The Perfect Visitor
Copyright© 2011 by Lubrican
Foreword
Romantic Sex Story: Foreword - I was retired. My ex wife hardly ever bothered me. I could do what I wanted, when I wanted. Life was good. Then I got a call from my ex-wife's niece, asking if she could come visit for a week. I hadn't actually ever met her. But I had the room. She needed a place to crash while she did something or other. It wouldn't intrude on my life that much. And it was hard to say no. After all, she WAS family of a sort. And she WAS just a visitor.
Caution: This Romantic Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Romantic Incest Oral Sex
Foreword by Lubrican
This book, statistically, is the 200th story or book I have written and posted for the world to see. That being a milestone of sorts, I wrote this one to be number 200, for a specific reason.
Along in 2007, after I had been writing and posting for a couple of years, I got some feedback from a female reader. I always perk up a little bit when the feedback is from an alleged female. I'm a guy, and guys like it when women pay attention to them. She basically told me that "The Last Wish Blues" was the first story she'd read, in which a teenaged girl got pregnant, that she felt anywhere near good about. She also said she'd gotten pregnant as a teenager, and it hadn't been a happy thing.
We exchanged a few emails, and then a few more, until we evolved into chatting on line. She was intelligent, funny, and critical of my writing in helpful ways. She made it quite clear that there were only a limited number of my stories that she liked, and that some of them she had never read because the teaser and codes convinced her she would not be interested in them. We got to know each other better, and I found out she was a web developer. She had read stories at my website, which I had painstakingly created from self-taught mistakes and corrections. I was proud of it. It was colorful, easy to read, and easy to navigate. She thought it was garish, clumsy and amateur in appearance.
Some men would have (and probably do) labled her picky and opinionated. Call me a closet masochist, but I was smitten. It isn't often I talk to a human being who is blatantly truthful about what she thinks ... and still likes me.
She said she couldn't stand my website, and offered to come up with something simple and elegant to take its place. I wanted to resist, but couldn't, because she already had me wrapped around her little finger. It was good I didn't. The site she built for me is far superior. I couldn't pay her for her work, though, so I wrote her a story instead. It was a story about one of my fantasies about her. She was in the neighborhood of 25 at the time, which would have put me in my very late fifties. Most women would have laughed, called me a dreamer and quite possibly a pervert, and never written to me again.
She was kinder than that.
In fact, she offered to edit the story I'd written for her, since it was chock full of errors, distractions and mistakes.
So I let her do that, even though I didn't want to work with an editor. These little things were my inventions, and editors, in my experience, tried to change too much.
But I was impressed with the results. Everything she changed needed to be changed. Everything she corrected needed to be corrected. The distractions were gone, and now the story read smoothly. It was sweet. She was sweet. I started calling her Peaches. She started calling me Gramps.
I am not a stupid man. I recognized a good thing when I saw it, and I'm not talking about the flirting we did. So I asked her to edit the next story ... and the one after that, and the one after that, which included some long stories. And since I still couldn't pay her anything, I wrote her another story, and then a few more after that, including one that was HER fantasy and which, regrettably, did not include me. But that was okay. At one point, though, she began getting more work, which meant she had less time to edit for me, and I was writing things that didn't interest her anyway, so I gave her a break.
All this is so the reader will understand that, over the last three years, this woman has had a tremendous impact on my writing and my life. I know that my fantasies about her will never come true. I still wish we lived next door to each other, though, because she has become one of my best friends, and I love her like that.
So I wrote story number 200 to be about her. And me. It is as close to being autobiographical as I've ever written, in terms of what she and I are really like, in real life. The fantasy overlays that, but the curmudgeon you will be introduced to is pretty much me, and the quirky, off beat woman you will meet is pretty much like her. There are a few differences, of course. The plot required that both of us do things we wouldn't normally do. But if you ever wished you could sit and drink a beer with either of us, this will be pretty close to what that could be like.
