Cindy Eller: 50 Shades of Fairy Tales

Cindy Eller: 50 Shades of Fairy Tales Read Online Free PDF

Book: Cindy Eller: 50 Shades of Fairy Tales Read Online Free PDF
Author: Leigh Foxlee
cooed and bit my lip as the sensations amped up to mind blowing.
    I'd read enough articles on sex and women's health to know where the g-spot was located. I curled my fingers and found it quickly, stroking it in time with my clit. My pelvis tightened and my hips rocked faster. Soon I fucked myself in wild abandon as my entire focus zoned in on the need to come.
    The orgasm exploded through my body and mind, leaving my trembling and gasping. Juices trickled from inside me and pooled on the chair cushion. I caught my breath and opened my eyes just as another chat ping went off.
    PrinceCharming: So how was it?
    I typed: Fantastic!
    ***
    More cybersex meetings ensued, until he popped the question. No, not THAT question! The "do you want to meet" question.
    My heart froze in my chest. I did want to meet him, don't get me wrong, but the truth was we still had no idea what each other looked like. Sure, we'd exchanged life details, some stories, but I didn't even know his real name yet and he didn't know mine.
    He suggested a restaurant, a local pub, somewhere open and public. This eased my apprehension somewhat. So I decided to suggest a meeting place: my mom's bakery/cafe. But I didn't tell him my mom owned it.
    We agreed on this and told each other what we'd be wearing, so it would be easy to spot each other. Everything was set. My first date in over a year! Since that jerk Doug dumped me for some big boobed barista.
    But the date came and went and I didn't leave the house. Instead, I sat watching reruns of Battleship Saturn while eating a tub of double fudge ice cream. I hated myself through every episode and for bingeing.
    I went to visit Mom two days later, my head hung low and my morale dragging. My real mom only re-entered my life about three years ago, when I turned 21. She's a true bohemian, let me tell you. Picture a forty-five-year-old Beyonce Knowles wearing bell bottoms and you've got my mom.
    She was worried I'd reject her when she returned, but we spent a lot of long nights talking. Eventually, I came to understand her reasons, and I love her for who she is. The woman bakes the best black forest cake in town, and she gives the best advice. She insists I call her Sadie, because Mom makes her feel old.
    "So, what did he look like?" I asked, after sulking my way up to the spotless display case.
    Sadie gave me a sympathetic frown over the top of her tortoiseshell glasses. "He was gorgeous. Why didn't you show up?"
    I kicked the side of my running shoe. "Because I'm a chickenshit."
    Sadie laughed at this. "Hey, I made some mini black forest cakes. Go get yourself one."
    Smiling, I headed behind the display case without hesitation.
    Business was slow that day, so Sadie led me out front and we sat at one of the little round tables topped with a red checked cloth. While I ate my mini-cake, we talked. I told her about Ruth, my step mom, and my step sister's being paranoid about Prince Charming
    "Those women mess with your head," she said, trying to sooth my worries. "Don't let Ruth and the girls get to you. They mean well, I know, but they need to stop believing everything they watch on Pox News. And I'm sure your guy will understand."
    I smiled at her efforts. "I hope so, but I wouldn't blame him if he didn't."
    She shook her head at me, but her face was still full of compassion. "Don't sweat over it too much, hon. You're being too hard on yourself. He knows about your anxiety. You said he's shy. He'll understand."
    ***
    The next day, I had a email from Prince Charming waiting for me at Funtime Games. My heart beat faster when I saw it, and my mouth went dry. I felt a fool for such a reaction. Really, I hadn't even met the guy yet!
    He was worried about me. The email asked if everything was okay, and his concern touched my heart. But another part of me wondered if he did this to lure me into a false sense of trust … then into his basement, where he kept his other victims.
    I slapped my forehead and cursed myself. I was
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