Dear Author,
I wish to give you a story line, if you can please work upon it. It will be an wedding erotica. If you decide to give my thought a chance, please write. I would like to be the main female protagonist, Roma.
Here goes the beginning....
I felt like a condemned woman waiting for the gallows. I knew not the exact time of my execution or in this case my wedding. Yes, I am getting married today with my Ex-husband’s boss. The preparations have already begun. Two women, namely Diana, the sexiest secretary of my soon to be husband, who is notoriously unpopular for her ruthless implementation of her boss’s every decision & the newly married, raunchiest sultry seductress, soon-to-be sister-in-law Sonia are preparing me for the big day, and two large men are standing close by the door to make sure that I don't have any problems. I am sitting quietly in a styling chair in a small room. I am almost naked. My legs, pubic hair, and underarms, have just been waxed yesterday, and my hands and feet are intricately mehendied. My toenails are painted a bright red, and the pink toe spreaders are still between my toes. My fingernails are long and elegant and have also been painted the same bright red. My bridal hairstyling has just begun. Diana, like an efficient cosmetologist spraying a section of my hair by holding the strands with a comb & then with a heated plastic roller rolling it tightly toward my head. This is probably the most uncomfortable part of being a bride and to sit for the next two & half hours in all probabilities with the tightened rollers on in my hairs and to receive the heavy bridal makeover for the ensuing wedding, which is scheduled late at night. My mother-in-law in making seems to be a strict woman, who wants her daughter –in-law to look beautiful & gorgeous in every aspect. She may be expected here at any moment. Any failure to live up to her expectation would result into a serious embarrassing situation for me. I look around the room trying to figure out my daughter Sana, but cannot. Instead I see an exquisite pair of 3 inches heel & the provocatively designed bridal dress lying calmly on the white bed sheet. I am highly embarrassed to wear such dress in public and especially before my ex-husband Sid, who is also forced to join this wedding celebration of five days. I am an Indian and hate such an English wedding dress that is going to keep my heavy boobs half bare and my deep navel naked for the viewing pleasure of guests. My hair is now being wrapped up in a wet white towel around my head. A mixture of anger and frustration fills me. "How could this be happening?" I ask to myself. How can a Casanova man of his early thirties & the son of a rich Industrialist be interested in middle class woman like me?
Your's Ever
Debasree Nee Roma
I wish to give you a story line, if you can please work upon it. It will be an wedding erotica. If you decide to give my thought a chance, please write. I would like to be the main female protagonist, Roma.
Here goes the beginning....
I felt like a condemned woman waiting for the gallows. I knew not the exact time of my execution or in this case my wedding. Yes, I am getting married today with my Ex-husband’s boss. The preparations have already begun. Two women, namely Diana, the sexiest secretary of my soon to be husband, who is notoriously unpopular for her ruthless implementation of her boss’s every decision & the newly married, raunchiest sultry seductress, soon-to-be sister-in-law Sonia are preparing me for the big day, and two large men are standing close by the door to make sure that I don't have any problems. I am sitting quietly in a styling chair in a small room. I am almost naked. My legs, pubic hair, and underarms, have just been waxed yesterday, and my hands and feet are intricately mehendied. My toenails are painted a bright red, and the pink toe spreaders are still between my toes. My fingernails are long and elegant and have also been painted the same bright red. My bridal hairstyling has just begun. Diana, like an efficient cosmetologist spraying a section of my hair by holding the strands with a comb & then with a heated plastic roller rolling it tightly toward my head. This is probably the most uncomfortable part of being a bride and to sit for the next two & half hours in all probabilities with the tightened rollers on in my hairs and to receive the heavy bridal makeover for the ensuing wedding, which is scheduled late at night. My mother-in-law in making seems to be a strict woman, who wants her daughter –in-law to look beautiful & gorgeous in every aspect. She may be expected here at any moment. Any failure to live up to her expectation would result into a serious embarrassing situation for me. I look around the room trying to figure out my daughter Sana, but cannot. Instead I see an exquisite pair of 3 inches heel & the provocatively designed bridal dress lying calmly on the white bed sheet. I am highly embarrassed to wear such dress in public and especially before my ex-husband Sid, who is also forced to join this wedding celebration of five days. I am an Indian and hate such an English wedding dress that is going to keep my heavy boobs half bare and my deep navel naked for the viewing pleasure of guests. My hair is now being wrapped up in a wet white towel around my head. A mixture of anger and frustration fills me. "How could this be happening?" I ask to myself. How can a Casanova man of his early thirties & the son of a rich Industrialist be interested in middle class woman like me?
Your's Ever
Debasree Nee Roma
