AN EROTIC ABC
PART ONE: A TO F
by Neneh Gordon
Smashwords Edition
Copyright 2012 Neneh Gordon
Cover image: YaiSirichai / FreeDigitalPhotos.net
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Smashwords Edition, License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.
Adult Reading Material – not intended for those under the age of 18.
Contents
A is for Adultery: The Two Saddest Words in the World
B is for Blind Date: Would Like to Meet
Companion piece to Paranormal Introductions novella series
C is for Cougar: A Super Way to Lose Your Cherry
Companion piece to Power Surge novella series
D is for Delicious: Tastes Better Than Pizza
E is for Elegant: Gold is So Vulgar
Bonus – First chapter of Sexplosions: Power Surge Book 1
A is for Adultery: The Two Saddest Words in the World
Last night, I found out Alison had left him. Steve dropped it into conversation over dinner. The words just slipped off his tongue. He didn’t feel the tremors when they hit the surface of our almost-marriage. He didn’t hear the eight years we’d spent together creaking under the strain as the our foundations crumbled. Joe was a free agent again.
Unlike me.
Later that night, I lay in bed next to Steve and thought about the stolen kiss at last year’s Christmas party. He’d been so drunk, I doubted Joe would remember it. But I did. In the months since, it had been my stock image when Steve rolled off me to go to sleep and I slid my hand between my legs to finish what he’d started.
I know what you’re thinking. If things had got so bad that I masturbated to memories of a drunken snog with a mutual friend, why was I still sharing Steve’s bed? Because I was a coward. Steve wanted me and he was dependable. I didn’t have the guts to throw that away.
This morning, I went for my usual run - through the park and along the canal. I told myself to stop thinking about him. Just because he knew I ran here at this time every Saturday, didn’t mean that he would come to find me.
A group of teenage girls blocked my path and I had to slow down to get through them. I tried to remember how it felt to be so young. They probably thought I was a dried up old hag. I certainly felt the part, gritting my teeth with irritation as they interrupted my run. I’d only just got into my stride.
Then I saw him. Sitting on a bench, looking at the ducks on the water. Was he thinking about Alison? Or was he lusting over those nubile teenagers? It was stupid to think he’d be interested in me. We were the same age, but he had that sexy little-boy-lost thing. And it was different for men.
I could have jogged on. Pretended that I hadn’t seen him. But I didn’t. I slowed to a stop in front of his bench.
“Hi.” He tried a smile. It was drenched with something bitter. Regret? Guilt?
Whatever he was feeling, he still looked good enough to eat up with a spoon. “Hi.”
“I suppose you heard about me and Alison.”
“Yeah.” I sat down, not too close. “I’m sorry.”
“Oh well.” He gave me a look that made me shift in my seat. “It’s been on the cards for a while.” He turned his gaze back to the birds and I felt like I was intruding. Who said he was here for me?
“Do you want me to go?” I went to stand up, but he took hold of my wrist.
“No.”
He’d touched me. I looked into his eyes and thought of all the times I’d imagined being alone with him.
“Will you come back to mine? I could do with someone to talk to.” But there was longing in his eyes, not sadness.
I went back to his flat. The home he’d shared with Alison until recently. Her soppy cat ornaments were still on the fireplace and I could smell her perfume.
“Would you like a drink?”
I followed him into the kitchen. “No thanks.” Maybe I’d read him wrong. I hadn’t come for tea. Steve would be wondering where I was before long.
“I don’t either.” He stood there in the middle of the kitchen, looking at me. I felt my cheeks grow warm. His eyelids were heavy, his lips slightly parted. “Why did you come back with me?” His voice was low and thick.
“Why did you invite me?” I looked right back at him. It was time to get what I’d come for.
He came forward haltingly, giving me time to have second thoughts. I should go home to Steve. Try to make things better. But it was too late.
He stood inches in front of me. All I could think was how his aftershave didn’t smell musky like Steve’s. He looked at me. I mean really looked. Like he was storing every detail away for future reference. Instead of making me self-conscious, it bewitched me. This was Joe looking me over, and he liked what he saw.
When he cradled my face in his hands, I held my breath. He brought my lips to his and kissed me the way I’d wanted him to since Christmas. He tasted of coffee and cigarettes. Steve never tasted of anything.
What started gently ended with him puffing air through his nose and filling my mouth with his tongue. He kissed the breath out of my lungs and I fought to keep up with him.
That was the problem with tired old relationships - you never got to kiss like that anymore. I would have been happy to carry on that way, draping my arms around his neck and kissing like I did when I was seventeen, but Joe had other ideas. Reaching under my jogging top, he undid my bra and pulled everything off my top half. He grabbed at my breasts, crushing them against me and running his thumbs over my nipples.
I kicked off my trainers and pulled down my pants and jogging bottoms while Joe kept on at me, teasing my nipples into hard little lumps. He pushed me backwards and my buttocks came to rest against the cold edge of the worktop. Then he stopped kissing me. We stared at each other for a beat and he boosted me up to sit on the work-surface.
Straight away, he put his mouth to my breast and sucked at me. I held onto his shoulders, feeling somehow more naked when I realised he was still wearing his jeans and t-shirt. I tried to pull his shirt up to get it off, but then he used his teeth on me and I had to steady myself against him. He fastened his teeth around my nipple and gently increased the pressure. I squirmed underneath him and pulled at his clothes. The sweet sting on my breast stopped me from concentrating enough to get his t-shirt off. All I could do was tug at him and pant over his shoulder.
Then he found my clit with his thumb and I started to whimper. He came up for air, resting his head on my collarbone. I could still feel his phantom teeth digging into me. He carried on circling his thumb, pushing it into my most sensitive flesh. “You like that, don’t you?” he mumbled against my chest.
I closed my thighs over his hand, urging him further into me.
“Don’t you?” he looked up at me.
I couldn’t speak, could barely manage to nod.
Using his other hand, he prised my knees apart and turned his hand so he could tickle my clit with his finger. I gasped and he broke into a grin. “You dirty slut.” He rammed his finger inside me and I grabbed on to his shoulder, rocking back to give him easier access.
“What are you?”
I didn’t understand.
“Tell me what a filthy whore you are.” He inched his finger out of my pussy. “Tell me,” he said.
“I’m a—”
He shoved his finger right inside me and I couldn’t think any more.
“What are you?” He whispered, sliding his finger out of me.
I quivered and held on to him, lifting my knees higher. “I’m a whore,” I stammered. “An adulterous whore.” It was nothing but the truth.
He took his finger out and slid three back in.
I threw my head back and shouted. Not words, just noise. He kept on moving his fingers in and out of me while I clung to him and ground my pussy against his hand, my breasts swinging in time with his movement. I was edging my way to climax, getting closer every time he pushed his fingers inside me.
“Slut. I’m a slut.” If I had the energy, it would have come out in a shout. “I’m a dirty little bitch.”
“Yes, you are.” He laughed. I wasn’t capable of joining in.
“Fuck me,” I managed to ask him.
In response he kissed me long and hard, still sliding his fingers in and out of my pussy as his tongue darted over mine. He added a curl of his middle finger each time he got all the way in, stroking my g-spot and making me grip his hips with my knees.
He took his hand away and I started to shake. Looking into his eyes, I felt him undo his trousers and pull out his cock. I reached down, closing my hand around his erection. Then he put his hand over mine and drove himself deep inside me.