WOMAN... an erotic story?

WOMAN... an erotic story?

A Story by MICHAELANGELO BARNEZ

Julia, a beautiful and fleshy woman, was taking a warm water bath in the bathtub of his apartment. Three other women were doing the same in their own bathrooms in the three contiguous floors of the condominium where she lived.

Julia was lying in her bathtub. Eyes closed not for sleeping but relaxed, resting and submerged in the warm water. However, her beautiful breasts, naked, fleshy, protruding slightly raised over the water level, covered with soap foam. She was a mature woman about 50 years old, whom the time didn't have yet undermined the sinuous lines of her fine waist and fleshy hips. These were still hot due to the voluptuous and lush character hiding under the cloak of a peaceful women home.

She was a mother of two daughters, who had already left the family last summer to go to the college.

After several years, she had overcome the crisis of menopause, and now, in the privacy of your bedroom or anywhere in the house, she enjoyed the glorious sexual encounters with her husband anytime they pleased. Finally, she had the privacy needed to realize their erotic fantasies without the "blessing" of pregnancy, or the need of using of uncomfortable contraceptives of any kind. In a way you could say that the couple, under the direction of Julia, lived in their second honeymoon.

She always liked to roll over intertwined with his loving husband and ride on him, as in a rodeo competition, at the peak, and also screaming near and during orgasm. Although due to her own shame she had to hold back for years by the presence of their daughters at home. She liked to sighing and moaning loudly beside to talk dirty during sex. All of that was a hidden need in his soul that was kept down for a long time... until the day that her daughters left home.

Julia was unable to control her libido as a hot woman and felt herself wet, also ashamed of that sensation, and hugging her husband's waist, they both gave the "girls" the good bye waving their hands from the porch of their home. Yes, the girls, as she always called them, even if they were 17 and 18, had left home.

One morning, very early, right on the crack of dawn, she had fornicated with her usual vehemence allowed of her golden years. Since quite a while, it wasn't her husband the one who took the lead to make love, but on the contrary, it was she the one who now was chasing to her husband without rest. Notwithstanding, due to circumstances of life, he couldn't always do it as she would have liked... And today, alone in her bath tub, she was enjoying the pleasure of a warm and relaxing bath while was rubbing her lover's bites received all over her body.

Suddenly, she touched her fleshy breasts... and trembled. Her hands slid gently around the N****e and then to a particular place on the voluptuous flesh of both. She shivered and turned to see how they were different. She knew it. It had been six months, since she had discovered a small bump in the left breast, "the size of a rice bean", she thought at that time. Weeks after, she figured it out as the size of a pea... and today looked like a golf ball.

Julia as soon as she discovered it immediately thought of cancer and death, and the overwhelming idea grabbed her mind to the limit to make her believe in an irrationality litany that she constantly repeated for her self-consolation: "It's nothing... There is nothing" as a religious act of faith.

Six months had passed since the painful day of the discovery of tumor and daily observation of it besides the depressive idea about life and death.

"I will go to the doctor!" she promised this morning for the first time... and she did it. Later, she obtained an appointment at a Cancer Detection Center, and the specialist who saw her ordered the necessary tests.

After two days, with the results in hand, the oncologist confirmed the cancer. "It's the worst...  -she said softly but firmly-... is malignant and of fast action. If we'd treated it in time, I mean three months ago, we could have it avoided its ramification in the lymphatic system..."

Today, it was too late... Julia died two months after the diagnosis.

Would the three other women, of the adjacent apartments where Julia used to live, take the preventive and routinely tests, so they would save their lives?

"Do it, baby. This is not an erotic story!"


© 2010 MICHAELANGELO BARNEZ


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My goodness, what an ending to an otherwise romping tale of a woman finding the pleasure of sex and self; then, you hit the reader with her awful discovery and imminent death.

You built your story with great feeling, reaching under the skin of a woman discovering sexual pleasure, making up for lost time, uncaring of anything but feeding passion with her beloved husband; you quote the other women, a clue I didn't really think about.

Thank you for the reminder that late can be too late .. thank you for your sensitivity.

Posted 11 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.




Reviews

Dear Emma... I write for the pleasure of doing it, thinking about that the goal of reading is the entertainment of the readers, therefore I don't preach, but sometimes, as in this case, I close the tale with a moral.
Greetings.

Posted 11 Years Ago


My goodness, what an ending to an otherwise romping tale of a woman finding the pleasure of sex and self; then, you hit the reader with her awful discovery and imminent death.

You built your story with great feeling, reaching under the skin of a woman discovering sexual pleasure, making up for lost time, uncaring of anything but feeding passion with her beloved husband; you quote the other women, a clue I didn't really think about.

Thank you for the reminder that late can be too late .. thank you for your sensitivity.

Posted 11 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.


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Added on September 18, 2010
Last Updated on September 18, 2010
Tags: Family, life, tale, short tale, love

Author

MICHAELANGELO BARNEZ
MICHAELANGELO BARNEZ

Long Beach... and La Molina in Lima-Peru. , CA



About
Michaelangelo Barnez is the pen name of the writer, Miguel Angel Branez, who was born on May 18, 1947, in Lima, Peru. In the early 80's he immigrated with his family to California, and as soon as he .. more..

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