Stanley was a writer, a bloody good one, as it had turned out. It was almost as if there was some smutty guardian angel watching over his shoulder, prompting his fingers as they tapped out sexy prose.
Whilst at university, he'd been working on his dissertation when he'd met the woman who was to become his muse, Elsa. As a result, he had discovered his knack for writing and not just erotica, although that’s where his main talent seemed to lie.
Elsa had rocked his world, with her sparkling blue eyes, long, blonde hair and ready smile. He was bewitched by her shapely form, the curve of her ass and that cleavage, those breasts! He was hard even thinking about her now! He’d been out with some fellow students, at The Shaky Cup Cafe, drinking coffee or tea and discussing how to put the world to rights, when he had seen her for the first time. He had actually gasped at the beauty and the sheer sensuality she exuded. She was stunning and he had simply sat, staring, mouth agape. He’d had to move his newspaper over his crotch as it seemed that his cock was not immune to her charms either. She was elegant, carefree, intelligent and funny, possessing a liquid grace that could not be ignored. Suddenly he understood; the poetry, love songs, even paintings by the great masters - it all made sense. He had known, in that moment that he had to have her.
She had captivated him with her enthusiasm, her joie de vivre and her beauty. They had so much in common, like two people with a single mind, finishing each others sentences, giving looks that said more than mere words ever could. Before they knew it, last orders were being called and it was time to leave the cafe. As the group gathered their things, she had slipped her hand into his pocket. They had wandered aimlessly through the quiet streets, admiring buildings, telling jokes and generally just unable to stop talking. Elsa shared a flat with friends a few blocks from Stanley's and he had walked her to her door. Stanley had been too shy to kiss her, but Elsa had boldly leaned in and kissed his mouth. It felt like lightning bolts had shot between their lips. He'd asked if he could see her again and from that moment the two became inseparable.
When Stanley returned to his flat, he had practically floated into the living room. His roommate, Donnie, had grinned broadly, "I take it you and Elsa finally got it together then?"
"Yes,” Stanley murmured. “I'm in love."
After recounting the evening's events, Stanley had gone straight to his room and begun to write what would become his first bestseller. To this day his book still entered the top 100, especially around Valentine's Day which was fast approaching and he guessed sales would jump again. It still amazed him. He'd re-read his work a few times over the years and he found it hard to believe that it had come from him, Stanley Binks…
Stan and Elsa had soon become an item and apart from time spent in class, they could always be found together; whether it was quietly studying, discussing some hot topic or other, eating, drinking or making love… Oh yes… Making love… That seemed to be where they were most compatible of all. Their bodies, like one fluid machine; pleasuring, teasing, tasting, filling… Neither had been experienced in lovemaking until they’d met, but the two found perfect satisfaction together. They learned just what the other needed, desired and they spent long hours reaching climax after glorious climax. It was perfect. Having already passed their sexual exams with honours, and a fair amount of dishonouring, they graduated from university. It came as no shock to friends and family that they decided to marry.
Elsa would sit with Stanley as he typed; sewing, reading, working, just being with him. She read and reread his work, editing, correcting and making small changes which only served to make his writing even better. She made it sparkle in a way that only she could, always having the final read through before it was sent to the publisher. She was also the most terrible, wonderful distraction. If he had been quiet for too long, sometimes she would sink to her knees, stroke his bulge until it began to grow, tracing the shape of his penis through his jeans until he was engorged. Then she would slowly unzip him, watching him but shaking her head if he made a move to touch her. She was the ultimate tease. He would continue to type as best he could, until she took him in her mouth and then all bets were off. She would languish wet sloppy kisses on his bulbous tip until the juice began to flow... Then he would have no choice. The laptop was set aside, so that she could straddle him, lower her dripping pussy onto him and then fuck him until they were sated.
Stanley’s book was published to rave reviews and they were able to buy a house of their own much sooner than expected. Elsa took a job with a museum, carved a niche for herself and became an expert in her field. It worked out well, as she was able to take a more consultative role when their first child came along.
Life was good. Stanley secured a six-book contract on the strength of his first and became a household name. Some of the fan mail he received... Well, to call it ‘blue’ was an understatement. He’d been sent photographs and even used panties! He would politely respond, thanking them for their consideration and then later, he and Elsa would play games, imagining taking an extra lover into their bed. His thought and attention to his fan base had given him the reputation of being both approachable and decent.
With the advent of social networking, he found that he communicated regularly with his fans, even considered some to be friends, having known them all these years, trusting their judgement and support. He’d managed to write his first four books and they were well received, bringing in a decent income for his family. The fifth was a struggle, he and Elsa had less time to spend together, alone time was a luxury now and by the time the sixth book was expected, he found that he had nothing. His writing mojo had all but deserted him.
Now, he had been married to Elsa for sixteen years and although their marriage was, on the surface, a very happy one, their lovemaking had become perfunctory. That might sound harsh, for he did love her very much, and she was both an excellent wife and mother, but he found their sex life rather less than he wished for, remembering the years before kids came along. He knew that this was normal for couples who’d been together a long time.
They still made love once or twice a week which was fine; he knew that wasn't so bad. She came, he came and then they would cuddle briefly, until she gently pushed him away so that she could sleep. She wasn't interested in trying new things nowadays. Some of his friends, the ones with whom he could discuss such things, said that they barely had sex even once a month.
She had admonished him once, Valentine’s Day, a few years ago, when he had gone to a prestigious boutique and purchased some sexy underwear for her. It was a red lacy bra, matching panties, stockings and a suspender belt.
He had asked her to try it on and she had tossed the tissue-lined boxes into her wardrobe, saying dismissively, "Yes, dear, maybe later."
Then she had turned to continue changing the bedclothes.
"No!" He had said, walking to the closet and retrieving the boxes. "Try them on, now!" Seeing her stern expression, he quickly added, "Please, Els? For me?"
She had sighed and taken the boxes from him, as if she'd been doing him a favour. "Alright, Stanley, as you wish."
He had stood, watching and she had glared at him. He didn't understand.
"Turn around, Stanley!" She had barked, "I'm not changing in front of you!"
"Oh…" he had said weakly, regretting his forcefulness, "I'm sorry."
With his back turned, he heard her unzip her skirt; it fell to the floor with a quiet whoosh. He looked around the room and realised that he could see her, well, some of her, in the mirror. He sat on the edge of the bed and watched as she removed the rest of her clothing.
“She still has a good figure,” he thought to himself. “Mind you, she is at the gym three mornings and Zumba class one evening each week.”
Of course he had noticed that her tummy was softer and that her breasts were not as perky as they had once been, but they still turned him on. He caught a glimpse of her unkempt pussy as she pulled up the red lace panties and he thought it would be nice if she started trimming it again.
As she had grudgingly donned the new garments, she complained that the rise of the panties was too low, that you could see her stretch marks and that her breasts bulged over the cups of the bra.
He’d grown to love her marks and the sight of her doughy breasts escaping the top of the lace, was a huge turn on. Well, that's what he had thought, not that she seemed to notice these days. He'd barely been able to conceal the erection which had sprung up at the sight of her sporting his gift. They had made love later. In fact, if he was honest, he would have said it had been the first time in years that they had fucked, like really fucked.
That night, he had allowed himself to let go, some of the passion from their early days returned and had he had actually been quite dominant with her. It was definitely the first time in years that he had dared push a finger into her bottom. He grimaced, remembering her reaction.
"Stanley!! What the fuck do you think you're doing?" she had yelped as she pulled away.
He'd mumbled an apology, admitting that it had been a mistake, his cock softening as he back-pedalled. He’d managed to save the mood though, silencing her by pushing her swiftly onto her belly. The thrill of that, of forcing her down had caused him to stiffen again instantly. He had thrust his rigid tool deep into her soft, wet pussy and taken her, hard.
Although he’d felt stupid for trying something different and he was angry and a little embarrassed, he had continued to thrust, not making love but fucking her. With each push, he imagined taking control of her, dominating her and she became his whore, he could do whatever the fuck he pleased. By god, he loved this, just mindlessly fucking her. He had wanted to shout that she was his fucking slut, smack her bouncing ass with the flat of his palm while he used her precious holes however the fuck he pleased. Instead, he had just grunted loudly as he came, but in his mind, he had fucked her ass.
She had chastised him as they'd rolled to their own sides of the bed, "Stanley, I cannot believe you tried that anal shit with me. Don’t do that again."
Feeling rather emasculated, he had squeezed his eyes closed and through gritted teeth repeated that it had been a mistake, his finger had slipped. His mind had begun to wander as he lay, breathing silently yet wide awake, the tempo of his wife’s soft snoring the only sound.
He imagined himself on a book-signing tour. He was drinking in some expensive, nameless hotel bar. In his fantasy, he spotted a gorgeous blonde sitting nearby, eyeing him up, smiling at him seductively. That did happen sometimes, women would recognise him and be starstruck, but he would never take advantage of that. In his dream though, he had a confidence he didn’t possess in everyday life. He approached her, all smooth and charming. The conversation sparkled, she was receptive and very flirty. She smiled coyly as she reached over and touched his hand, brushed her stockinged leg against his knee, letting him know that she was interested.
As they laughed and flirted, her hand stole up his inner thigh and she began to trace the shape of his stiffening cock through the cloth with long, red fingernails. She pulled down his zipper and slid her hand inside, straightening his penis as it hardened. Her fingers massaged and pressed his little slit, encouraging drops of his salty fluid. She rubbed and then she slowly brought a finger to her blood-red lips, sucking his pre-cum, her gaze never shifting from his.
With this scenario so clear in his mind, Stanley soon found himself hard once more. He took hold of his erection and worked it until his balls began to ache. Silently, he slipped out of bed and went to the en suite bathroom, only switching on the light once he had closed the door, so as not to disturb his wife. He stood over the toilet and masturbated, almost mechanically, hard and fast. He came quickly, cleaned his ejaculate and put the soiled tissue into the trash, rather than flush and risk disturbing her, before slipping back into bed and falling asleep with a broad smile on his face.
It was from his sexual dissatisfaction and desire for something more than just routine couplings with his wife, that he'd first discovered the website.
To supplement his income, Stanley had become a sub-editor with a newspaper and occasionally submitted short opinion pieces for the weekend edition. This day, he was sitting at his desk, supposedly working, but for some reason, he kept typing sexual words into the piece he was writing: button, ass, cock, dick, balls, pussy, fuck… They all sprung from preoccupied fingers, he simply had sex on the brain. Eventually, he sighed and opened up a search engine. He knew that as he was in the office, he couldn’t be caught watching porn and to be honest, he wasn't a huge fan of it anyway. Of course, certain images and videos would get him going, he was a man with basic instincts after all. Not today, though, not at work. Instead, he typed in, ‘erotic stories’ and clicked the first hit, Lush Stories.
It wasn't as seedy as he'd expected. A simple front page filled mostly with stories in various categories. There was a long list to choose from, so he scrolled down to see if anything caught his interest. He grimaced at stories tagged ‘Incest’ and kept scrolling until he saw one that did catch his eye, ‘I Punished Them.’ The one-liner described a schoolmistress with a penchant for spanking young men. Stan looked around sheepishly, for the newly opened page had explicit sexual ads on it. Shit, he hoped that no one had noticed his screen. He read it, fingers hovering over the ALT TAB keys on his keyboard so that he could toggle to a different application, hiding the sexy images, should a co-worker happen to walk past.
The story was incredibly erotic, going into very explicit detail about just how the woman punished the young men. There was spanking, light bondage and lots and lots of cum. He was surprised to find it both well-written and humorous. He smiled as he read and he was also acutely aware that he had become uncomfortably engorged. He found it amusing that simple words on a page could provoke that sort of reaction in him, much more so than watching actual porn. Maybe it was because he could visualise it much better in his head? Certainly his readers said that his writing had the same effect on them when they read his stories.
He glanced at the clock on his screen, conscious that he shouldn't spend too much time on the website, although it had only taken ten minutes to read the story. He noticed comments at the bottom, made by other readers. This piqued his interest and he scrolled down. Some were obvious attempts to flirt with the author, some went into great detail, while others just said things like, ‘I loved it! 5*’.
"You can vote on them?" He smiled at his own stupidity, "Of course you can! People, just normal people, submit these stories. I could write one, just for fun..." Since he'd really enjoyed the story, he decided to comment too.
He voted on, ‘I Punished Them,’ giving it a score of four out of five, but found that he had to be a member to do so.
"Damn, I'd have quite liked to tell the author what I thought of it," thought Stanley.
He clicked back to the story page and he pulled a face at the animated gifs of ‘college girls’ sucking cock, or each other, turning his head one way then the other to see what the young ladies were doing.
"My god! It's a double-ended dildo!" He glanced over his shoulder and quickly scrolled down the page to hide them, wary of being caught looking at illicit material. He paused at the author's profile picture, a gorgeous blonde, calling herself, ‘Sparkle’. He smiled again, thinking there was no way the picture was the real author.
Shaking his head, he thought, "I wonder how much it costs to join this place? Oh, it's free… Interesting."
He clicked ‘Join now’ and started to look through, "Well, there's no way I can use my regular email address."
It took moments to open a more anonymous email account, "Hmm, a Lush username? I wonder what I could use?” He eventually decided on, ‘Man_Lee’, laughing at the way that sounded as he filled in his details, taking the time to measure his words. Just the right amount of mystique, while not to appearing like a big-headed idiot. He had seen enough to know how to present himself in a good light.
He found it liberating to fill in his personal details. It was nice to write about just him, not Stanley, husband and father and he began to realise that although his life had slowed down, well, at least his married life, he was not quite as boring as he thought he’d become.