- After exhaustive negotiations, a new writer is contributing to the Erotic Writer. I’ve been following her stories at her invite only blog (which she won’t reveal). She says she doesn’t write stories. Her life is her story. My advice: Don’t believe a word she says; but see what you think. ~ William Crimson
About a week ago.
I was reading a letter from a woman traveling around the world. She travels by herself. Guys think she must have a sugar daddy or she’s a prostitute. She’s gorgeous. So, because I compare myself to every woman I’m already asking myself why I’m not flying solo over the Yucatan. She says she’s judged for being a beautiful woman, as if a beautiful woman couldn’t afford to world travel without using her looks to pay for it.
I’m mad at Travis.
I want to travel around the world. Am I not good looking enough? He said we could split the costs. First, his good looks aren’t worth half and second my good looks are sugar-daddy worthy. He told me to suck his cock and he’d think about it.
I don’t smoke. I don’t drink. I’m vegetarian. I put the cap on toothpaste. I’m mindful. I meditate. Cock is my kryptonite. All Lex Luther would have to do is unzip. SuperSusie falls to her knees. SuperSusie sucks.
My life is a comic strip.
I’m what happened to Susie Derkins after she grew up. Calvin’s fantasies stopped and mine started.
I sucked his cock. He called me a slut and a good girl and told me to swallow. I did. I was disturbed being called a slut and a good girl. I mean, think about it.
That was two days ago. Yesterday I was looking at porn. There’s somebody at the door. Fuck! I don’t answer. Next thing this guy bursts into the living room. He’s wearing a French burry, beray, beret and he claps his hands. So I’m sitting there with one arm over my tits and a hand covering my pussy. A woman and another guy, kind a cute, hurries into the living room. Ones got lighting equipment and the cute guy—he’s just cute.
:But what the fuck?
The French guy claps his hand, throws my pile of books on the floor and sits down. He looks at his watch and says in this French accent: We don’t have all day! The girl sets up the lighting and the cute guy undresses and he’s 8 inches long.
:Bend her over the chair, says French guy, make sure she looks into the camera.
So next thing you know cute guy makes me stand up and bends me over the chair. First he’s tonguing my pussy.
But lighting girl yanks my head up by the hair: Look in the camera, angel, it’s your orgasm face we want.
Then 8 inch-guy starts fucking me from behind. Jesus!
I hear French guy clapping his hands again. Allez, fonce! The next customer is fifteen minutes.
Then cute guy yanks up my head again. (I can’t help, okay?) He’s fucking like my pussy’s going out of style. I’m on my toes. Lighting girl is saying: Almost there! Almost there! Yes! She’s coming! And her Canon EOS is in sports mode, right? She’s taking 20 photos. Fireworks are going off in my head and cute guy’s cock is going off in my pussy.
Lighting girl has this little portable printer. She prints out a photo. Cute guy is getting dressed and I’m still in la-la land, bent over my chair with 8 inch spunk running down my thighs.
:So where did you get this? asks Travis.
:It’s my orgasm-face passport.
:Fuck, says boyfriend, that’s hot. Seriously?
:Yeah, I say, you’d be amazed the places a girl can go with this passport. You want one, too?
Yrs, in love, Susie Suede: All true. No lies.