Foreshadowing: A Night To Remember - Sex Stories

Foreshadowing: A Night To Remember

... of ecstasy and cries of pleasure reverberate across the room. The participants surrender their bodies and minds to their hidden, kinkiest desires. Nothing is off the table. As long as they are mutual you're free to make your most sinful, forbidden desires come true. I was pretty sure that my friends would be disgusted and secretly aroused. As a matter of fact everyone around me would be shocked if they knew of my erotic fantasies and the hidden stack of sexy, inappropriate literature that kindled those thoughts. I was the good girl of the family, all straight As and good manners. Nobody suspected of my secret life and all the things I longed for in an almost painful way. I could hear my girlfriends' whispers of disapproval. "Oh my gosh, you're such a slut." On the other hand who knows? There was a high chance they were harboring even more perverse desires than me but they were too much of hypocrites to admit them. Just like me. If I were that open minded I would just tell them directly what I wanted without a care of their opinion. Instead, I conformed and just went along with their style, revealing just the top layer of my secret world. In the end of the day I was just as much of a two-faced person as them. During that summer I grew even more obsessed with the idea of that bachanalia, celebration of flesh, lust and passion. I thought of detailed characters who took part in it and one day I started writing the story. I took intense pleasure in putting my fantasies to paper, ...

... so to speak. I spent hours typing furiously and rubbing my wet pussy against the chair as I indulged in those delicious situations. The title I chose, The Orgy, was originality personified. Unfortunately when I finished it I found myself immensely disappointed in myself and the result. It felt stale, lifeless. The people who populated my world seemed more like cardboard characters rather than human beings the reader should like and identify with. Compared with the works of my favorite authors, compared to Cristophe Sabitini, it seemed exactly what it was, the work of a school girl. I ended up destroying my manuscript. Just like I did with all the other attempts at creating something of my own. I tried to come to terms with the fact that I was better at reading, assessing and editing literature than writing itself. And yet when I stepped into the Château, already a grown up woman, my wet dreams stage, I was overwhelmed by that sense of foreshadowing, that tonight would be the night when I'd be able to experience what I've only read about. There was a high chance I'd be disillusioned but I didn't want to consider such possibility. As the host was leading me to the hall where I was supposed to dine with Cristophe I had to gather all of my willpower not to show how thrilled I was to be there. For a short moment I wondered whether that was not all just a hallucination. I was wearing the sexiest and most provocative dress that has ever caressed my naked body. I looked gorgeous and I ...