“What are you doing?” Sarah asked as she walked into my office.

“Erm…nothing,” I lied, quickly flicking the screen to the Amazon homepage I had open.

I hated lying to her. We’d been married for fifteen years, and I never kept secrets from her. She looked at the screen, frowned, shrugged her shoulders, and walked away. Once I heard her footsteps disappear, I flicked back to my short story, the one where the maid had been caught by the master and forced to please him sexually as punishment.

I hadn't been writing erotica for long. It was enjoyable, and I could let my imagination run away with itself, write whatever scenario I felt like. I put the finishing touches to my story, saved it and shut the computer down. My head swam with guilt; although there is nothing wrong with writing porn, it didn’t feel right to keep secrets. Although we still loved each other, we rarely had sex, both in our forties now and living a comfortable life. Too comfortable. When we finally did get down to business, there was little foreplay. It was usually just knickers off, put it in, then thrust away for a few minutes before I came, got dressed, and we both went back to whatever we were doing.

After composing myself, I went downstairs to find her. She was in the kitchen preparing our dinner; I stared at her for a moment, shifting my weight on the spot.

“Sarah, I’ve got a confession,” I began, which I admit, sounded like I’d done something wrong. “I’ve…erm…been writing erotic stories,” I said.

She turned and looked straight at me, she looked like she was either going to yell or cry, but instead, she did neither. A smile spread across her, and she leaned back against the counter, smiled and started to laugh. My cheeks flushed as I felt I was being mocked, but I refrained from storming off.

“It’s OK, honey,” she said eventually, her voice settled on a teasing tone. “So, erotic stories, eh? What kind of stories?”

A lump swelled in my throat, and I forced a hard swallow. I rubbed my face and fidgeted with my fingers.

“Erm…I’ve written a few. Just daft ones,” I said, wishing I hadn’t said anything.

She leaned forward.

“Like what? I mean, I read books,” she said. “Some of them are quite erotic. The one I just read had a scene with the girl giving a blowjob to a king.”

I shook my head slightly. Was I really doing this?

“Well, I wrote one about a mom who persuades a football coach to play her son in the big game. She let him bend her over his desk. And erm…the latest one…um…is about a maid who gets caught masturbating by her master.”

My cheeks burned, her eyes were staring straight at me, and she wasn’t laughing anymore. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear she seemed interested; there was a sparkle in her eye, and a smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth.

“Maid, eh?” she said. “I might have to…proofread some of your material. You know… just to make sure it’s okay.”

I was taken aback by her request; at least I didn’t have to feel guilty about writing it, I guess.

“Yeah, sure. That’d be great, actually,” I finally said.

She started off towards the door.

“Well, no time like the present,” she said. “Is it on your computer? Is that what you were doing earlier?”

I nodded, and she disappeared.

What the hell just happened? It didn’t go even remotely like I thought it would, but still, at least my stories would get another set of eyes on them. I hovered for a few minutes, then grabbed a drink from the fridge and headed up the stairs to see what she thought. As I got halfway up the stairs, I heard something, a sound that I used to hear a lot — not once in a while.

Sarah was moaning. Stopping on the stairs, I leaned forward to try and eavesdrop more carefully. It was definitely Sarah, and she was certainly enjoying herself. I crept further up the stairs to not break her mood. Getting to the doorway, I ensured that I wasn’t seen. Through the crack where the door hinge sits, I saw her hand down her leggings.

OMG! I didn’t think she did that anymore.

“Mmmm, master,” she moaned. “finger your slutty maid.”

My eyes widened. She was rubbing herself to my story. My heart pounded. I stayed motionless, hardly daring to breathe, just watching her. This, I did not expect: the woman I’d been married to for fifteen years, who hardly had any interest in sex anymore, was fingering herself to something I’d written. She shifted in my office chair, her eyes locked on the screen.

“Mmmm,” she moaned again.

My eyes dared not look anywhere else, for a moment, I’d never wanted her more. I resisted the urge to run into the office and bend her over the desk. But I watched instead.

After a moment, her eyes rolled back in her head, and she fell still and silent. She pulled her fingers from her leggings and held them up to her face, they sparkled in the light. She switched off my computer and stood up.

My eyes widened, suddenly realising that I was in a terrible position. What the hell do I do now?

I looked around, saw the bathroom door was open and quietly raced inside, hoping that she wouldn’t come in here. Listening carefully, her footsteps grew louder, and then our bedroom door opened and closed within a second.

Phew.

What the heck had just happened in the last five minutes? I felt both exhilarated and confused. What did this mean? Not only about our sex life, but about everything I thought I knew about her.

After a few minutes, the bedroom door opened again, and footsteps descended downstairs, presumably she went to continue dinner. I waited until her footsteps had completely died away and then crept into our bedroom and noticed her knickers were thrown on the floor by her side of the bed. They weren’t sexy ones, in fact, I wasn’t sure that she had any that people would consider ‘sexy’ anymore. Pausing for a second and listening for noises, I was satisfied that she wasn’t coming back. I bent down and picked her plain white knickers off the floor. As soon as I touched them, they felt damp. I brought them to my face and inhaled her sweet scent.

My cock hardened as I breathed her in. I hadn’t felt this turned on for a while, and obviously, neither had she. I had decided that I wouldn’t mention any of this to her. If she wanted to say something, then I guess she would.

***

Days went by, and she never mentioned a word about what I saw. All she said was, “Well, you’ve clearly got a good imagination.” That was it. I felt a tinge of disappointment; my story had obviously had an effect on her, but I wouldn’t press the issue. Feeling like I needed to write another story, I went back to my computer after she told me she was going out to do some shopping.

I hadn’t been on my computer since the day I saw her pleasuring herself, which was a few days ago. In my recent history documents was my maid story. The date was yesterday.

Yesterday?

Weird. Then it hit me, Sarah had gone back to it. Curious, I went into the bedroom and fished out her knickers from yesterday; I pushed them to my face, they were still a little damp and smelled of her pussy.

Then I heard an engine and looked out of the window, her car pulled onto the driveway. Quickly, I threw her pants back in the hamper and raced to my office. The front door clicked open, and I heard her walk in, a few bags rustled as she came in the house, then it went silent. I couldn’t think straight, waited a minute and went downstairs to help her make dinner.

***

Dinner was spaghetti bolognese; it was a standard meal that we had at least once a week. As we sat at the table, I felt the need to bring up the story. Before I spoke, I went over the words in my head to ensure that I didn’t say that I knew she was getting off to my story.

“So you didn’t give me a full critique of my maid story,” I said.

She stopped chewing and looked directly at me, like I’d just called her fat or something. Waiting until she’d finished what was in her mouth, she finally answered.

“Yeah, honey. It was good. Pretty explicit, but if that’s what you were going for, then you nailed it.”

“Do you think people would enjoy the story or just use it as a type of porn to masturbate to?” I asked.

She waited until she’d swallowed her forkful. “I dunno, what do people usually do? I mean, it’s just porn, isn’t it? You don’t watch it for the acting,” she replied.

That was true, I guess. We spoke very little for the rest of the dinner, mainly about work and the neighbour’s dog barking at us every time we went out. As we finished, I started cleaning up the plates, trying a little light conversation.

“What did you get whilst shopping? Anything nice?”

“No, not really. Just a few bits that we needed,” was all she said dismissively.

I sighed to myself and finished cleaning.

“I’m going to do some writing,” I said.

Her head turned. “What are you writing about now?” she asked.

“Oh, I dunno,” I said. I thought carefully, a wicked idea leapt into my mind.

“I thought I might do a second story about the maid. Maybe how she’s become his sex slave.”

A smile spread across her face, and then she quickly tried to look casual.

“Sounds good,” she said. “I’ll have to critique it when you’re done.”

I paused at the door, with a half-smile, and then went upstairs to my office. I sat in the chair thinking, I couldn’t work out what was going on. Then I heard her come upstairs and go into our bedroom, I resisted the urge to go and confront her about it. Instead, I switched on my computer and opened up Word to begin typing. After a few minutes, I still hadn’t written anything. Not one word. I’d only made up the Maid Part 2 story just to see her reaction; I didn’t actually know what I’d do after that.

Then the bedroom door clicked again, and the floorboard outside the office creaked, startling me. I quickly turned my head and did not expect to see the sight in the doorway. Sarah stood with her hands down by her side…completely dressed as a maid. It was a basic design, but it was unmistakable. Black low-cut dress, which hung down to her knees, fishnet tights, and a white apron tied neatly around her waist.

“Fuck!” I blurted.

“So you like it?” she grinned.

“You read it again,” I asked.

“Maybe…” she said. “You know…for research.”

My mouth went dry, and I tried to swallow. My head was spinning. She looked amazing. My cock hardened almost instantly. She looked down at my tent and giggled.

“Well…Master. What would you do?” she teased.

She stepped into the office and pretended to start dusting, bending over provocatively to flash me her bare ass.

“No knickers,” I said.

“Oh, no. Maids don’t like them. They…um… get in the way,” she said seductively.

She stepped into my space and dusted my crotch. I was transfixed by her.

“I’m your maid. Do you need anything…ahem…cleaning?” she asked, as she bent away from me, flashing her pussy. My brain flipped. If she were to be the maid, then I’d be her master. I reached out and gripped the hem of her dress with my hand, then pulled her towards me, almost pulling her over.

“As your master,” I deepened my voice to sound more authoritative. “I demand you clean everything. You can start with my penis!”

She smirked.

“You are the master, and I shall obey,” she said.

She dropped to her knees, falling between my legs and wasted no time grabbing my joggers and pulling them forward so that she could slip her hand over the top and straight on to my hard cock. I gasped as she quickly whipped it out into the open air. Her eyes flicked up at me, and a sultry glint sparkled in her eye. The tip of her tongue slowly drew across her lips, teasing me. I felt a tingle shoot through my body, then she leaned forward and wet my tip with them, kissing it very gently. She let her plump lips slide off the head before she cast another glance my way. Holding my gaze, she then beamed and hungrily gobbled my dick straight in one go, moaning around my shaft. Her velvet mouth wrapped around my hard cock, it felt amazing.

“Fucking hell, Sarah,” I moaned, the whole action taking me completely by surprise.

I looked down, and she was still staring at me; then she looked forward and began to slurp on my shaft, wrapping her tongue around it as she moved up and down, working my cock hard with her mouth. It was the best feeling I’d had for a long time. I knew she hated giving a blowjob normally, but now, she was in her element. She moaned around me as her head bobbed on my length, spit dripping down it, and she licked it as she kept working me.

“Oh, you’re so fucking good,” I groaned as her pace increased, each time she pushed me to the back of her throat, gagging on my eight-inch member. My thoughts were lost for a moment, my wife was dressed as a maid and giving me the best oral she’d ever done.

As much as I was enjoying her expert blowjob, I needed to feel her pussy. I pulled my hips back, and her lips pulled off my tip; a string of saliva connected my cock to her mouth.

“What’s the matter?” she asked. “I thought you wanted your cock sucked, Master.”

“Yeah, but the maid is very naughty and needs to be punished.” I said in my ‘Master’ voice.

I grabbed her wrist and pulled her off the floor.

“Ow,” she yelped.

“You will do as I say. Now get in the bedroom,” I demanded, not knowing if I’d gone too far.

I pulled her hand as we went to our room, practically throwing her on the bed. Within a few seconds, my trousers and boxers were tossed aside, and I stood on the floor between her legs, which were about my hip height, my cock standing at full erection.

I stared at her in the maid outfit, my hard cock wanting to take her. My hands pushed her dress up to her hips, and the smell of her dripping pussy wafted out. I closed my eyes and smelled the air, breathing her in. I couldn’t wait; I needed her badly. Then I grabbed her hips and yanked her towards me so her ass was barely supported on the mattress, her legs glistened as her pussy juices ran down them.

“Fuck me, Master!” she begged.

I stepped forward a touch so that my tip touched her pussy lips. I felt their wetness coat my head. Grabbing my shaft, I moved it around her entrance, teasing her as she had me, rubbing my dick against the dripping slit, and she moaned with anticipation. I smiled, and then I pushed myself into her, shoving my hips up to her ass so I was buried balls deep.

“Fuuuuuuccckkk! You fucking animal. Fuck me hard!” she moaned.

My shaft slid slowly in and out of her; she was soaking wet and tighter than I’d felt her for years.

“Oh fuck, you’re so fucking tight,” I cried.

I watched it appear, sliding effortlessly out of her slick cunt, and then I slammed it back into her snatch. I did it again, my length gliding with polished ease, each time I forced a groan from her.

“Oh, God. Yeah, fuck me, Andy,” she pleaded.

The dress was now around her hips and was basically a belt. I slapped her bare thigh, and she cried out. This was nothing like our usual sex, it was raw and animalistic.

“That’s Master to you, you fucking slutty maid,” I panted.

“Yes, Master…fuck your slutty maid, fuck me hard. Show me how naughty I’ve been,” she breathed.

Hearing my wife call me that nearly made me lose it. I aggressively banged myself against her; the slaps of our bodies echoed around the room, forcing another cry from her. My pace increased, and our bodies clapped against each other in an explosive moment, slapping and colliding into each other, like we were teenagers again. My mouth opened soundlessly as I continued to bang her, the wet sounds of her pussy mixing with her groans and cries. My maid, my wife, was helpless against my aggressive rhythm. After a few minutes of the most intense sex we’d had since we first met, I felt my balls swell.

“Fuuck, Sarah. I’m going to cum.”

She was breathing heavily and couldn’t answer. My pace almost stopped as I forced my cock deeper inside her, single thrusts, each one pushing further and further.

“Ohhhhhh, God! Oh Fuck. Ahhhhhhhhhhh!” she screamed.

Then my cock pulsed, and I felt ropes of pure ecstasy fill her. It pumped a few times before I finally felt empty, my hot seed dripped out of her and on to the sheets. I let my dick stay inside her for a moment before pulling out and grabbing my boxers to wipe it.

Her chest was moving heavily, and her panting was noticeable. After a moment or so, her breathing slowed, her chest moving more gently.

“Fuck, Andy. That was the best I think we’ve ever had.”

I laughed.

“Yeah,” I said. “Yeah, I think it was.”

I looked down at her, not just at the outfit. Not just what we’d just done. At her.

Something had shifted. The distance that had crept in over the years… it didn’t feel quite so wide anymore. She smiled up at me, softer now.

“Maybe,” she said, “you should keep writing those stories.”

I smirked.

“Yeah? Any requests?”

She thought for a moment, then grinned.

“How about a cheerleader?”