Day Foreplay: Taboo Erotica E-Book

Charlotte Corbin

• Herausgeber: Palimpsest Publishing
• Kategorie: Erotik
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2017

Beschreibung

This full length erotic novel is so sexy we can't even tell you the preview…

Excerpt:

"Only it wouldn't be rape," I said, turning toward him and opening the rest of the robe myself.

"God you're beautiful!" he exclaimed.

"Is that all you have to say?" I chided.

"No," he answered. "But it will have to do for now."

"I thought you were a man of action, of immediate decision."

"So I am," he said with a nod, "but if I took you to bed now, it would be more than an ordinary lay.

He looked at me to see if I fully understood and I nodded. But he made no move toward me. I wondered what the hell he was waiting for. I had already told him that he could do with me what he wanted. What else could he possibly expect?

Leseprobe

Day Foreplay

Charlotte Corbin

Copyright © 2017

Table of Contents

Day Foreplay

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

CHAPTER ONE

The silence of the room was punctuated by two sounds. One came from the easy breathing of my husband Aron. He was already sound asleep; but then, he always slept well, especially after we had made love. His hand rested on my naked breast. He had put it there after I had returned from the bathroom where I had taken my sleeping pill.

I envied his blissful contentment. No, that wasn't quite true. My feelings were closer to resentment than envy. There were very few times when a good screwing was sufficient to put me in that contented euphoria so vividly described in sex manuals or glowingly depicted in so many novels. Usually an orgasm would be followed by the man and the woman blissfully sleeping in each other's arms, with naked bodies still touching and the rhythm of their breathing identical. I never had experienced these reactions after having sex. If I experienced anything, it was a heightening of tension, a restiveness, that like the surge of the flood tide took long hours to subside. This did not mean that Aron was unable to bring me to a climax but rather that no matter how intense my orgasm, it was never intense enough to send me off to sleep. After almost two years of marriage, I should have been able to reconcile myself to this condition, but I wasn't. And as a result, I was beginning to resent any sexual contact with Aron. I. kept my feelings to myself, and became adept at feigning an intensity that did not exist.

The other sound in the room came from the intermittent splash of a huge raindrop against the windowpane. I found this unnerving, like the drip of water from a leaky faucet.

I never cared for rain. It was depressing as hell, especially at Christmas time. If it was snow. instead of rain, then for a few brief hours the city would be an enchanted place, at least until the snow became dirty and slushy.

A few brief hours of snow and I would go--

"Shit!" I whispered, annoyed with myself for indulging in mental masturbation, playing the useless childhood game of what if-when I knew damn well it was raining. It had been raining all day and the forecast was for more of the same tomorrow. I took a deep breath and waited until I heard the splash of a drop against the window before exhaling. Then I closed my eyes and hoped that I would soon feel the effects of the sleeping pill.

Closing my eyes accomplished nothing. I opened them, looked up at the ceiling and suddenly realized how desperately unhappy I was, in fact how desperately unhappy I had been for longer than I cared to remember. It seemed to me that I had never known real happiness. Even as a small girl I seldom laughed, though in all fairness to my childhood and adolescence, I would have to add that I never cried either. Though this wasn't because I had never wanted to, but rather because I couldn't.

I grew up in a fatherless house. My mother told me that he was killed in Korea, shortly after I was born. When I was old enough to ask more questions about him, the answers I got were never very specific and left me more dissatisfied than before I asked. By the time I realized that I never saw a photograph of him, I possessed wisdom not to ask why.

My mother remained a widow, though she was an extremely beautiful woman and probably had many opportunities to remarry. I was quite sure that she never even had another male friend after my father was killed. But when I reached the age where I began to date, I realized how utterly abnormal her behavior was, especially since she radiated a dark, provocative sensuality.

Despite all her attention to me, I often felt alone and sometimes unloved.

Perhaps her greatest contribution to me as a woman, aside from the genetic, which gave me her dark complexion, black hair, sloe eyes and a figure which I knew women envy and men admire, was to give me the idea that I was different from other girls. But she never explained how I was different, and I remembered spending long hours trying to discover in what way did I differ from the girls I knew.

I thought I had the answer when I reached puberty, but I soon found out that several of my friends arrived at their biological womanhood before I had.

Once I asked my mother exactly why I was different.

She looked at me speculatively and said, "You must discover that on your own." Then she hugged me tightly. When I saw her face again it was stained with tears.

In my junior year at college, my mother suffered a stroke and died two days after she was admitted to the hospital. All opportunity to discover the secret of my difference was lost.

Two weeks after my mother's funeral, where I was the only mourner, I received a letter from her lawyer (I had no idea that she had one), informing me of the fact that I had come into a considerable amount of money. When I called the lawyer for an appointment, as he had requested in his letter, he said that he would be happy to meet with me but stipulated that I would not ask any questions. The result of the meeting was straightforward. I was provided with a substantial monthly income for the rest of my life, which would enable me to do all of the things that most people wish they could do.

During the neat few weeks I found that I really didn't care to know anything more than I knew because I discovered two significant facts about myself. The first was that I possessed an extraordinary artistic talent. And secondly, not only did men find me attractive but I found them extremely attractive.

Shortly after my mother's death I had my first affair. For me it was an affirmation of life, a statement of my own body. It was something that I had to do!

The man who introduced me to the pleasures of sex was a young instructor at the Art Student's League. He was as good in bed as he was in the classroom. And having experienced sex, my appetite for it became almost insatiable. I took a succession of lovers until I met and married Aron Dawson.

I don't know why I married him, though he is an extremely handsome man, with the broad shoulders of an athlete and 'the kind of perfect face that would make any artist want to sketch or paint him.

We lived together for several months before we married. It was he who wanted to make the relationship permanent. He joked that it was because I was the best damn lay he ever had.

Later I came to realize that he had not had many women. It was I who taught him the delightful subtleties of sexual expression. He was an apt pupil, and for a while I thoroughly enjoyed the many different roles in which I functioned. To be teacher, wife, mistress, and whore to the same man challenged my inventiveness.

For the better part of the first year of our marriage I temporarily gave up painting, but then found myself at loose ends, so to speak, and the painting helped.

Aron was a mechanical engineer and was employed by a large company at an excellent salary. He, was a man whose mind was logical to a degree that would often infuriate me. He never allowed himself to make a decision without first mentally computerizing all the facts.

I soon learned he arrived at his decision to marry by a careful analysis of all my attributes both in and out of bed, including my financial independence, before he asked.

Though I realized that we were poles apart, at least in the way our thought processes functioned, I also knew that the real bond between us was sex. For a while it was sufficient, but as it began to pall, I resented his reaction to my paintings.

He did not understand them and I couldn't explain them.

My art always had more than a touch of the bizarre in it and this feeling soon dominated all of my work. The things I painted did not exist in this physical world. But I saw them. They existed full blown in my mind and all I had to do was set them down on canvas.

The more recognition my work brought me, the less I needed Aron. Several times within the past months I was on the verge of telling him the truth about my feelings toward him. But either from lack of courage, or because I intuitively realized that the difference between myself and other women that my mother had drilled into me was beginning to manifest itself, I remained silent and waited, though I did not know why or for what I was waiting.

I was suddenly overcome by an intense feeling of frustration. I was twenty-two, beautiful,, and filled with the longing for sexual satisfaction. That this might be my lot for the rest of my life was more hideous than anything I could think of and made me tremble with fear.

And then I began to feel the effects of the sleeping pill. I imagined it dissolving into my bloodstream, moving to my brain, where it deadened the senses and let sleep finally claim me.

CHAPTER TWO

Early the next morning I was awakened by the movement "of Aron's hand down my back. I felt him pull my night gown up over my rump and then his hand began to caress me, sliding from one to the other while making sure that his forgers dallied just long enough in the crack between them to tease me. Ordinarily, I would have given in to my own desire or, if I still didn't feel like it, I would have allowed him to mount me and derive pleasure because I knew I was giving him pleasure.