Untitled.

I am in the process of writing a 20,000 word novella. It is away from my normal style of stories, but contains a strong leaning towards the love of a man for a woman. The story opens with a self-obsessed, worldly-wise young man meeting an older woman and both have only one thing on their mind; sex.
This is part of the opening chapter. It contains a graphic sexual scene, so if that may offend then do not read on; (A lot has happened to get to this excerpt)

“Let’s see what you have to offer, shall we?” I smiled, but was empty of words. She lent across me and started to roll up my white T-shirt and the slight chill of the early morning caught my naked chest as her breasts rose up in front of my face and I feasted on her bristling nipples, rolling my tongue across both. She pulled away and fleetingly I worried if that was end of my education in the hands of an older women. Had I done something wrong? It was not, and I had not.

Her hands found the buckle to my belt and I lifted forward as my Levis and briefs were removed together, her eyes never leaving my own.
There was a satisfying “hmm” from her lips, as her fingers stroked my erect penis and her mouth slowly lowered towards it.

That was the precise moment that Laura decided to enter my life from the conservatory door.

http://www-thedesolategarden-com.co.uk/

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About Danny Kemp

I was at work one sunny November day in 2006, stopped at a red traffic light when a van, driven incompetently, smashed into me. I was taken to St Thomas' Hospital and kept in for a while, but it was not only the physical injuries that I suffered from; it was also mental ones. I had lost confidence in myself let alone those around me. The experts said that I had post-traumatic stress disorder, which I thought only the military or emergency personnel suffered from. On good days, I attempted to go to work, sometimes I even made it through Blackwell Tunnel only to hear, or see, something that made me jump out of my skin and that's when the anxiety attacks would start. I told my wife that I was okay and going regularly, but I wasn't. I could not cope with life and thought about ending it. Somehow or other with the help of my wife and medical professionals, I managed to survive and ever so slowly rebuild my self-esteem. It took almost four years to fully recover, but it was during those dark depressive days that I began to write. My very first story, Look Both Ways, Then Look Behind, found a literary agent but not a publisher. He told me that I had a talent, raw, but nevertheless, it was there. His advice was to write another story and that I'm delighted to say, I did. The success of that debut novel, The Desolate Garden, was down to sheer hard work, luck, and of course, meeting a film producer.
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