OPINION

Shelly

May 09, 2006
Deepti Lamba

Note: Erotic Tale

The door bell was a shiny golden button that I couldn't bring myself to press. I wanted her bad; I wasn't the unfaithful type but we had been having mind sex for so frigging long that I was like a horse sweating and chomping over the bit.

I had to have her despite the fact that she wasn't much to look at especially when compared to my willowy, Nicole Kidman look-alike wife, Shelly. If anything else she had a rather dumpy figure, being a single mother of two had destroyed her figure and given her a few grey hairs but she made it up with a sunny temperament and a sharp wit.

My mouth watered as I stared at the bell and willed my finger to press the cold button in. 'Push it in damn you!' I muttered to myself but I remained frozen.

Sex with Shelly had always been hot. She was good at giving blow jobs, she knew where to lick, to suck the tip of my dick, to squeeze my balls ever so gently and just when I would be about to come she would release my dick and look up at me with her big china blue eyes and ask "Honey, which of the three holes will it be? The mouth, the cunt or the arse?"

She knew this line would get me off faster than a red hot engine steaming down the tracks. I would grab her by her butt, spread her legs and ram into her sure and hard with her cries of delight ringing in my ears till we both would come together.

I would then go down on her and suck the nub till it ran some more juices, made her thighs tremble and perked her nipples up to be fondled by her swift fingers.

Curling her thighs around my neck, Shelly would grab my head and tell me exactly where to suck and lick. And, as she would quiver and come and the smell of arousal would mingle with the smell of combined juices.

But knowing Shelly as I do, after thirteen years of coupling, she would want more. She would turn and show me her perfect little arse and jiggle it in my face.

"Do you want some more?" She'd purr her stale line.

Holding the orbs apart she's show me her third hole and say invitingly, "It's yours to take big man".

My dick would respond with a slight rise. The suggestion would revive its ailing spirits and I would grab her biggest 16 inch dildo, lick her hole to make it lubricant enough and slowly push it in.

Leaning against the satin sheets she would close her eyes and moan through her perfectly rounded red mouth.

In slow but hard movements I'd move the dildo in and out and watch her butt grind its aroused rhythm and just as she would be about to come I would ram my big boy into her rough and cruel and bit her neck as she would clutch the wood of the headboard and come for the last time.

As I said before, sex with Shelly was way beyond awesome. Squirting in her tight little cunt was the only highlight of our marriage.

Wiping my sweaty hand against my jeans I again caressed the smooth surface of the button and wondered if I was doing the right thing. Shelly, after all was my wife and the sex was good but then the after glow left much to be desired.

After the fucking when our breaths became normal, bodies demanded sleep and souls a little cuddle, Shelly would sit up and demonstrate the reason why I married her in the first place - for her twat and not for her fluff of a brain.

She would grab my wilted penis as she always did after sex and talk about her maxed out cards or the new dress she had seen at the mall or a trinket she just had to have. She would hold my muscle hostage in a rather absent minded manner, fiddling with it this and that and not letting go till I gave in to her polite demands.

The vixen probably believed that I found her version of a dominatrix act to be rather creative but it was nothing more than an annoyance that kept sleep at bay.

Twice a week the pattern would repeat itself, she would whore herself for some extra hundreds or a dress or fur wrap that she would have to have. Apart from that our lives moved on different levels.

I lived in my study writing my latest pulp fiction and she spent her afternoons spending the cash even before it made it to the bank account.

Caressing the frilly design of brass flowers and butterflies over the bell I wondered whether the attraction that Shelly had for me was merely the size of my wallet or the size of my big throbbing boy.

I wasn't a much of a looker - a plain, skinny guy with hazel eyes, light brown hair and indistinguishable features. But it was my ability to spin words that attracted women, not to mention the lime light that tagged along.

I was so 'in' amongst the celebrities that Shelly, the nineties supermodel, had after a week of blow jobs and stained sheets in a hotel room spun me to the altar before I could think beyond my raging libido.

I never had the chance to enjoy my 'in' status with other 'in' people. I was addicted to Shelly's pussy and enjoyed the fate of a deluded sex junkie for thirteen fucking years till Lilly came into our lives.

Lilly, Lilly....Liiiiily came knocking on our door, on one fine gloomy day, holding a rum cake and a two look alike tow heads clinging to her tight, faded jeans.

Shelly had let her in. They both had been gracious towards each other. Shelly had smiled at Lilly. She accepted the cake, made polite conversation about the neighborhood, found out that Lilly was a newly divorced wife, dumped for the secretary and the divorce settlement as plump as her butt.

Or so Shelly had told me with a slight smirk on her perfect thin lips as she raised my penis to life that night. Shelly described Lilly as she sheathed my prick with her moistened cave.

A wholesome woman who had let herself go for her children. She wasn't the skinny type that men now days lust after. Too many curves spilling out of a tight tank top and jeans that did nothing to hide the round paunch that threatened to make a tardy appearance.

Rocking back and forth, Shelly had closed her eyes and as the rhythm picked up she talked about Lilly's brown hair that fell like a thick curtain over her faded features. Biting her lip, she sucked a breath in and leaned slightly forward and huskily talked about the silky texture of the hair that had streaks of grey running through them.

Shelly wondered why Lilly didn't color her hair but felt it complimented her personality. She seemed like a woman who favored her brain over her body.

As she quivered and climaxed Shelly breathed that Lilly was more my type of a woman than Shelly was.

It was all Shelly's fault. She had made me fantasize about our new neighbor even before I had seen her.

And now here I was standing outside Lilly's door after a week of getting to know her, thinking again with my raging libido driven this time by a woman's brain and not pussy.

I finally met Lilly three days after her appearance at our doorstep with her gift of friendship.

I had just finished my novel and emerged from my study where I had been holed in over a month.

Stepping out of my house I inhaled in a breath of fresh air and surveyed the rich neighborhood that was quiet most of the times except on that morning when I heard loud laughter come from across the road from the old Victorian run down mansion.

The door banged open and I saw three feet tall, blond red Indians run out of the house with a dog painted red and an irate mother bellowing like a banshee on their heels.

She was a beauty to look at, her hair was in an untidy pony tail, her breasts bounced freely in a tight green tank top and she waved a broom at her kids and screamed all kinds of creative words that just stopped short of being abusive.

The kids laughed and ran into the garden with a red golden retriever and Lilly on their heels.

I couldn't help but laugh at Lilly's plight. She had her hands full and yet she seemed to live a far happier life than I did with my silent house and a nymphomaniac, fashion driven wife.

The dog bounded around the mother and children as the mother tried to control the kids. She needed help.

I crossed the road and grabbed the dog by the collar. The mother and her three year old twins fell silent and stared at me.

Three pairs of brown eyes questioned my presence and I felt a little hot under my pajama top's collar.

"Er...Hi, I'm John." I waved weakly with my free hand and continued "I live across the street."

Lilly smiled impishly and replied "Shelly's husband right?"

I nodded and let the dog go who then barked and began to circle around all four of us.

Lilly grabbed the dog and made introductions "I'm Lilly, these are my two twerps - Patrick and Josh and that rascal of a dog is called G.I."

"G.I ? Not very creative is it now?" I found myself staring into her twinkling brown eyes.

She laughed and replied "The boys love G.I Joe and guns. The dog likes to play rough. He generally is the enemy and tends to defect too fast."

I laughed. It had been too long since I enjoyed some simple female humor.

"Would you like to come in for a cup of coffee?" She offered over her shoulder as she herded her kids in.

I looked back at my house where Shelly was asleep and thought for a second, it was just a harmless cup of neighborly coffee. I shrugged and replied "Sure."

As I walked into her shabby mansion I was pleasantly surprised to see stacks of dusty books lined up the hallway, the living room and on the staircase. Wherever I looked I saw books, even the box of cereal was vying for space with Emily Dickson and Tolstoy's War and Peace.

She smiled in apology and picked the books up.

"Sorry about the mess." She sang as she went into the living room to put the books on the knee high stack and came back and finished her sentence "This is a book lovers' home. All three of us are bibliographers."

It was then that I realized what I had been missing out on. This is how I had wanted my life to be - a homely woman with kids, dog and books; not a hot empty headed wife whose idea of a happy marriage was sex in exchange for money.

She offered me coffee and as I stared into the dark swirling liquid and my marriage looked the same to me - a mass of dark swirling ignorance spent in empty hedonistic delights.

I didn't want to go back to Shelly; I didn't want to go back to my empty house and empty marriage.

I wanted to talk about her favorite author and when I felt brave enough to show her my recent drafts.

I wanted to rest my head on her ample bosom and hear her warm heart beat. I wanted some run of the mill, habitual sex followed by a nice cup of coffee and a little reading before we turned in for the night.

I felt old at that moment and wanted all the creature comforts enjoyed by older people. Not pink fluffy slippers or lacy nothings lying carelessly around the house. I wanted Lilly in her worn out tank top, messing hair and her ample butt in a pair of jeans a size too small.

I put my cup of coffee down and made some mundane excuse about having to do the laundry and took my leave. It hurt too much to be around someone I could never have.

She bid me a friendly farewell, told me to tell Shelly to drop by whenever she had the time. I nodded my head but refused to look back. I didn't want to see the perfect picture of domesticity that she made, standing at the door of a run down mansion looking like a regular woman bidding her man a fond farewell as he left for work.

I wanted her so bad and it was the first time that I had met her.

I walked into our bedroom and watched Shelly sleep. She even slept like a sex bunny. Her pink nipples peeked through the red lace and her mound lay open through the flares of the fancy teddy. I stared at her beauty that still had the power over my libido.

But it was Lilly that I wanted and Shelly the shell. I silently crept into bed with Shelly who sighed, turned and hugged me. I put my hand on her mound and woke her up with pleasure. She parted her legs and I took her hard and fast, thinking about Lilly.

It was the first time I had thought about another woman while I fucked my wife. I boned her hard and came hard. She held me as I bucked against her. Lilly's carefree laugh still rang in my ears as I caught my breath and quivered against Shelly and it was then that I remembered that Lilly called me Shelly's husband - John and not John Anderson the big writer.

She had definitely caught my fancy.

Despite the mental differences Shelly and Lilly became good friends. When the Lilly and her kids weren't eating at our place we were eating at theirs. Lilly cooked a mean meat loaf which she ate with great gusto as did her kids.

Shelly smiled indulgently while she merely pecked at her own food and smiled even more benignly when we discussed the world of books with the after dinner coffee.

She wasn't a bit jealous; she was after all the pretty one and not Lilly; little did she know of my fixation with her new found friend.

But Lilly knew - she would raise an inquisitive eyebrow when I'd move away if she brushed against me. She even laughed a bit when she caught me staring at her cleavage when she bent in front of me to pick up the dessert plate from the coffee table.

She knew I liked to watch her gardening in her itsy bitsy shorts and tank top early mornings while Lilly slept and she knew who made the silent calls at the middle of the night.

She even took my name and laughed when I spluttered and muttered something about a bad line and hung up.

Lilly, darling Lilly was pressing all the right buttons at all the right times, turning up when Shelly wasn't there, wearing clothes that showed her naked skin at all the wrong places. She had me rearing like a teenage boy and yet acted all innocent.

Shelly knew nothing of it. Lilly and she would even exchange affectionate hugs, exchanged numbers of their hair stylists and spas like girl friends do and made me feel all the more guilty.

I felt like a scum, a horny, unscrupulous dog for lusting after Shelly's only friend but was secretly pleased that Lilly was attracted to me too.

But I didn't have the courage to approach her. I watched her with hungry eyes and wondered if I would ever really get to be with her. Her flirtatious, come hither attitude was driving me crazy but it was hard for me to get some courage in my balls and approach her.

She, however took matters in her own hands and sent me a mail to meet me at her place on Tuesday afternoon when Shelly went to her spa.

And here I was standing in front of her door wondering if I could take the final delicious step and fulfill all my dreams in one sleepy, sultry afternoon.

Taking a deep breath I pressed the button and heard the bell ring somewhere inside and waited.

One minute....two minutes...I looked around and saw a neighbor drive by and wave at me. I weakly waved back....Where was Lilly?

I rang the bell again. But no answer....I pushed the door and was surprised to find it open.

"Anyone there?" I called "Lilly?"

Silence greeted me. I knew the kids were at their play school but where was Lilly?

I walked up the stairs towards her bedroom.

"Lilly?" I knocked at her door and gently opened the door

I gasped. A buck naked Shelly was munching a buck naked Lilly.

"Whaaat?...."I couldn't finish my sentence. I was too shocked to even register the pleased look that Shelly gave me.

I crossed the road in a daze and found myself sitting on our porch.

What just happened?

I couldn't comprehend the turn of events. Wasn't Lilly coming on to me?

As I watched the sun go down, watched Lilly's kids return home, watched the lights of her house switch on while mine remained in utter gloom I tried to come to terms with what I had seen but none of the explanations made sense.

Time seemed to be of no consequence. I cannot remember how long I sat on the porch. The sprinklers came on and the smell of wet grass assailed my numb senses. Nothing made sense any more.

Across the street the mansion's door opened and Shelly stepped out. She stared at me from across the road and I looked back. The distance between us had never seemed so painful.

She crossed the road and sat down with me. I couldn't look at her in the eye. The smell of her perfume mingled with that of the garden and made me realize what I was about to lose - a woman I had been taking for granted for over thirteen years, a woman that I had come to love.

Shelly took my hand in her bony clasp and spoke softly "I know you better than you know yourself John. I was hurt initially. Why wouldn't I be? I thought we were happily married but then I saw how you craved for Lilly and it broke my heart."

I tried to speak but she shook her head and I fell silent.

"It wasn't Lilly who sent you the mail. I did."

I couldn't believe her.

"But the message was from her email id."

Shelly laughed and replied "How hard is it to hack a mother's email address? The password was Josh, her kid's name."

"Lilly had been stringing you along just as I had been stringing her with admiration and sympathy."

Patting my hand she went on "You see, Jack, Lilly is on a rebound. The divorce is still too fresh and she hates men at this point of her life and I do mean all men which includes you."

I glared at her and said angrily "So, this was all a game that you and Lilly played to punish me?"

Shelly stared at me for a few minutes and then got up and before going into our home she said "No Jack. It was all me. You thought I wasn't good enough for you but I wanted to show you that the person you thought was better than me preferred me over you."
She leaned over and whispered "So, now tell me who is it that you want? Me or Lilly?"
---------------------


The doorbell was all shiny and clean. I was as nervous as a teenage boy on his first date. It was our 30th wedding anniversary and I was going to please her with the biggest rock I could find at the mall; Shelly was still my sex bunny and I was her ever faithful husband.

Deepti Lamba is a writer, an editor for Desicritics. She can be found at Things That Bang
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#1
1000
May 9, 2006
04:04 AM

e ka tha .....humko to mazaa a gaya.....at this point i will say a prayer ....O Big badshah....bless us all With a mate like shelly......join me to say Amen

#2
1000
May 9, 2006
04:09 AM

even better....why can't there be a mandatory course(the way shelly did)for every bride-to-be.......iam sure funds for this NOBEL cause won't be a problem...........

#3
The Hissing Saint
URL
May 9, 2006
06:50 AM


Great tale...I loved the twist at the end!

#4
Mayank 'Austen'
URL
May 9, 2006
07:15 AM

Hey, I was hooked from the begining to end. However Lilly seemed like a book lover. I would have liked the protagonist to go for her. But nothing comes out as you want it to be. Such is life. Such is fiction. Smile and a wink.....

#5
deepti lamba
URL
May 9, 2006
08:49 AM

Thanks guys and yes, a mix of Lilly and Shelly would make a heady combination ;)

#6
temporal
URL
May 9, 2006
10:19 AM

dee:

(breaking news)

there is a missing not in the 14th paragraph

(returning to the story)

#7
temporal
URL
May 9, 2006
10:45 AM

is there a way to retract #6?

(wait till you read the whole story before commenting t)-- so says the new stickie on the monitor...insert sharmindagi wala icon

#8
deepti lamba
URL
May 9, 2006
10:51 AM

but you did find another big typo error...you are the best, t :)

#9
temporal
URL
May 9, 2006
02:48 PM

dee:

finally!

good yarn, with a nice o'henry...

...personally i dislike and disapprove of first person narration in fiction for a novice...you aren't:)

felt the story could have ended without the very last paragraph.

#10
deepti lamba
URL
May 9, 2006
03:35 PM

thanks t, took you the whole day to read;) O'henry? Wow, that some compliment.

#11
Man
May 9, 2006
08:36 PM

Hmm...liked it, I think I'd prefer Lilly to Shelly...

:)

#12
Lakshmikanth
URL
May 9, 2006
10:35 PM

Wow...thanks dee!!

This is good soft-erotica story..

I liked the rich descriptions of emotions... i mean, thats exactly what I would feel if ever I were in some situation like this.



#13
honest critic
May 9, 2006
11:54 PM

you certainly need to think twice before publishing an article of erotica in a website like desicritic which reaches out as a wonderful platform for healthy topical issues.You are free to pen your sexual fantasies but on a website called erotica,you certainly would not like your kids to be a part of your sexual dreams.what next a picture of erotica on desicritics?

#14
Mayank 'Austen'
URL
May 10, 2006
12:08 AM

oh dear honest critic, you are too honest for this erotic world. but there was a note attached before the begining of this article. of course i'm concerned about your kids but please, oh please (i pray, i insist, i implore) let us have some fun......(stupid silly giggles)

#15
deepti lamba
URL
May 10, 2006
12:12 AM

There is a disclaimer provided on top about it being an erotic story that way you are not taken by surprise and can read some other post instead. And if the picture is tastefully done I don't think there would be much to object.

Nor I do not understand your other analogy of comparing erotica to pedophila. This is purely a work of fiction and is not a reflection of my dreams or thinking.

#16
Aaman
URL
May 10, 2006
12:25 AM

we have no restraints or censorship at Desicritics - a few examples - here and here- human emotions and their expression is a vast topic worthy of exploration. Also, readers are welcome to read what they choose, or not.

Opinions about an article are fine, but not against the author.

#17
Lakshmikanth
URL
May 10, 2006
12:52 AM

Dear Honest Critic,

First: If u are honest, u would have given atleast a URL to let us have a look at your face or rather to have a look at your ideas.

Second: I really dont understand why some creepy [edited] think that erotic writers have a promiscous lifestyles:- where anyone can have sex with anything, and fantasize their own kids. Could you explain it to me how or why such ppl make such incestuous connections?

Or rather chuck it:- Lets go at it like this: most of our temples have nude goddesses... does that make our culture a promiscous one. or does that imply that the people who made those sculptures used to have sex with their children?

Do you know what art means Mr. HC?

Are all crime story writers criminals? Are all science fiction writers mad scientists?

Art is just that, an imaginary situation created in the mind of an individual. Art is therefore not to be judged; it is to be enjoyed.. and if it cannot be enjoyed then it is better left alone.

Dude get a life... [Edited]

Ever heard of the term sexually repressed? I think thats having an effect on you.

No 'hard' feelings
cheers

#18
Mayank 'Austen'
URL
May 10, 2006
01:37 AM

oh i did not carefully notice the reference to kids in the comment made by 'honest critic'. i thought that he was worried what if his kids came across this article. but he actually seems to accuse the author of something entire different and quite nasty. i feel he should not have scrolled down below the cautionary note 'Erotic Tale' in the first place.

Some folks like to read erotica. some people dont. but everyone has a choice. and honestly speaking, the story is not just plain sex trash. it is well-written, intelligently-plotted, attention-sustaining and good to read.

#19
Mayank 'Austen'
URL
May 10, 2006
02:03 AM

According to Honest Critic's arguments, Lolita's Nabokov must had been a paedophile, Suitable Boy Vikram Seth has to be straight, 'Bareback' Ang Lee surely must be gay and ambiguous Shakespeare could not help but be a bisexual! Now this is a word of certainities....smile....

#20
deepti lamba
URL
May 10, 2006
02:11 AM

Mayank, lets not forget Anne Rice's Sleeping Beauty ;)

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