The Erotic Writer

“Nothing could have prepared Boleslaw for the sight he had just seen, two hot, naked, hairy, middle aged women having steamy sex in the middle of the day, right out in the barn. Boleslaw stumbled away, the image burned into his mind. He knew he was in for many nights of tossing and turning trying to rid himself of the image of Gertrude and Mable as they rolled around in the hay, sagging breasts flopping everywhere, slapping the stalls, making the hay fly. The image of hairy legs and arms, Gertrude’s mole on her cheek with the 4 hairs coming out of it. Mable’s mustache rubbing on Gertrude’s upper lip as they slobbered over each other. Boleslaw knew he was in for some long term time with the county “shrink.”

There is no way that will work for the start of an erotic story I thought. I had been working for several hours trying to get a start on my story and nothing seemed to work. The usual ideas came and left, straight couple, strangers in the night, teacher/student, lesbian, BDSM, voyeur, nothing seemed to spark my interest. I had just spent some time in the chat room at my favorite erotic site and started banter about hairy women, humpbacked dwarfs, and just total nonsense when the idea of a really silly story, full of sex between really creepy people started to come to mind. But no, now that I was here at the computer nothing was coming to mind, not even silly, creepy sex.

I paused and re-read the opening lines, trying to get an image of what I wanted in my mind. I just could not get a handle on it. I was on the verge of just deleting the whole page and trying to start over when something caught my eye, some sort of movement just to the edge of my peripheral vision. I turned my head and saw old Mrs. Edmonds bending over picking grass out of the cracks in the sidewalk.

Now I have to say this about old Mrs. E, I am sure that in her prime was a rather nice looking lady. She still has a hint of past allurement; a breath of unclaimed beauty can still be seen in her face. So far nothing really disgusting like you sometimes see in women who have passed from middle age to old age to finally the age of wonder; you wonder how the hell they have stayed out of the grave for so long. No Mrs. E was still a rather good looking woman to be in her late 60’s or so, however the view I had of her was somewhat unnerving.

Now do not get me wrong, I love to look at women, hence the nickname of Night Watcher, but the image of a 60 plus year old woman, wearing a rumpled housecoat with pink bunny slippers is rough. The same woman, dressed the same way wearing a hot pink thong is, however, a great deal worse. Just about the time I got over the shudder that ran down my spine Mrs. E. turned and saw me looking at her and just smiled. With a wiggle of her ass as she walked away, she turned again and I saw an almost indecent smile creep across her face. I thought to myself that I had at least made someone’s day, even if it was purely by accident.

I turned back to the computer but with my mind being blank I had nothing to write, nothing to even draw from so I clicked the thing off and decided to go to the bar for a cold root beer. Maybe I might get lucky and find a muse or at the least an idea or two.

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