Fair warning, the main character engages in some deception in this story. If you want your protagonists to be 100% straight shooters, this is not for you. All characters and situations are complete fiction, a product of my fertile imagination. Remember, this is fiction. Any similarity to actual people and situations is purely a coincidence. All constructive criticism is welcome.
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I had been writing erotica for about nine months when this story takes place. I had a total of 14 stories published on Literotica. Readers’ comments and ratings had been generally positive and encouraging.
It was a Tuesday afternoon in early May. Finals were a week away. I was looking forward to summer break. I had an hour or so before I needed to start dinner so I thought I would grade a few papers from my students. Before starting that I decided to pop onto my secret email and see if there was anything interesting. To my surprise I had a private Literotica email from someone called TallBlondeChick and I opened it.
It read:
Hi Quinn.
I’ve really enjoyed reading your stories. I love to make myself cum while I’m reading them. My pussy gets really wet. I’ve reread them a bunch of times, playing with my pussy the entire time. So hot.
Since I am a literature professor, I was interested in your work from an academic perspective. Your writing style seemed familiar, so I did an analysis of your writing and compared your erotica to the fiction written by one of my fellow faculty colleagues. I’m 82% certain that all the pieces were written by the same person. Plus putting two and two and two and two together from all your stories, I think I know you. The idea makes me cum just thinking about it. I would love to find out if I’m right. I will be at the local brew pub down the street from the college on Saturday afternoon at 3.
It is supposed to be warm so I will wear my white tight short shorts and go braless in a yellow blouse. I will go commando because I find it exciting and because it will give me a camel toe. I hope that will be attractive to you. Maybe if I’m lucky, my nipples will get hard and press against the fabric of my blouse for you. Please come and we can discuss how I can help you write additional stories.
Love,
Blondie
Oh shit, I thought. How did this happen? There are hardly enough details to discern who any of my characters are. An analysis? What the hell is that? Is my writing style that distinctive? What the HELL!
I thought about who this may be and my mind immediately leapt to Heidi Anderson, who was indeed tall, blonde, and a literature professor. I couldn’t think of anyone else at my college. Then again, it could be someone from an entirely different college who thought Quinn McMullen was someone else.
In these stories I have never used anyone’s real names. Half of the time the events were a product of my imagination. Other times they were a derivative of actual events. I have tried very hard to conceal the identities of anyone that I have drawn from real life. At a small college, one’s reputation is sacred and easily destroyed.
If I didn’t show up, then Heidi, if it was Heidi, would think she was wrong and no one would be any wiser. If I did show up, maybe Heidi wouldn’t be there. In that case, TallBlondeChick was from a different school.
I should set up an alternative reason for being there. I had it! I’ll have our union president be there for a meeting. If I went and Heidi was there, then I could deny everything and say I was there to meet Bob. He loved the Brew Pub. Actually, he loved beer and they just happened to have a lot.
Maybe if I went and Heidi was there, I could admit everything and have some amazing sex with her. But then she could blackmail me. Or maybe I could show up and plead ignorance and coincidence. This note had my head spinning with all the possible repercussions. No way was I going to get anything graded. I headed to the kitchen to make dinner.
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I decided that I had to go. Don’t ask me why. Part of me trusted that Heidi wouldn’t be out to get me. Part of me hoped for some sex with a beautiful woman. To provide an alibi for Saturday afternoon, I contacted Bob and suggested that we meet at the Brewpub at 3:30. I said that as union officers we should plan the final meeting of the year and go over election protocols. I didn’t have to ask him twice, he was all in.
Saturday dawned clear and bright. I tried to keep my mind off the possible rendezvous by doing chores around the house. I cut the grass, took the recycling to the transfer station, and took down half of the storm windows from the previous winter. At two o’clock I took a shower and shaved extra close. I put on some khakis, a dress shirt, and my penny loafers, deciding that going commando would be too much. I decided that I would arrive at the Brew Pub about ten after three.
The Brew Pub is in an old carriage house behind a mansion that once belonged to a local 19th Century tycoon. The house was now a bed and breakfast. A large tent was on the lawn outside the pub with tables and chairs. There were about a dozen patrons enjoying the pleasantly warm afternoon. I didn’t see Heidi so I took a seat at a table that I was sure would be in the shade for a while. The waitress came up and I ordered a seasonal Summer Ale. As the waitress walked away, I felt a hand on my shoulder. I looked around and there was Heidi.
“Hi Quinn. I thought that must be you.”
I stood and she gave me a very long, affectionate hug, her breasts pressing into my chest. I returned the pressure, wrapping my arms around her. Her hair smelled freshly washed.
She smiled, “Since the pandemic I treasure human contact.”
She hugged me again. I placed a hand on her back and noticed the absence of a bra.
She finally let go, “Thank you. That was nice.”
“Yes, it was.”
As she promised, Heidi was wearing a yellow blouse. It hid her enchanting breasts a little, but not a lot. I could detect hardening nipples beneath. It was slightly sheer and I thought I could just detect her areolas through the fabric. Her white shorts were very tight, a camel toe clearly visible. Heidi was in her mid-forties and about 5’10’. Her dirty blonde hair came down to her collar. Her face was very Scandinavian with brilliant blue eyes. Her slim waist, slender hips, and seductively long legs made Heidi a very attractive woman.
I said, “Do you want to join me? I’m waiting for Bob.”
“Oh, I’d love to.” She sat in the chair next to me, making sure those luscious legs were in plain sight. The waitress approached and Heidi ordered an IPA.
Then Heidi turned her attention to me. “So how have you been? Are you ready for the semester to be over?”
“The end can’t come soon enough.”
“What are you meeting Bob for?”
“Go over some stuff for the last union meeting of the year. This is his favorite place. We have all our executive union meetings here.”
She nodded.
I asked, “So how about you? How have you been?”
“Oh, I’m now the department chair. What a nightmare job that has been this year.”