An Enviable Position

by Mark Reed

Read at your own risk. If smut offends you, don't read this. If you're younger than 18, don't read this.

Author's note: I have two distinct different tastes in stories. As a reader, I enjoy a wide range of things kink-wise, but mostly enjoy the longer, drawn out tales. As a writer, I've given up on ever writing anything that isn't a connected series of sex scenes. What would happen if a person were forced to choose which types of eroticism they would read and write? What if there were a hierarchy of sex story characters?

The story ended, and my bedpartner and I faded off to a place where we could easily be retrieved by our author if he ever had need of us again. Think of it as an individual reality intermixed with the dreamed individual reality of others. That's pretty much what it's like to be a story character in between jobs.

I like to keep my world simple. I appeared in a large open space of fluffy white clouds. A warm breeze swept invitingly across my face from the direction of my favorite hot spring. I scanned the area with my eyes, observing the clumps of other story characters and looking for some of my friends.

I recognized some and walked up to that particular group. I had known some of these guys for a long time. We had done different parts in various stories. Every one of them had fucked and sucked their way to exhaustion an untold number of times. Over the course of my 'career' I developped friendships with quite a few of them. The group I walked up to consisted entirely of guys. They were surrounding a kid I didn't recognize, listening to him talk. I tapped my buddy Elyinja (hey, if you lead a life where your name changes everytime you find a new gig, you'd develop a pretty strange name too) on the shoulder to get his attention. "Who's the kid?" I asked.

He shushed me and turned back around to listen. I glanced at a few faces and realized everyone was pretty much listening to the kid with rapt attention, so I started paying attention too.

"I knew she loved lilacs, so I had scented candles spread across my room. Twenty five of them. While she was in the bathroom, I raced up the stairs and started lighting them all. I got done just as I heard her open the bathroom door. I had been hoping to meet her at the base of the stairs, but since she was already out I called down to her and invited her up to my room instead. She came up, opened the door to my room, and gasped at the effect I had created. I recited the poetry I had prepared, which made her smile. She looked around the room and saw the painting of her I had hanging on one of my walls. I love that painting, and I think she likes it, too. I discreetly grabbed the remote to my boombox and pressed the play button for my CD player. The CD I told you guys about came on, and *our song* was the first track. I asked her to dance, and we spent the next half hour circling my room in our arms, staring into each others' eyes. It seemed my whole world dimmed in comparison to her eyes."

"Wow," one of the bystandars whispered. I blinked and focussed my eyes from the mental picture I had been following. I looked around in confusion at the smiles of delight everyone was giving the kid. He was maybe 14, and everyone was staring at him with what I can only call hero worship. I didn't understand what the big deal was, since it was only a dance. I went out dancing all the time. "What happened then?" Someone asked.

The kid's grinned widened and he resumed his storytelling stance. "The last song of the CD was coming to a close, so I serruptiously guided her close to the bed. We held each other through the final strands of violin, then I gave her a gentle kiss. Our lips met and brushed against one another, and she moaned softly. I shifted my hips to keep my raging hardon from touching her and ruining the mood. After a bit she opened her eyes and we lost each other in a mutual stare again. I came to myself eventually, which brought her out of it, too. I slowly sank to a sitting position on the edge of the bed, and she joined me. I fixed my face into a serious and ernest expression and told her that I had loved her since the day we had first met, and that I would love her until the day I died. Her face lit up in a teary smile and she told me that she loved me as well. I closed the distance between our heads and gave her another soft kiss. My mouth opened for the first time and hers followed. Our tongues touched tentetively, then with more assurance. I put my hands around her sides and held her as our world shrank once again. I don't know how long we just sat there, kissing each other slowly. Time seemed to stand still, or at least disappear from the realm of importance. Eventually I decided that I wanted to push the envelope a little more."

"You dawg!" Someone gasped. Everyone else in the circle glanced up and stared daggers at him for breaking the narrative. He looked sheepish and politely asked the kid to continue. The kid nodded and thought a moment, then picked the story up again.

"I slowly brought my hand from her side to the front of her stomach, caressing the skin there through her shirt. She didn't seem to mind, so I brought my hand up further until it was cupping one of her breasts through her bra and shirt. She moaned softly into my mouth, and her kisses gained vigor. I brought my other hand up to cup her other breast, and spent several minutes sitting there fondling her through her clothes. I memorized every bit of her breast that I could with my hands. Once I even tweaked a nipple, and she moaned appreciatively. Eventually I slowly slid a hand back down her belly and even more slowly slipped it under her shirt. My fingertips passed lightly over the skin of her belly. I could feel the goosebumps forming over her flesh as my fingers slowly crawled up towards her treasures. Our tongues danced in our mouths, declaring our lust for each other. My eyes were closed, allowing me to fix my attention on all my other senses. I savered the smell of her hair and perfume. I memorized every soft moan she let escape from her throat. I recorded every soft touch of skin, every gentle stroke, fully intending to relive that moment again and again over the next few weeks. Finally my hand reached the bottom of her bra, and then..."

The kid was interrupted by a soft chime and a change of air around the group. In my private dream reality, that was the signal for one of the characters to prepare for a new role in an upcoming story. The crowd made a loud groan of dissapointment as each of the members recognized the signals ringing through their own private realities. The kid looked apologeticly at the group. "I'll pick this up when I get back. See you later, guys." He checked to make sure nobody was touching him, then faded out of the dream existance into something a little more substantial.

The crowd muttered and dispersed. I looked around, still confused, and trailed after Elyinja until I caught up with him. "I don't get it," I said. "What's the big deal? So he fondled some tit. I fucked three different chicks and got one up the ass in my last story. You do better than that kid even on your minor gigs."

He rolled his eyes at me and spoke in a patient tone. "Don't you ever get tired of the same shit, different story? Yeah, we get laid all the time. It's great and all, but after a while it gets old, doesn't it? I mean, how many times can you take a girl up the ass before you're wishing for some new conquest? Dude, there's more to sex than excersize." He paused and his eyes lost focus at some private memory. "I know there is," he ended softly.

I blinked at that. "You envy the kid? Are you telling me you'd give up the 20 pussies a month, the being tied to a bed and teased for hours, the spanking cute little teenaged vixens in microskirts, the constant stream of blowjobs, the threesomes and orgies, all to fondle some highschooler's itty bitty titties?"

He looked at me like I was a moron. "Well, yeah I would, but you're thinking in the wrong context. Think of it like this. Sex is a wonderful thing, right? Well, so is a chocolate sundae. You have a chocolate sundae about what, once or twice a month?" I nodded and waited for him to get to a point. "Okay. Which way do you think you'd enjoy a chocolate sundae more? Eating one four or five times a day, or waiting a month, then slowly building a really really big one with your hands. Putting the scoops of ice cream on the plate yourself. Spreading the whipped cream, dripping the syrup, dropping the nuts one by one, placing the cherry perfectly in the center, then slowly eating it. Which one would make you enjoy the act of eating the most?"

I stared at him owlishly as I slowly thought that through. "The long, slow way. I'd enjoy it more if I worked up to being able to eat it."

He beemed at me. "There you go," he said simply. "That's why that kid is one of the luckiest guys I know." He clapped me on the back with a hand, then turned and walked away while I continued staring in the spot he had just vacated.

A soft chime interrupted me from my musings and the air around me shimmered. I reflexively checked my clothing and thought it into oblivian, readying myself for the next set of clothes I would wear. I briefly wondered what the new story was going to be like. "God, I hope it's a romance," I muttered as my reality shifted and turned to something just a little bit more substantial.

~Fin~