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Author's note: I've been work ing on this story for a looong time. The first part put to paper (yes, paper) was chapter two, which grew out of a real entry in my diary. Soon after, I began typing chapter one into an old laptop at a local coffee shop, enjoying the thrill of typing an explicit erotic story while surrounded by oblivious yuppies sipping lattes.
A lot has changed since then. I started writing "Butterfly" when I was just a couple years out of college, the same age as my alter-ego as the story opens. In the beginning, it was pretty much a journal of my life as it was happening, with only the names and a few details altered. Gradually, it evolved into a "what-if"; what if I had done that, what if she had said that. (Tho interestingly enough, some of the what-ifs actually happened underage_child_porn_sex
(more or less) after I had written them.)
But due to constraints of both time and creativity, this poor story became neglected, a reminder of my wilder days tucked safely away in a back corner of my hard drive.
Recently, I sat down and read through the whole thing for the 1st time in years. It was hard to believe it was my work ; I couldn't remember writing whole scenes. It felt kinda like another author had asked me to continue a story she'd never finished, so that's what I did.
The original author (as I've come to think of my younger self) had outlined the whole rest of the story. Though I probably wouldn't finish the tale the same way today, I'm going to mostly follow that old plan to keep the same vibe and not jar the readers with a completely different style.
Upcoming chapters will take our main character to places that we might not want her to go, but I hope that the journey for us invisible voyeurs (that's me and you) will make it all worthwhile. |
I'm typing this on my laptop at the airport, waiting for my fight to DC. I won't be leaving for a couple more hours, so in the meantime, I've got to try and sort out everything that happened prelolitas toplist
, all the crazy conflicting emotions spinning like a hurricane in my head.
I can't believe what happened ukrainian underage bbs
last night. I can't believe what happened preteen lolita incest pic
to me, or what I let happen to me. I hope Kyle will forgive me, IF I ever get brave enough to tell him about it. Actually, I hope I can forgive myself. I'll try to get it all down now while it's still fresh in my mind...
I knew Kyle didn't believe me when I called and told him that a wife of a client needed entertaining on very short notice. I'd only been asked to do that once before, and I had known a couple weeks in advance that time.
So I suggested that he hang out with his buddies and play that baseball video game he just bought. He was noncommittal and sounded kinda suspicious, but I really didn't care. What a dumbass I was! But I was so craving Crissy all day, I just wasn't thinking straight (pardon the pun)
When I got in the office yesterday morning (gawd, was it only yesterday??? It seems like years ago already!), the first thing I did was check my email.Crissy hadn't yet replied to my RSVP for that evening, so I asked her to send details about our plans to my home email so I wouldn't be checking for new messages at work every 5 minutes. I really did need to catch up on the accounts I'd been ignoring all week.
But while I had the email program open, I copied those pictures of Crissy streaking in the library to my computer's hard drive and deleted her emails from the company email server. (I can't believe I left them on there so long!!! hope the IT guys were as incompetent as usual... ) |
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So while I didn't waste any time checking for new naughty letters, who knows how many times I scrolled through those photos of Crissy flashing her ridiculously skinny yet sexy body through the college library. It got me so work ed up that I took off my panties and stuffed them in my purse before going out for our traditional Friday whole-department lunch. Nobody could see anything under my calf-length skirt, but I knew and it felt delicious. And then frigging myself with that thick permanent marker under the desk in the afternoon... let's just say I didn't get much work done after all.
As soon as I got home, I dashed to the computer. Sure enough, Crissy had emailed to say she'd meet me at some "alternative" club at around 11. That was disappointing since it was only 5-something. I considered calling Kyle and saying my entertaining duties had been cancelled, figuring that I could relieve some sexual tension with a little quickie, then leave early and make my late appointment with Crissy. But I didn't — Kyle just knows me too well. He'd sense immediately that something was amiss and I'd be busted.
Knowing what I know now, I wish I would have picked up the phone, gone out with Kyle, and forgotten about the whole Crissy thing. At least I think I wish that. God, I'm so confused right now...
Anyway, I rushed through a quick dinner at home. 5:30. Then I cleaned the kitchen. 6:12. Next I dusted and vacuumed every inch of the whole apartment. 6:57. Time was just crawling.
There was more cleaning I could have done, but I didn't want to tire myself out. So I sat down and called a few old friends I've been meaning to get back in touch with. I reached two voice mails, then got stuck hearing a high school acquaintance's husband's spiel about how he could "get me into a new hot tub for less than $50 a month." I bet he'd like to try.
As soon as I disengaged the shyster from my ear, my fingers automatically flew across the keypad to call someone whose voice I really wanted to hear in my keyed-up state of mind: Jen.
She was out to dinner with a "friend from work ". (I had dialed her cell.) The way she said it, tho, made me think she might be trying to hide the fact that she was on a hot date.
"Is he cute?" I asked, whispering conspiratorially for no apparent reason. "Use code words if you don't wanna talk in front of him."
Jen shushed me, saying it was "nothing like that", but in such a secretively quiet tone that she made me think it was exactly like "that". |