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27 March 2013 @ 04:41 pm
excerpt from "Operetta"  
Editor Rachel Kramer Bussel is set to launch a new erotic anthology, Twice the Pleasure, a collection of stories by & for women about being bi. It's a broad topic.

I have a story in the book, "Operetta." The following is the opening scene.  This is only a slightly exaggerated account of the kind of relationship I've had with men in my past.  The humour is more apparent in retrospect.


Why did I do it? Because he asked for it, that's why.

Luke was an unpublished poet (waiter by night) with a strong nose and glossy dark-brown hair that fell adorably into his eyes. When he asked me to write one of my sex fantasies, how could I resist? We had been talking about forbidden teenage lust, and told each other about the books we used to read by flashlight under the covers when our parents thought we were asleep.

I gave him a reading-list of classic scandalous novels and sex manuals, and we agreed to discuss each one after he finished reading it.

The next time he came over, I was prepared. He patted his lap and I sat there, my bare asscheeks pressed against his rising cock, a clear indicator of his mood. The musk from his armpits rose to my nose like incense. I had one arm around his hard, smooth shoulders to keep my balance while I reached for a sheaf of typed pages with the other.

I knew that Luke enjoyed the touch of my hardening nipples against his hairy chest. My breasts are a modest size but they are perky, and he seemed to admire them, judging from the amount of attention he always gave them.  It was part of his charm.

I read him the stage directions of my fantasy:

“Enter the Author in raven ringlets, a scarlet petticoat and white satin corset with a few laces undone. She carries a basket of red berries that she occasionally holds to her chest while she pulls a rosy nipple out of her décolletage. She is Modest Maggie of the Market.”

I gathered my breath, and tried to sing quietly. After all, my voice didn't have to fill an auditorium.

“I am the very model of a willing pleasure-giver-er./ I'll do things to your ticklish parts to make them swell and quiver-er. / You've never seen my like before.  /  I'll always leave you wanting more. / I am the very model of a practised pleasure giver-er.”

Luke shifted under me, and I let out a sound that could have been a quiet chuckle or just a loud exhale. “That's different.”

“It's based on Gilbert and Sullivan,” I explained. “You know, the two guys who wrote a whole series of comic operettas in the late nineteenth century. The time of Queen Victoria. My parents had a set of records, and my mom used to play them while she did the housework. The Light Opera Society puts on one every year.”

Luke seemed bewildered. “Classical music, eh? It's good you learned all about that stuff when you were growing up, but now you're your own woman, honey. I know you can write some hot sex stories.”

I felt as if he had slapped me, and not in a good way. “This is a sex story, Luke. It's the kind of raunchy musical I wish Gilbert and Sullivan had written. It's what I imagined when I listened to their patter songs on the stereo. The situation has to be presented, then there has to be a buildup of tension, then everyone gets together in an orgy on a pirate ship. I'd like to stage it for the right audience.”

I could feel that Luke's cock was not convinced.

(But his interest revives later on.)
question mark with teethpantryslut on March 28th, 2013 04:21 am (UTC)
I am all for orgies on pirate ships!