Author Author 1

Author - Gravidact, Submit...finally. A couple of weeks of plot development, reading, rereading, spell-checking, finally come to the one button. Harry Stewart sent the latest story up to the 'erotic literature' site, to see if they would take it. It was a tough site; usually they'd require an editor to look over the piece before it got uploaded. Still, he'd managed to get one or two pieces up and the reviews were favorable. Not that he was famous or anything; with a couple of hundred stories a day shoehorned onto the web page, he had a lot of competition.

The fact was, Harry just liked to write. Some people smoke, some people jump out of perfectly good airplanes, but it was just fun to create your own world, and it was an exercise in description, dialog, and how many synonyms for 'cock' you could find for a given story. That was the only drawback, setting the tone for the tale, and not having some jarring adjective interrupt the flow. Who wants 'fun bags' anyway? It still made him laugh.

He was about average-looking, 5'10' or so, dirty blond hair and green eyes. With the glasses perched on his nose, he looked like a writer, which helped (or not) with the ladies. He didn't have a 12" schlong, but he was in shape, and though in his early 30s, still looked younger than he was. He didn't have a girlfriend, the last one was a little freaked out by his fantasy, and ran off with another guy.

Harry liked pregnant women, which scared most women under 29, and made them nervous as to what his ultimate intentions were. Some of the women around that age scared him, trying to 'get him to commit', and coming up with baby names. Of course, price of admission was a gold and diamond ring, and a house in the 'burbs'.

Still, it would be nice to have a woman who really got into the fantasy, while not obsessing on colors for the baby's room. Oh, someday it would be nice to have kids, but he just hadn't found 'the right one' yet. And if he had some fun along the way...

So one more preggo fantasy was uploaded to the site, and he shut down for the night. It could get anxious, waiting for the hit count to go up, or not go up; usually it would take a few days to get over a hundred. The comments were what he lived for; seeing someone really enjoy one of his stories made it all worthwhile. Check it in the morning before work, he mused, see how they liked it.

The next morning he fired up the PC, and waited for the connection to be made. Sitting there with a cup of coffee and a ratty housecoat made him feel like a writer, and the smug satisfaction of rescuing said article of clothing from the line of disgusted women who tried to throw it out gave it sentimental value. Looking at the hit count, it was up to a respectable 51 or so, and a couple of comments were registered.

He noticed one from SwellingBelly, who had a couple of her(?) own fantasy stories on the same site. Women who wrote stories like him were very rare indeed, and it made him appreciate her comments. He read on...

Hi, that story was hot! You got the attitude right, and grammar's a bit off, but it was worth the read. I just put up one of my own (how's that for a coincidence?) maybe you could check it out! - SwellingBelly

That made him smile, so he looked until he found it. It was called '29', and it was a very erotic piece about a woman deciding to get pregnant before it was 'too late'. She had a way with words, and it was eerie how close her style seemed to be to his. A bit more polished, but as he started to read, he could feel himself getting hard. He looked up at the clock and groaned. Work was interfering with another perfectly good fantasy. Definitely check this out tonight, he promised himself.

The day flew by, as it does with too few people trying to handle too much work, and soon it seemed he was soon back at his apartment, going back to the site. He found the story after scrolling back a few dozen entries, and picked up where he left off. She knew her way around dialogue, and the way she had the heroine begging to get knocked up had him hard in minutes. Thank goodness you could scroll with one hand. He was impressed; she really did feel the same way about sex that he did, and he wished he could meet her. Knowing his luck, it was some middle-aged fat guy.

He sent a carefully-worded reply back. Your story was just as hot as I could hope for. We seem to be on the same wavelength. Maybe someday we could write a story together. Keep 'em coming, this is great stuff!

Ok, fairly lame, but comments are what some writers live for. He checked out a few others, then went off to check his email.

He noticed a new message in the inbox, from sbelly. Coincidence? He opened it up.

Dear gravidact;

A collaboration sounds great! I have an anonymous site, with sound and video. Would you like to chat? Here's the login info. SwellingBelly.

Wo. He needed to check this out. He went to the site, made sure his webcam was working (5 times), and found himself looking at SwellingBelly, in her computer room. She was about his age, short-haired, dark green eyes and thick brows, an hourglass body, with a decent C-cup in front. She had an impish smile about her, sort of teasing, and a little jumpy. She almost looked like a happy Vulcan, if something could be imagined. Strangely enough, there was something familiar about her.

"Hi" he said, as she looked up at the camera.

"And who are you?" she replied, cautious, a little tense.

"Gravidact. You sent me an invite...."

"Oh, right!" she giggled. "I certainly did. Listen, I like the way you think..."

"But not the way I write?" he teased.

"Nah, you've got some good stuff there, and you seem to like my stuff..."

"Like is an understatement. It's great!"

She smiled, dimpling coquettishly back at him. "Flattery will get you everywhere" she adjusted her camera so she zoomed in closer.

"Gravidact, could you zoom in, I want to get a look at you." she shyly asked.

"Sure, no problem." he adjusted the lens (while surreptitiously adjusting himself). She made a small gesture, looking down his chest, one eyebrow raised in interest.

"Hey, have we met?" she asked.

"Not that I know of. But you look kinda familiar"

"I bet you say that to all the guys"

They started talking, discovering several interests in common; fantasy literature, sword and sorcery, even some authors in common. She loosened up, looking closely in the camera at him, and he at her. She was very cute, though he did find himself flirting with her, which she seemed to eat up. She flirted back, and he found himself looking at her, wishing he could be in the room with him.

About that time, the hour changed over. As in many small southern towns, the local church would ring the hours, and then play some recorded hymn over the speakers. He frowned at the distraction, until he heard the sound from her end. She didn't notice at first, but soon she looked up in surprise, as they heard the same music, and then at him.

A fearful look crossed his face, and he saw her starting to slam down at a big red button behind her, which was labeled Do Panic! The screen went blank, and then he got an error message from her chat site. The connection had been broken.

What the fuck? he thought. What had he done? Aside from knowing that she lived within earshot of his place, what had gone wrong? She seemed nice enough. Was it him? What had he been doing when she slammed down that feed? It sucked; they'd been getting along so well, for a while, at least.

Hell, he'd be happy to meet her in real life, and he thought she'd be happy to meet him. And she was so close...but where would she be?

Sitting back down, he thought for awhile, then sent her an IM.

Dear SwellingBelly; I'm sorry if I startled you; I had no idea you were in the neighborhood, I was as surprised as you were. If it bothers you, I won't write again, but you seem very nice to me....oh, that sounded so lame! He went through 3 or 4 versions before sending something non-threatening, and waited.

After about 10 minutes, he gave up, then trundled off to bed. Check it in the morning, he supposed.

The next morning, he rolled out of bed, and checked. There was a message.

Dear Gravidact;

I am so embarrassed about last night! It just freaked me out that we lived so close, I just cut off the feed without thinking. I only use it for axe murderers, vampires, and generally creepy guys, but I think I made a mistake in your case. Please send me another note, and let me know everything's all right. I'd like to work with you on some stories, or even pictures, and more. Maybe we can meet somewhere like Ponzi's, a restaurant on 15th and Glen Haggis. Let me know when would be a good time. SwellingBelly ps - are you from around here? There's something about your face...

He'd seen the place, and it was only a few blocks from his place, so, why not? He sent her a message, and went off to the j o b, wondering what she would say by the time he got home. It was a haunting feeling, that she seemed familiar. Well, he'd been living in the neighborhood most of his life; his own apartment wasn't that far from where his parents lived. He even went to colleg locally, when he was younger, it was the ideal spot; 'far enough for privacy, and close enough for laundry'. Maybe they'd gone to school with each other, or seen each other at dances or parties. There were eldritch reminders of her face; just nagging at him. He should know her, who was she?

He got through the day without too many screwups, despite his distracted feelings. His co-workers were suspicious, yet willing to let him be. Of course he couldn't tell them; he'd sound like a perv. He got home as fast as possible, opening his email, but nothing yet. Finally, he heard his email ring, and saw she'd be at the restaurant in about half an hour. With a guy's usual amount of angst about what to wear, he spent nearly 30 seconds going through his clothes for something 'dressy', but not too blatant. He decided to walk, though his laptop bag got heavier with each block.

Finally, he saw the restaurant, and then her, sitting next to the bar, swirling a straw around in her drink. She looked up at him, face brightening, then gasped."Harry! Harry Stewart! I knew it!"

He looked around behind him, seeing her face momentarily drop, then she started giggling. "You don't remember me? Mary? Mary S. Phafnic?"

Slow realization dawned on his face. Holy shit, 8th grade geometry...she'd sat behind...no wait, next to him in class!

"Mary Sue? I don't believe it! You've uh...grown up!" he said, reaching for her hand. She took his, then pulled herself a little closer."I don't go by Mary Sue any more, Harry. There are....some unfortunate implications to that name." She raised a single eyebrow in a practiced manner, and he was once again reminded of a Vulcan. That's right, she was a Trekker, or Trekkie, or whatever the slightly more sane variant was.

"I remember now. Yeah, Mary Sue; with the compassion of the Doctor, the Bravery of the Captain, the Intelligence of the Science Officer...and sleeps with all three."

She rolled her eyes, then laughed again. "And do you know what they call male Mary Sues?"

He shook his head 'no'.

"Harry Stu's!" This set her off again. "So no grief about my name!"

"Your secret is safe with me. Thank heavens I came up with a different handle." Looking around, he noticed a waitress. "So, do you want to order something?" She nodded, and grabbed her own laptop bag.

The slipped past the other tables, and found themselves in a relatively secluded section of the room, with long checkered plastic table covers descending nearly down to the seats. They set up their laptops, getting a few dirty looks from the older patrons. He flushed a bit, hoping no one could read over their shoulders. The corner was a bit dark, but the light from the displays shone on each of them, like modern alchemists over a phosphorescent cauldron.

She seemed to know all the waitresses, who gave him inquisitive looks as they came and went. He looked at her questioningly, and she waved at the restaurant.

"I worked here all through high school. I even came here with some dates once or twice. I knew all the ins and outs of the room. This table is the height of 'make-out row'. You'd be surprised what's gone on in this very booth". She put her hands to her face and stared at him. She looked down, and then started to speak.

"You know, Harry..." she began, as he watched her flush. "I had the worst crush on you in Middle School." she began. "I kept wishing you'd notice me, and ask me out, but it's hard when neither of you have a car"

He put his hand out to touch hers. "And I wanted to ask you out, but I was....uh...well apprehensive that you'd turn me down." He flushed slightly himself, as he looked back at her.

She caught his eye, and winked. "No, I think we were both a bit nerdy. We might have been clumsy, but we might have been...." she sighed softly. "Listen to me, I sound like I'm a hundred or something!" she joshed, as she looked back at him.

"No, just old enough for regrets, but young enough for changes." She smiled back at him.

"I like that. Did you make it up?" He nodded back at her. He could almost see the wheels turning as she calculated the conversation. Was she coming onto him?

"So, are you, well...seeing anyone?" he ventured.

She winced. "Not any more. People grow up, well, some of them anyways." Frowning slightly, she looked back at him. "How about you?"

It was his turn to grimace. "I was going to get married, but she left me for another guy." They were interrupted by the waitress, who took their orders, leaving a glass of water for each. He stared at it, lost in thought.

She reached over to his hand, and gave it a squeeze."I know how you feel. Roger just never seemed to grow up, and become an adult. Then he ran off with some Peggy girl, and I..." she looked at him in surprise. "What?"

"Roger..Peggy? Peggy Martin!?" he rasped. Both her eyes went up. "Yes!...Harry, you're creeping me out here..."

"Peggy Martin was my fiancé. She left me for a Roger Aylered." Mary's hand flew up to her mouth. "Roger left with your fiancé? They both worked at Consolidated Adjudication?"

"Oh this is too fucked up." he muttered. "Mary, I'm so sorry..." he began.

"What for?" she asked, confused at his answer.

"If I'd been a little richer, or taking better care of Peggy, you might have kept Roger..."

She rolled her eyes. "Harry, stop it. Roger was cheating on me from the word 'go'. He and Peggy were an item 4 years ago, right after they went to that Conference in Seattle."

"I thought something was different when she came back! But she denied everything, of course. That explains the condescending attitude" he growled.

"Harry, please. We both got hurt. It's over now. I feel I'm a better person. Roger was never going to commit to me, for anything. He had her knocked up two months after they met. Then they disappeared, where, I don't know."

"Miami. That's where the movers took her stuff. Come to think of it, she was a little plump around the middle...I just thought she was overeating."

She laughed again. "Harry, you are so sweet, but you have got a lot to learn about women." she looked sad for a moment. "I wanted a family, all the usual things you want when you finally start growing up. Which he never did."

"I can imagine. I wanted kids too, but Peggy was so focused on her career. She was getting close to 30, and that usually makes women think about how long they have left."

Mary looked down suddenly, a single tear on the edge of her eye."You're right about that. In fact..." she stopped as their food arrived.

They ate in silence, each thinking about the past. Occasionally, he would look up, seeing her staring back at him, an unfathomable expression on her face. There was a sense of vulnerability in her eyes, combined with a hopefulness that...something was going to happen.

They started talking more, happily, comparing their lives in general, as she started to lean forward a bit, showing some delightful cleavage of her C-cups, as he figured it. They were both laughing, interested and interesting. She started flirting with him, and he returned her, entendre for entendre, compliment for compliment. She had a gift for language, not extemporaneous sonnets, but she had a way with instant limericks.

He felt her toes on his leg a short time later. She was smiling a wicked little smile, as he felt her foot slowly creeping up his leg. He doffed a shoe, and started working his own foot up her well-turned calf, as she looked down at the table, then up at him. Feeling her legs part slightly, she moved up to his inner thighs, the toes delicately brushing against his balls. She closed her eyes slightly. "Oh, those are big" she breathed, as she fixed him with a penetrating gaze, sliding forward slightly to envelop his own foot.

He felt her legs growing warm, and a small hint of moisture as she shuddered. "Oh, that's good" she moaned softly, as she started to work up his shaft. "How big is it?" she asked him.

"Well, it's supposed to be 12", but I had to get it in installments. The final 5" is in the mail...somewhere" he got out, and she collapsed in hilarity.

"You little shit!" she laughed, causing the others around her to look at her in surprise and suspicion. She looked around quickly. "I know it's a cliché, but your place or mine?" she inquired. She gestured to the odd waitress, who was 'studiously' looking at her watch. He looked at his own, and realized they'd been there nearly 2 hours.

He leaned forward, finding his shoe. "I thought we were going to write." he teased her.

She returned his question with a smoldering gaze. "Oh, we're going to write too. Where's your car?" she said.

"I actually walked. It's only about four blocks from here." She calculated swiftly, then looked up. "Takes too long. Get in my car and give me directions."

"Well, well. This is looking more like one of my fantasies all the time."

She kissed him on the cheek. "You have no idea. I'm going to indulge some of my fantasies too. Let's go."

Ten minutes later, they stumbled in, put the laptops on the kitchen table, then fell into each others' arms.

As soon as their lips met, he felt like he was fulfilling a fantasy of his own. Her mouth opened, as their tongues danced and darted into each others', groaning softly as she pulled him close. Her body molded to his, every inch of soft, pliable skin pressed against him, her hips rotating forward, rubbing against his hardening cock.

The kiss went on, as she grabbed his hand, and shoved it against her breast, squeezing his fingers against the soft flesh, and hard nipple. She broke away, reluctantly, but looked up at him. "You don't know how many years I wanted to do this. I used to lay in bed at night, feeling my growing breasts, and imagine that they were your hands, your fingers, tweaking my boobs, getting me horny and wet."

Rubbing the soft curves, circling the areoles, feeling the nubbin flip back and forth, listening to her gasp in pleasure, as she started to move her hand downwards. "So how does it compare to your fantasy?" he teased, his other hand moving against the other mound, twirling the hardness on her chest as she closed her eyes for a second.

"Mmmm...very nice. But do you know what else I used to think about?" Her hand found his hardness, and a lazy fingernail traced around the length of his erection. "mmm..." she repeated. "Nice and fat, nice shape to it. Why is it guys get so worked up about how long it is, when it's just as important to have good..." she squeezed him as he groaned "shape? A nice....hard...fat...cock, that just touches everything, as it slides in...and out....oh, is that bothering you Harry?" she grinned, as she studied his face.