Literary Erotica
by Lord Malinov

I went over to Craig’s to borrow his old Telecaster. I’d never played one but the producer thought it would be perfect for one of my songs. I’ve since played the instrument and it’s really sweet. Of course, now I have to buy one before we tour but I can dig it. Can’t have too many guitars.

Craig was out of town, but he told his roommate to let me in and give me the guitar. I knocked on the door and a woman answered. I hadn’t expected that. I thought Craig’s roommate was a dude.

“Craig sent me,” I said.

“I’m Julia. I don’t know Craig.”

“He lives here,” I said.

“I’ve been hanging with Derrick. I think he lives here too.”

“Derrick, yeah, that’s his roommate. I’m supposed to pick up a guitar. Craig told Derrick.”

“Okay. No one told me. Come on in.”

“Thanks. Where’s Derrick?”

“He left while I was asleep. So I don’t know.”

“Shit. Do you mind if I go to Craig’s room and get the guitar?”

“I don’t live here. Do whatever.”

“Thanks. It’s right back here. There it is. What a pig.”

“That’s a mess.”

I picked up the guitar and played a few licks. The woman’s eyes went wide.

“Do I know you? I mean, are you famous?”

“Not really. You might. Our last album did pretty well but I doubt …”

She reached over and grabbed my dick, through my jeans.

“Whoa,” I said, mostly out of surprise.

“Keep playing,” she said, unzipping my fly. The Telecaster was unplugged so it sounded tinny but she didn’t seem to care, going to town hungrily on my erection.

I started playing the song I was borrowing the guitar to play, a new song so I could use the chance to practice the changes while distracted. Man was I distracted. Her tongue was playing a rapid rhapsody along the length of my manhood. I went into the solo and she sank my prick deep. I exploded with a splash across her lapping tongue.

We talked for a while, as I sent her into ecstasies with stories of playing gigs and recording albums and meeting stars and all the damn art. Looking at my watch, I knew they were expecting me at the studio, so I gave her a kiss and bade her farewell.

I got to the studio before I realized I’d forgotten the guitar. I drove back to Craig’s place and knocked on the door. Derrick answered. I was disappointed but what could I do. I took the guitar and laid down the track. Sweet, it sounded oh so sweet.





About David Cain

David Cain, literary author, bon vivant, rogue romantic poet - author of Witch, 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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