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  • Erotic Writers Workshop Ch. 01

Erotic Writers Workshop Ch. 01

After the 4th session of the Erotic Writers Workshop, we were so hot and horny we could hardly wait for the other writers to get the hell out of the workshop.

We had not seen each other for a week as we had taken the weekend off, so to speak, and skipped a session of our torrid tantric love affair because we both had commitments to look after. I wasn't certain I would make it to the fourth session, in mid-week, either, but I got it together enough by Wednesday afternoon to decide to go. And I was glad I did.

The energy in the workshop that night was a little more intense the previous three sessions. A couple of people had dropped out and one was missing in action, which made it more intimate for those who remained. Our workshop presenter talked for awhile about slash fiction, humour in erotica, and erotica in other genres, including sci fi and fantasy as well as romance and mainstream literature.

We wrote for twenty minutes on topics inspired by little slips of paper selected at random from a Buddhist bowl. Mine said "exhibitionism/masturbation". We were invited to stretch, to write about things we had never experienced, and I took inspiration from the discussion preceding the exercise, too, so I wound up writing something that suprised even me. It was a funny piece of slash fiction featuring Star Trek characters in a strange orgy with the captain of the Starship Enterprise doing a strip-tease on the big screen in front of the deck and flirting outrageously with Spock.

It made everybody laugh, especially the workshop leader. When I caught her eye, during that workshop, I mouthed the words "I love you" to her, as well as "You are so hot" and "I want to make love to you".

After the workshop, the other writers all wanted to talk to her and beg her to start another erotic writers workshop as soon as the first one ended, or to have a Part Two, with more writing and longer readings as well as more homework. Maybe an erotic novel or at least a full length short story should be the entrance requirement for the next series of workshops, they said.

One of the women in the group followed me outside, when I stepped out to get some of the hot, June, night air, and look at the stars for a few minutes. She asked me if I was married, dating, committed, single, in a relationship, or looking for someone. She told me she was divorced and had a few kids who were all gifted angels. I told her I was in a long term loving relationship that seemed like a never-ending honeymoon, but I didn't say I was having a torrid tantric love affair with our erotic writing workshop leader.

I thought I should attempt a little discretion. I don't know why. Half the writers in the workshop knew both of us and had followed the whole history of our affair from the beginning. The other half didn't need to know, I figured, and might not like the idea of the leader having sex with one of the participants, like a teacher and a student, as it suggested an imbalance of power.

I liked pretending I was packing up my car and heading out for the long drive up north after every workshop and then doubling back with my overnight bag to grab my lover in a bear hug when the others had finally gone. All that erotic writing and, that week, the laughter, acted like an aphrodisiac or fabulous foreplay, leaving us both hot and me as hard as she was wet.

We were both thinking of ripping off each other's clothes and having sex on the erotic writing workshop tables, or under the tables, on the floor, or on the stairs leading down to the writing room, or right there in the hallway, as soon as we shut the door on the rest of the gang.

Instead, my lover the writing workshop leader suggested we go for a little walk, on that hot night, as she wanted to stretch her long legs and get some of that hot night air. I suspected she had something else in mind and I would like it because she is very sexy after those erotic writing sessions. And I was right.

My lover's place is on the edge of the Paris Forest and there is a street with lights leading into a section of the forest that is closed at night but the streetlights are left on, illuminating a winding asphalt road as wide as a driveway, leading up a little hill and then down the other side of it, where it becomes a gravel road without lights and meanders through the forest in big, looping, patterns.

The first section of paved road with streetlights looks like urban rather than pastoral, like the set for a musical set in a city or a movie set for street scenes in Toronto or New York, if not Paris, itself. The street is lined with manicured green grass, though, with a row of trees and then a split rail fence made of cedar poles, with the forest behind it. In Paris, France, there is no grass like that anywhere in the city, except under lock and key or with an armed guard hired to keep people off the grass.

My lover and I talked about the erotic writing session, recalling the best moments, the funniest lines people said and wrote, and I raved about what a great workshop leader she was and how much everybody loved it, how they all wanted to have another one, possibly a more demanding Part Two, with more homework, writing exercises, and readings. She responded to all my raving praise by stopping me under a streetlight that was just over the hill and out of sight and dropping to her knees on the blacktop of the winding road. She undid my black jeans, pulled down the zipper, quickly, fiddled with my underwear to free my vajra, and swallowed it. She turned so the streetlight shone on her beautiful face, showing her fabulour mouth with my vajra in it.

I smiled and rocked my hips gently, squeezing my PC muscles so little spurts of my ejaculate poured into her mouth. That always makes her such harder and get excited.

Making love under the streetlight like that seemed very verbotten, illegal, taboo and forbidden, like having sex on a city street on a hot summer night when lots of people like to go for a walk, trying to cool down. If anybody saw us, they wouldn't be cooling down. It looked incredibly hot, from my angle, anyway. After going down on me for a few minutes, I lifted my lover up, taking her hands in mine and helping her get to her feet, so I could kiss her and we could walk back to her place, get naked, and climb into bed.

We talked a bit more about the erotic writing workshop and how much fun it had been and, after going down on me in that place that seemed so public, she was so hot her yoni was leaking her natural lubricant onto her smooth thighs, I noticed as I spread her legs as soon as she sat on her bed.

I thanked her for going down on me, outside, and offered to return the favour, inside, and she said, "Yes! Inside my cunt!"

When she uses the "c" word, I know my lover is hot and feeling like wild sex, so I laughed out loud and said, "Oh, baby, if that erotic writing workshop and the oral sex under the streetlight was just foreplay, I'm a dead man!"

She laughed at my allusion to the sex scene with the alien Ontarian in the movie Coccoon and then got up so she could undo my pants again, pull them down, and shoved me onto her big soft bed. When I was naked and lying on the bed, my vajra pointing to where the night sky and the stars would be, if we were still outside, she climbed on top of me, that fierce look on her fabulous face, and I knew I was in for the ride of my life.

My lover did not use my vajra like a sex toy, as she often does when she climbs on top of me; teasing herself and me by circling her cleo with the engorged tip of my vajra. She climbed on top of me and sat right down on the vajra I had called "my little Starship Enterprise" in the writing workshop exercise. After shifting her position a little, to put my vajra precisely where she wanted it, with the crown pressing against her goddess spot, now swollen to the size that had to be called a goddess pad, she rocked her hips and said, "Omigod! It feels so good I have a little orgasm with each thrust."

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