Laura had a secret hobby that even her boyfriend Ben knew nothing about, and she had no intention of letting him in on her naughty secret. Laura had been writing erotica and porn stories, for her own enjoyment and as aids to her masturbation sessions, ever since she first discovered Literotica, an online collection of sex-based fiction. It had amazed and thrilled her that such excitingly sexy stories were right there, in plain sight, to be read by anyone. How wonderfully liberating! She started writing her own stories and just kept on writing them.
Some parts of the writing process came easily to her. She'd never suffered a drought of plotline ideas, which she drew from her deep well of raunchy fantasies. But she felt that her storytelling skills lacked the quality necessary to make her stories worthy of posting at sites like Literotica. She considered enlisting the aid of one of Literotica's volunteer writers or editors, to help her make her stories more nearly ready to be publicly shared, but as her stories served her own purposes very well she didn't feel a need to become a published author.
Part of the thrill Laura found in her writing hobby was in knowing that her secret and very lewd daydreams existed somewhere inside her desktop computer, right there in the wide open Living Room area of her small apartment, hidden from view and yet so close to anyone in the room. She found it especially thrilling that her stories were right under Ben's nose, and yet impossible for him to see. She always reserved the starring role in her stories for herself, but she usually cast Ben as her leading man.
In her stories, Laura's striking beauty and svelte figure made her a natural object for the unbridled lusts of the handsome and athletic Ben, who was always eager to get her into bed and more than up to the task of satisfying her there. In her stories, Laura and Ben were sexually insatiable and wildly hungry for each other's naked bodies. Their wanton sex romps always left both of them physically exhausted, carnally sated, and emotionally bonded.
But the actual facts of her life weren't like that at all. Laura had to admit, sadly, that her rather ordinary prettiness and slightly chunky body simply didn't have an aphrodisiacal effect on Ben, whose rather ordinary looks and somewhat skinny frame she had become used to snuggling up to. And as if that wasn't disappointing enough, sex between them, which had never been good or frequent, was now simply non-existent and had been so for some time. Neither of them seemed to be comfortable initiating sex with the other any more, and their infrequent bouts of serious kissing and tentative touching were mostly the kind of dull and routine exercises one associates with partners who are fulfilling some contractural obligation they have toward one another. Laura had long ago resigned herself to the fact that Ben was simply not a sensuous man, and she was not sufficiently sensuous herself to draw him into the world of great sex she wished they could have.
Laura kept up her secret porn story writing, not just to add to her masturbation pleasures but to relieve her sexual frustrations as well.
The story Laura was then working on had a simple but promising plotline. A lovely and magnificently proportioned young woman (Laura) had enrolled herself in a nightschool Male Life Drawing class taught by a ruggedly masculine and wonderfully sex-driven artist (Ben). Ben taught the class every year because he could use the physical tensions of a class of females surrounding a naked male model as a way to get close to the sexier young women in the class and to seduce and fuck them all. She wanted the story to end with Ben choosing Laura as the most desirable and fuckable of them all, but she hadn't yet figured out how to make that happen.
She looked at her computer screen, seeing what she had just written:
Laura looked at the model's penis. She wondered how she should draw it. Ben stood watching her.
"Don't be afraid, Laura," he said. "It's just a cock."
She started to draw it.
"Bigger," said Ben. "He's not as big as me, but he's bigger than that."
Laura thought she might faint.
The image was exciting. The writing was not. She knew that she had a lot to learn if she was ever going to make the words say what she wanted them to, to make the words as beautiful and as erotically flowing as her fantasies were.
She hit the computer keys that would save and file away her work, despite her dissatisfaction with it, and went to get ready for her date with Ben.
She wasn't quite ready when Ben arrived, so he waited for her in the Living Room as she put the finishing touches on her makeup and gave her hair some last flicks with her styling comb. She joined him a few minutes later, and they went off to dinner at a restaurant they had visited several times before. The connection between the restaurant and her romance with Ben was not lost on her - both were comfortable, familiar, and totally lacking in the kind of excitement she wanted her life to have.
But to her surprise, the evening had been far more enjoyable than any date the two had had in a long time. Ben seemed genuinely eager to please her, flirting with her in ways that she didn't even know he was capable of. He held doors open for her and guided her through them with a firm yet gentle hand on her waist; he found excuses to touch her, above and below the restaurant tabletop; on the drive home his arm about her shoulders held her snugly to him; and he took the opportunities of stop signs and red lights to kiss her with romantic fervor. He drove slowly along blocks of commercial businesses, and told her that he was looking for a flower shop still open at the late hour because he was in "flower buying mode" for her. She laughed happily, and assured him that the thought was enough to please her.
Back at Laura's apartment, when Ben kissed her goodnight before heading home, his kiss and embrace were deeper and more intense and more sexually arousing than any they'd shared before. She thought for a moment about asking him to stay the night, hating to lose the powerful passion of the moment they had just shared, but Ben interpreted her hesitation as tantamount to rejection and left a moment later. She wondered if he would have to masturbate before he could get to sleep tonight.
She knew that she would have to.
* * * * *
After he'd gone, Laura sat down at her computer again. Her libido was already fired up enough to make a late night pussy tickle well worth doing, but a little added stimulus might make tonight's finger fun even better than usual. She opened her porn stories file, running a few of her finished pieces through her mind to see which of them might best suit her mood of the moment, and up onto the screen came the passage she had last been working on. She read it again:
Ben stood behind her as her finely chiseled charcoal traced the line of the model's upper leg, and when her hand hesitated he put his strong arm around her and guided her pencil in its path along the contours of the model's limp cock. Ben's fresh manly scent practically overwhelmed her as she felt her cheek rest against the warmth of his heavily muscled arm.
She read it again. And then again. She thought she might be going crazy. What was in that restaurant food anyway? The words on the screen were not what she'd written, but they were a lot closer to what she had wanted to write. Had her computer taken what she'd written and rewritten it for her? Was her computer capable of creative thought? She felt disoriented, as if she was in some kind of surreal dream, some Twilight Zone where distortions to the very fabric of the Universe might be commonplace.
And then another possible explanation occurred to her. It was possible, but it was also so highly unlikely that it hardly seemed more plausible than her own insanity would be. Could Ben have accessed her story file and altered it in the few minutes he'd been left alone in her Living Room? She knew she'd left the computer on, but she was sure that she'd closed the text file she'd been working on, and she was pretty sure she'd shut down the program that had produced it.
And even if this absurd scenario was possible, it seemed utterly unbelievabe. Ben's uncharacteristic behavior this evening notwithstanding, the man just wasn't capable of writing what she was now looking at on the computer screen. Ben wasn't even romantic enough to remember her birthday, for heaven's sake. The only reason she could think of for even considering that Ben might have been responsible for this was that she couldn't think of any other explanation for it. But then she couldn't think of an explanation for Ben's unusually romantic and flirtatious behavior throughout the evening either. What was going on? Were the two events related? Was Ben turned on by a chance encounter with Laura's sexy story?
If Ben had really written those sentences, could he do it again? If Laura give him a chance to secretly improve other weak passages in her stories, could he do it? Would he do it? If Ben's unexpected but very welcome sexually aggressive behavior was triggered by Laura's story, she'd be foolish not to do whatever it took to trigger it again. And again.
In bed, as her hands moved slowly and caressingly over her breasts and along the line between the lips of her pussy, she thought of how Ben might describe in words what she was doing at that very moment. And she wondered if asking him to put it into words would embolden him to do it with her.
She came, hard.
* * * * *
Laura's computer failed to do any of its rewriting magic on its own in the following days. She had to to put her "Ghost Writer Ben" theory to the test. The next time Ben stopped by Laura's apartment he would find himself left alone in the Living Room again, the Word Processor program still alive on her computer, and another passage badly in need of some improvement only a keystroke away.
That opportunity came on the evening of their next date, the following weekend. Laura again took extra time in her bedroom getting ready, although this time she was simply sitting on the edge of her bed and keeping track of the amount of time she was forcing Ben to wait for her. When she felt that Ben had had sufficient time to do his thing, if indeed he had a thing to do, she called out to him that she was ready and joined him in the Living Room a moment later.
Ben showed no sign that he had been up to any mischief. The fact that she found him standing close to the computer certainly didn't prove anything. The dimensions and layout of her Living Room were such that it was impossible for anyone to sit or stand very far from her computer desk.
