Recently, I have been receiving a lot of mail accusing me of rushing into the sex scenes too quickly. "You seem to be in a hurry. Why don't you spend some pages describing the situation in more detail?" was the common refrain.
While I do admit that this is the case with most of the stories that I post on the site, let me remind readers that I write for the sole purpose of titillating. If someone wants a build-up, so be it. This one is for them, though, at times, I felt I was writing a little too much for what I knew (and the reader too does) for the main course to commence.
Also I recently read a hilarious piece about why conversations are not used when people are fucking and how funny and unreal they sound in a story. Well, I got to tell you that even if this is true, why have a erotic site at all if you are just going to describe the motions?
I feel that conversations are a very important part of every fuck-story. (Notice, I did not say Erotica -- I love smut!). For those who get their kicks from minimum conversations and detailed descriptions (about the setting, the clothes, the looks, the gardens et all) I would suggest ancient Victorian erotica.
As I have often written in the past, I repeat that I am an ardent fan of breasts. They are that part of a woman's anatomy that has always fascinated me -- and will continue to. A breast-man would surely agree!
*
"As usual, Anita, this workout makes me feel so good," the woman said, pulling on her jeans and zipping up the front.
"You always tell her that after each session, don't you Sandra?" the second woman laughed, beginning to strip the gym-suit off her body.
"It's true, don't you think? Look at you. You look so fresh despite the hour's workout. In the local club, we usually are sweating like pigs."
The subject of the topic smiled, pulling on her terry robe. "Sandra is right about that, Zeenie. And as a matter of fact, you are beginning to look more gorgeous than ever, if at all that is possible!"
"Look who's talking!" Zeenat laughed, pulling on her skirt and tucking the t-shirt into the waistband.
"Care to have some orange juice?" Anita asked, when she led the trio out of the basement and to the steps leading into the back verandah of the two-floor mansion she owned.
"Gosh, no thanks," Sandra replied, glancing at her watch. "It's about Robin's feeding time and that guy brings down the roof when he's hungry! Besides, you know that my uncle always spends the weekend with us and god knows when my brother would pop up! I'd better rush. Why don't you drop in sometime, Anita? You have the keys and I know you love the paintings. Uncle Peter is going back tomorrow till the next week and you know Harry. Like your son, my brother's too got the cricket fever in him. And during the practice seasons he always needs to be with my ex."
"Maybe I'll sneak into your house some time next week. You have still not used my key to drop in to watch the opera's, Sandra".
Anita quickly glanced towards Zeenat. The subject of Sandra's ex-husband, Alex was too sensitive and she didn't want to raise the topic now.
"What about you, Zeenie? Juice interests you?" Anita asked the older woman as they stepped into the verandah and turned into the passage leading to the living room.
"Some other time, honey. The kids will be waiting for their breakfast. Salma was talking about joining the extra English classes, in spite of attending mine, and Asif is contemplating extra hockey practice. And talking about keys, I'm sorry I've still not handed the copies of my house keys to the two of you. Saqlain told me that they would need about a week or so and you know my husband. Most of the times he's out of town, so there. Anyway, I'll make sure I get the keys around tomorrow, okay?"
"Where's the fire?" Sandra responded, tossing back her silky brown hair and pushing the stray strands behind her ears.
"There will be if I don't hurry up. Asif and Salma would be hopping mad by now. Kids! Its time for my tuition-class and I will soon be surrounded by them asking me all kinds of questions! And one of them is yours, Anita. I wonder how you always seem to be so relaxed having kids around you!"
Anita laughed. "Never had a problem with mine and don't have any now."
The two women left by the front door and Anita locked it behind them. She sighed and made her way to her bedroom.
Time for the usual after-workout shower, she thought, entering the bedroom and beginning to undress.
******
Anita stared at her reflection in the large mirror and for the umpteenth time, cursed her fate.
This was certainly not the age to be a widow, she thought, surveying herself critically. Three years since her husband had died, and despite her age, she already felt like an old maid.
On the wrong side of thirty, she had to thank her dear departed husband for insisting on building that wonderful gym in the basement of their huge building. She remembered how she had argued with Dino -- it was damned expensive and they could always join the City Health Center, barely a couple of miles away.
"And have those hunks ogle at you, sweets?" he had joked.
Yes, Dino had been very possessive about her. Hell, he had been possessive about almost everything that belonged to him. And so, nearly two months after that discussion, they had this fully equipped gum in the large basement.
They were health freaks, and she still was. It wasn't a surprise therefore that their kids too went for it in a big way. The regular workouts had helped her to not just to maintain her svelte figure, but had made her look almost a decade younger than her thirty-nine years.
And now, she thought as she vigorously rubbed her body with the soft towel, she wondered whether it was all worth it. Of course, she had everything a woman her age would hope to have. A huge bungalow, a large trust that provided her a fat monthly interest in addition to the income she made as a private tutor, two wonderful, beautiful kids and not to forget, all the frills.
The workouts kept her looking young and beautiful. It made her feel at the top of the world, healthy and hale and hearty. The kids were sweet and cared so much for her.
But she knew she was missing the one thing a woman her age needed. And she had to admit that it was sex.