Forever Man

By L.M. Forster

Forever Man is a sexy tale of the kind of love of which most people only dream, of meeting one's life's mate in the internet age, of true love, of life, and of raging against the dying of the light...

It may have been found late, but it was worth every moment to have lived it and learned from it.

• Language: English
• Publisher: L.M. Forster
• Release date: Dec 30, 2019
• ISBN: 9781393992066

L.M. Forster

L.M. Forster is an avid reader with a passion for writing. "I always wanted to write a novel, but never dreamed it would be an erotic romance, yet here I am." Forster is a small-town Southern woman who has had careers in print journalism and education and now lives with her significant other, two daughers, and cat.

Book preview

This is a sexy tale of the kind of love of which most people only dream,

of meeting your life’s mate in the internet age,

of true love, of life, and of raging against the dying of the light...

It may have been found late, but it was worth every moment of waiting to have lived it and learned from it.

"Death cannot stop true love.

All it can do is delay it for a while."

—William Goldman, The Princess Bride

Chapter 1

Wholesome and conventional . That was the way the world always saw Cailin Jean Flanagan—CJ to those who loved and knew her best. She grew up in a small, rural, southern town. The typical good girl—first in her family to go to college, never had to study a day in her life before—and one who knew what she wanted to do with her life from fifth grade on. She was the kind of girl who people expected to have a good career, 2.2 kids, and a house with a white picket fence. She always looked the part, too, as the all-American teen of Irish heritage, which, for CJ, was a point of pride.

She was the youngest of her family, raised in southern, rural Georgia by loving, hard-working parents who never missed a week’s services at the local First Baptist church. Typical. She never got into trouble at school, and she maintained all As until she earned her first C in seventh-grade math. Even after that, her only Cs were in Math, and Latin—a subject she truly thought useless, despite the help it would give her later in French and Spanish.

In her teens, she had long, spiral-permed hair the shade of autumn-spiced cider, that grazed the top of her perfect backside when she walked, lily-white skin through which the blue veins were clearly visible—particularly when she had just worked out—scintillating, Bells-of-Ireland-green eyes that changed hue with her mood and the color of her outfit, perfectly white, straight teeth that never required braces, and a slender, but perfectly-proportioned 34-22-34 figure. But that was all on the outside—a façade she put on for the still-genteel South in which she lived.

On the inside, she had always been her own person, not what small-town society wanted her to be. And that was markedly unconventional. She never quite fit in anywhere. At home, they didn’t appreciate her more liberal political views and hoped they could straighten her out by the time she was old enough to vote. At school, the girls were intimidated by the way she pulled off looking good even though her family had no money, while the guys either ignored her or made awkward come-ons, which she usually rejected with some mild vulgarity and then later felt guilty about in case she’d caused lasting damage to anyone’s fragile ego.

Like most small-town girls, she lost her virginity to her first serious boyfriend. Typical. However, he’d also introduced her to the world of BDSM with her first sexual spanking and an education, of sorts, about female sexuality during their most intimate experiences. Not-so-typical.

CJ fell hard for Michael, who had looked just like Westley from The Princess Bride movie—blue eyes like the sea after a storm. He was mysterious and new, not being from there, and appearing out of the blue one summer at the local Tastee Freez.

A year later, Michael and CJ were dating. It was her first scandal. He was too old at 17 and a senior, and he had a car—a Mustang, at that. That meant he had to be up to no good, according to all the small-town parents. Of course, all that served to bring out CJ’s rebellious side. Two months in, and she caved to his pleadings and had sex with him. Once in a while, she and Michael would sneak a porn VHS from the video store where a friend worked. And, through that, she learned about all the miraculous things a woman’s body could do.

Michael was quite adventurous. Maybe the parents were right. But naturally, CJ didn’t care. Together, they tried out all sorts of positions and techniques. They played with candle wax and ice cubes. Michael tried smacking her on the bottom. She really liked that one, much to her surprise.

She soon found out that being on the oral-receiving end was her favorite part of sex, too. She didn’t know exactly what it was called nor how it happened, but she had her first super-wet orgasm thanks to Michael’s masterful tongue. When he was done with her, she lay there shaking, utterly content, and there was a large round wet spot on the bed beneath her. He laughed and explained that it was awesome that she left such a mess. Then, he showed her a video tape he’d saved for her, in which a woman, at the point of orgasm, had a gush of fluid from down there.

It’s nothing to be embarrassed about, he told her. It’s like the ultimate in pleasure for women. Men have powerful ejaculations, why shouldn’t women’s bodies do the same? he’d said. So, from that point on, the girl knew what pleased her and what she wanted in the sack. And it wasn’t always going to be mild-mannered missionary position, though, she thought, that certainly had its place. 

CJ learned how to use her looks and beguilingly sweet nature to get what she wanted and was well-versed in getting her boyfriend to kiss her and to want to do more just by using her intense gaze and slightly-parted lips. It seemed a natural talent, that, once discovered, she wanted to test out exactly what she could get away with and make guys who took an interest in her do. Sex, CJ had realized, gave her power, and she enjoyed that, having until then felt like some oppressed little Southern Belle.

Still, she was sweet little CJ who had to play the part—right into those societal expectations that she’d just graduate, maybe go to college, but mostly to get her M.r.S. degree, as they called it. Yet, she had things to prove to herself, if not to everyone else. She always wanted to get a real education, get out of this boring, little town, build her own life—filled with writing and editing, adventure, love, and sex. She wanted to impress all future lovers and ruin them for all other women. She knew that kind of connection wasn’t likely to happen, especially in this rinky-dink town. She had to get out.

She also knew that the love of her life would be extremely intelligent, well-educated, and the freak who could really teach her everything she wanted to explore sexually but never had the opportunity.

Besides Michael, she dated only two other people before college. Each had proven he wasn’t what she needed. First, there had been Griffin. He was a much-too-vanilla, super-religious boy with a swath of nearly black hair and sky-blue eyes, who never even kissed her. And, after Michael, there was Joe, who took up their senior year of high school and carried over into college. He, too, had the blue eyes that were her Kryptonite. She once thought that she and Joe probably could have made a life together, but eventually, he showed himself a cheater, and that ended that. CJ wasn’t about to stand for cheating.

Away at college at the age of 17, she finally met a young man—Randall—who, at least, had a thing for public screwing, parking, and getting it on for hours. Why, they even discussed some aspects of swinging and occasionally used a scarf to bind her hands during sex. He was very polite, and very hot, but he was not into BDSM, and not the most well-read and intelligent guy she’d ever met.

CJ was totally honest with Randall and shared that she was bi-curious and sometimes enjoyed role-playing. He seemed to accept it and wanted to help her explore that part of herself. So, together, they managed to seduce her roommate. For the next two years, the three of them played as often as they could. She thought she’d found a compromise and that this would always work for her, so, she settled, and five years later, they were married. And just like that, she was back to typical and conventional.

CJ and Randall ended up sharing a few other partners, all female, until they went to a Nine Inch Nails concert in Atlanta, for which CJ had used her vast music trivia knowledge to win tickets, and ended up in a full swap for the one and only time she ever allowed it.

She never appreciated the idea of her true partner having intercourse with other women, nor did she like to have intercourse with other men. It was a hard limit. And with good reason. That first and only swap caused issues right away. She knew she had a hard time dealing with the emotions that came with intercourse. Apparently, so did her husband. They each ended up wanting more from the partners in that swap than was healthy for their own relationship. CJ put her foot down and put a stop to it before it was too late. All of it. No more playing. No swinging. No threesomes. They were married, by gosh, and needed to behave like proper young southern couples. Time to be typical. Conventional.



Years passed quickly. CJ and Randall had two gorgeous daughters, Helena and McKenna, three years apart. But then, because he couldn’t get over their past, he started cheating on her, drinking constantly, daily abusing porn, and abusing her, too. He never hit, but his words were cruel and tormenting. He always found a way to complain that she couldn’t keep the house clean, that she Never did anything for him.

He turned controlling. He demanded that the house be spotless, even though CJ worked outside the home, too, and had two girls to take care of after the work day. He ordered her to have a hot meal waiting for him when he got home, often late at night, long after she had succumbed to the need for rest. He complained about the food when she did cook. And, he stayed out with young co-workers and friends doing God-knows-what until all hours of the night. What is this, the 50s? I’m not some June Cleaver wearing pearls in the kitchen and always here to serve her man, CJ told herself.

Then, one night, he came home yelling about everything as usual. This time, CJ tried to stand up for herself. Tears streaming down her face as she tried to make him see reason, CJ finally stood up from where she had been watching tv, and headed up the stairs to retreat and go to bed with her children. He followed, yanking her arm to turn her around to face him, and causing her to stumble and fall on the stairs. The next thing she knew, he was screaming, You are my WIFE and you are going to give me what a husband needs.

Suddenly, CJ found herself face down on the landing in front of the master bedroom, and her hands and feet were being bound together—she didn’t know with what. He dragged her into the bedroom and onto the bed, and raped her despite her sobbing, pleading protests.

She should have packed her things and the girls’ right then, and left. But she didn’t know where to go and was afraid he’d hurt her, or worse, the girls, if she left while he was there. So, from then on, CJ made sure she was asleep in the girls’ locked bedroom whenever he did come home.

Within a few weeks, she was able to make a plan. And, when he came home after having disappeared for three days, just before Thanksgiving, telling her that she had to fulfill her duties as a wife or he was leaving, she told him to go ahead and leave. It took her the rest of the school year to get everything in order and be able to leave him and that house full of horrid memories.



Once CJ escaped the abusive marriage, she settled quietly into life as a single mom. She spent her days teaching literature to high school students, her evenings transporting her daughters to dance and back, and her nights watching her favorite shows, talking with her kids, grading student work, reading sci-fi and fantasy, and loving her little tabby cat, Noodles.

Her looks hadn’t changed much in the past twenty-some-odd years, especially for a mom of two. She was still a slim size 6. Her breasts were now an ample 36D, if they were a bit less perky from four years total of nursing her children. Her waistline a bit larger at 30 inches. And her hair a bit shorter, just below her chin in a stylish bob. CJ’s best assets, in her opinion, were still her goddess-green eyes and her firm, round rear end that practically begged to be spanked, should she ever meet someone again who was worthy of being allowed to touch her. She still caught the eye of most men wherever she went.

The problem was, she really didn’t want to catch anyone’s eye. At least not at first. She had had years of introspection, plenty of time to consider who she was and what she wanted, without outside interference.

She didn’t consider herself lonely, nor did she think she was alone. She had a good, stable life, just enough money to get by each month, and lots of vegetarian dishes to explore with her second-favorite pastime, cooking.

Before her teaching career, CJ had been a writer for magazines and newspapers, but when the girls came along, the hours were much too long and cumbersome to keep up, so she went back to school to earn her teaching certificate. After learning all about pedagogy for high school students and teaching her first two years during the certification program, she landed a job in the public-school system, and could finally afford to focus on herself just a bit,  remembering her love for writing and reading all manner of literature, which had always been amongst her favorite things to do.

CJ often sat in the evenings writing in her journal, perusing old poetry she’d written years ago when she was young and in love or pained in some way, and remembering all the emotion it stemmed from. Mostly she was glad she wasn’t in a relationship any more to cause such upheaval, but every now and then, she missed being that creative. And, with that revelation, she concluded that without the relationship and the emotions as her muse, she had little to write about, and it all made her a bit sad. Not enough just yet to go out seeking some guy to fall in love with. Not even enough to have a sexual fling. She hadn’t so much as masturbated or thought about sex in more than ten years. She was just... content, she thought. Typical. Again. But now instead of being a typical southern rural teen or a conventional young housewife, she was typical of young, professional divorcées. And she learned to wear it well.

Now at 44, CJ figured all the fun of mild BDSM she’d explored in her teens and those threesomes in college were far behind her, and she had become a strong, independent woman now. In other words, she’d put up a lot of walls and convinced herself she didn’t want or need anyone or anything else to get by and have a happy, successful life. She was, in her mind, a sweet, emotional, creative, sexy woman done horribly wrong by an ex, who had lost all her confidence, and had just given up and decided there’s no such thing as love, suppressed all the sass, passion, and spice that she once knew, and settled into her new life. Still, typical.



TYPICAL AND CONVENTIONAL was not the life CJ wanted. Something had to give. And all that reminiscence made her think.  So, when out of the blue, an old friend from high school, Conall Campbell, made a move on her, she concluded she’d really let herself down. Why shouldn’t I have some fun? Why shouldn’t a grown woman want someone to worship her body? she asked herself. She worked hard, gave her kids a good, solid life, providing everything they needed on her meager teacher’s wages—even dance and music lessons. She deserved a life, too. And, quite suddenly, she knew it.

With that, the ivory-skinned, green-eyed, strong, independent goddess was thrust into adventures that she could have never guessed would come her way. Not at all typical. Quite unconventional. And, little did she know, her fling with Conall would lead her to the love of her life, or that he’d come in the form of a nearly twenty-years-older man, practiced in just the lifestyle for which she’d always longed.

Chapter 2

Leonard Ari  Buttmann , Ari to his friends and family, was always a free-thinker. Having been raised by a single mom who was far ahead of her time with her own liberal, free-spirited views and life contributed to that. Little Ari was smart, musically-talented, and precocious. And his mom made sure he was not only educated at school but taught to be respectful, generous, and loving, too. She wasn’t afraid to broach the subject of sex with her son, and she saw to it that he received an education in how to treat his partners, straight from her mouth and from his love of reading. Not surprisingly, that open and frank education led him to early sexual, sensual proclivities, too. He lost his virginity before he was a teen and spent lots of time from then pursuing his more prurient interests.

Ari was a voracious reader. He loved music, especially jazz clarinet, and he started learning to play when he was in elementary school. Growing up in south Florida also meant that he was introduced to different languages, especially Spanish, at a younger age than some people. He learned to communicate with his Hispanic peers easily, having a natural affinity for language, and being an extrovert.

As a teenager, Ari’s intelligence, good looks, and suave demeanor had served him well.  Though he was not overly outgoing—in fact, he could be quite shy—he never had a lack of willing partners. He was an average 5’9" tall, was well-built, but not body-builder muscular, and full of natural charm and wit. By the time he got out of high school, he’d explored all manner of sexual play with a plethora of girls in his south Florida city. And, since he graduated at the age of 16 and went straight to college, he’d had plenty of time to learn how to please. His college days were in the age of free love, after all, and he was young and beautiful with his twinkly, lapis-blue eyes that lit up when he smiled, and dark military-cropped hair that made his eyes stand out even more. He always sported a deep tan living so close to the beach, and that, too, enhanced his good looks