JL Peridot’s blog

Should I be embarrassed? We’re not teenagers anymore.

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You and I was my first erotica release in 2017. It began as an experiment in steamy “sudden fiction”, then later became a five-piece series of flash fiction chapters. I was reading a lot of Literotica back then and wanted to see how things would turn out if you shot for the same level of heat but with a more introspective tone.

Hope you enjoy this little excerpt from my early foray into rude writing 💜

The credits finish. In reality, a second passes, but it seems to take forever. It’s so quiet, I can hear the tap drip in the kitchen. Should I be embarrassed? We’re not teenagers anymore. But we’ve never been this close before and my skin is burning.

“Should I get up?” I ask. I’m exposed and awkward, unsure of where this goes. What would it mean to you, if I sat up? Should we pretend this never happened? The questions in a question.

Your mouth moves, silently at first. Then you say: “You don’t have to. I mean, if you don’t want to.”

You look in my eyes and I wonder if you can tell I’ve thought about us being here. I wonder if you know I borrow the clothes you leave behind when you crash after a big night; if you know I know they smell the way you do up close. With my face pressed against you and my belly in knots.

Fuck it. I don’t want to keep wondering.

“I’ll stay a bit,” I say. I smile and move my head, press a little harder; you breathe deep. “Hey, I don’t have to be anywhere tonight. Do you?”

“Nowhere,” you shake your head. “Nothing planned.”

“Can I take this?” I ask. I tug at the waistband of your shorts. A wispy tuft peeks out from the gap between your shirt and underwear.

You look like you’re about to say something; either ask me to stop or to keep going. I wait to feel your hands on the back of my head, wait to hear you tell me, direct, to put your dick in my mouth and suck it until you come. But that’s only how I imagine you. You’re too polite for that. You just nod and wait for me.

You lift your hips and I slip your shorts off. The cut of your v-line surprises me. It really shouldn’t. I’ve seen you countless times, shirt off, passed out drunk exactly where I’m lying now. But not like this, I suppose. Not where you’re inches from my face with your eyes on me and your abdomen rising and falling like unbreaking waves.

Read the rest of You and I

This book (short story) is free from most ebook outlets.

Abandon all shyness, ye who enter here…

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