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1,001 Nights

Novel By: WriterErotic

A young woman, slave to her own potential sex addiction and inspired by the story of Scheherazade, embarks on a quest to have a different sexual encounter every night for 1,001 nights. Sara isn't even certain why she decides on this course of action. Is she really this depraved, or does she hope to burn the never-ending desire out of her system? Does she think she can find happiness in the arms of a different lover every night, or does she hope to find true love by sampling the vast array of potential partners? View table of contents...


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Submitted:Oct 8, 2007    Reads: 1,367    Comments: 2    Likes: 2   

Sara sat in her car in the parking lot at Durand Eastman Park for well over two hours in total quiet, contemplating David's words and the events that had transpired. She slumped in the driver's seat, hands on her lap, still tingling from his touch, and wholly unfulfilled. In her mind that encounter had played differently. She hadn't expected to find both David and Kevin in the park, but once she saw them together, m�nage-a-trois fantasies had leapt into her head. The reality had been far less exciting, and much more confusing.

She still had no idea where she stood with either twin. Kevin was mad, but she wasn't sure if it was at her or his brother. David was cryptic and elusive as always. She had no idea what to make of his comments. What did he mean when he said that there was something that she wanted, something only she knew about that she wouldn't admit to herself? What was that crap about sex being holy? He had seemed so intriguing the first two times they had encountered each other, but now he was starting to just sound weird.

But when she thought about it, maybe he was right. She was fairly certain she knew what she wanted: a husband, children, a house that was more than just wood and masonry and paint. She wanted a home, a place where she could be with her own family, and since she no longer had a family, she knew it could only happen if she made a fresh start. But how could she remain faithful to one man when she had this unquenchable thirst, this constant desire for sexual gratification? She was certain that in some way this was her punishment for her role in her family's deaths. She had to somehow make amends to them, to their memories, before she could be happy. She knew it in the core of her being, but she had no idea what she could possibly do to make her own contentment palatable.

Sara shook off the thoughts that were pulling her down. She turned the key in the ignition and pulled out of the parking lot without knowing where she was going. Driving usually gave her time to clear her head, but it wasn't helping this time. She remembered David's arousing fingers, and the sensations came back unbidden, thrilling through her body, desire rising in her like boiling water overflowing the pot. She needed a good orgasm right now, and half of her wanted to just pull over and finger her way to release. But she had set a goal for herself, the increasingly troublesome thousand and one nights of sex, and she was saving masturbation for the times when she couldn't share herself with anyone else. She slid one hand between her legs and rubbed herself through her dress. A little bit wouldn't hurt.

She crossed over Route 104 and past Rochester General Hospital, heading towards the city, and then turned right onto Norton Street. The area became more run down as she continued on, and she finally turned left down North Street and further on took a right onto Avenue D.

This was the worst section of the city by far, where terrified suburbanites kept their windows rolled up and their doors locked if they were forced to even drive through the area at all. Most of them avoided these neighborhoods as if it were courting death to simply drive down the streets here. None of her friends would even venture through here, so fearful were they of the crime and, heaven forbid, the blacks.

Sara was far from racist; she tried to judge everyone equally, but even someone as open minded as she was felt a twinge of anxiety driving these streets. People were people in her book, regardless of their skin color. She had dated black men before, the color of someone's skin was never even something to consider, it was the person that resided within that skin that made the difference to her. But the fact was that she didn't belong here, and she knew it.

At four thirty in the afternoon on a random Thursday, she was driving through the hood and desperately wanting sex, one hand rubbing slowly between her thighs. She was close to the speed limit, which gave her time to study the people she saw around her, mostly children, walking down the sidewalk, playing in browning grass and on cracked asphalt. It was the men that drew her attention, sitting on a stoop here or standing around the open hood of a car; it was the men she needed. She had stimulated herself enough that she could smell it, the musky odor of her desire filling the car, her perfume barely masking it. She should go home, or head to a bar, anything to keep herself from doing what was going through her head right now.

A car backed out of a driveway directly in front of her and she barely nailed the brakes in time, her tires squealing in a quick peal before she stopped. The car that cut her off sat motionless in the street, brake lights bright red, blocking her path, and heads turned to look towards the sound of her hard braking from nearly every direction. It wasn't a crowd, but there were enough people that the attention caused her discomfort. The car in front of her jolted forward, coughed a cloud of black smoke out of the tailpipe, and jarred to a halt, brake lights flashing once, twice, and then staying solid red. She heard the grinding sound of the engine trying to turn over, a sick, ineffective churning, but the car stayed where it was. There was no room to get around him with cars parked on both sides of the narrow street.

It took a moment, but three men walked from a nearby porch towards the car in front of her. She watched them move, in no hurry, on their way to offer assistance to the driver. All three were tall and very dark skinned. The furthest one from her was overweight and wore a navy jogging suit. A mass of tightly curled black hair protruded from under the baseball cap he wore sideways on his head. The other two each had fantastic physiques; she could see it even through their baggy pants and loose t-shirts. The nearest one looked mean, his brow furrowed and his mouth turned down in a permanent looking frown, dark sunglasses covering his eyes, his hair cropped short and tight to his head.

The one in the middle was the best looking of the three, tall, muscular, and bald-headed. His large lips were parted slightly in a small smile, his light eyes wide-set and friendly; even from here she could see the afternoon sun reflecting in them.

As they cut across the street and passed her car, all three of them glanced in her direction. The middle one stared a bit longer, and they made eye contact. She couldn't tell what he was thinking, the only thing she saw in that stare was the look that all men have in their eyes when they see an attractive woman. He said something to the other two that she couldn't hear and they all laughed.

An old, bony-looking man was climbing slowly, almost painfully, out of the car in front of her as the three men approached him. Gray hair stuck out from under the cap he wore, and his work pants and shirt were stained with dark spots, as if he had spent the afternoon working on the car that now would not go. The heaviest of the three clapped him on the back when they met, and the other two lifted the hood and peered inside.

Sara debated blowing the horn, but quickly decided against it. Perhaps she could just throw her car in reverse and back up the street; it wasn't too far to the last intersection. People were staring at her, making her increasingly uncomfortable. She willed herself to calm down, but it had no effect. She felt a mounting terror which only increased when the good-looking guy started walking towards her car. She pulled her hand from between her legs and smoothed her dress across her lap.

He came up to the side window and stared at her, waiting. Sara hit the button and the window slowly slid down into the door.

"Hope you not in a hurry," he said, as he rested his hands on her window frame. His face was less than a foot from hers, and Sara tried to remain calm despite her suburban-bred uneasiness.

"Not really, no," she said, willing her voice to remain smooth. This close he was even better looking. Sunlight reflected off of his shaven cranium, and she wanted to touch it, touch him, feel his body pressed against hers.

"We gone push Rudy back in his driveway. Might take a minute." He smiled then, and bent low, his head almost in the window.

"That's cool." Sara faced him. His smile was pleasant, disarmingly so, and her fears were temporarily forgotten, desire rising to replace them.

"Damn, girl," he sniffed at the inside of her car. "You smell good."

Sara felt a blush creep over her face. "Thanks," was all she could get out.

"What is that, Channel?" his face suddenly contorted as if in surprise, and he sniffed again. "Oh, damn! I know I'm not smellin' that!" He grinned, his teeth huge and white, and inhaled again through his wide nostrils. "Girl, you smell like sex."

Sara felt her face grow redder still, if such a thing was possible. He was grinning solidly at her now, his face split open and showing more teeth than she thought any one person should have.

She didn't know if she should try to deny it, or go with it. She looked in his eyes, and behind the grin saw something else. Was it the same desire she felt looking at him? She hoped so. She placed one hand atop his. "Is there someplace we can go?" She couldn't believe she was doing this.

"You must got some serious wants, be coming on to a man you don't even know like that."

She smiled at him, and hoped she looked seductive.

"Classy broad like you driving round here, not something you see every day." His gaze held an appraising quality, as if he were trying to figure her out. "What you playin'?"

"I'm not playing." She stared at him levelly, hoping he could read her honesty. The more he looked at her, the longer he stood beside her car, the more she wanted him. "I just," she tried to find a way to just say it, but it was harder than she thought. "I want sex. Now. With you."

"Shit," he grinned again, "I want it too, girl, but I don't go hitting on every woman walks up to my car."

"I can't help it." She felt resigned to her fate.

"Why, cause I'm so irresistible?" The grin hadn't left his face.

"Look, if it's not you, it'll be someone else." Sara wasn't in the mood for games. "Make up your mind."

"Damn, you just got to get you some, huh?" He leaned back away from the car and shook his head. "I live right there." He pointed at the next house up the block, right past where his friends were already pushing the disabled car into the driveway.


"With my brother," he said, "but he work B shift. We got time." He stepped back away from the car and motioned for her to precede him, following along as she pulled her car onto the cracked asphalt of the driveway.

Sara saw him looking over towards his friends as he strode up the driveway behind her. Glancing out her passenger window, she saw them waving and shrugging their shoulders, questioning looks writ across their faces. She cut the engine and stepped out, heard one of his friends ask him something, but couldn't make out the words.

"Getting' me some white pussy!" He yelled at his friends. "Ain't that right, girl?" He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close to him, his smile still inhumanly wide.

Sara nodded, looking towards the men in the neighboring driveway and smiled, trying to act natural.

"What's your name, sweet thing?" He was looking down at her, towering over her, his hand strong on her shoulder.

"Sara," she said, more timidly than she had intended.

"James," he said to her, and then looked back across the narrow patch of grass at his friends. "This here's Sara!"

The two younger men walked across the yard towards them, leaving Rudy alone to puzzle out his car problems. The heavier of the two was blatant in checking her out, the one with the sunglasses giving her a sideways look as he said to James, "She a bangin' piece of ass. You gonna share?"

"Fuck you, T," James said, and shoved T's shoulder.

T laughed. "Chillax, nigga." He flashed a grin at James. "Just playin'."

"Heavy, you scaring her," James said it to the fat one who had been practically drooling over Sara since he saw her.

He looked away, but kept stealing glances at her out of the corner of his eye.

"Sara, this here's T," said James, clapping the one he'd shoved on the shoulder, "and the one looks like a fucking blimp is Heavy."

"Fuck you, man," said Heavy, finally settling his eyes on James. They both laughed.

"Nice to meet you both," said Sara. She wasn't sure if she should shake their hands or run away. There was something very predatory about the way they were both looking at her.

"How the fuck you get her up in here so fast?" asked Heavy. His look was incredulous.

"James got game," said T. "Plus, she don't think he want to fry her up like a chicken and eat her." T and James both laughed.

"Man, that some bull shit." Heavy threw his hands up in the air. "I'm goin' home, play me some X-box." He turned and walked away. Sara could hear him talking to himself under his breath, but could only make out a few words: "harassin' me", "no more", and "eat some sammiches." She had no idea what he was talking about.

"So how bout it, nigga?" T was eyeing Sara again, but talking to James. "Sharin' is carin'."

"Okay," Sara said, before James could answer. She needed to take control of the situation.

They both turned and looked at her, faces blank.

"It's okay with me." She smiled at both of them. She'd been left out of their conversation for too long, and now she was letting the wrong part of herself speak.

"Dayum." James just stared at her. "You loco, girl."

�"I'm tired of talking," she said. "Are we going to fuck, or what?" She broke free from James' arm and walked up the steps to the door.

James and T exchanged a look, shrugged, and followed her inside.


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