Curious Collaborators
written by:
Sextified - Short Stories

Curious Collaborators

CC-01

by Sextified

©2016

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Please note!

This Version Edited 3:36 pm

Friday, June 24th, 2016

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Two long suffering online literary friends meet for the first time, driven to cross lines they had never considered exploring before, at least in real life.

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> > > Author's Note < < <

> > > Please Read! < < <

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For those of you that are long time fans of the "Rescuer" saga, it still exists, and it is still being worked on. Although the idea of ever finding a real publisher willing to take on such a massive project has waned for me quite a bit. If that ever happens, I'll gladly throw myself back into it full time again. Let us all hope that one day it does.

The third book has quite a few unpublished chapters that are almost ready to go. But I've held off on posting them due to one major character's rather unexpected crisis. They are at such a sharp crossroads, that I can't see them continuing forward with their self chosen path, and they have unexpectedly demanded a change of fate.

I've decided to listen to their pleas and grant them their wish.

Such things happen, at least they always seem to with my characters, and I have been trying to work out how that bit of mercy effects the very complicated and intertwined story line of the third, fourth and fifth books.

So, instead, I have been plugging away at my equally complicated mainstream novel for about a year or so.

But I have missed writing erotica, and this idea for a new series of short stories came up one day, and they seemed to almost write themselves.

So if you can forgive the rather unpolished state it is currently in, I'll post it now, rather than for it to gather dust waiting for the real editing it deserves.

It's all fiction, with a bit of truth thrown in here and there, but mainly its about the idea of breaking free of the chains we create for ourselves. How different would our lives be, if only we could get away for a little while, and escape the fate that we seem so determined to follow to it's bitter end.

I'm creating this second account for this new effort, so I won't confuse anyone trying to read the forty-five or so chapters of Rescuer saga in order.

Thanks!

Sextified

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Please keep what should be a fantasy as just a fantasy. Exploring beyond safe limits in real life is fraught with real danger and real consequences. Respect the preset limits of others and make them respect your stated boundaries as well.

ALWAYS play safe!

Enjoy!

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> > > Curious Collaborators: < < <

> > > Secret explorations < < <

> > > into realms their < < <

> > > own partner's won't < < <

> > > go to with them! < < <

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"I really don't think that we should be doing this."

How could she say that? Especially now?

After all the time and trouble it had taken to set this adventure up, I almost couldn't believe my ears!

Of the two of us, I'd taken the most risks so far. To do anything this involved and erotic, safely, wasn't something most people could arrange. Especially with both of us still being married, although in our hearts we knew that both of our unions had really been strained for years.

Neither one of us considered our partners to be willing to change at all, even for the best of reasons, like the love we had once shared with them.

But it had been the complete absence of marital sex the last six months that we had used as an excuse to try something different. Our spouses had both openly and repeatedly said they didn't care where or how we got off anymore. Always tired and demanding, in so many other ways, their sexual drives just seemed to have stopped.

I'd felt trapped for years.

My wife and I shared a tight knit social circle. Her friends were my friends. Together, we had plenty of recently divorced or widowed single women we saw every week. At the golf club, restaurants, church, neighborhood cookouts. Plenty of potential outlets who loved to tease me quite outrageously. Like my wife, they simply knew that I'd never cheat, and because of that their flirtations were meant as some sort of a sop.

Little did they know exactly how bad things were in my marriage.

I wonder how mad they would have been at my wife, if they had any real idea of how miserable she was making me. Or how many of them would turn a playful touch on my shoulders, or temple, or the back pocket of my jeans, into something much more serious and threatening to everything I believed in.

But I knew one thing for certain . . . no secrets were ever kept for long in my small town . . . especially not the sexual ones.

For years now, the internet had been my only relief, and my fantasies had run wild. So much so, I could no longer trust myself anymore. I didn't have that many prejudices in life, and that was never more evident in the wide range of viewing materials I kept gravitating to.

A common theme began to emerge even amid my frustration and curiosity.

Above all else I wanted a partner I could trust sexually to go along with me . . . wherever the path would take us . . . or with whom met along the way.

So any erotica I found with a truly loving couple, no matter what strange kinky fetish practices they were into, quickly caught and held my attention. While I loved videos, especially of amateurs, that wasn't what I spent my time on the most. Erotic photography was wonderful, and seemed to allow me to look into the subjects even deeper than the moving images. But it was words, and only words, that really allowed my emotions the freedom I was missing.

After a self imposed exile from writing words of my own ended . . . and when the sudden critical need to share my imagined thoughts overwhelmed me . . . I finally gave in and shattered my long held and jealously guarded privacy.

So it was that a few chance remarks in the comment sections of one of my chapters that eventually brought me here to the brink of potential disaster.

It hadn't take long for a few posters to get to know me, and they started following my own favorited written selections almost religiously. Wherever I went on the main site, they did to. A few fans of my writing even found the accounts I had on the photo and video websites that I had originally turned to for relief so very long ago.

What had once been casual fun, often would turn serious, as the written content I provided grew in scope and complexity. Private emails on the secure message boards, unreadable by anyone else, soon got even more complicated within our growing little group.

But it was all safe . . . as anything so private and emotional charged could ever be these days . . . with our curious onlookers and spouses at home kept barely at bay from learning accidentally what they had openly and honestly refused to communicate about.

What I was doing right now was decidedly unsafe . . . for my marriage . . . and especially the twisted knot inside of my chest that represented the jumble of the rest of my life.

Things like I was foolishly attempting never go right, except in the stories I used to read. In my own literary projects, such sexual escapades never went as planned, but at least they went somewhere. Not stayed emotionally and sexually frozen like the relationship I'd been trapped into.

In real life, sexual escapades either failed to get started, fell far short of satisfying a mutually shared fantasy, or left one or both sexual partners worse off then before.

But an even more disastrous outcome was when the liaison went on too long. Not stop happening when it obviously needed to, even when risking total discovery and ruin of everything all the participants held dear.

" . . . love . . . I'm sorry . . . I don't mean that . . . I really don't . . . I'm just scared again . . . I'd never hurt you like that . . . especially not now . . . not when we are so close . . . believe me . . . I'm ok with this . . . forgive me . . . please?"

The true tortured honesty coming from the delicate sounding voice brought me shuddering back to the present.

I opened up my arms and instantly her delicate frame filled them. Her small breasts pushed into my chest, as she shook hard with relief that I hadn't instantly rejected or attacked her for her understandable doubts. The few muffled sobs would have been easily heard by the passersby in the crowded airport lobby, if they had been even a few feet closer to us.

We were only at stage one of our plan . . . and we'd done nothing yet . . . but each additional step along the way the risks would grow, and it would get harder and harder to stop.

I used one hand to cradle the back of her head deeper into my chest, and the other to pull the small of her back closer to my hips. She needed to feel my warmth, concern and understanding, in a way that wasn't related to sex at all. A trembling that had no definable source began to work its viscous way thru her entire body.

So much rage, frustration, heartache, loneliness and betrayal had been shut inside of her for far too long.

Our quiet corner of the lobby wasn't really the place for such a display, but if she didn't get it completely out of her system right now? Maybe it never would leave her alone. My heart broke at just the thought of such a potential tragedy.

"It's ok. Really. This is just an experiment. It can end whenever you want it to. Or we can take it all the way. But is there anything wrong with us just meeting? Even if it's in secret? What choice did either of our spouses give us? Come here. Just take a few steps, and lean into me. It takes as long as it takes. No one knows us here, or cares. Just let me hold you. I know you needed to met publicly and just be held first. That's why I made sure we both landed in this particular terminal and no where else."

I felt the fullness of her breasts shift against the silk dress shirt I'd picked out for my long flight.

One shaky step became two, and by the third, the last of the limited cameras in this least used lobby was out of range. Carefully placing my feet, I felt I was ready to stand securely in place, for as long as she needed me to. No matter what was about to happen.

Only then did I dare settle my aching back into the corner, the coolness of the stone on my right side competed with the slickness of the full length plate glass window on my left.

Her hands reached up and went around my neck, but it wasn't for a kiss.

A short skirt ruffled a bit, as she spread her legs wider, and practically draped herself all over my now slightly reclining frame. The support of just the friction of our clothes touching each other allowed her to take most of the weight off of her tired feet.

Spreading my fingers on both hands wide, I splayed them out against the back of her light sweater, and pulled the tight muscles along her spine upwards in a slight lift. The resulting careful hug must have made her feel weightless. Finally free of the stress of always being in control, and disconnected from everything she had left behind four long hours ago, a choked sobbing began to miraculously escape.

The shaking only grew worse, as did the tears that eventually begun to flow.

" . . . dammit . . . didn't w-want it to be like this . . . what you m-must think of me . . . had so much h-hope . . . you are the one that n-needs to be held l-like this . . . n-not me . . . "

I really couldn't disagree with that, but not responding to so much pain and anguish, while I could do something to help alleviate it wasn't in my nature.

Not at all.

Not trusting my voice either, I just held her tighter, until the shakes slowly began to coalesce right in the center of her chest and then began moving lower. Bit by bit, her body warmed up to itself. The energy of her long term loss of self slowly began to refocus, and the hips I had seen so many pictures of by now began to move.

One fold of her skirt, then two, bunched up and lodged between us.

The thick cloth rolled back and forth on my left hip . . . until it suddenly settled deep in her own inner folds . . . and a sharp bite on my shoulder let me know to remain very, very still.

Not that I had been the one moving in the first place.

A quick series of shudders of a totally different kind wracked her body. This marked the first return of real sexual passion. The first real selfish thought turned into action for her own pleasure. The first real glimmer of hope beyond the neglect, use and abuse she had suffered for so long.

One pitiful whimper of indecision made all of her past injuries far too clear to me.

It was so different . . . having a warm body to hold . . . instead of a few words to read or a private glimpse of her abandoned body.

Sometimes, the awful insights I was occasionally granted, came thru at the perfect time.

Nothing.

I did nothing.

The dampness of my dress slacks slowly began to grow with the heat of her quivering flesh. Each shudder of her body now transferred itself directly to the bundle of nerves being constantly rubbed in so many different directions.

Her head quickly turned, and the bite marks that would have happened so frighteningly fast were avoided. Her lips closed and buried themselves against my neck, and one leg shakily wrapped around behind my left thigh. Now almost motionless, and almost innocent looking to the few airport workers closing the remote terminal down for the night, her body suddenly lost all control.

" . . . ohhhhh . . . what are y-you doing to m-me . . . why do I f-feel this way . . . doesn't m-make any sense . . . why you . . . and not someone else . . . or my h-husband anymore . . . d-don't want to h-hurt you . . . don't w-want to disappoint y-you . . . you d-deserve someone else . . . b-better . . . n-not me . . . not m-me . . . "

The dampness I had first felt quickly became a slickened flood.

I pulled her body up tighter, and the valley of her breasts nestled against my rib cage. Her thick nipples slid around inside the sweater, the half bra she was wearing let them flip and flirt against the deep furrows of the intricate weave.

A warm and inviting smell came from all over her skin . . . and a stronger even more mysterious scent began to tickle my nose . . . as her skirt did little to contain what was occurring between her legs.

Not willing to risk the return of her crippling self doubts, I canted my left hip up a little more and was instantly overwhelmed by the results brought about by such a slight movement.

" . . . n-no . . . not r-right . . . w-why now . . . why s-so easily . . . why so q-quick . . . not r-right . . . n-not right . . . "

Words.

I hated words.

How odd for a true writer at heart.

No matter how good I'd forced myself to become when crafting scenes featuring the characters I had created, I had a crippling problem no one knew about. As long as the flowing symbols were only on the page, or in my head, they were crushed and contained. Safe. Remote from me. Separate.

But the moment the crossed my lips?

They ripped me apart . . . tore aside all my self imposed illusions . . . and never failed to set tragic things in motion if they were ever overheard by the right person.

This unwise escape, this foolish adventure, wasn't just about myself. I wouldn't be here in this airport with a beautiful broken woman welded to my body otherwise. Nor would I be here if I didn't think I could truly help her, in that strange way that part of me believed only I could accomplish.

Would I have boarded my plane this afternoon, if there was no possibility whatsoever of a reprieve to my own prison like existence? Would I have risked my marriage, and flown halfway across the country to help the woman now stuck on the very verge of coming, if there was no real relief for myself as well?

Probably.

My old wounds were just that deep . . . and I was just that far gone in believing I didn't deserve any happiness anymore . . . nor was that critical self assessment likely to ever change.

" . . . please . . . p-please . . . d-don't keep it all inside . . . stuck there inside of y-your head . . . don't do that . . . n-not with me . . . not ever with m-me . . . "

My brain suddenly felt all fuzzy. My throat hurt. My lips seemed fused shut.

But that odd part of myself shifted, and the pain I always felt at times like this eased, and words I couldn't hear myself speak came out in an almost noiseless whisper into her left ear.

They kept pouring out . . . in a slow relentless onslaught against her ever persistent pain and deadly indecision . . . and the effect as the words continued to tear open the deepest scar she had, searing it free of guilt, and then somehow sealed it clean.

Forever shut.

Gone.

With only the smallest emotional trace left to prove that it had ever existed at all.

Her body tensed as a fierce scream was choked off just in time. I felt her muscles pop all along her entire frame, as the searing sexual flame burned thru every single nerve, racing from one tip of her body to the other. Back and for it arced, and even thru the thick skirt, I could feel her clit throb and swell larger and larger.

" . . . don't let g-go . . . don't let m-me go . . . don't let me b-back out of our plans . . . at least n-not tonight . . . not when its j-just going to be us . . . p-please . . . anything . . . just one t-thing . . . s-show me that your really in there . . . w-with me . . . that this is n-not just another one of my damn d-dreams . . . please . . . "

I somehow forced one of my legs to move, and just barely managed to put my left foot up on the frame of the plate glass window, suspending her body even higher up off the floor. I risked removing my hand that was between her shoulder blades, and encouraged her back to arch against the one still supporting the base of her spine.

Luckily, two buttons of her sweater had already popped open.

The dampness of the first nipple my fingers found surprised me. The round pebble of aching flesh seemed to vibrate in its eagerness to feel a deeper connection with me. I could have stroked it. Pinched it. Rolled it around. Pulled it roughly outward, until the skin that connected it to the firm breast, strained under the assault.

The tiny bit of flesh under my complete and as yet unmoving control screamed for relief from the tension I was bringing relentlessly to bear.

The vibrations in the rest of her body grew even more violent in stark contrast, thrilling in bewildered anticipation of whatever it was that I was about to do to her physically for the first time.

This woman didn't need more mental twists now. No more verbal torturing. No more visual teasing.

My part in her pleasure was going to finally be real . . . and important . . . and permanent.

But crossing this forbidden line for me was critical, and in a way, as unforgivable as what my wife had done to drive me here.

" . . . please . . . it's ok . . . I'm here . . . for you . . . all of me . . . just you . . . no one else . . . use me . . . or share yourself with me . . . why else have we made this trip for . . . but for you to release that last link to your own past . . . I'm here . . . it's ok . . . please . . . "

Words that had been so shaky from her just moments before . . . were now as solid and insightful as the woman that spoke them . . . but somehow their innate vulnerability didn't diminish the honesty of her burning need.

I didn't even know when my fingers pushed the slick pebble deeper into her own breast.

The bauble fought against the tenderest of pressure, squirming to and fro, trying to return to the surface of the velvet soft skin of her breast. Each twist and dodge of her swollen nipple created a ripple all along her nerves. Her clit quickly began twitching in perfectly timed sympathy, and the first crash of her long denied orgasm, drained the last of the strength she had in her legs.

I purposefully let her body begin to slide downwards.

The wire reinforced edges of the half cups of her bra tried to cut into each well trapped nipple. Her skirt caught against my pant leg and rode upwards, and a soft silk triangle moved. As the slide continued, it pushed aside her panties, and eventually be the only thing between her skin and me was my dress pants.

When her clit caught against an odd edge, of one of my seams, I suddenly felt like my back would break because she squeezed me so tight.

Her shorter body finally stopped with her face plastered against my chest. Her heaving breath tickling me there, as her own full weight crushed her helpless jangle of nerves and ground them against my raised knee. I buried my face in her hair, and then returned her embrace with every bit of strength that I dared to exert.

Sobs coming from her mouth . . . of all different kinds . . . were now loud enough for the two girls at the ticket desk doing paperwork to look up for a moment.

I forced myself to hold her even tighter than was wise, and the audible evidence threatening our seclusion ended almost too abruptly.

The faded lonely plastic chair, that I had so thoughtfully placed nearby earlier, would have to do the trick of moving us further out of sight. As we stood next to the aged relic, only one of the girls at the counter could see us.

Our bags forgotten for the moment, my still trembling friend allowed me to pick her up bodily. But before I could swing her into a sitting position across my lap, she kicked her leg over and rested the center of her entire weight right on top of my thigh. Her skirt gave her no protection, as her dislodged panties let her lower lips rest directly against my dress pants.

Scooting her closer, let me briefly see the nipple I had touched earlier, then it disappeared again as she dared to pull my head down for a kiss.

Our first.

Having just made her come so strongly . . . it was a shaky and surprisingly even more intimate thing to do . . . and after a few seconds I felt the sort a connection that I never thought I would ever feel again.

It took as long as it took.

We didn't even need to do anything else to finish cementing what we hoped to have started.

A soft yet familiar hand on my shoulder startled me badly. It didn't belong to the women I was holding, yet I didn't feel threatened by it whatsoever.

"I'm the last one. It's time you two got going. Everything's all arranged, perfectly, and you can both follow me thru the staff corridors and be unobserved. I'm a bit jealous, but glad you two finally got to meet, and that it's going so well. I can't wait to see what you get up to next!"

The woman in my arms . . . not even halfway recovered from her erotic ordeal . . . looked pleased, worried, excited and ready all at once.

The brilliant red hair and bright smile of our guide, seemed to reflect our honest wish that this long weekend would be everything we all hoped it would be.

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I know this is just a short little tease, but I wanted to stop with just the opening stage having been presented.

Sexual fantasies are always more interesting and alluring than sexual fact. Bridging the gap between them successfully is never easy. The woman who has just now taken her first steps along that path is going to be more difficult than most, the man even more so, but in a much different way.

Choices have consequences.

And if all the forbidden possibilities that she has ever dreamed of are now all suddenly possible? What will she choose? Will the next actions she takes destroy her old life before her new one has quite even begun?

Or is there another way?

Could the man she is entrusting her future to truly deliver on his promise?

Or is there no safe way out for any of them?

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Please kindly comment, or better still, comment kindly.

Constructive criticism is always welcomed, but I am always much more interested in you as readers, and how my written ideas affect you. Technical expertise is easy to find. Creative inspiration and gentle encouragement, not so much.

Thanks as always!

Sextified