Literotica Writer's Ultimate Reward

'I want to act out your writings' she said

It came as an email from mindsetg0od. 'My wife is a great fan of your writing. She wants to meet you. We are from Calcutta. We will be in Chennai later this month. If you are willing please reply.' Most authors would agree; but my case is different. I write erotic stories in Literotica where I maintain a fictitious identity. I did not think meeting a fan face to face was advisable. I did not respond. A fortnight later mindsetg0od wrote again. 'I understand your reticence, but I am in a desperate plight. My wife is so mad about your writing that she has printed it all and keeps reading it all the time. I fear that unless she meets you she may lose her mental balance' I had to think again. On the one hand having brought her to this plight I was under some obligation to give her some relief. On the other hand I was not too keen on meeting a woman who seems not too stable mentally. When I took my wife into confidence she was for meeting the couple. I agreed.

I suggested the Taj breakfast buffet room would be a good place to meet. That morning at the specified time we were at the Taj looking for a couple with the woman in a light blue sari and the man in dark blue pants and a white T-shirt. We spotted them straightaway.

"Welcome to Chennai," I said as I shook hands with the man. I greeted the lady with a namaste. Earlier we had agreed to use assumed names. The man was Sumant. He was about forty, of medium height and build, and handsome. His wife Nishi was about thirty-five. She was pleasant looking and pretty, and to first sight perfectly sane. I was Suri and my wife was Rita.

Nishi was looking at me with wide open eyes and lower jaw that needed hitching up. The husband laughed.

"She is such an admirer of your writing that she is not sure that she in seeing you for real," he said. It was a bit embarrassing but I cannot say I was not pleased. "If he has no objection," he said turning to his wife, "you can pinch him to reassure yourself." We all laughed. It was the ice breaker that a meeting of this sort needed.

We settled down in our seats. We spoke a while about the weather and the traffic, both topics that suggests itself to visitors of Chennai. Nishi who was waiting for an opening now spoke.

"I will be asking questions about many events in your stories," she said

"Sounds like viva exam," I said and she laughed. Like most authors once whatever I write comes in print or online I do not read it again. If she starts her questions I was not sure I can remember the scenes. We got up to collect our breakfast.

"Rita and I will be on that poolside table," said Sumant. "Nishi and you can talk undisturbed."

"I am picking whatever you are having," she said as we sallied forth to collect our breakfast.

"I am a light eater," I said.

"So am I," she said. I asked for dosai for both of us. I like them and I know that North Indians like them too. As it takes time to make crisp dosais I took two rice cakes with mutton curry and vadai soaked in curds, another South Indian favourite.

"You approve?" I asked her.

"Just what I would have chosen," she said.

She had a good figure: ample breasts and narrow waist with broad hips. I undressed her in my mind's eye and approved of her shape. She had a smoothly curving rear too. We ate the rice cakes; the dosai arrived. They were crisp and the masala was up to Taj standards. Nishi decided it was time for the questioning to start. She started at a low key.

"Do you have several stories active at any one time?" she asked.

"Yes and no," I said. "It is like this. I do not know how other writers work but I am unable to focus on one story from start to finish at one stretch. In my mind I have the outline of the story. I write till I am stuck at one point. I always get stuck at many points before I finish. Either I do not quite know how to proceed or I am not in the correct mood for creative work. I keep it away and work on another story or may be do something else. I invariably come back to the story may be in a week or may be in a month and at times even after many months. But I am never actively engaged in more than one story at a time though I have three or four on the plate."

"Why don't you work on two or more at one time?"

"I do not find it easy to switch from one to another. Moreover I keep thinking about my story in my spare time. It is easier to come to the same again and again."

"How long does it take to write one?"

"From start to the time it is ready for publication is never less than a month or more. Most of the time is taken in rewriting."

"Rewriting?"

"Yes rewriting. It is more than revising. Reading it again and again and making alterations, often substantial changes, both additions and deletions. You have a sudden thought that one bit of dialogue will be better if done this way and you change it. You try starting the story not at the beginning but at various points on the way including the end. If you feel the story would improve if you change the narrator from one character to another you try it out. Many of my stories go through this process but in one or two I was unable to decide which was best and finally I compromised—each character describing his and her version."

"I know. You have done that in three stories 'My wife, her mom, and I' and the story with a similar title 'My wife, my mother and I' and 'Lovers on tap'. I like them all very much."

"Choosing the title is another very interesting task. I make many changes before settling on one."

"How many times do you read the story before you publish?"

"I have not counted; twenty will be a reasonable figure."

"That number of times?"

"Not less, may be more. At every reading I will be making changes, even the last. You spot typos all the time; grammar mistakes that mostly occur when you make one change but fail to make all the related changes that need to be made because of the first one, and so on."

"Till you feel it is perfect?"

"Well I won't use the word perfect. Till I feel it is right. I know even an untrained editor can spot many errors in the stories. Others can see mistakes that the authors are blind to. The story is still not ready for publication. I keep it away and read it again after a fortnight when the story is not fresh in my mind. I often see things that I have missed before. A couple of more readings and it is ready for publication.

"How do you choose the names of your characters?"

"Random choice really. Many have commented that I do not do a good job with names. Do you agree?"

"I have not thought about that. How did you start writing erotic stories?"

"I wrote one. It was so exciting writing all that stuff that I wrote a few more. Then I got to know of Literotica. I sent one story. They published it. I got some comments, mostly favourable. I sent another and then another. When I saw my page I was surprised and pleased to see viewer numbers in ten of thousands. If it gives me pleasure to write and others pleasure to read why not write more. And I am doing that."

"Do you write non-erotic stories?"

"I have written a few. I sent one to Literotica. Readers did not receive it well. If I find a site similar to Literotica for non-erotic stories I will send it there."

"Money?"

"None. I think it was Dr. Johnson who said that anyone who does not write for money is a fool. The doctor is usually correct, but not this time. For someone who keeps his pot boiling by doing something else it does not matter if he makes no money from his writing."

"Do you find it comfortable writing erotic stories?"

"Any writer is very comfortable indeed if he has hundred thousand readers for his stories."

"You said you find it exciting to write. What type of excitement?" I thought I saw a smile of mischief on her face as she said that. Was the lady changing gears? I hesitated to answer. She helped me out. "Sexual?" I nodded. "Erection?" I am not sure she did not wink. This level of boldness I did not expect. I should have from a reader of erotic stories who has sought out the author to discuss the stories with him.

"Yes," I said. If she can be bold so can I. I darted a glance at my wife and Sumant. They were far away at a poolside seat. They were talking very animatedly. "Do you get excited when you read my stories?"

"I read them with the specific purpose of getting excited," she said. "I regularly soak my knickers wet." She was now out in the open. Having said it she looked away. No, she did not blush. Then she turned to me and looking straight into my eyes she said, "I have to change my knickers every time I read your stories." To this challenging statement my response was shamefully tame.

"I am glad that I am able to give you pleasure," said. Then I tried to make up for it. "Anything for follow up?"

"I always retreat to the bathroom to ease the tension."

"Ease the tension? What's that?" It was my turn to be mischievous. If my expectation was to silence her I misjudged. I did not expect her to use the word masturbate. She did not; this is what she said.

"I rub my clitoris till I have an orgasm." She was not looking away. There was such innocence in her expression that my heart went out to her.

The topic had reached a dead end. We went round to collect some more stuff. I was not eating light that day and neither was Nishi. When we were back Nishi changed seats. She slid into a cubicle at one end.

"What excites you most in my writing?"

"Everything. The story line, the description of the erotic scenes, the way the characters react to the situations, everything. I have something else to ask. You like your women clean shaven isn't?"

"I do."

"I used to trim, but after reading your stories I shave regularly.

"You mean every day like men?"

"Not every day." She laughed. "At least twice a week, and on special occasions."

"What are those special occasions?"

"Like today," she said. "You used to say pussy in your earlier stories. Now you call it vulva, why?"

"One reader commented that for my style of writing that word pussy is not suitable. I agreed with him. One should not describe the most important organ in the human body by a slang word. It deserves the correct anatomical term which incidentally is quite musical."

"Yes, it rolls round the tongue."

"Likewise the second most important organ in the human is the penis. One should not use the word one uses to describe the male barnyard fowl." She laughed.

"You have also stopped using the four-letter word nowadays, why?"

"It is also a term of abuse, that's why."

"You mean the most important human function should not be degraded," she said.

"Yes," I said, "you caught the point. "Are you excited talking like this?" She held my hand and squeezed it.

"I have come all the way to talk like this and more."

"More?"

"I am pouring," she said. "You like women who pour so much that the wetness spreads to the thighs. I am like that."

"Now?"

She turned and looked me in the eye. The cubicle Nishi has chosen was in a secluded corner. She brought my hand to her bare abdomen and sucked in her tummy. I took the hint. I slid my hand in. She changed her position to enable me to reach her vulva. It was soaked wet. I inserted one finger into the cleft and teased her clitoris. She looked at me and moaned.

The softest, most tender, and wettest vulva I have ever touched," I said.

"Say it again."

"Your vulva is the softest and tenderest, and wettest I have ever had the pleasure of rubbing my hands on," I said. She moaned again. I removed my hand. The risk was too great; even as it was it was we were bold to the point of recklessness. My finger tips were wet. I sucked them dry.

"I will not rest till I have felt your tongue on it," she said. She then touched my penis over my pants. She giggled.

"I would love to, if I get a chance." As I said it I darted a glance at her husband at the other end of the hall.

"He is game to it."

"Game?"

"He knows I want physical intimacy with you and he is agreeable to it." I was flabbergasted to put it mildly. Nishi noticed my discomfiture. "What's the matter? Are you not comfortable with it?

"I'd love to. But it was so unexpected that I fumbled."

"Thinking of your wife?"

"I was not, but presently I will."

"Sumant will be speaking to her. The programme will be on only if she consents wholeheartedly."

I felt groggy. A pretty woman inviting me to lick her wet vulva, and her husband talking to my wife to get her consent was a situation where any man with justification can find his head swimming.

Breakfasters were crowding in. It was time to make room for them. At the entrance Sumant invited us to their room in the Residency Hotel later that afternoon. My wife was smiling away. Nishi kept turning back and waving till her cab turned the corner.

I was fumbling with the car key.

"Want my help to find the key hole," she said and laughed uproariously. I chose the direct confrontational path.

"Nishi told me quite plainly that she wants physical intimacy with me," I said.

"He told me that his wife is so mad about you that he had to agree to bring her to Chennai to keep her sanity."

"That bad?"

"Seems to be. How did you respond?"

"When a pretty woman asks you in so many words can any man refuse?"

"He can't," agreed my wife. She then she caught me by the ear and pulling me towards herself she kissed me on the cheek. "Quite a lover boy."

"What more did he tell you."

"He suggested that when you are with her in one room I can be with him elsewhere. What do you say to that?"

"In another room?"

"Another; not the same," she laughed. "You don't mind?"

"Of course not. If you want it certainly, and that has nothing to do with my taking part in a parallel event elsewhere."

"You see nothing wrong in it."

"None at all. It is an extension of a woman's fantasies."

"You are pretty broad minded."

"I like to think I am."

"I was not supposed to ask and he did not tell but I think Sumant is some sort of psychologist. When he knew that I was also knowledgeable in that subject he talked about a book he recently read (that I have also read) about the plasticity of the human brain. We will be discussing that subject."

"Am I to assume that Sumant and you are going to spend the time in the room in academic discussion?"

"To start with yes. Later we will play by the ear. What of you?"

"If the broad hints that Nishi was spraying around are to be part of the agenda there is likely to be action rather than discussion."

"Have a good time."

"You too. If you hold back thinking of me that would sadden me a lot."

"So you would not mind if I go all the way?"

"I would like you to."

"Thanks for your assurance."

2

Sumant and Nishi were at the lobby. When they saw us enter Nishi detached herself from her husband and walked towards the elevator in which direction I also turned my steps. Rita went to Sumant. Earlier I had booked another room in the hotel for them. We were the only two in the elevator. We held hands. Her hands were warm and soft. I squeezed her hand and she intertwined her finger in mine. It was a simple gesture but in that context it was very erotic. We entered the room and she turned and hugged me. We kissed passionately.

"I have dreamed but never really expected that I would be hugging and kissing you one day," she said. I removed the pallav and then I unhooked her blouse and then I hugged her briefly to undo the bra clasp. Her breasts were large that sagged a bit. Clearly they were breasts that no baby has ever suckled.

"In one story you had written that sagging breasts have a beauty that firm breasts cannot match," she said. "I am sorry my breasts are not sagging that much." I like breasts sagging, but I would never have been able to say in what context I had written that.

"Yours are lovely," I said. They were indeed. They were as smooth as glass globes with the darkish pink unsuckled nipples pointing outwards as if inviting with open arms. I stepped back to admire. Nishi pushed her chest forward proudly presenting her possession. "Now for the other thing about which I have been hearing glowing reports." She blushed. She lifted her sari to show me her vulva. I bent down to admire. "Turn a little. I want to calibrate the convexity." She turned a little. I inspected it closely and declared that it was a perfect specimen. Its convexity and the slit with a faintest suggestion of the inner lip peeping out were lovely; clitoral hood was visible but not dominating. I went close and kissed and Nishi held the back of my head with both hands and pressed my lips against her vulva. I flicked my tongue in and out several times and she laughed tapping my head on the back as if I was a mischievous boy. She then undressed me and I undressed her. My penis was erect. She held it, bent down and kissed the glans. The penis and the vulva having been formally introduced action could now begin.

"In some of your descriptions the women lift their breasts and present it like a mother offering her nipple to the baby. I will do that," she said. She sat on the bed with legs hanging down. I pulled up a chair and sat next to her. My face was in line with her breasts. She lifted up one breast and brought it to my lips. I held her breast with both hands and covering my teeth with my lips I sucked and then I bit her nipple first softly and then firmly. I applied more force and she clicked and moaned. After a while she pulled my head to her other breast.

"In two of your stories you have described instances of men who were not the husbands making love to lactating women. I love those descriptions where they suckle them. Unfortunately I can never experience that pleasure." Apparently her secret sorrow that I did not wish to probe further. I continued sucking her nipples. They were sensitive ones for she was responding with many manifestations of pleasure.

"I now get a funny feeling at my clitoris," she said, "but I do get the tingling sensation you often describe. I want the 69 posture with me on top. You have said a lot about it." She collected all the pillows and dumped them at one end of the bed. "You have written that the 69 position promises a lot but delivers little because the positioning is not done correctly. You arrange the posture. You must tell me if my lesser leaves open out like petals and my clitoris sticks out like stamen." I arranged the pillow and took up my position that was almost sitting reclined. She got on all fours with her back to me and reversed. "You compared this to a car reversing," she said and giggled, "what model?" she giggled more.

"Cannot be compared to any known model," I said vehemently. "This is unique." She came closer and I tapped her buttock directing her. When she had nudged into the niche I gave a final tap to both her buttocks as if they were drums. She spread her thighs. Her inner leaves opened out and did resemble the petals of a flower. Her clitoris with its hood was sticking out like a stamen.

"Am I like a flower?' she wanted to know.

"Just like what I described but more." The minor leaves that one could hardly see when she stood erect was now like the petals of a big sized rose, and glistened pink on the inside and a soft brown on its outer side.

"More; in what way?"

"Yes, more; this flower is full to the brim and overflowing with nectar that I am now going to taste." I sipped for there was enough for sipping and then I licked. She responded. My face looked down on the flower and my mouth was in the perfect position for licking or biting or whatever. I licked and she moved her pelvis back and forth. My crossed arms were embracing her pelvis and my palms were flat on her buttocks and my finger tips were biting into their softness.