Collaborative sex stories let us write the plot together

(Her Secret Fantasy, continued by k.kikkiriccio...)

After visiting the fitness room, where you imagine a sweaty Connie in little shorts and a sports bra, it’s time to head upstairs. Half gentleman and half pervert, you allow the ladies to go ahead of you, trying not to be obvious as you admire Connie’s ass. It’s certainly not teenager-perky, but nice and womanly to compliment her wide hips — thankfully her jacket is waist-length so as not to obscure the view. Her pants fit snugly but not tightly, not like there’s a lot of extra pounds to be stuffed in, but apparently like they are tailored to her exact shape. Since they are snug and the waist is low, you notice no hint of muffin-top, indicating a fit build and slim waist. You think her attractive shape is accentuated by the pinstripes that run up her legs, over the smoothness of her butt, the inner ones caving in to meet at the middle seam.

You arrive at the top of the stairs in a game room with a pool table and card table, the huge windows overlooking a deck or something facing the back yard. “We’ll come back to this,” Connie says. “Best for last!”

You tour the other rooms upstairs. On one end, there are three bedrooms, one with its own bathroom and two that share a bathroom between them. Nice, but nothing special. On the other end of the upstairs, there is a half-bath, apparently for guests, a study/library, and an actual sound-proof media room with a projector, surround sound, and theater-style seating. Connie explains the media console thing to you, which allows all kinds of inputs, from cable TV feed to streaming video to A/V inputs from a computer to VGA/DVI, USB, Blu Ray, etc. It’s kind of impressive and kind of hot to listen to her, like she knows what she’s talking about and not just regurgitating what she read on a list somewhere. Your perverted thoughts wander to images of her on her knees giving you a sloppy blowjob in old jeans and a t-shirt with some math formula on it while peering up at you through nerdy glasses.

You return to the game room, adjacent to the landing that overlooks the foyer below. Of course you imagine doing dirty things to Connie on the pool table, and maybe playing strip poker with her and Rachel and her hot friend Monica.

“Here we go, seriously, my favorite,” Connie says, opening the double doors to the outside deck. It’s nothing really that special, you think. Large, yes, with a patio table complete with umbrella and two padded chairs. But there is another piece of furniture, a kind of recliner-futon thing with an adjustable canopy over it. And, wow, an outdoor fireplace set into one wall. Um, yeah, it sure is nice, you think, as the ladies seem to ignore all this and walk out to the edge, looking out over the railing.

Oh, the view! It is quite stunning. You can see miles in one direction, and the wooded area beyond the back fence is quite nice. You look directly down on the downstairs patio area, and the beauty of the garden off to the side of the yard is pretty awesome. Connie stands leaning against the rail, in her now-familiar leg-crossed-over, arms-folded pose, giddy with Rachel about the fireplace and the view. You and your girlfriend sit at the table while you chat. It’s been pretty warm the last few days, especially this afternoon, and you enjoy the light breeze and cooling temperature of the evening as the sun sets, yes, in your line of sight, beyond the woods.

Rachel fantasizes, “I could see myself out here in the morning with a cup of coffee.”

“And tea in the afternoon,” you add.

“Dessert, a glass of wine at night,” Connie offers.

After chatting a few minutes, you and Rachel get up to take another look at the view. Connie is standing with her back to you, facing out. You think it’s funny/interesting how her pants are flapping gently in the breeze but her pixie hair isn’t long enough to go anywhere. You decide to make your move, and hope this works out.