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. It was kind of like writing a résumé , except more fun.
Shit, why was he wasting his time doing this? It wasn’t as if he was ever going to log back in again, was it? He glanced at the clock on his screen and realised he’d been on Lush for 45 minutes already.
“Damn, I can’t be much longer,” he mentally chastised himself for getting caught up with the site.
Still, he now had a relatively complete profile. He went back and voted on ‘I Punished Them’, gave it a 4 and commented, ‘First story I’ve read here. I loved it! Looking forward to seeing more of you…’
He felt quite pleased that his comment was ambiguous, without being fawning or smutty for he was classier, smarter than that. Then he navigated back to the main page and noticed the red, scrolling text at the top: ‘Fuck, Suck or Pass?’, ‘Would you go down on your woman when she has her period?’, ‘How do you like your pussy hare?’
“What the hell…” He thought, as he clicked the link, “Pussy Hare? What the fuck is a pussy hare?”
He laughed as he read the clumsy forum posts, the way that some of the members answered the question seriously, whilst others took a more lighthearted approach, poking fun and pointing out that there were many ‘threads’ asking the same thing. He started to get a feel for some of the regular posters, noticing dynamics between them. It was a bit like watching a soap opera and he had a desire to get involved.
He didn’t yet have the confidence to post in one of the, what he perceived as ‘weightier’ threads, so he clicked on some of the lighthearted game ones, surprised that he got ‘hits’, responses really quickly and people welcomed him. Looking at the clock, he saw that another thirty minutes had passed. He went back to the home page and read a couple more stories, voting and commenting as he went. He enjoyed them, but they weren’t as thrilling as the first.
Her story was still on the homepage, though further down, as new stories took their place. He re-read it and felt bad that he’d only scored it with a 4. He clicked her picture; the beautiful blonde and her profile opened. He scrutinised her, studied her photos and interests and saw that she had lots of friends, followers. He laughed and scowled at some of the things posted on her wall. He looked at her stories on the page. Wow, she’d written quite a lot. Lots of different genres too: Wifelovers, BDSM, First Time. He clicked on a poem and it was good too, not that he really got poetry, but he could see what she was trying to do with it. He scored a 5, feeling it made up for the 4 vote on her story.
He clicked back to her page, noticed her image gallery and studied pictures in which she was careful to hide her face. It was a series of suggestive and selective images of parts of what what must to be her body. God, she was stunning, absolutely beautiful. A close up of a pert nipple with beads of moisture, carefully shown in black and white, long legs in the bathtub, the curve of her ass in red satin panties. He was semi-erect again just from looking at her images. He read the comments under them and felt like leaving a few himself.
He went back, took a deep breath and clicked ‘Add as a friend’, felt suddenly ashamed and hurriedly navigated away. Why the guilt though? Why should looking at a random person’s pictures and reading her stories evoke such emotion? He was still a little hard and he realised he was absentmindedly stroking his bulge.
“Shit! What the hell am I doing? Fuck! I can’t be sitting with a semi at work!” Stanley coughed, took a sip from his mug and glanced around to make sure he wasn’t attracting attention. He felt very self-conscious.
He nearly spat his coffee onto the keyboard when a loud ‘Doodle-oodle-ling!‘ blasted from his speakers as a little black box appeared in the corner of the screen. He turned the volume to silent, looking around nervously then looked back at the screen to see what it was.
“Hi there, thanks for the add.” It was Sparkle!
“God, what should I say? Be cool,” he told himself, as he typed back, “Why thank you and thanks for accepting my request.”
They had a tentative chat. She thanked him for his comment on her story. He told her it was his pleasure and how much he’d enjoyed it. The conversation continued for a while and he had to admit that he was enjoying the attention and the thrill of making a connection with someone who seemed so sexy and fun. He could almost feel her energy and a sexual tension which was clearly growing between them.
Stanley jumped, as Pete, a co-worker patted his shoulder, “Stan? Aren’t you going home tonight?”
“Oh, shit! Yeah! Sorry, Pete, I was, erm, busy,” he replied, thankful that his quick fingers had automatically switched the pages on his screen, hiding his chat from his friend. “I’m just finishing up here.”
“Ok, bud. See you tomorrow,” Pete offered, as he threw his jacket over his shoulder and left.
“Yeah, night, Pete.” Stanley replied dismissively, turning back to the screen.
A black box demanded, “Are you still there? Have you gone?”
He typed an apology and said that he was going to have to finish their conversation for now. They exchanged a couple more messages and Stanley logged out. There was a smile on his face as he cleared his browser history and shut down his computer for the night. They had agreed to chat at some point the next day. She had explained that she could only chat while her husband was at work, he was unaware of her Lush activity. He figured he’d only be able to chat while he was at work anyway.
Sparkle was in his thoughts for most of the evening. As he leaned in to kiss his wife’s cheek on arriving home, he was thinking of the flirty lady who’d occupied the better part of his day and he felt that, it had been the better part of his day. He couldn’t wait until tomorrow.
That night, as he and Elsa got into bed, he cuddled in close, gently kissing the back of her neck.
“Oh, Stanley!” she sighed, pushing her body back against him as he put his arm around her, fondling her soft breasts, pulling her nipples to attention.
His cock was already quite stiff beneath his pyjamas as he pressed it against her bottom. “Darling, lift your leg,” he whispered into her ear as he bit and nibbled.
“Oh, Stanley I’m tired,” she moaned unconvincingly.
“Please, just do it, darling, for me,” he coaxed and she obligingly raised her limb.
Stanley pulled her knee, his mouth still busy at her ear, feeling his cock poke through his shorts against his wife’s pantie-covered slit. He held her leg in place, using his free hand to pull the crotch of her knickers to one side. She turned her head until their mouths met and he began to kiss her deeply, his tongue probing between her lips while his fingers did the same to her pussy, stroking up and down, spreading her juices along her slit.
Moving his body around, still holding her damp panties to the side, he pressed his now engorged head against her and he pushed, with a quiet grunt. Their mouths still together, she gasped, surprised by his insistence, his dominance. He began slowly, allowing her juices to coat his penis, letting him push deeper with every thrust, but the fabric of her underwear was uncomfortable against his shaft and he found it difficult to hold them away and still comfortably screw his wife.
“Pull them to the side, love,” he whispered into her ear. “Touch yourself while I have you.”
She began to mutter something, but he pushed his tongue into her mouth again, gratified to feel her delicate fingers against his shaft, pulling the irritating fabric away and finding her pleasure centre. It urged him on, her fast breathing, her gasps as her movements against him became faster, harder. He adjusted his own pace now, knowing that it would not take her long to reach her peak. He grunted with each thrust, each delicious push moving him deeper into his wife. He felt his balls tighten, he thrust once, twice more and cried out as his creamy seed squirted into her. Her cries intensified his feeling and he felt her pussy contract around him as she came as he finished spilling into her.
They stayed where they were for a few moments as his cock softened inside her, their combined breathing settling. It was the best sex they’d had in a very long time.
“That was wonderful, darling,” she whispered as she pecked his cheek and wriggled away, evicting his penis. “Pass me the tissues, would you?”
He obliged, she wiped herself and quickly fell asleep.
Stanley would normally have dozed off quickly too, but he knew that the sex had happened because of Sparkle. He felt invigorated, refreshed, youthful.
The next morning, he was dreaming of Sparkle. He was chatting to while her at work and stroking his erection under his desk. Her mouth was so soft, so wet, so welcoming. Oh god it felt so good. He closed his eyes and put his hand down, grabbed her long blonde hair as she sucked him. He was so close now, so fucking close. “That’s it, suck me, take it all. Take me deep, let me fill your throat.”
He opened his eyes to see Elsa’s mouth around his morning wood. Oh my god! Oh my fucking god!! It was actually happening and it felt fucking amazing. His involuntary thrust became faster and as he felt her finger penetrate his ass, finding his p-spot, he couldn’t hold back. He shot his full load into his wife’s welcoming mouth.
“Holy fuck!! Elsa! Jesus, you dirty little bitch!” he laughed as his heart rate began to slow. “My god woman, that was fantastic! Where did that come from? Not that I’m complaining.”
She just smiled demurely, taking a tissue and dabbing the corner of her mouth. “Breakfast, lover?”
“Oh man, you are just perfect! I’m going to jump in the shower, okay?”
“See you downstairs, Stan.” She arched an eyebrow and wiggled out of view.
He descended the stairs, the smell of pancakes filling his nostrils. God, he felt happy. He ate with Elsa and the kids and he couldn’t believe how animated their chat was, it was such a good start to the day. His head was beginning to buzz with an idea for that final book and as he put his empty plate beside the sink, he found he couldn’t get out of the door quickly enough. Elsa, who was glowing herself, had laughed and asked what the big rush was. He said that he was thinking about his book.
“The sixth and final one?” She had asked, stroking his arm. “Gosh, you’ve not been this excited about your writing in ages. May I ask what it’s about?”
Thinking on his feet, Stanley quickly responded, “I don’t know really. I had a few dreams, you know, it was like the inspiration just popped into my head.” He smiled, thinking about it. “I’m not ready to share it with you just yet, but I will. I’m really excited, love.”
With that, he had grabbed his bag, kissed Elsa full on the lips, with a theatrical ‘mwah!’ and left. “Don’t forget me and the kids are going to Mum’s this weekend!” She had called after him as she stood smiling, touching her fingertips to her mouth. She opened her laptop on the kitchen counter.
When Stan got into the office, he was super-efficient and worked through his story queue very quickly so that he could log back into Lush.
He was nervously excited as he typed in the address and logged in. ‘PING! PING!’ Stanley almost jumped out of his seat. He’d forgotten about the notifications. He looked around. Only the guy on the picture desk was looking at him, shaking his head, annoyed. Stan felt his face flush and he mouthed “Sorry” as he set the volume to mute and turned back to the screen. There were a couple of black boxes on his screen from Sparkle, letting him know that she was around. He noticed that he had some messages in his inbox and he clicked on them, a couple of friend requests, which he accepted and also a message from Sparkle!
In her message, she said how exciting it was to speak to him yesterday and she figured that she would write him a message. She went on to explain about her home life, how things had become staid with her husband. Although she loved him very much, but that often one or both of them were too tired to make love at night. She told Stan how she felt too shy to try anything new, although she dearly wanted to seduce him again. As he read her words, he felt excited; her tone was very flirty. She told him that she had felt an immediate connection with him, that she felt compelled to see what could develop between them and asked if he might be free this weekend.
“This weekend?” Stan sat back in his chair, hands on the back of his head, re-reading what she’d written when a black box appeared from Sparkle. He sat and thought about what she had said, the implications of it. Of course, she could just be spinning him a line…
Suddenly a black box appeared on his screen, “Are you there?”
He typed back, “Yes, I’m here. You have me for roughly 45 minutes.”
She didn’t hold back, immediately flirting with him and coming on pretty strong. Stanley hadn’t felt so excited in ages, coaxing her, telling her the things he’d like to do to her. No holds barred. She didn’t mind, parrying words with him, arousing him, teasing the fuck out of him. He couldn’t leave his desk, There was no way he could hide the way his cock was pitching a tent in his trousers.
“Yes,” he typed, “I will meet you.”
“Really? You really will? Oh god, I’m so excited!”
“Erm, not as excited as I am at this moment in time. You hussy, I have the Eiffel Tower in my pants.”
“What should I wear? How will I know you?” She asked.
“I’ll have a red rose in my lapel and I’d like you to wear red too, please. I think it’s the sexiest colour of all…”
They hastily made arrangements to meet that Saturday, February the 14th, Valentine’s Day and reluctantly they said their goodbyes.
Saturday morning came and Stanley absentmindedly stroked his flaccid penis, in the way that men are wont to do, just because they can, as he waved goodbye to his family. He stood behind the hedge, watching the car drive away. As soon as it had turned the corner, he walked back into the house, closed the door and leaned against it, with a huge grin on his face.
He spent the best part of the morning trying to catch up on some reading, but his mind really wasn’t in it. He watched the football but with one eye on the clock, knowing that it would soon be time to get ready for his illicit meeting with Sparkle.
He stood under the shower and let the water run over him. He was fully erect, thinking about his tryst, but he merely washed his cock, didn’t stroke, saving himself for the night ahead. He shaved, washed himself and then got out, drying himself thoroughly. His suit was laid out on the bed along with a freshly pressed shirt and silk boxer shorts, also ironed. God, Elsa was wonderful! She really kept this place in perfect order. Whatever would he do without her?
Ready but with time to kill, he sat on the edge of the sofa, flicking through TV stations, but finding nothing to watch. He drifted through to the kitchen and took the single long-stemmed red rose from the vase on the counter. He cut it short with the scissors and pushed it through his button hole. He heard the taxi horn outside. “Time to go,” he smiled, picking up his small overnight bag and switching off the light.
He checked into the hotel and took his things to the room. It was sumptuous and he was glad he’d opted for the expensive hotel rather than the budget one down the road. He knew she was worth it. He felt nervous, like a teen about to lose his virginity as he made his way back down to the bar.
He sat, tentatively nursing his whiskey when he heard a quiet cough.
“Is this seat taken?”
He looked up. She was stunning, liquid grace in a skintight, black satin dress that left little to the imagination and his imagination was certainly racing.
“Oh, Elsa, you look fucking stunning! Shit, Sparkle, fuck, I’ve fucked it up now!” He kicked the floor.
She put a long red painted fingernail to his lips, “Shhh, Man_Lee, take me to bed, now. You have a lot of pleasuring to do. We have that sixth book to write, don’t we?”
Stanley grinned, “You know, Sparkle, you’re a bloody good writer. The stuff you’ve got posted on Lush is superb!”
Her grin said that she was pleased and he was pretty certain that this was going to be the best Valentine’s Day in living memory.
She walked in front of him and as he squeezed her bottom, she jumped slightly, “Hey! Watch it, saucy!”
“Els? I thought I asked you to wear red?” Man_Lee Stanley frowned.
Elsa stepped into the elevator and as she did she flashed him her most sparkling smile, put her finger to her lips, telling him to be silent and then pulled down the shoulder of her dress, revealing an exquisite red bra strap. The one he’d bought her all those years ago.
Stan beamed, feeling his cock twitch in his silk shorts as he followed his stunning wife, his muse, the love of his life, into the lift. The doors closed behind them.
Thank you so much for reading this story. I do hope that you enjoyed it. Please feel free to vote and leave a comment.