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Brand New Book

So, I know I missed a couple of weeks posting to this blog. I really need better time management skills (besides, doing a kitchen project isn't conducive to blogging, but that's another story). So, what I want to do is give you a preview of my new book. PurelyFiction is allowing me to give you a tease, and let you know that the whole book will be published soon. It's a series called LoverBottoms and it follows six friends from childhood through old age, and takes a detailed look at the subject we are all most interested in; the sex lives of other people. Enjoy!



How did we get here?


De’Jante Jones

Copyright 2020 by DeJantè Jones

Published 2020 by PurelyFiction Publishing

All Rights Reserved

Love may be the strongest force in the Universe. If it is, it has the power to destroy us all.

How Did We Get Here?

Chapter One

While love may be powerful, sex is required for the species to continue. The intersection of these two human needs, love and sex, is the single most fascinating subject for every human on this planet. Let’s take a look at a few people who get love, sex, and desire a little mixed up.

Her breath caught, which surprised her. What surprised her even more was the feeling in her middle, warm and soft, that she hadn’t felt for a while. She heard herself laughing, felt herself smiling, drank in the dark eyes and shiny black hair with her eyes like a woman who hadn’t had water in a week. He was young, stunningly handsome, and taking time to talk to her. Not just the nice talk the other people gave her, the seller-to-customer talk she was used to. He was looking right at her and listening to her. He was paying attention.

She liked it. She liked his youthful good looks, his tight jeans, his easy smile. She caught herself lingering with the door of her car, as though shutting it would stop the moment that she wanted to prolong. Then she felt it; tight, warm, more of a gush than a surge. Small, but very, very noticeable to her.

She was aroused.

By a kid at the supermarket who was helping her load her stuff in the car and who had been nothing more than polite. And she was aroused. The door slammed shut, she managed a last smile before sliding into her seat and gripped the wheel tightly. The self-condemnation would come later, but for now she had only one thought;

How the hell did we get here?

It was the damn leggings. He tried, God knows he did. But the damn leggings were just too much. It was like looking at skin with color. And some of them were so tight. He caught himself looking at the small ones, big ones, fat ones, muscular ones. Women in leggings were everywhere.

He wasn’t a perv or a creep. But the leggings always got to him. He would look, lust, and then see how young the girl was and feel guilty. Not ashamed, really, he was a man after all. He didn’t shout, leer, or say anything suggestive. But he looked. He would always look. It was the looking that made him feel guilty.

Twice he had a legging fantasy while he had sex with his wife. That made him feel really guilty. But it was the masturbation while thinking of a young woman in some particularly tight leggings that he had seen while on his lunch hour the day before that stopped him cold. It was a wide-awake, fully conscious, let’s-run-through-the-sight-and-sound-one-more-time fantasy about a woman he didn’t know and who would never ever give him a second glance. And it felt so damn good.

How, he wondered as he hung his head and stared at the ground. How did we get here?

Maddy put the groceries on the kitchen counter of her neat suburban home and stood leaning on it for a moment. The house was quiet, the kids weren’t home, and her husband would be late. Maddy relished the few quiet moments she had, especially now.

The kid at the market was old enough, so she didn’t feel like there was something wrong with her. Old enough, she snorted to herself as she started to put groceries away, for someone twenty years younger than she was. Still, Maddy smiled at the thought of his easy grin and polite, friendly chatter. She would have stayed longer, but that would have been awkward. She didn’t care about the kid, anyway. She cared about how the kid made her feel, even if it was only for thirty seconds.

Maddy finished putting the groceries away as her two middle schoolers came in, searching for food like small mice who were trying to escape a cat. Maddy just let them rummage through the fridge and the cabinets, which surprised both of them. She didn’t even warn them about spoiling their dinner or reminding them that she would cook. She just watched them with a scowl. Somehow, this made both of them leave the kitchen without a snack in their hands. Mom telling them to not snack they could handle. A quiet mom with a scowl that said “I’ll bite your arm off” without actually saying anything was more than they wanted to deal with. They both looked at each other and made a quick exit.

Maddy snorted again, this time with a smile. ‘Mom’ looks, she thought to herself, works every time. Maddy started to make the usual motions for preparing dinner, the way she had made dinner countless times before. But her heart wasn’t in it. She loved her family, but the boy at the supermarket had aroused something in her. Something she hadn’t felt for a while. She liked it, and she hated it at the same time. But, her kids needed to eat, didn’t they? And what kind of mom sits around thinking about the body of a young, strong…oh hell, she told herself. Feed the kids, Madelene.

Just then her husband came in. Her husband, a man with whom she had joined in body, mind, and most of her spirit, whom she had children with, and who she desired to grow old with, probably die with. She slammed a kitchen knife into an onion, wishing only very slightly that it was his throat.

The usual pleasantries, the usual kiss on the cheek, the familiar squeeze. Followed by a totally unfamiliar grab at her left butt cheek, a hand swimming toward the top of her pants, and a throaty, “I can’t wait to get you into bed tonight.”

Maddy held the knife tightly, surprise making her eyes go wide. She was a bit stunned, something she hadn’t been in a while. At least, not with her husband. He was so…so, familiar. But, this definitely wasn’t. And, what was that? Yup, she was a little moist between her legs, his hand still on her butt, only now inside her pants. Maddy whispered something about the kids, but she didn’t want him to stop. He wanted her, her, the lady with the onion smell and the kitchen knife, he wanted her. And oh, she wanted to be wanted.

They played for a few more minutes until the kids came into the kitchen. The children were both old enough to know they had caught their parents doing something they were a bit embarrassed about. But when their parents just grinned and went about their routine the kids rolled their eyes, made their disgust well known, and left the kitchen again. Maddy smiled at her husband, who immediately grabbed at her again. She pushed him away with a stern look, but allowed her hand to brush his crotch. To her immense pleasure she felt the beginnings of his erection, and her underpants got just a bit more wet.

Later, after the family obligations were complete; the dishes, the homework, the chatter, the parental concern about all things children, Maddy and her husband were able to go to their bedroom. Maddy had been thinking about sex since he had shoved his hand into her pants. She wouldn’t allow herself to admit, even in her own head, that it was sex with the boy from the market, and not her husband. When she tried to consciously put the boy out of her mind and focus on the body that was now against hers and was so comfortably familiar, she lost her interest. But one small, tiny thought of the boy’s dark hair, his smile, his sleek body, and she felt her own body respond to her husband in a way that it hadn’t in a long time. She felt a surge and a rush, grabbed him by the ass and started to grind, having an increasingly detailed fantasy about younger men. Oh what the hell, she told herself, what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.

His wife was chopping onions when he got home. For once he came home and actually looked at her. Sure, it was the leggings, but he really looked at his wife. And yet, he didn’t really see her. He saw his own desire, reflected in her eyes, and for a brief moment he had what he thought he wanted; a woman who wanted him. A woman who sighed a little when he touched her, kissed her, placed a hand softly and gently on a part of her body that made her take a deep breath and look to see if her children were watching. He kept that moment alive, too, through homework and dinner and straight into the bedroom where they could finally, finally, take their clothes off.

He was the one who turned the light off. Not because he didn’t want to see her. He noticed, before the light went out, how pretty her face was. That was what started it. He had smiled, and she had tugged him closer. He loved her, and he was pretty sure she loved him. But that wasn’t what either one of them wanted. Not just then, not in the heat of this moment. No, lust was what they both wanted. They wanted to fuck.

And fuck they did. But the light needed to be out, because they needed to make believe. Make believe they were someone else, with someone else. They needed, just for now, to do something they weren’t supposed to do.

So, he had not only taken her panties off, he ripped them off. Sure, it was a struggle, but he wanted her and she wanted to be wanted, he could feel it. It was something neither of them had felt for a long time, this sensual desire for each other. His erection was harder than it had been in a long while, and he made sure that he was up on his forearms and not weighing down upon her. Her skin was delicious, soft and supple, and wet. He felt her labia swell and part, then he slowly, so slowly entered. It was a few seconds of heaven.

Then he was thrusting, but not without control, and she was responding. His hands found her curves, they explored familiar territory. He knew every inch of her, after all. His arousal diminished ever so slightly. Then, it creeped back into his brain. The image of a woman he didn’t even know. His mind flitted from one sexy step the woman took to another, while he ground harder and harder into his wife. Then, she grabbed him by the ass and pulled him farther in, and he was lost in his lust for her body, for her sex. They came together, and lay smiling in the dark, feeling the happy afterglow of orgasm.

It took a few minutes for him to start berating himself. So, he asked himself, do I need a fantasy to have good sex with my wife?

(More to come, dear reader. DJ)

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