Note: This is a sample erotic story from Cyan Stories membership area. This is just the first part of the story: the rest is available to only to Cyan Stories members. For complete stories for free, go read my Free Stories.

Inspiring Gathering

by Cyan

Copyright 2002 by Cyan
All Rights Reserved; No Redistribution.

Sweet love, sweet thorn, when lightly to my heart. Looking around as the line went through my mind, I wondered what they would think of my choice.

Somehow it seems like college would have been the time to get together and compare favorite poems. All those nights, all those friends, literally looking for things to do, classes that gave us the chance to read new things, and, well I suppose there must have been girls who did such things but I could only recall the times and wonder why I didn't use them to better advantage.

But now, later in life, wasn't I doing the same thing? Still too nervous to share a favorite poem? But I was more grown up: when I'd pushed Dora to explain her plans and discovered women who did such things, I hadn't shied away this time. I refused to let her go until I had details, and yes, new women were welcome. Finding the house by noting the cars parked around it, I knocked on the door, book clutched in my hand.

The woman who answered smiled. "You must be Dora's friend," she said, and introduced herself as Marianne. Other women were sitting and chatting, some holding books of their own, and Marianne went out of her way to make me feel at home. Soon I was talking to a friendly younger woman named Karen, who asked me about my husband and family. I still clutched my book and thought of the fact that none of them were saying anything about poetry, but I realized it made sense not to dwell on it the whole evening. I admit I hadn't been happy to discover I'd arrived before Dora but she came in another couple of minutes in any case, and Marianne and Karen had certainly put me at ease.

From across the room, Dora smiled at me, but I had to admit I read something in it, as if she weren't totally comfortable. She came over my way, seeming intent to sit next to me, but as no seat was available, she ended up on the other side of Karen. "Good," said Marianne, "now we're all here," and conversation had obviously stopped. "We have a new member for our little group as you know, so obviously we'll all make her as welcome as we can," she said, then added, "and of course we'll explain our little group to her."

She paused, and I felt a little out being under the spotlight. She gave me a warm smile, then went on. "Our little group is a refuge of sorts, for us," she said to me. "We gather, out of the eyes of our husbands, all our day- to-day friends, and society, and we can be ourselves. We can share a piece of ourselves that no one gets to see, some of the poems and writings we treasure. You understand?"

She seemed to want a response and I mumbled a "yes" or "sure" or something like that. I liked what she said, but something about the way she was explaining it all did leave me just a touch confused.

"Outside we have to be on," she said, "almost like a twenty-four hour performance, for our husbands, our families, our colleagues at work, whomever we run into at the store, on the street, it goes on and on. Here, we refuse to do that. Outside we're women, we're sexual beings, we're judged by our bodies and our morals. We're put in our place. Here, we get away from all that."

She paused and I said nothing. Looking around, I found all eyes on me, then as I watched, they deliberately looked away as if to give me my space. It was a bit feminist what she said, but it certainly wasn't anything I'd disagree with. She smiled. "So we go to a few lengths to act differently here, to be ourselves." Again she paused and I sensed she had some point I didn't yet understand. "You see, outside, as a woman, you're pretty much judged by your chest. You must hide it yet show it. Men and women alike gauge you on it even if they manage to set that little evaluation aside in order to treat you like a human being. But it's pretty much society's way of summing you up.

"Not that breasts aren't important. It's just that our bodies aren't necessarily sexual, that today's society forces it to be treated that way. Understand?"

"Sure," I said, but feeling I was telling less than the truth.

"So," she said, then paused making me wonder whether she were gathering her courage. "Here, we get comfortable without the sexual pressure. Your body isn't necessarily just your sexuality, it's part of you."

What? I stared at her, not comprehending. Her words still made some sense, but the direction of her conversation and the points she was emphasizing had me bewildered. "Here you can relax," she added. "We undress a bit just to relax with each other."

What? The word echoed in my mind. "Don't worry about it," said Karen next to me, quietly. "It's all part of the experience."

"What do..." I started to asked her quietly. I glanced at Marianne and she seemed pleased that Karen had taken over explaining things to me, but quite what they were talking about I wasn't quite sure. I glanced at Dora to see a slightly worried look on her face.

"Nothing much," said Karen. "We just relax and undress a bit while we share. It's definitely nothing sexual."

"Undress?" I sensed they all were deliberately not staring at me.

"Just our tops," said Karen. "Believe me, it's exhilarating doing it in a totally non-sexual situation. Just sharing."

"Oh," I said. All sitting around in their bras? Or...

She smiled. And touched the top button of her blouse and in a couple of seconds it was clear to me that she was waiting for me to do the same. ...

Cyan Stories
Erotic fiction, sex stories, for erotica lovers.