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About Tehuti

I am an amateur writer of novels, serials, and novellas. Most of my work is in the genres of fantasy, mythology, drama, occult, GLBT, and erotica.

As I'm not seeking publication, I offer my work online for free reading. I'm not seeking stylistic critique so much as feedback from people who just like reading what I write. I love hearing what people think of my characters, plots, themes, etc., so if you have any comments or advice on those, feel free to share. I'm not hugely popular and often go many months without hearing from readers so I enjoy all the comments I get!

My interests are Ojibwa mythology, Mackinac Island, Egyptian mythology, Jungian symbolism and dream interpretation, ritual crime, fantasy writing, and various other things you can find in my personal bio, available just to the right. Please click to learn more about me and what I'm looking for in terms of readers and potential friends.

Feel free to hit me up if you're interested in any of these things, and enjoy my writing!

Tar! :)

Unsatisfied

CODE: D (set in the D Is For Damien storyline)

TAKES PLACE DURING (specific story): NA

PAIRING: Lt. Terry Gardner/Unnamed woman (M/F)

EXPLANATION: See the "Something Different" pieces for more info on this one. Suffice it to say, Gardner's wife, Marie, hasn't been able to...well...enjoy the act, for about five years. So Gardner turned to other women. As one of the other scenes says, he still loves his wife, it's just that she can't give him that ONE thing. This scene here is one of those meaningless encounters. No, I don't even remotely agree with this; if I were unable to enjoy myself, and my guy were to go see other women, it wouldn't matter HOW many times he told me he still loved me, I'd boot his ass. Remember that my writing is all just fiction. I am also not a male who is seeing another male, nor am I in love with a demon. See? Fiction. All of it.

DISCLAIMERS: None to speak of, I suppose...

* * * * *

Unsatisfied

She let him escort her discreetly into the hall closet, both of them making sure that no one was around to see them, he silently ushering her inside and shutting and locking the door behind them. She turned around and reached under her skirt to pull down her nylons. In the darkness she could hear him unzipping his pants several inches away from her. She knew the routine. They both knew it so well that by now they could be gone perhaps ten, maybe fifteen minutes--the longest they'd been occupied was about a half hour, by her guess--and no one would notice their absence. It was rather awkward in the small space of the closet, but maximum comfort wasn't what they were looking for anyway. They simply needed a private space to get it done as quickly and quietly as possible.

Pulling off her nylons and underwear, she set them aside so she could find them in the dark and hoisted herself atop the small shelf that faced the door. She could barely see him in the darkness; he was just a darker patch of shadow before her. He moved forward and she shifted so she half-sat, half-stood with her legs spread wide. His hands touched her hips, gripping her; he pushed forward and penetrated her and began to thrust, his breath already coming faster. She put her head back and let him do what he wished.

She knew there was no love in this. There never had been, and she'd never expected it. He simply coupled with her to relieve the frustration that built up inside him, to gain the brief pleasure that he couldn't with his wife. She'd long known how his wife was unable to satisfy him, hadn't been able for quite a while; almost everybody knew it, but never spoke of it. She suspected that most of them knew of the brief trysts in the closet, also, though no one mentioned a thing. Which was good for them all. If no one made any fuss, there was no reason for there to be any trouble over it. It was simply something that needed to be done, and he'd chosen her to help him out.

It used to be once every week or so; now it was up to three, four times a week, and once last week they'd done it twice in one day. She felt some pity for him and his wife, that his frustration had grown so much, and could only wonder how the poor woman felt herself. Most often they did it in the closet. But that time last week he'd taken her in his office late at night, when most everyone else was gone; first they'd made love in his chair with her sitting on his lap, rocking gently onto him, then he'd placed her on his desk and eased himself in between her legs. That had been the only time she'd really been able to see him; his breathing had been labored, his hand had squeezed her breast, but the look in his eyes had been distant, as if he'd been seeing someone else and not her. She didn't doubt it. From what little she actually knew of him he did love his wife, so much so that he never removed his ring, not even when they were together. Their sex was always brief, never drawn out and lengthened by such things as foreplay; it was merely his outlet, so the pressure inside him could be relieved. This was the only way they knew how.

Right now she thought over all of this while his hips pushed against hers, his fingers gripping her buttocks, bringing her onto him with each thrust. This was how it was most convenient for them, standing up; the shelf propped her up high enough to accommodate him, and she figured that he must like the feel of her thighs raised up slightly to embrace his own. Rarely did he go for her breasts; there usually wasn't enough time. Today, though, she was getting off work early, so as he pushed at her, panting, she reached up to undo her blouse, unhooking her bra and tugging it back. He couldn't see what she was doing; she touched his arm, took his hand, placed it upon her breast; a moment later his hands supported her lower back, while he leaned over her, his lips sucking at her left breast as though he searched for milk.

She actually liked the feeling; with a small sigh, she let her head fall back again and rocked with his movements, the only sounds their breathing and the wet smacking noises he made as he switched to her right breast, his tongue and lips teasing the nipple, his mouth closing over the soft yielding flesh. She wondered if his wife ever let him do that. From the sound of it, she must be a very timid woman.

His thrusting sped up somewhat, and he tried to suppress a soft groan. Her mental clock told her that the usual fifteen-minute limit had expired; his need was greater than usual today, as she'd thought. Perhaps she'd better come back after everyone else had left, see if he were still there; he might need her again. His thrusting was forceful, almost hard; his fingers dug into her skin as he tried to impale her on him even further. She reached down between her legs to squeeze and caress him. His panting grew more hoarse; his teeth bit into her breast slightly. He pulled away from it and focused on being inside her instead. She shut her eyes and bit her lip as his motions grew harder, faster; he felt massive inside her, engorged and inflamed, a searing rod impaling her over and over. She gasped slightly and inadvertently clutched him to her, arching her back.

He gave an abrupt thrust and froze.

Red-hot fluid spurted inside her; she shuddered.

Slightly above her, he groaned long and softly, hips shivering in obvious pleasure as his fluid released.

A brief moment later, he had pulled himself out and zipped up his pants, and was helping her to find her own clothing in the dark. She wiped her brow and straightened herself out, and sensed him doing the same. As she pulled on her nylons she went over the experience in her mind. By her estimates, they'd been making love for at least twenty-five minutes, maybe longer. A bit risky for this time of day; a fifteen-minute absence wasn't much, but a half hour was likely to be noticed. Still, she supposed that he couldn't help it, what with his need; he had been more urgent this time. She didn't take overly long to think about it, as every minute counted now; after she touched his arm to assure him that she was finished getting dressed, he unlocked and opened the door to let her out, only leaving himself once they were certain that the coast was clear. He went back to his office; she headed down the hallway for the stairway and parking lot.

As she strode along and brushed back her hair she decided that she would stop by again later that night. Not really for her own sake, but because she'd sensed that the frustration in him today hadn't been totally relieved in twenty-five minutes. He might need another half hour to truly satisfy himself. She'd felt his heat. It had been much greater than usual.

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This item is not looking for critique. It was written solely for entertainment's sake. Although a scene from a possibly longer story, it is complete in itself and unless otherwise stated there is not going to be any more of it written. Additional unrelated SCENES may be written, but single scenes themselves are complete as they are. So please do not expect more. If you are interested in reading the series which INSPIRED the scene, just look elsewhere in my portfolio and you should find something. (Use the "story codes" given in the scene headers. For example, "MI" = "Manitou Island" series.)

I am not looking for critique on grammar, spelling, style, sentence structure, flow, or the mechanics of writing. What I AM interested in is commentary on such things as characterization, plot, symbolism, theme, etc.--the deeper aspects of the story. I like to know if a scene is believable, if the characters are interesting, what you thought of how they interacted, if the writing evoked any emotions, things such as that.

Feel free to criticize, but just keep in mind that I'm working on more important projects and shared this just for fun and/or to illustrate character interactions, so I don't plan to revise it any time soon. Comments on the characters, theme, etc. are more than welcome.

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This page last updated 11/11/09. Still under construction so may change at any time.