Get on your knees for me, I begged almost breathlessly as she bit and licked my neck, one hand on my breast the other between my legs. I was pinned up against the wall, one of my favorite places for a little sa weet and nasty and oh so sensual *****.

Gawd she was hot and making me beg, the relentless temptress.

I didnt have to ask twice – in a New York minute she was kneeling in front of me, and with her teeth slowly peeling away the waistband of my baggy shorts, my last line of resistance since I was sans underwear as I usually was when I was near her.

Biting my bottom lip to stop the noises of uninhibited pleasure escaping from my closed mouth, I grabbed the sides of her head, my grip on her hair almost too tight. Despite leaning my head back against the wall, I managed to look down and sneak a peek as she continued to lick a now pants-free path down my abdomen — by passing my wet and waiting center of erotica — and to the insides of both my thighs – one then the other.

Gawd, what the ***** is she waiting for??? Knowing she could make me ***** so easily usually made her hot so I figured she was a burning volcano by now – ready to erupt simultaneously with the smoldering de-pinned grenade she had plastered up against the kitchen wall.

I moved her head in my hands as subtly as one could who was overflowing with impatience, and I could feel her devil smile and hear her evil laugh as she tried not to move. I felt her hand on my breast drag those nails down my side and grab the back of my knee, carefully placing my leg across her shoulder, her tongue never once leaving the surface of my inner thigh.

With her other shoulder, she ever so slightly moved my supporting leg outward and I slid several inches down the wall, biting my lip harder, simply moaning with anticipation.

(NOW WOULD BE A GOOD TIME, BABE, I thought to myself almost afraid to verbalize any more requests.)

But verbalizing is what she chose to do, telling me exactly what she was going to do with that talented tongue and those long, slender fingers. And when she did what she said she was going to do to me, the chair I was actually sitting on in front of the computer tumbled backwards as I dropped the keyboard and lost the mouse –all three of us hitting the floor at the same time.

WHAT THE ***** !! I just disconnected one of the hottest cybersex moments I have ever had, my hand still between my own legs and wet with my own excitement. Most certainly I would get a bruise on my ***** from the fall off the chair. ***** . . .

I scrambled and struggled to put the chair back upright, retrieved the keyboard and mouse and swore outloud as, now on my knees, I tried desperately to plug those two contraptions back into the hard drive tower positioned under my computer desk, . MOTHER ***** ME . . .

She probably thought I got too embarrassed and disconnected us on purpose I said to myself almost talking as loudly as I was swearing. I was getting the cords of the keyboard and mouse all wet and sticky with moisture from my pleasure zone when I suddenly stopped – just stopped there with my head under the desk, on my knees – just stopped and thought to myself WHAT I AM DOING?? WHAT THE ***** AM I DOING?? I DONT EVEN KNOW HER NAME – HER REAL NAME ANYWAY -I JUST KNOW WHAT SHE CALLS HERSELF WHEN SHE WRITES – WHAT THE ***** AM I DOING?

I was just about to sit back on my knees and move away from under the computer desk when a voice from the kitchen startled me . . .Hey, babe, what are you doing in there? Are you alright?

The sound of Ks voice scared me straight up and I hit my head on the underside of the desk.

GAWDDAMMIT, I blurted out grabbing the back of my head. Mother ***** me again.

I started crawling backwards out from under the computer when Ks voice startled me once again, this time coming from the doorway to the room in which I was down doggie style as she looked at me and asked, Jeez babe, what the ***** are you doing down?

At the sound of her voice I once again hit my head on the underside of the desk and once again I cussed out loud.

Mother ***** me three times, ***** that hurt, I yelled as I finally managed to back away from the desk and sit up, looking at K as she leaned against the door way grinning and wiping her dough covered hands on a kitchen towel.

The bottom of my ***** was stinging from the chair fall and I was rubbing my head where I had twice bumped it as I sat crossed legged and fought back the laughter . . WHAT? I asked her.

What, what, she responded through her smile. I heard a crash and was just worried about you – thought you might have fallen out of bed or something. What are you doing? I thought you said you were going to take a nap.

(OH MY GAWD . . .WHAT AM I DOING IS RIGHT)

I sat there for a moment not knowing exactly what to say, but knowing what ever would be coming out of my mouth would be a LIE, because thats what addicts do – we LIE, we cant help it. I already lied to her about taking a nap when all I wanted to do was get on line and chat with some of the authors.

You see I believe that my addiction is escalating and that I am not getting any better. Even a heart attack, a near death experience, could not make me realize what I truly have in my life and how good I actually have it. The addiction to read Fan Fiction led to a writing addiction which has now led to an utterly uncontrollable urge to actually meet some of the authors. Meet them first by communicating through e-mails – they like to leave their addresses somewhere in there stories – those writers, those women who know how I am and still tease and tempt me – -gawd I hate them, I hate them all, I hate them so much I want to be like them – I have always wanted to be like them, and now I hate them so much I want to meet them. And I have, met them, some of them, on line met them. Why cant that be enough?

I had to choose my words carefully because my life with K was more amazing now than before I got sick – and why I was choosing a self-destructive path that not even my company shrink could help me avoid I did not know.

I thought about the past few weeks with K as I looked at her looking at me. Things couldnt be better – I was going to retire from work, bought a motorcycle, and we had once again found time to continue our lifes mission of having ***** in over 300 public places – gawd, I missed doing that and it was so nice to resume that goal. But something kept gnawing at me about K . . .

She had been trying her best to placate me after my confession that the image of Bette Porter had taken over my life – that I saw Bette everywhere, in the faces of people I didnt know, in every room of our house, just appearing out of nowhere and showing up in every single location I visited, worked, walked, slept – -every –*****–where. I believed that God was manifesting himself in the form of Bette, giving me advice on how to be a better person and spread the L to all who needed to know. But if that is what I truly believed, then why was I reverting to the behavior I tried so desperately and unsuccessfully hide from K during our relationship before we married. God wouldnt want me to ***** up this part of my life, would he?

I am certain that K did not believe my obsession with Bette. I am certain that she simply dismissed it like she did when I confessed about the addiction to the site. Its not that she makes light of my seemingly silly behavior, no she doesnt and wouldnt do that. Its just that she is not an L word woman – oh she watches the show because I make her, and she listens to the CD from the show because I make her and she even reads the stories because I beg her to. But if I didnt make her do all those things, I am not sure she would choose to do them on her own.

I have asked my self a million times what she sees in me and why she tolerates me and how could she love me like she does, but what I havent asked very often is how can I be with someone who doesnt share the passion, the obsession of all things L.

I continued to look at K as she looked at me, neither of us saying anything. (K, PLEASE, I WILL GET ON MY KNEES AND BEG YOU – PLEASE THROW THE COMPUTER AWAY, PLEASE K THROW IT AWAY)

So, what are you doing? she asked again as she walked towards me still wiping her hands. She had been in the kitchen making some healthy, heart friendly cupcakes or something – something for me – she was doing it for me.

I took a breath and decided I better speak . . . And out came the lie . . .

I was just reading some fan fic stuff, I watched her walked closer and suddenly began to feel my chest constrict (HOLY ***** – SHE CAN SMELL THE ***** ALL OVER ME – I AM A ***** GONER).

Oh, yea, who? she asked as she held her hand out to help me off the floor.

Jeez K, there are so many new ones, but I will confess that one of my favorites just came back and she writes excellent ***** like ***** stuff. I held up my hand and she pulled me to my feet and pulled me close to her – too close if you ask me.

She isnt one that I told you to stay away from is she? K asked as her face was dangerously close to mine and her eyes were locked with mine trying to see my soul.

Uh, no, but she should be, uh, shes pretty hot, I struggled with the lie, well some of it was true, and tried to resist Ks squeeze.

She put her hand between my legs and ran her forefinger over my ***** and I swear I was going to have to kill myself – caught in the act of sexual desire, residual juice still in me. Still holding me close she brought her finger between our lips which were close but not toughing, our eyes fixated on each other. She licked the finger up one side and down the other, never breaking the gaze and I felt my face hot, hot, hot with desire and embarrassment – which emotion she read I wasnt sure.

Ya know what, Beach? she whispered so sexily to me (I LOVE IT WHEN SHE CALL ME BY MY NAME). I like what she does to you–I think I am going to have to lift the ban on ***** like writers – you go and read them all , read the ones you want, the ones that make you laugh, cry and especially the ones that make you wet. Go ahead, babe, I want you to.

She put her finger in her mouth, all the way, sucked on it and pulled it out really slow. My mouth opened to speak but I couldnt, I just couldnt say anything. She slapped my sore, bruised *****, smiled, touched my nose with that frickin dish towel, and turned to walk out the door.. Get cleaned up, hon, dinners almost ready.

I crumpled to the floor like a discarded piece of paper a frustrated, blocked writer would toss aside, and lay there spread eagle. Elvis, my perverted dog, trotted in the room and walked up on my chest and licked my face.

Go bring me a pillow, I told him as I brushed him away and spit out his kisses. He did as he was told and I took that pillow and covered my head so I could think . . .

I think I need to see the shrink because I dont know what the ***** I am doing . . .


TBC