The Joy of Sex (Volume one)

By Anne Summer

it is the birthright of every woman to enjoy a fulfilling and satisfactory sex life. The eight short erotic stories which comprise this book explore this theme and by so doing invite all women to consider their own emotional and sexual needs and desires. There are few human experiences more exciting than the frisson of a new assignation, the tingling anticipation of a new and arousing affaire de coeur.
the stories here are not of the type:‘beautiful 18 year old cheerleader has a crush on her stepfather’ rather those of a mature woman extending her sexual boundaries.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Anne Summer
• Release date: Apr 7, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301118106

Anne Summer

We believe that women are emotional and loving rather than just sex-crazed animals. As such, the kind of erotica that we enjoy, perhaps crave, are basically gentle and affectionate rather than simply raunchy, even debauched.Our stories reflect this. Fundamental niceness and a degree of refinement in use of language is what we seek to achieve.Please Welcome my co-author, ? Sandy Sinful (or Sinful Sandy if you like!) Sandy joins me to make our team "Sinful Summer" in celebration of long hot, steamy nights of pleasure, taken in the delight of beautiful, masculine men and sometimes lusty women too! We are here to enjoy and be enjoyed. Sigh!

Book preview

‘The Joy of Sex’

A collection of eight short stories by Anne Summer, originally published as a series called ‘Under Plain Wrapper’

Copyright 2013 by Anne Summer

Smashwords Edition

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people except that if you would like to share this book with another person, please be sure that they are an adult of at least 18 years of age.

It is the birthright of every woman to enjoy a fulfilling and satisfactory sex life. The seven short erotic stories which make up this book explore this theme and by so doing invite all women to consider their own emotional and sexual needs and desires. There are few human experiences more exciting than the frisson of a new assignation, the tingling anticipation of a new and arousing Affaire de Coeur.

The stories here are not of the type: ‘beautiful 18 year old cheerleader has a crush on her stepfather’ rather those of a mature woman extending her sexual boundaries.

Enjoy!

Anne

The Titles

Hotel

Middlemonth

Kickstart

Butterfly

Nymphomaniac

Menage a Trois

Virgin

The Queen of Spades

Also by Anne Summer an erotica novel

‘I, Punter’

You can contact me at:

[e-mail]

and visit my blog at:

http://hotlands.blogspot.co.uk

and on facebook at:

https://www.facebook.com/anne.summer.12327

Hotel

My name isn’t really Francine, nor is his name Vaziri but the room number was 704 and Ahmed always left me 4 gold bricks until the day, that is when he left me the whole boxful!

At 3pm we wrapped the class up as it was the last day and also it was prayers day so I said the fond farewells to the students and retired to my room on the seventh floor. I’m a pretty hard-boiled trainer but the week long courses always leave me a bit wrung out and in need of wind-down time, thus I always book out on Sunday to fly home and so have the weekend in which to crash.

I peeled off my kit and hung my suit up in the wardrobe before diving in amongst the ridiculous number of the big, plump pillows they always provide, then rolling the duvet around me and I was asleep in minutes. It was six o’clock before I came to, warm and drowsy in the vast bed which was so wide I could lie across it from side to side with my toes hooked over one edge of the mattress and my hands gripping the edge of the other. I lay there for a while, enjoying the cosy feel of the bedcovers on my naked skin (I always sleep naked – there is no other way!) and looking forward to a lazy day tomorrow. In a little while, I am going to have a luxurious shower and dress in time to go down to have my evening meal around 7 o’clock but not until Ahmed has come around with the chocolates. Something which is a must for every self-respecting hotel in the Middle East – the chocolate man who comes around at about this time each evening to give out two little chocolate bricks, wrapped in gold foil. Only I’ve chatted Ahmed up and he gives me not one, but two extra ones!

In response to a knock on the door, I called Come in! from under the duvet, and as I heard it open, How are you, Ahmed?

I peeped out from between two pillows and suddenly had a feeling of smug pleasure at being naked and yet so close to a man – and Ahmed wasn’t half desirable, either!

Very good Missus! he seemed to be quite imperturbable, gave his usual gentle smile, put down the four golden bricks on the dressing table where he always did.

Ahmed, what do you do when you’ve finished giving them all away?

I finish work then. I go home, Missus.

And what do you do after work?

I make dinner, drink some tea, watch some TV. Go to bed early.

Well, there you are. By the way, I’m Francine, not ‘missus’ and I’ll see you tomorrow, then!

He smiled again Have a nice evening, Missus Francine! and departed in his usual unruffled manner, only I wondered if he was as unfazed by the fact of me being in bed, maybe naked, as he was making out. I hoped not!

I think I’m going to do just that! I said, but the door had already closed behind him.

The showers are always wonderful, as they should be in such five-star luxury and I dwelt at length under the warm, aerated shower head, using up most of the shampoo and shower gel in the process. When I had enjoyed the deluge sufficiently, I towelled off and blow-dried my hair and I left it brushed out to its full shoulder-length for this evening, unlike the rather severe bun I felt obliged to pin it up into when working. This evening, I was free of all obligation, the students had all departed for their various homes and I was completely on my own. And that was fine by me!

I dressed in my best long dress, a lustrous green affair, very sheer and low enough cut to get me into trouble in this part of the world if I didn’t wrap a shawl over my shoulders. It also hung with an inviting clinginess to my contours especially around my bottom but I would have to take a risk on that. No jewellery other than a pair of pearl earrings. Low but comfortably styled black shoes and shiny black handbag to match and at 7pm exactly, I pulled the keycard out of its slot and let the heavy wooden door close behind me, headed for the lift and two minutes later was floating into the buffet dining area on the first floor to be greeted by the Maitre de. and ushered to my favourite corner table. It is a good viewpoint along the very extensive buffet banquet, an extravaganza of dishes amid all manner of plates, glasses and cutlery. I was almost the only diner there.

I had been served tea and had gathered a plate full of exotica when he came in. I hadn’t consciously considered a pick up but part of the reason I had dressed in my best was so that if the opportunity came, I wouldn’t miss out by default.

From my vantage point I could take him in without really being noticed unless I made it obvious that I was watching him. He was good looking, about 5 feet 10, smart-casual dress and probably about 25. Judging by his demeanour, I would have guessed that this was his first overseas posting and the lavish style of the place was probably a bit daunting to him. He sat and waited until his tea was brought to him before going over to sample the buffet and the moment seemed to be too good to miss. I picked up a plate, went over and stood next to him, ostensibly eyeing up the food but making a rapid appraisal of him from closeup. He had taken his jacket off and hung it over his chair so that close to I had an impression that he was well muscled, clear skin, nice and clean dark hair - just cut to the right length. A slightly dark shadow which suggested a fast-growing beard and was surreptitiously indicative of a powerful libido. There were pheromones around, I could feel an immediate and powerful attraction. Then he half turned and our eyes met.

Out there a woman is expected to lower her gaze but I’m not like that. From less than one metre apart a silent flood of information passed between us from my blue eyes to his brown and I realised that our contract was sealed in that moment. We both smiled tentatively, one to the other and I felt the heat rising in my cheeks.

Hi! I said timidly and he nodded in reply.

Won’t you come and join me? I indicated my table. He smiled again, then to my sudden gush of disappointment went back over to his own place so I returned, downcast to my own and stared into my plate, on the verge of tears, hard boiled as I pride myself on being. Only, movement made me look up and now he was standing opposite, plate in one hand and teacup in the other. I smiled perhaps more broadly than I should have and he sat down, arranged his things neatly on the table in front of him.

Hi, I’m Francine

He shrugged his shoulders and said something completely unintelligible. ‘Oh Christ!’ I thought. ‘He doesn’t speak English’. I pointed to myself. Francine! He smiled and responded Vaziri!

I repeated his name, he repeated mine. We grinned at each other. Are you Persian? He shook his head. I’m American, from Philadelphia. We did some more grinning but the conversation very rapidly dried up, much as I liked the sound of his voice. He raised his glass of fruit juice and I raised mine. Cheers!

‘Well, perhaps this won’t be a bad thing. No conversational distractions. We will just have to do it all by touch (and smell! And taste!)’. I shivered a little bit and let my scarf slip off my shoulders. I especially like this dress because it displays my breasts to best advantage. I wasn’t wearing anything underneath so my nipples stood out hungrily through the thin fabric and my breasts looked as though they were going to escape at any moment. I have a small brown mole on my left one which was just above the cleavage line, he leaned forward, reached out and gently touched it sending a shockwave of sensation through me. I gazed back at him through lowered eyelids, then took up a king prawn and put it between his lips, pushing my finger after it through into his mouth until I touched his tongue, then ran it round inside his mouth. He pressed his lips over it and gently sucked at my fingertip, then took my hand with his and drew the rest of my fingers in as well, flickering his tongue around them and sucking them between his lips. It was incredibly erotic and I know my face blushed a furious red.

He picked up another of my prawns and pushed it into my mouth, brushing his fingers over my lips, then between them, running them around inside. I never realised before quite how sensitive my mouth is, for a moment, I was swooning! We ate the remaining bits and pieces in this fashion, taking alternate turns and by the time he had fed me the last little morsel, I was almost faint and trembling with desire for him. In turn, he looked very pleased with himself but it was time to move this on. I reached into my handbag, found a business card, fumbled for, found and almost dropped a pen and with hands that visibly shook as he watched me turn it over, wrote ‘704 8pm’ and handed it to him. He nodded, smiled again and gave me his own card. It was written in a language I couldn’t identify but in English on the back ‘Vasiri Novak – Freelance Systems Engineer’, a mobile number and email. Probably he’s a Croat.

Then took the pen from my hand, crossed out 8pm, looked at his watch and wrote ‘7.53’. That was in just 10 minutes.

I couldn’t speak. I stood up, caressed his forearm, shrugged my scarf back into place and headed for the exit, not daring to look back, the lift up to the 7th and my room No. 704. My hands were still shaking so much that I had to fumble with the card a few times before the door would open. I pushed my way inside and as it shut, leaned against it, eyes closed almost gasping for breath. My heart was pounding fit to burst my breasts out of their flimsy restraints and I could feel a slippery slickness between my thighs. I moved over to the wardrobe mirror and looked at myself, there was a large, damp stain under the most curvy bit of my bottom and I realised that he couldn’t have failed to see it or understand what it meant as his eyes followed me out of the dining room. I felt a little frisson of pleasure at the thought!

I looked up and saw the digital wall clock. It was 7.48, just changing to 7.49. In just four minutes there would be no going back! ‘For chrissake, I’ve got a husband waiting at home!’

‘Oh, come on, Francine! He’s not waiting for me. Not in any meaningful way. We’ve long drifted apart. Sex only happens over a bottle of wine and I make an adequate missionary’s wife, that’s just about it.’

I had been doing these overseas tours, once a month for 18 months now. It was very lucrative and basically good fun so what more did I want. Well, I had been toying with the idea of a liason almost from the beginning and I had programmed in the post-course day for that very purpose, having long decided that all my energies should be devoted to the course until the weekend, that