I never planned nor imagined writing pornography, erotica, whatever you care to call it. I lived the most mundane and suburban existence possible—I owned no sex toys, no sexy lingerie, I had never even rented a pornographic movie—putting porn to paper never crossed my mind. And then letters, emails from a man I had never met started pouring in—long, dirty letters of offensive and often violent sex acts, letters that included an unfamiliar vocabulary and an unfamiliar sensation in my groin. And for whatever reason, be it loneliness, frustration, an overall malaise or hunger, these letters thrilled me, and I saw them as the catalyst behind a story, The near Transformation of Claire. I wanted to include many of these letters in that story, but on the advice of my mentor (and correct advice, I believe) I tried to appeal to a larger audience and chose to include only the tamer pieces, plus, I didn’t want my first writing effort to forever label me as a porn writer. There literally hundreds of letters unread by all but three people—I have more than 700 pieces of correspondence.
I’m not sure what has spurred this new sense of sharing, but I’m introducing some of my dirty letters. Some may find them offensive, amateurish, ugly and certainly not sexy, but the agents of intoxication are many and varied, and a fantasy born never, ever seems to go away. Some of my dirty letters are stand alone scenarios, a paragraph or two as to how this gentleman would take me. But many are continuing stories that went on for weeks, each of us adding a longer, dirtier element. The excerpt below is not my writing, but I did write several contributions to this story that we call the stranger.
She awoke in the arms of the stranger, groggy, seemingly floating on air despite her soreness—a reminder of what had transpired that evening. The light was low in the room, and reaching for her lover, saw him sitting on the upholstered chair. He smiled at her, and held out a joint from a mile away, it seemed. She gently pulled away from the still sleeping stranger, and made her way to the outstretched hand, falling to her knees and placing her head in her lovers lap. He stroked her hair and she lifted her face to him. He placed the joint between her lips and she took a long toke, feeling her whole body lifting, feeling their come running out of her. She took another toke and laid her head on his thighs, gradually becoming aware that her face was not far from his flaccid penis, and she felt again the invasions they had made on her. The thought led to details and she felt herself becoming turned on. I am a wanton, she thought, but I cannot help it. In fact, she was more like a skilled woman from a harem, a houri, a professional of pleasure, and she realized that was why he called her his whore. She loved it, demeaning while elevating her to a new plateau, permitting everything and honoring only pleasure. She also realized that her lust extended beyond her lover, and felt a twinge of guilt. She had become an addict to physical pleasure, but was only led there by what her lover felt for her. Sometimes remote and aloof, sometimes soft and loving, she followed his lead, sometimes wishing he would be more forceful, other times wishing he were more gentle. She was pleased, however, at her ability to arouse him by words or gesture, by teasing or demand. She felt his cock stirring near her head as he stoked her disarranged hair. He held the joint again to her lips and she inhaled deeply, his nails on her scalp beginning to make her aware of an aching in her loins, the trickle of dried juices from her stretched and now empty cunt, and the stirring of desire. His hand began to massage her neck. They had removed her bra to fondle her taught breasts and she felt her nipples against the silk slip she still wore. A shudder coursed through her as he parted his legs and guided her head to his groin. She felt his cock stir against her cheek and turned her face to him. He smiled and watched as she encompassed his member with her lips, feeling its life in her mouth as she licked him, sucked him, and she moved so that she was between his legs, his dick coming to attention in her mouth, his hands now tangled in her hair, his head thrown back, relishing the warmth of her mouth. She also felt the warmth in her abdomen as she sucked him, aware of her power, of his loins slowly thrusting. She thought about how they had used her last night and how she was becoming open to everything, the soft haze of marijuana contributing to a surge of lust in her as she teased and sucked on his rapidly rising cock, feeling it touch and slide against the roof of her mouth as she took him in. He looked down on her. “Baby, I want you to do this to our friend over there. We still want to take you places.” He reached out to fondle a breast through her silken slip and watched as she rose to her feet. He grabbed the silk as she turned, and held her in place as he shaped her ass through the flimsy fabric before releasing her. He watched as she bent over the nude sleeping form of the stranger, lifting his limp member and placing it in her mouth, tasting herself and his come on her tongue. He struggled, moaning out of the cloud of sleep, his penis begin to stir in her warm mouth. Soon his hands went to her head, and his hips began to undulate as he became erect, feeling her take him more deeply. She sensed, rather than heard, her lover rise from the chair and then felt his hands on her, rubbing her buttocks, lifting her slip to expose her. The strangers dick still in her mouth, she reached behind her and parted her cheeks for her lover, another sudden rush of warmth surging in her as she realized what she was doing. She felt her lovers hands on her waist, then the sudden stab of his erect cock pushing into her still moist bottom. There was a sharp sting as he entered her to the hilt, then a slow thrusting in time with her ministrations to the strangers dick in her mouth. She felt helpless yet powerful, and very, very sexy.
photo credit: pemonmoirema91.blogspot.com