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That’s What SHE Said: Chapter 1

January 24, 2010

Well everyone, after much editting and anxiety I believe I am ready to show some pieces of my erotica novel to the world!! It is not finished yet and I’m not the best speller but I am getting there slowly – which suits me just fine (wink!). I just can’t wait to see my book on the shelf with so many great classics of the genere. I know this type of book is not for everyone but trust me, ladies, once you have wraped your hands around one you will realize what you’ve been missing (wink wink!)!

Chapter 1: Moaning, Noon and Night

It was a typical day for Candy LeClair, but there was nothing typical about the extra-large fuschia floral-printed vibrator sprauling like a satisfied lover across her bedroom floor. Candy was in the shower, finishing off the job the old fashioned way in lue of risking electricution. The story was just reaching its climax when she heard the jangling ring of the phone. It’s him, she thought. Or her, said a saucy voice in her head. Well, it had to be one of them. After last night, she wasn’t surprised that the Morharts were desperate for more. Didn’t even make it to 8 a.m., she smircked, too self-satisfied to be angry about the interuption of her self-satisfaction. The great thing about “owning your own home,” she mused, was that you could “go downstairs” any time you wanted.

And Candy always wanted. It was her sexual insatibility that had led to the launching of her internet porn career at the tender age of 15. Armed with only a webcam, two dark sultry eyes, and the usual number of orafices, she had made enough money that summer to move out of her parents’ cramped two-bedroom bungelow into an apartment on the trendy East Side, and with privacy came opportunity. Before she graduated from high school, she was running three chatrooms and picking up steady domanatrix buisness on weekends. She drifted away from her sweet and innocent friends, who thought she was just stuck-up – little did they know how apt their asessment really was.

At 22, Candy was, in general, pretty satisfyed with herself. She had two apartments now, one for living and one for working – although from time to time she did entertain geusts in her personal digs if they were willing to pay extra, or if she was especially fond of them. The Morharts were in the latter catagory. Handsome, buff Heinrich with his Scandanavian features and hard, rippled surfaces was a pleasure to all of the senses and a skilled craftsman in the bedroom. His wife, the quiet but surprisingly creative Alexa, was creamy and dreamy, a firey, freckelled, flame-haired vixen. How fortunate Candy had been to run accross them at the Kama Sutra club the month before. They had hit it off immediatley and before they knew what was happening, they were at Candy’s work pad entangled in each other’s limbs. Three orgasms later, the Morharts were passed out and Candy was sipping a celebritory glass of champaigne and counting her money. When Heinrich awoke a short time later, he made a sly silent motion and Candy rejoined him on the bed. Together the two of them gave Alexa a wake-up call she would never forget, and as soon as she had opened her eyes and realized what was happening, she returned the favour and then some. Once more the bed became a sea of passion and the three lovers  were drowning sailors tossed in the waves, reaching for one another with desperation and clinging to each other’s limbs and apendeges with wild uninhibitted abandon.

Candy’s friends, who knew nothing of her secret life and thought she worked as a receptionist at a dental clinic, teased her about her singleness and were constantly trying to hook her up with their available friends and relitives. Occaisionally she would agree to one of these dates, which inevitibly ended at Candy’s “business” apartment with a recently-fired cock in her hand or elsewere, and money in her purse. She didn’t understand how anyone could think she was cheapining or degrading herself. She chose her partners and she set the terms and conditions. Who was really being degraded, she always wondered as she sat on her tenth-floor balcony in nothing skimpy leopard-print nightie, contentedly smoking a menthol cigarrete and using her experienced tounge to suck the last few drops of Wild Turkey from last night’s bottle?

She thought she had everything. But everything was about to change…

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