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Literary Erotica
by Lord Malinov

I ran into Mia at a bar. It was one of those moments of cognitive dissonance, something is wrong here, wait, what?” I had known Mia in high school, seven long years before. When I knew her, back then, Mia was pretty, bubbly, happy, cute, naïve and sweet. Too pure for my tastes. I appreciated her for what she was and moved on. My tastes have always been corrupt.

So recognizing Mia at a bar struck me oddly. Her greeting, though subdued from the exuberance of youth, contained enough enthusiasm to let me be sure the woman was the girl I knew. She looked the same but seven years changes us all in ways. But there was no mistaking the light in Mia’s eyes. She shone with a lovely intensity.

“Pull up a chair, big boy.”

“Hey, Mia.”

“When did you grow up into a man?”

“It was bound to happen.”

“Well, I approve, I mean, look at you.”

“You’re looking fantastic.”

“I always did.”

“Yes, you did.”

“I always liked you. You were nice to me when I was perfectly annoying.”

“You weren’t that bad.”

“No, I was insufferable. I was a virgin. I think that says it all.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“But you weren’t all in everyone’s face about it. I was a self-righteous prude for about three years, in everyone’s business, spouting slogans about living right.”

“What is right?”

“Exactly. College cured me in about two months. Nietzsche, cock and alcohol, they set me straight.”

“No shit.”

“We have the booze, you look like Superman. All I need is some cock and I could show you.”

“Have no fear. I have cock.”

“Perfect. Let’s get out of here and find a bed to play on.”

“Up, up and away.”

“Now you’re getting it.”

“Let’s fly.”

Fortunately, the ubermensch banter died out before bad jokes kryptonited the encounter. I frequently forgot to breathe as I led Mia, sweet, cute, all-grown-up Mia, back to my apartment, I was so stunned by her direct invitation to go screw. I assumed that was what she meant but then I’d look at her and see the naïve person I once knew and doubt would send my mind in swirls of confusion. Really? I didn’t dare ask. I could hardly speak, afraid I might break the spell but I felt compelled to say something, in case silence would ruin everything. I was in tatters by the time we reached my front door.

“Relax,” she said, taking my hand. “I’m not the girl you knew. Not at all.”

“But you are,” I heard myself argue.

“If I judged you by the boy you were, I wouldn’t be here. Except you were nice. I was nice, too. Now I’m naughty.”

Mia ran into my bedroom and started stripping off her clothes. I shook my head and smiled as I pulled off my shirt. She wasn’t the girl she was but kneeling naked on my bed, she certainly looked like her. A few pounds heavier, probably, but essentially the same perky breasts, long stomach, plump bottom, lean thighs. Not that I ever saw any of that when we were young, but I certainly spent long periods imagining what she looked like. And close though she was, she was also so much better, naked, excited and bouncing on my bed.

She seemed to like the way I looked as well, stroking and mewing and rubbing and growling. We came together and came apart and came together and so on for an hour.

“You want to order a pizza.”

“We should eat.”

I admired Mia further as we ate our pizza in bed. Her nipples relaxed into near invisibility but then hardened into a tight nub of deep pink. Pizza aside, she sucked on my cock while I fingered her damp pussy. I moved behind her and thrust until she creamed. We rolled around atop, aside, bestride and beneath, taking our strokes and our kisses and laughter. I plunged into her naughty ass. Mia came and came and came again.

And I wondered. Who would she be next time?

About Lord Malinov

Lord Malinov, literary author, bon vivant, rogue romantic poet - author of Song of Songs, Journals of Lord Malinov, Erotic Romances and others ...
This entry was posted in books, erotica, fiction, literature, literotica, personal, short stories, writing and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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