Losing It

By I. M. Telling

Maybe it was the sunrise peeking into my dorm window that morning that did it, maybe it was Nadine's enthusiasm about her last fuck-session with that asshole boyfriend of hers. Maybe it was nothing more than my urge to pee that focused my attention between my legs. I just knew that I was ripe and ready.

I hated thinking of myself as being a late-bloomer, and what the hell does that mean anyway? Just because I wasn't ready to give into the demands of Bob or Mickey, or any of the other guys I dated occasionally, why does that make me different than someone like Nadine?

I wondered, how did I manage to pass my twenty-second birthday without ever having had sex?

• Language: English
• Publisher: I. M. Telling
• Release date: Dec 26, 2013
• ISBN: 9781311219169

I. M. Telling

It occurred to him that perhaps, he might be a better writer of erotic fiction if he targeted his craft towards one person at a time, making love to one reader at a time. [ From I. M. Telling's story Simone and the Writer ] A little perversion of the mind makes it interesting. It also means we typically lead double lives - one for those who think we're normal, and then there is our real world. _________________________________ I. M. Telling writes Erotic Fiction I.M. Telling lives in the southern United States and has been a non-fiction writer for some time. He has always wanted to write erotica and is finally making that dream a reality. His writing includes everything from highly explicit erotica featuring interracial relationships, swinging, and cuckold tales to very sensual stories of bondage and examining the dynamics of open marriage. His work has also started to extend into other genres including adventure, humor, and stories with extreme violence. Telling states that he prefers to evolve the characters within his tales, making their journey from where they start to where they reach by the last page as the reason for the story. "I am convinced that the mind is the most powerful sex organ in the body. I hope my stories generate stirrings within the reader, by being somewhat specific with the x-rated portions. Yet I mostly want my readers to make a journey of their own as they follow the changes happening inside the minds of my characters, who I consider to be my friends. I never judge nor fault my characters, as it is their journey and not mine." I. M Telling Contact Information =================== eMail Address: [e-mail] Twitter: https://twitter.com/#!/I_M_Telling Publisher's Web Site: http://www.LateNightPublishing.biz

Book preview

Losing It

By I. M. Telling

Copyright I. M. Telling 2013

Published by Late Night Publishing

Publishing at Smashwords

All rights reserved. This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including recording, photocopying, offset, or by any information storage and retrieval system without permission in writing from the author, except by reviewers who may quote brief passages to be printed in a magazine or newspaper.

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblances of characters to actual persons, living or dead are purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.

Warning: This material is intended for mature audiences only.

Author's note: All characters depicted in this work of fiction are 18 years of age or older.

Losing It

There just comes a point where a girl knows it is time to give it up. Maybe it was the sunrise peeking into my dorm window that morning that did it; maybe it was Nadine’s enthusiasm about her last fuck-session with that asshole boyfriend of hers. Maybe it was nothing more than my urge to pee that focused my attention between my legs. I just knew that I was ripe and ready.

I hated thinking of myself as being a late-bloomer, and what the hell does that mean anyway? Just because I wasn’t ready to give into the demands of Bob or Mickey, or any of the other guys I dated occasionally; why does that make me different than someone like Nadine?

I still hadn’t climbed out of bed yet and in fact, I’d pulled my blanket over my head just to blot out the morning light. I kept thinking, close your eyes; your first class doesn’t start until nine this morning and this will pass.

Five minutes later, I knew that the cacophony of birds outside my window plus knowing I’d already achieved my normal night’s sleep added to my awareness that further time in bed wasn’t going to happen. Dammit! Regardless, I stayed burrowed under for a few extra moments to listen for sounds coming from Nadine’s side of the room.

I suppose I should say something to her about bringing Tim into our dorm room for sex; I really don’t appreciate it when I hear them screwing. You’d think he’d have the decency to get motel room somewhere, even if it was just a cheap one. Tim was on a full academic scholarship and his family oozed money so what the hell? He could certainly afford a room over at the Motel 6 now and then.

What pisses me off the most is when I wake up in between my two sleep cycles and stumble into the bathroom and there’s Tim, sitting on the toilet buck-ass-naked taking a dump. Why doesn’t he lock the fucking door? And, what’s with that silly grin he always has on his face when I open the door? Is it because I’m also naked?

Mom always made me wear those flannel pajamas to bed when I lived at home. Hell, she still expects me to when I go home for weekends. I think I’d fall over with shock if just once, I didn’t find them folded neatly on my bed. I understand of course, having a kid-brother that’s on the verge of puberty is more than enough of a reason to stay decent around home.

The thing is, and I’ve never really understood this, is that I do find a bizarre pleasure in exposing my body to men. I enjoy it when my skirt rides a bit high when I sit at a desk in class. I’ve loved catching one of the boys staring and I’ve been like that since my sophomore year back home. I even managed to secure a reputation back at Jefferson High. However, I made it a point to always change into a pair of jeans as soon as I got home each