Donnie inadvertently ingests THC edibles micro-dosed with Ecstasy, he ends up in a wild orgy with Delila and her friends.

The next morning, Rebecca professes her love for Donnie, declaring him her "Happily Ever After Guy" and that she intends to retire from being Delila and pursue her original dream of writing science fiction and fantasy as Rebecca Birnbaum.

The story picks up 3 years later.

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"Sah wha do ya fink?"

I peered over my reading glasses at Rebecca. She was standing in the doorway of our master bathroom brushing her teeth dressed in one of my old cycling race shirts, a pair of white knee socks and white cotton panties. Her womanly curves showed as shadows from the bathroom backlighting. Her lustrous hair, which her very expensive personal hairdresser kept tastefully black, framed her fair skinned face and green eyes. Her naturally red generous lips were frothed with toothpaste. At 55 years old, she still looked like a girlish Disney princess.

I smiled up at her. "What was that dear?"

She turned, spit into the sink, rinsed out her mouth and padded over to the bed, perching next to me with an arm around my shoulder.

"Smart ass, you know what I asked." She kissed me on the top of my head. "What do you think of the first draft?" She tapped the folio on my lap.

I was quiet for a moment. Since retiring as "Delila DeLongue", the most famous and successful erotic fiction writer in decades, Rebecca had struggled to find her voice as the speculative fiction writer she originally dreamed of becoming. The draft of the short story I had just finished reading gave no evidence that she had found it.

"Well," I started carefully. "I like the concept."

Rebecca sighed and flopped back onto the pillows. "It's garbage, isn't it?

"No ... no.. not garbage darling. It just feels a little listless and lacking direction."

"But Donnie, that's what the protagonist is feeling! Since she lost her position at SpaceComm, her lover left her and the aliens ..."

"No dear. I understand that. It's ... I mean ... the writing feels that way too. It's all surface, I'm not getting any real depth."

Rebecca curled up next to me and put her head on my shoulder. She grabbed the folio and tossed it across the room. It slid across the saltillo tile and hit our cat who yowled angrily, batted at the papers and bolted out of the room.

"See, even Nimitz thinks it's garbage."

I wrapped an arm around her and kissed her forehead. "It's only been a couple of years. Give yourself a little time."

"It's been 3 years. Three years and four rejections from my publisher. The SAME publisher who literally made millions off of me, the dickhead. You know what the LAST rejection said? Delila ... Come Home!"

I laughed a little. "He just misses those big sales you generated."

"Yeah, he misses them so much he offered me a $15 million advance, 14% on book sales, 40% on eBooks and an option for an audiobook if I would come out of retirement for two more Delila DeLongue books."

"Wow."

"Do you think I should take it?"

When I first met Rebecca on that fateful flight 3 years ago, she had only told me her name was Rebecca Birnbaum and vaguely implied she was a writer and voracious reader. Of course, as a Professor of Literature I was fascinated by the depth and breadth of her knowledge of literature from all periods. It wasn't till later that I found out she not only wrote erotic fiction but was the reigning queen of the genre. And she had lived most, if not all, the wild erotic adventures that her heroines experienced.

I had a hard time reconciling the woman that I shared that flight with as someone who wrote what I saw as simply pornography. But she had professed her love for me, a love that I shared evidently, and had retired the persona of Delila DeLongue to pursue her original goals as a writer. She hadn't had any success.

"You know we don't need the money dear." I said softly.

This was true. Rebecca had become obscenely wealthy as Delila DeLongue. Worldwide book sales, a couple of direct to video movies, merchandise and licensing enabled her to live comfortably for the rest of her life. Our lives really. A year into our relationship she grew tired of visiting me in my modest bachelor's condo near campus. So, she asked me if I wanted to leave academia and move into a foothills home that she had commissioned from her friends Danny and Greg, a lovely couple whole teamed as architect and interior designer. Tucked into the foothills of Tucson, we lived the life of a pair of well-off 50-year-olds, semi-retired and writing together. Her on her fiction and me on ... well ... I was going to come up with something eventually.

"It's not just the money Donnie. I miss Delila, she is part of who I am, an important part. I'm not a great speculative fiction writer, hell apparently I'm not even a good one and never will be. But I am a great erotica writer, probably the best."

"Not immediately you weren't."

She huffed "Donnie, my first Delila DeLongue book sold 12 million copies."

I sighed a bit. I was concerned about where this was going.

Rebecca asked quietly. ""Are you concerned about the lifestyle? The research?"

I winced a little. I didn't like thinking about her "research", which involved a lot of sexual adventures with many partners of all genders. But I answered "No, not really anyway. That's all in the past. I mean, you aren't even that person anymore."

"Aren't I?"

My heart sank. "What are you saying sweetheart?"

"Donnie ... dearest, the writing and the lifestyle go together. People like my erotica because it comes from lived experience, it's authentic. Unlike that ... "she gestured at the discarded manuscript ".... dreck."

She went on "Can you admit though that some part of you likes Naughty Delila too? You like that there is a part of me that craves sex, especially with that monster of yours. And I know which part of you likes it." She snuggled close to me and reached down, stroking me softly through my boxers. "Would he like to come out and play?" I responded, of course. I always did.

"Ohhh, he does! Let me kiss him and show him how much I love him." She shimmied down until she was laying between my legs, facing me. She pulled down the front of my boxers and took me into her hand. Well, both hands actually.

This is going to sound immodest, but I am well over 6 foot tall and have everything that goes with that. Big feet, big hands, a big semitic nose, and a damn big dick. Flaccid it reaches almost halfway down my thigh and has girth to match. Rebecca has said that next to my mind it is one of her favorite things about me.

To tell the truth Rebecca isn't completely wrong about me liking "Naughty Delila". Setting aside for the moment the night of the infamous orgy 3 years previous, which I actually have no memory of, our sex life is amazingly vigorous and adventurous for a couple of people in their 50s. Besides all the free lubes, sex toys, lingerie and yes ... porn ... that Rebecca gets thanks to licensing by DeLongue Enterprises Inc, Rebecca genuinely loves sex. And she's good at it, really good. Thanks to her creativity and enthusiasm, my appreciation of it has certainly gone up since we met.

My favorite part of course is seeing Rebecca in the midst of an orgasm. She is beautiful all the time, but she is absolutely luminous when she cums. I love giving her orgasms just to see it happen. And she loves doing the same for me, or so she says anyway. Personally, I've always doubted it. Men simply aren't that beautiful, and we're messy when we cum.

"Ooooh, does Big Donnie want to play with Naughty Delila?" she crooned as she kissed the head and licked along the thickening shaft. "I think he does." She looked up at me with a salacious grin. "I think I might be able to do it tonight, Donnie. I want all of it."

Rebecca gives great head. I never called it that before we started seeing each other, but it's the word she likes. She likes the word AND the act. She had long had the goal of deep throating me all the way down, which is not only patently ridiculous but I'm pretty sure it's a physiological impossibility even when not I'm not fully erect. But she gamely gives it a try upon occasion. Even when she only goes down a little over a third of the way, the feeling is indescribable. And the sight my cock disappearing down her throat while she looks me in the eye is unbelievably erotic. She got about as far as she usually gets before she gagged, coughed and gasped.

She smiled up at me again. "Oh well, I'll get it one of these days. Besides, I can take more of it elsewhere."

She raised up on her knees and pulled off my old t-shirt, her lovely soft large breasts falling free. She crawled up my body and straddled my hips, reaching down to pull her panties aside and guide me into her. As I entered her, she sighed and laid down on me, her ample smooth thighs hugging my hips and her soft curves draping over me. She kissed me deeply, exploring my mouth with her tongue as she slowly took more of me in.

Riding me is her preferred position because she is able to control how deep I go. I try to be careful if we are in missionary or doggy, but sometimes the spirit overtakes me, which invariably leads to a small, plaintive "Owww ... baby!?"

Tonight, she wanted as much as she could take. I think she was looking to comfort herself as much as me. She rolled and rocked her hips, easing me deeper each time. All the while alternating between kissing me and whispering in my ear "So good ... so so good. I love this so much." and similar endearments. Rebecca liked a little dirty talk as part of foreplay, but it wasn't really part of our sex play when fucking. We were long past the stage of her saying "Oh god you're so big." or "You fill me up so good." We both knew those things.

When she had taken me as deep as she needed, she raised up a little on her elbows so we could look each other in the eye. She began to bounce her hips lightly. I matched her rhythm, and she smiled saying "Uh huh, yes ... like that. Just like that."

Rebecca is incredibly orgasmic even with just straight fucking, and it doesn't hurt that I am big enough so that in the right position my shaft rubs along her clit with each stroke. Tonight, I could tell she was going to cum fast. She laid back down on me and increased her pace, whimpering into my ear "Donnie .... I love you ... I love you ...please .... Please say it. I need to ... please."

Rebecca loves it when I tell her to cum, it never fails to put her over the top. So, I whispered back "Yes, cum for me my love. Cum now."

Simultaneous orgasms aren't unheard of between us, but they are rare enough to make them special. When I felt her start to spasm around me, I emptied into her with a low groan. She lightly bit my shoulder, moaning and shuddering through an orgasm that seemed to go on for 15 minutes.

Afterwards, we snuggled with her curled up next to me, her head on my chest.

"Donnie ... let's go to the Malibu house for the summer."

Rebecca's literary agent is based in Malibu.