Cj & Me
Copyright© 2025 by Arking
Chapter 8
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 8 - This is our story, CJ, a teenager, and a very much older woman, me. How we met, how we connected, how we coped with the many dramas such a relationship can have. Through heartache and pain, and so many happy moments, there are some very erotic sexual passages, all blended into the context of a life's journey. If you like, consider The OWLs Club and Hannah's Way.
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Fa/ft Consensual Reluctant Romantic Lesbian Fiction BDSM DomSub Rough Oral Sex Violence
I sat back and became thoroughly engrossed in such a beautiful story, a sweet love story. I cried. And the catch cry from that movie ‘Love means never having to say you’re sorry’, I went on to use throughout my entire life, to many people.
The end came along, and the lights gradually came up, I was crying, and Paul was smiling at me. He held out his hand and I held it tightly, there were a lot of sniffles from around us in other seats. I dabbed at my eyes, trying not to smudge my makeup, smiled at him, and mouthed the words, Thank You. We stood and joined the others leaving the auditorium and re-entered the foyer upstairs, most of the ladies were making a beeline for the powder room and I joined them.
Not as spiffy as the one in the restaurant but still pretty nice, for a loo. The ladies like before were exchanging pleasantries in an outer room while this time the door to the lavatories was clearly marked with a Pull sign, which I did and went in and made myself comfortable for the ride home.
Paul held my hand as we descended the stairs along with the many others. The crowd was still exiting the ‘cheap seats’ with the gentlemen standing around discretely waiting for their escorts to return from their journey to make themselves feel comfortable no doubt. While waiting they were jovial and as was the custom of the day, they were lighting up their cigarettes and cigars.
Paul ushered me through the throng, out onto the street, where the street noise was gay and happy, people were laughing, the cafés were full, and music came from everywhere. The pubs had live bands playing, and people spilled onto the streets. The city was alive, with no hint of trouble or danger. Paul held me close, and I felt safe and good. This is partly why I said yes when he asked me to marry him.
Totally the wrong reasons to get married I later found out.
He hugged me, kissed me, and twirled me around, he was both laughing, and I caught a tear in his eye. Yet I didn’t feel any of that, just safe and well good. When we got back to the car, I asked him if he was serious, he said he was, and I had made him the happiest guy in the world.
I thought to myself, What Have I Done. The drive home was all Paul talking about how we were made for each other, how I made him so happy.
How many kids did I want?
Where do I want to live?
Should we buy a house or build one?