Confessions of a Smut Author

by Scott Hildreth

  I clicked on the message she had sent and typed a response.

  I need you to come over after work. No excuses. Tell your parents whatever you feel the need to. And. Leave your panties in the car.

  Before I even took the time to re-read what I had written, I pressed send.

  Well, there’s no changing it now.

  Shawn, don’t start. Not now. It’s too early. You’ll make another mistake.

  I shook my head, dropped the phone onto the desk, and reached for my cup of coffee. As I raised the cup to my mouth, the red LED on the phone began to blink. After I realized the phone was still in silent mode, I picked it up and clicked on the text message screen.

  New Cheryl had responded. I pressed the message and opened it.

  I’ll be there as soon as I can, it’ll probably be 6, is that okay?

  I typed a response into the message screen.

  Be forewarned. I’m going to fuck you when you get up here.

  I pressed send.

  After placing the phone on the desk, I immediately picked it up and typed another message.

  Hard.

  I pressed send.

  Satisfied, I dropped the phone onto the desk.

  Immediately, the red LED light began to blink. I picked up the phone and opened the text message screen. A message from new Cheryl waited for me to open it. I pressed the message. She’d sent a three word response.

  I can’t wait.

  You have no idea what you’re in for. You simply don’t.

  CHERYL

  Shawn’s message came as a huge surprise. Somewhat shocking, but welcome nonetheless. I wondered what he may be looking for in a relationship, or if he would consider me nothing more than a piece of ass. Either way, I was fine, and to be brutally honest, I preferred having him use me for sex and stay an active friend. To attempt to be in a relationship with him would be nothing short of impossible, no matter what he and I ever developed regarding feelings for one another.

  To think for one moment my mother would ever accept him for being a person who was spiritual and not having a religious background would be ludicrous. Add to that the fact Shawn wrote erotica, and she would absolutely die. Shawn seemed to be a person who really wasn’t interested in change, so to think of him being anything more than a friend would be nothing more than wishful thinking.

  As I drove to his apartment, I made my best effort to convince myself I was going to be whatever he wanted me to be short of being his girlfriend. Sex was something I wanted, needed, and had spent far too long dreaming of. It was time someone delivered, and I was all too ready to be the willing recipient. As long as we both agreed on our expectations before we ever started, there would be no ill feelings, and no unmet promises. In a sense, this could actually be perfect for me. Quite possibly, it could be perfect for us both.

  I turned the corner onto 16th off of Scott street, and saw his building on my right. As I pulled up in front of the building, my heart raced in anticipation of what he might be planning. His version of fucking me hard and my version of him doing so could be two totally different things altogether. I parked the car and hoped for a happy medium. As I reached for the door handle, I realized I hadn’t removed my panties yet.

  I turned and looked both directions. The street, for the most part, was empty. Downtown little Rock wasn’t extremely busy on a Thursday night, and right now I was grateful for that. I reached into my skirt with both hands and pulled my panties down to mid-thigh. I re-checked the street for traffic. After convincing myself no one could see me, I pulled them past my knees and over my shoes. As I dropped them into my purse, I wondered if leaving them in the car would be a better idea. After a short pause, I decided to toss them in the glove box. Seeing Shawn and having no panties whatsoever seemed to be a much better idea.

  Walking across the street, through the lobby of the building, and to the elevator was an experience in itself. Try as I might, I couldn’t remember ever wearing a dress without panties. Strangely, I felt exposed - almost naked. It was as if I was wearing nothing at all. Each time I looked down to reassure myself I was in fact clothed, I smiled at the thought of my panties being in the car. As the elevator stopped on the eleventh floor, I sighed and walked out into the hallway. Following the hallway, I walked down the hallway until I reached 1136. As I stared at the door, I inhaled and made a weak fist.

  The door opened.

  Shawn stood in the doorway in jeans, a ribbed tank top, and house slippers. His body wasn’t anything like what I expected. Sitting at home and working twelve hours a day for almost two years without leaving, I expected him to be fractionally overweight. The clothes he wore on the night we met gave no indication of his physical condition. Now, standing before me, he was far from out of shape, and in fact, seemed quite the opposite.

  I stood and stared.

  “Well, come on in,” he said as he motioned into the apartment.

  I looked down at the floor, sighed, and stepped beside him. Something about being in his home was far different than being with him at the restaurant. Even considering what we had done in the parking lot, being in his apartment and knowing his sexual intent caused me to feel uneasy.

  An uneasy anticipation.

  Silently, he stood in front of me and looked down at my feet. Slowly, his eyes shifted upward, following along every inch of my body until they came in contact with mine. I nervously twisted my hips. As my knees touched, I realized I was soaked. Before I could stop myself, I began to speak.

  “Can we talk for a minute,” I whispered.

  He nodded his head.

  I sounded like a high school girl in her first encounter with a boy. Without speaking, he turned and walked into the house. I followed. As he sat on the couch I stood nervously and waited, as if I needed an instruction on what to do.

  “Sit,” he said softly as he patted the cushion beside where he was sitting.

  I dropped my purse on the floor beside the couch and sat down beside him. I began to fidget with the hem of my dress and stare at my fingernails. Although Kade was far more forceful and violent toward me than I expected any man could ever be, being secluded in the apartment with Shawn was causing me second guess everything about having sex, entirely.

  “Nervous?” Shawn asked.

  I looked up from studying my fingernails, “Kind of. I don’t know, yeah.”

  “I’ll try to make you a little more comfortable. Let me explain a few things. Now listen carefully, and answer what I ask you with one word answers only. After I’m done, I’ll give you a chance to say whatever you feel the need to, okay?” he said as he turned to face me.

  I nodded my head and swallowed nervously. My mouth felt overly dry. He grinned as he ran his hand through his curly hair. As he lowered his hand toward my leg, my eyes greedily followed.

  He placed his hand on my thigh and softly squeezed, “I’m going to make you my little fuck toy. You’ll come over here when I ask you to, and you’re going to do what I tell you to. Do you understand?”

  Oh God.

  This is insane.

  Fuck toy?

  I nodded my head and responded as the women in the books often did to their master or dominant male counterpart, “Yes sir.”

  He smiled as his head seemed to nod slightly, “You, Cheryl, will fill a void in my life, and I suspect I’ll do the same for you. I’m going to use you as a muse, of sorts. You’ll be my test subject, so to speak, for my books. Whatever I feel a need to confirm, sexually, you’ll participate in. Whatever I want to do to you, with you, or include you in, you’ll eagerly comply. It’s quite possible something I do may cause you to feel pain at the moment I do it, but I will not willfully harm you, is that understood?”

  I nodded my head again and attempted to swallow. My throat felt like it was full of sand. I considered asking for a drink, but I didn’t want to upset him. I decided to keep with a pattern, and make him comfortable with my eagerness to please him.

  “Yes sir,” I muttered.


  He squeezed my thigh slightly and grinned as he released it, “Did you read that in your little smut books, Cheryl? The yes sir? Do you think I like it when you say that?”

  I shrugged my shoulders and attempted once again to swallow. The words escaped my dry mouth in a scratchy tone, “Yes sir.”

  “Let me get you a drink. Water? Wine?”

  “Wine?” I squeaked.

  “I’ll get you a glass of Moscato, how’s that?”

  I nodded my head.

  As he stood, I wished he would bring back the entire bottle. I felt as if his sexual plan for me was possibly going to be far more than I was anticipating, but certainly not more than I could handle. I never knew what most women were like sexually, but for me it seemed I was willing to try about anything once I got started having sex. Half the things I ended up doing with Kade I never would have agreed to if he would have asked, but while we were in the act, I eagerly agreed and often wanted more. As much as I didn’t want Shawn to tell me what he intended to do, part of me wanted to hear each and every aspect of his plan to make me his fuck toy.

  He reached in front of me with the glass of wine. Half dazed by what was happening, it startled me slightly. I accepted the glass and smiled. A small part of me was relieved as I watched him set the bottle on the end table beside the arm of the couch. As he sat down beside me, I made note that he was drinking a bottle of water.

  Oh well, bottoms up.

  I raised the glass to my lips and drank half of the glass in one gulp. The cold wine soothed my throat. I knew after a couple of glasses he could tell me anything and I’d nod my head in agreement. I glanced at the bottle as I tipped the glass and drained what was left.

  Fuck, I love wine.

  As I lowered the empty glass, I felt rather foolish. I raised my eyebrows in false wonder, as if it had happened by mistake. It was all too easy.

  He stood from the couch and smiled. As he stepped to the end table and uncorked the wine, I wondered if we were truly going to do anything or if he merely expected to explain matters. I really wanted to have him at least fuck me a little bit. I raised my glass as he quietly tilted the bottle toward the rim. I watched the glass begin to fill, hoping he poured a larger portion than the bars downtown. As the glass filled within an inch of the top, I looked up and smiled.

  He tilted his head toward the glass, “You better drink a few inches of that, so you don’t spill it.”

  I responded by drinking half the glass in one gulp. Satisfied I’d consumed the equivalent of roughly four glasses of wine at the bar, I placed the glass on the end table and shifted my body on the couch to face him. He seemed relaxed. As I wiggled my hips against the rear cushion of the couch, I remembered I wasn’t wearing panties. As he took a drink of water, I wished he would force me to suck his dick. Kade used to force me to suck his dick, and it became a guilty pleasure each time it happened.

  Through the course of seeing Kade, I often wondered if there may be something wrong with me. I could never decide after we broke up if his rough nature caused me to become the way I was, or if I was the way I was, and his rough nature developed as a result of my subconscious desires. The thought of having a man role play a rape, to me, was always a fantasy. Me screaming no while he slapped me, pulled my hair, and forced me to have sex was beyond exciting. Reading the dark erotica novels where a woman was taken hostage and tormented sexually by her captor provided me more sexual satisfaction than almost anything else I would read.

  “So, where were we?” he asked.

  I knew not to respond, He said answer what I ask you with one word answers only. I sat quietly and waited for him to begin.

  “We were discussing your participation as my muse, of sorts. Now, technically, a muse is the inspiration of a piece of literal work, music, or poetry. At the beginning of the work, they act as the inspiration. If memory serves me correctly, they, or at least a few of them were the daughters of Zeus. Water nymphs. That’s what they called them in Greek mythology. At any rate, we may or may not adhere to that philosophy. I may choose to simply have you drink my cum from a shot glass to see how you react. Based on your reaction, my writing will accurately reflect realism. In a circumstance like that one, you wouldn’t necessarily be a muse, you’d be a test subject. The differences are minor, and now I feel that I’m getting off track,” he paused and inhaled a deep breath.

  Drink cum?

  Holy shit.

  I reached over my shoulder and picked up the glass of wine from the table and took a large gulp. As much as I wanted to finish it, I didn’t want to seem like a sexual novice, needing the influence of liquor to make me comfortable. I was already feeling the effects of the wine, and knew in time I would be sorry for drinking as much as I had. After placing the glass on the table, I turned to Shawn and smiled.

  “So, here are my thoughts. You’re religious. Your parents, according to what you told me in the car the other night, are very religious. For them to accept me, an erotic author, as your boyfriend,” he paused and turned his palms up.

  “Well, they’d never accept me. You’d eventually become nervous and feel guilty for not introducing me to them, and it’d all end up being a big mess. You’d lie to them, you’d attempt to satisfy me, and the end result would be nothing short of a fucking disaster. Here are my thoughts. I’m going to fuck you. Actually, I’m going to fuck you a lot. I’ve gone without far too long, and now that I am sitting here talking about it, I’m beginning to realize how much I need it. We’re not going to be boyfriend-girlfriend, or date, or anything like that,” he paused again and ran his hand through his hair.

  Oh my God. This could be perfect.

  “Oh, before I forget, are you on birth control?”

  I nodded my head.

  “S.T.D.’s? Ever had one? Have any?” he asked.

  Seriously? That’s gross?

  I shook my head.

  “Take off your dress,” he said as if he were certain I would follow his instructions.

  He seemed confident in knowing I would comply. Quietly, I stood from the couch and pulled the dress over my head and kicked off my shoes. I draped the dress over the arm of the couch. Although he had not asked, as I stood before him all but naked, I reached back and unclasped my bra. Now, standing completely naked, I felt oddly comfortable. Having only known him for a few days, it seemed as if I should feel out of place to be naked in his apartment, but I felt just the opposite. As I hesitated, hoping for him to tell me what to do, he grinned and pointed at my breasts.

  “They look much better in the light. D cup?” he asked.

  I began to cross my arms in front of them and nodded my head. He wagged his finger from side to side and shook his head lightly. I lowered my hands to my side and began to feel slightly awkward. I needed more wine.

  “Don’t be embarrassed, they’re quite nice. Magnificent, they’re magnificent. You’re a beautiful woman, Cheryl. Your body is absolutely stunning. I like studying it. It’s difficult to find flaws in your appearance. Turn around and bend over, please,” he said.

  His voice was quite calming. He seemed like a much different person now, compared to who he was at the Toy Box and the IHOP. When we met, he seemed nervous and shy. Now, he was the polar opposite. I liked the two different Shawn’s, but at least for now, I liked this one a little more. Reluctantly, I turned around, closed my eyes, and bent over slightly. After several seconds of silence, I began to wonder what he was thinking. Doing. Planning. I began to feel uncomfortably horny.

  “A little more,” he sighed.

  I bent over and grasped my ankles.

  “You’ve got a pretty little pussy, Cheryl. You really do. Do you know what I’m going to do to it? To your pretty little pussy?” he asked.

  Oh God, tell me. No. No, just do it.

  I’m so ready.

  I opened my mouth and attempted to force out the jumbled series of sexual thoughts that had collected in my head. I began to feel dizzy, partially from sexual desire, and somewhat, I was cer
tain, from being upside down and full of wine.

  A simple “No.” escaped my lips.

  “Whatever I want to,” he whispered.

  “We’re done with the one word answers, Cheryl. What am I going to do to your pretty little pussy, Cheryl?” his voice seemed hypnotic.

  “Whatever you want to,” I whispered.

  “You’re correct,” he responded softly.

  “Stand up, please. You look like that little honey pot of yours is uncomfortably wet. Are you excited?” he asked.

  I stood up and turned to face him. I was naked, half-drunk, and dizzy. He sat on the edge of the couch with the bottle of water in his hand. As he lifted the bottle to his lips, he raised his eyebrows.

  Oh, sorry, I forgot. Am I excited?

  I nodded my head, “Uh huh. Very.”

  “Do you like to fuck, Cheryl, or do you love to fuck?” he asked.

  I swallowed heavily, “Love to.”

  “Interesting. Have you ever been fucked aggressively? You know, rough sex?” he asked as he pointed to cushion beside him.

  I realized I was still standing in front of him naked. Feeling half like an idiot, I sat down on the couch.

  I nodded my head, “Yes.”

  “Did you enjoy it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Anal? Have you ever been fucked in the ass?” he asked.

  I nodded my head, “Yes.”

  “And?”

  “I enjoyed it,” I responded.

  I didn’t feel I could continue to have these discussions for much longer. I needed to pee, and I was afraid if I stood from the couch, there would be a wet spot where I was sitting. From talking and imagining what he may choose to do with me, I had become more aroused than I felt I had ever been in my life. The thought of having him fuck me and write about it was extremely erotic.

  “Are you really going to make me drink cum from a shot glass?” I asked.

  Where the hell did that come from?

  “I doubt it, but I wanted you to understand it might not always be something you desire. Consider it research, if we reach a point similar to that one. Now, spread your legs a little and stick two fingers in your pussy for me. I want to watch you finger yourself. Close your eyes when you do it, it’ll make you more comfortable, okay?”