Out of Thin Air Ch. 01

She filled my coffee cup and I mumbled thanks. It took me a moment to notice that she hadn't taken the pot and moved to another table. I looked up at her and she knew what I was thinking. "Just curious" she said, "Every morning you come in here and it's the same thing. Several cups of coffee while you read the morning paper and eat your breakfast and then you take that pad out of your briefcase and write on it for a half or or so while you drink more coffee. What are you writing?"

"I don't know you well enough to tell you."

"Oh come on. I've been pouring your coffee and serving you breakfast for over five years now. It doesn't make us the best of friends but it ain't chopped liver."

"If I tell you, you are liable to think I am a pervert."

Debbie laughed, "Honey, I know perverts - I'm married to one, and you would have a long way to go to even come close to matching him."

"Really?"

"Yeah, really."

"I write erotic stories and post them on an Internet site."

"No kidding?"

"No kidding."

Debbie pointed to my legal pad and asked, "Is that one?"

I nodded my head yes and she asked, "What's it about?"

I handed her the legal pad and she sat down on the other side of the both and started to read. Once or twice she stopped reading and looked over at me before going back to the story.

When Debbie was done she handed the pad back to me, "That's wild. I know her."

"Know who?"

"The woman in the story - I know her - I went to high school with her."

"Thanks, I needed that."

"Needed what?"

"Positive reinforcement. A lot of what I write sounds hokey to some people, but what makes a story work for me is if at least one person can read it and identify with it or part of it."

"Where do you get your material?"

"Some of it comes from personal experience, some comes from hearing people talk about their experiences and some of it comes out of thin air."

"Out of thin air? How is that?"

"Well, you just gave me a story and you didn't know it."

"Me? I gave you a story?"

"Sure. Here, let me show you."

I took my pad and flipped to an empty page and started writing.

OUTLINE - Breakfast at restaurant. - Waitress comments on fact I'm always writing. - Tell her about erotic stories, wants to know where they come from. - A. Personal exp. - B. Listening to others. - C. Out of thin air. - STORY - Needs a hook. - A. She gets interested and wants to tell me about stuff that has happened to her. - B. She gets turned on and wants to have fling and have me write about it. - C. Need to talk to my sister/ girlfriend/cousin because she could really tell me stories. - D. Need to get together with other waitress, she's a slut and could tell you some stories.

Need to work on it - pay more attention to what goes on in restaurant. Might get an idea.

I handed the pad back to Debbie and she read it. I saw a small smile develop and then she looked up at me. "C and D would work. My sister could tell you stuff that would curl your hair and Jen on afternoons is a perfect fit for D. My favorites are A and B, but I can't make up my mind about that. Hang on to your outline and I'll get back to you."

I tossed the outline into my briefcase with a dozen others and forgot about it.

The next day was Saturday and I never stopped for breakfast on weekends and Debbie was off on Mondays so I didn't see her again until Tuesday. I was drinking coffee and reading the Sports section of the paper when Debbie slid into the booth across from me.

"What about a combination of A and B?"

I put the paper down, "What?"

"The outline, what if you combined A and B? The idea would be to start out telling about experiences that happened and then have it lead into a fling."

Debbie was right. That would work better than either A or B standing alone. "Who do you see as the girl? Your sister, cousin or Jen from afternoons?"

"No silly, me! I'm thinking of me."

"You aren't serious?"

"Sure I am. I've had a lot of things happen to me and I think it would be a kick to tell it to someone and then to see it in print. You wouldn't use my real name, would you? And we could makeup the fling part. I could tell you one of my fantasies and you could use that as the fling part and write it as if it really happened."

"I don't know Debbie. We would have to spend an awful lot of time together for you to tell me about your past. What would your husband think?"

"He works afternoon and I have all kinds of free time in the evening. Can we do it? Please? I really want to."

What the hell I thought, I didn't really have all that much going on in the evenings right then and a good story is a good story.

Debbie arrived at my apartment at six and I got her a beer and we sat down at the kitchen table. She was nervous and fidgety and so I asked, "Having second thoughts about this?"

"Oh no! Well, yes, kind of."

"You don't have to do this."

"But I want to. It's just that, well, I don't know. No one is ever going to know it is me, are they?"

"Not unless you tell somebody."

"You won't tell anybody? I mean, you're kind of like a doctor or a lawyer and every thing I tell you is in confidence, right?"

"Not really, but think of me being like a reporter protecting his source."

"But no one will ever know, right?"

"Every one who visits the site on the Net will know the story, but no one will know that the story is about you."

"What do I do?"

"Just tell me what you want to tell me. Start at the beginning, in the middle or just tell me about certain instances in your past - anything that might turn on some one who reads the story."

"Like what?"

"Well, most of my stuff goes to a site called Watching The Wife. The stories are about cheating wives, cheating husbands, husbands who like to watch their wives with other men, husbands who like to go down on their wives after they have been with other men and things like that. Have you ever cheated on your husband or has he ever cheated on you?"

"No one ever knows but me and you, promise?"

"Of course."

"I've cheated on Harry a couple of times."

"Does he know?"

"God I hope not."

"Then why don't you just tell me about one of those times."

"The first time was at my sisters birthday party. I'd never been unfaithful to Harry - I'd never even thought about being unfaithful - and even though I know exactly what happened and why I still to this day don't know how. One minute I was an innocent young wife and the next I was a cheating slut and I don't even remember the transition. Harry and I had gotten there early because I had promised my sister I would help set things up for the party. Harry and Gloria's husband Mike were in the other room and as I worked in the kitchen and dinning room I could hear snatches of conversation and laughter and it pissed me off.

"I don't know why, it was irrational, but I was pissed that Harry and Mike were having a good time while I was working to set up the party. Gloria noticed it and she told me to ignore them, "They are just men honey, and they would only get in the way if they were out here." Still, it pissed me off and that kind of set the tone of the night for me. And then of course there is what they were talking about. I could hear most of it and most of what I heard upset me.

"They were talking about women with big tits and talking about how they would like to get this or that woman's tit in their mouth. They talked about Sylvia Meyers and that she would be at the party and wouldn't they just love to get her off into a room and play with her. When Harry mentioned that Alice, Sylvia's sister, would be at the party and wouldn't he just love to get some backseat time with her I almost lost it, but instead I went and made myself a stiff drink.

"The guests started arriving and the party got rolling and things got worse for me. Every time I saw Harry he was staring at Alice, Sylvia or Mary Anson - all three have huge tits - and Harry just couldn't seem to tear his eyes away from them. A couple of times I went over to talk with him, but after a minute or so he would walk away and a minute or two later I would see him staring at tits again. My tits aren't bad and I'm certainly not ashamed of them, but I was starting to feel inferior and that made me mad. The madder I got, the more I drank, and pretty soon I had a snootfull. I wasn't passing out or falling down drunk, but I definitely wasn't thinking straight.

"I started thinking stuff like, "Okay Harry, you don't want to pay attention to me, I'll find some one who will." I started flirting with guys; I let guys feel me up and I kept doing it where Harry could see me so it would piss him off. But every time I did it I would glance over at him and see that he still had his eyes glued on big tits. I started swapping tongues with guys and then one guy said, "If you are going to let me play with your tits you should at least go take off your bra so I can do it right." Tits - it was the magic word. So you want to look at tits Harry? Well I've got somebody who wants to look at mine so fuck you.

"I went into the john and took off my bra and went back to the party. Another drink or two and I got maneuvered out of the house and into the backyard and hands were on my tits, a tongue was down my throat and the next thing I knew I was on the ground behind some bushes with a cock in my mouth and one buried in my pussy. I honestly don't remember the period from tongue in mouth, hands on tits to on the grass with two cocks in me and I have no remembrance of where the second man came from. All I know is that the two of them kept me there on the grass taking turns with me for a long, long time.

"You know what the worst part of it was for me? Actually there were two worst parts - I loved it, I shouldn't have, but I did. But the part that really pissed me off was that I laid out there on the grass for over an hour taking those two men in my mouth and pussy - over an hour - and Harry never even missed me. When I finally did get back into the party he was still staring at Sylvia's tits.

"I knew that I should felt some remorse over cheating on him, but I didn't. On the way home I almost told him what had happened and I actually had my mouth open to do it, but then I glanced over at him and he had a goofy little smile on his face as he watched the road and I knew that he was still daydreaming about tits so I never told him."

"How many more times did you cheat on him?"

"Three more times, not counting tonight."

"Not counting tonight?"

"Yeah. A leads to B, right? Wasn't that the plan? I tell the story, we both get horny and have a fling?"

She stood up and started to take off her clothes. I watched her and then I stood up and dropped my trousers and started to smile, "Yeah. A leads to B and you still have three more stories to tell me, right?"

"Four sweetie. We have to count tonight too, don't we?"