“I have an idea for some stories. I think I might want to be a writer.”

“That’s cool. What do you want to write about?”

“I am not 100% sure yet. But, if so many people are making their livings from blogs and twitter and all that other social media opinion crap that they spout, why not me too? And then there is that Kindle self-publishing stuff. I thought I might give it a try. I am sure I could write a book. Anyway, I won’t know unless I try. It probably wouldn’t be anything to interest you, but hey, there are other women in the world. Maybe they would like my thoughts, my musings. I mean, I wrote enough essays at college. I can string sentences together properly.”

“Well, I say go for it. Let me know when you get 5 stars on that book review website and we can go out and celebrate.”

That had been weeks ago. Then one day, when I was at the computer clearing the desktop of the detritus of a million downloads and internet searches, I found her manuscript. That was when it all made sense; when I learned her secret. I had no idea what was in the file. It was simply labelled “Red”. I opened it and started scanning the text to see if it was worth keeping. I could not close it.

“Her hair fell…his tongue…that undeniable scent…”

I sat there at the computer, reading…“the slide of his fingers”…and reading…“her mouth opened”, then reading some more…“follow me”. Time raced by and only when I heard the front door open, her call of greeting coming up the stairs, did I come out of my hypnotic state.

“Oh, shit!” I fumbled with the mouse, closing the file as quickly as I could.

I figured she had started a blog about wine tasting or growing herb gardens; something that was in line with one of her hobbies. This was a book of stories and it was not about anything she would post to a chat room. I had been so wrong…or had I? A new hobby? If this was her choice, it was a worthwhile one. In my humble, male, opinion.

At dinner that night and as we lay in bed that evening, I was on a different planet. My mind had not left our office. It was sitting there unmoving,...“like that”...looking at that screen…“please, now”, lost in those words...“she rolled over”... Her actual movements distracted me from her words. She had gotten up and was reaching for her robe.

“Where are you going?”

“I can’t sleep. I have this idea bouncing around in my head. I want to go and get it down on paper. I’ll be a while. Don’t wait up.” I wanted to stop her, to ask her about the manuscript, but she was already moving towards the door. She paused and looked back at me, then returned to give me a kiss. It was a good kiss. Full lips with just a little tongue. It was tantalizing. I started to reach for her, to tell her to stay and kiss me some more, but my hands grabbed air. She was out of reach, then gone.  

As she sat clicking away on the keyboard on the other side of the wall, I sat thinking and, little by little the connection came clear. After that first conversation she had started writing. That same evening, in fact. And, I remembered waking up several nights in a row to find that she wasn’t in bed with me. I would get up to go to the bathroom and see the light on in the office, hear the quick sounds of her fingers moving across that electronic alphabet. That was also when our sex life started to improve.

We had always been compatible in bed. One evening, over a game of Cards Against Humanity and a few bottles of beer, she boasted to our friends that I was the best lover she had had. Thanks for the props, babe! But we weren’t one of those hot couples, primed for each other all day long. That was the sort of thing you found in books. We were real and that was fine. That was good.

Yeah…the sort of thing you found in books. I was having one of those ‘wake-up’ moments, like when you meet your teacher in the frozen food section. Someone had to write those books. Now I knew someone who was writing those books. Every occupation has its perks, it’s fringe benefits. I was beginning to understand the benefits of this one.

I had always thought she was the sexiest thing on the planet. She was a woman with curves and softness in all the right places, perfect for squeezing and kissing. She, being a modern American woman, hated her body. She was always trying this or that diet, jumping onto the scale, checking the mirror with an unsatisfied look. There was nothing I could do about it. At times I tried to convince her that her body was amazing and lusciously sexy, but nothing ever changed, so I just simply kept on letting her know how much I liked it.

She had always seemed to like my body. If I reached for her, she responded. She was eager enough to use her hands and mouth on me. I always got the birthday blowjob and even a few in between. Sex was regular, but it ebbed and flowed with life. Some weeks were better than others, but when we did get together, we had fun. She always came. I always came. Win-win!

After she started writing…well...maybe that made something shift for her. Because looking back, checking details, yeah, that was definitely when things started to improve.

I thought about one night in particular. I had written it off as a fluke. But sitting there listening to her fingers work their magic in the other room, it made sense. We had gone to bed. At some point, I had noticed that she was gone. I was tired, so I rolled over and went back to sleep. The next thing I knew, there was a warm body pressed up against my back and a very cold hand in my shorts. The shock woke me.

“What are you doing?” I was groggy, thrown off by the sudden change in temperature of that oh-so-sensitive region and the fact that a wake-up call like this had never happened before.

“Do you want me to stop?” Her voice was different, too. Throaty, inviting.

“Um…I guess not…you feelin’ frisky?”

“Mmmmm…maybe. Do you mind?”

She had to ask?! “Uh…no. Not a bit.” Like I was gonna refuse. I had to work the next morning, but this was definitely worth losing a little sleep. I rolled onto my back and let her have her way, eager to see where she would take this. Her hand warmed up delightfully as she stroked me into an iron hard-on. It didn’t take much before she mounted me. Man, we fucked like teenagers that night, both amped up on the adrenaline of our new power exchange.

The sex just got better from there. More and more she was able to tell me what she wanted. I didn’t have to be the instigator all the time. She was coming to me. She was controlling her pleasure. It was amazingly sexy. And there were smaller, subtle changes, too. If she knew I was looking when she got out of the shower, she would angle her body just right, so that I would catch glimpses of her sweet sex as she toweled off. She started getting dressed in the bedroom, instead of in the walk-in closet. She brushed her teeth with her top off, only panties on below.

I did not wait up for her. I drifted off to sleep, lost in fantasies of her making, smiling at the fact that she had no idea I was right with her.

The day after I found the manuscript, she texted me out of the blue, “I think I am going to sleep naked from now on.” That’s it. In the middle of my work day. THAT was the text I got. No surprise that I was in bed early that night! I had to wait for her. Click clack, clickety clack. I was twitching, but she did not disappoint. When she came to bed, she shed her clothes and slipped under the sheets next to me, smooth and smelling of...creativity.

We were making out, hiding out in our little cave, under the warm blankets. “Kiss my back,” she said to me, rolling away from our embrace. “Ok.” You know I rained kisses all over her skin. Sweet and slow, tasting every inch of her from nape to small. She moaned. “That feels so good. I just want more.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

She didn’t have to tell me twice. I covered her with my body, claiming her with my full weight, and she ground against me, that hip movement telling me exactly what she thought of my technique. Her confidence was intoxicating. Having her tell me what to do to her was turning me primal.

“More what? Give me details, baby! Bring those stories into our bed.”

“What?”

Oh shit… “What do you mean, what?”

“You told me to ‘bring those stories into our bed’.”

“I did?”

“Yes. What did you mean?”

“Nothing.” I had to back-pedal fast. “I just meant that if you have ideas for stuff we should try, you should tell me. You know, like a story, or a fantasy. Tell me what you want.”

“Oh.”

Please don’t stop now! I started kissing her body again, hoping like hell to distract her back into the moment.

“Yeah. Ok. I understand.”

Fuck, that was close. I had no idea if she actually bought my bumbling explanation. I sure hoped I sounded convincing.

“You’re ok with that? I mean, you’re not turned off by me taking control like this?”

My relief came out of me in a breathless chuckle. “No Babe, I don’t mind. In fact, I like it a lot.” I could feel her smile run all over her body. This was definitely behavior I wanted to encourage. “Throw something my way and I will run with it.” That got another moan from her…then a responding one from me.

“Ok,” her pause was heavy with her thoughts and my anticipation. “I want you to kiss me on my ass and then eat me out from behind.” She buried her face in the pillow she was lying on and, fuck yeah, I just about sailed across the room from the kick that my rock hard dick gave. Later, I would have to find a way to get her to tell me what was inspiring her ideas. If we could incorporate that into our sex life…ohhhh. For now…the sound that came from deep in my chest was new to me. A deep, possessive, hungry sound. I bit her on the nape of her neck and “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do that. It is just…holy shit…you have never spoken to me this way before.” Then, from inside her pillow, she giggled. Giggled!! I guess I didn’t hurt her after all.

I turned that growl of mine into my sexiest voice and “Oh yeah? Be careful what you ask for.” With that, I grabbed her by the hips, lifted her ass in the air and shoved a pillow under her perfect pelvis. With those two lovely cheeks in my face, I went to town. I covered her buttocks with kisses. Some quick and some slow. Some just on the surface, and others where I buried my face into those pliable muscles and enjoyed losing myself. When I was done, I sat back and took in the view. I massaged her ass, reveling in the sight of the lips of her pussy moving as I touched her.

“Is this what you wanted?”

“Mmmm…hmmmm”

“Good.”

Then I lowered my face and tasted her. She was so wet. So excited in our little game.

I had never made her come this way before. In all our sex life, she had only ever come during actual intercourse, on my dick, never with my mouth. So, when she started to really moan, I was over the moon, and on a mission. I wanted to know what she tasted like, felt like as she came. I wanted to feel her pussy move under my tongue and clench around my fingers. I wanted to know what her juices tasted like during her pleasure, not just before.

I was well rewarded for my work.

She came hard and long. When she finished, she said, “Now fuck me.”

No need for a verbal response. I was on her, entering her from behind, covering her with my body, pinning her down with my weight and moving fast. Man, it was hot! She moved back against me, matching my thrusts with her own. It didn’t take me long to come. I was wound so tight from the new experience she was giving me. And when I did, she came too, again! I felt like a god!

When it was over, we lay there for a long time. Me, curled up behind her, massaging her breasts and slowly, gradually, growing soft inside of her. Her still and sated.

“Babe?” There was uncertainty in her voice.

“Yeah.”

“Is there anything you wouldn’t do to me if I asked for it?”

Her question froze me. Who was this woman in my bed? I didn’t care, as long as she never, ever left! “Uh…I can’t think of anything.” Wasn’t that the truth!

“Good.” The word came out soft and sweet, muffled in the dark, but clear to my ears.

“Do you want more? I mean, it might take me a few minutes, but I am game. What do you want me to do?” I felt like I had just been handed the Holy Grail.

“No. Not right now. I don’t know yet. There are so many possibilities…”

My grin turned Cheshire and stayed firmly in place as I fell asleep.

Later on, reliving that night, I wondered if it filled her thoughts, too, as she was writing next door. If her writing fueled her sexual curiosity and playfulness, did the sex we were having fuel her writing? The thought made me smile, nod and want to pump my arm up in down in a ‘Hell, yeah, I am the man!’ What a perfect self-feeding cycle we had going on here.

I loved our new sexual dynamic and I didn’t want to do anything to upset it, but I was having a hard time letting go of my curiosity. I was also really excited about what she was doing. I wanted to share that with her and let her know I was cool with it, but I didn’t want to spook her. I wondered whether she was ready to share that detail with me yet. So one night I brought it up.

“What kind of book are you writing anyway? Would you let me read it sometime?”

“Oh, it is nothing that I think would interest you. Just girl stuff, really.”

“Oh. Ok.” Disappointed, I let it drop. Clearly she wasn’t ready yet. Alright. This kind of side-stepping I could handle, and I could be patient. She wasn’t lying. It was ‘girl’ stuff she was writing about. Hot girl stuff! Hot girl-boy stuff! And in truth, I wasn’t interested in reading it. But I was interested in her writing it and I was definitely interested in being supportive. Oh hell yeah, I would do anything to keep her moving from me to that keyboard and back again, and I would NEVER reveal that I knew her secret. NEVER!