"So, I was wondering," he said as we lay on the bed, spent from our mutual orgasm, "why don't you ever use similes in your writing?"
"Huh? Don't I?" I tried to respond innocently enough, but I knew exactly what he meant.
"No, really, you don't. You know I love your writing, but it really seems like that could add a new dimension."
"Alright, fine. I'll admit it - I'm terrible at similes. Whenever I try to come up with something sophisticated, sublime, or even just silly, I end up sounding like a... see, I can't even think of one!"
Several months ago, he had uncovered that I enjoyed writing about sex - erotic stories, everything from remembering real encounters to inventing characters and scenarios - and even more, that I was turned on by posting my writing online and receiving feedback from perfect strangers. At first, I was a little embarrassed - it was something that nobody else knew about me. Well, except for all those horny strangers. But once I let my guard down, it became an intriguing new part of our relationship. He enjoyed giving me ideas for stories, and I found myself even more turned on by the process than before. I still enjoyed the knowledge that my writing reached unknown people online, but it was somehow even hotter to try to please him with each new story.
Part of the reason it worked for me was that he never let me off easy. He wasn't just some guy jacking off in front of his computer monitor to any story with enough licking and sucking and fucking. He expected creative plot development, and he liked to push the boundaries of my comfort zones. Each time he did, I responded with some new story I probably wouldn't have thought possible on my own. And I got off on the fact that I was able to respond to each new demand. And that each story posted online brought me new readers - and a few faithful ones who stuck with me, each new turn that my writing took.
So, anyway, back to the similes. "Well, why don't you just give it a try - even if they're silly at first," he said, pinching my nipples as he spoke. "I'll keep myself occupied while you practice."
"OK, OK, I'll try. How about this: fucking him was like a ride at the county fair - a long wait for a tiny thrill."
"Oh, very funny. You don't have to be cruel," he said, grinning and pinching my nipples harder.
"Ouch! I didn't mean you!" As I pondered my next gem, he slowly traced a line from my breast to my crotch with one finger, cupping my still-wet pussy with his hand once he arrived.
"I melted like butter in a warm pan as he began to stroke my clit." I knew very well what he was up to - wearing down my insecurity over bad similes by pressing all my buttons once again. Ooh, that could be a good one, I thought to myself before gathering the courage to open my mouth again.
"He pressed my buttons like a guy at an ATM who knew my PIN number."
Partly because it was time, and partly to hide his snickering, he buried his face in my crotch, slowly licking my clit and inserting two of his fingers inside of me.
