Nancy

This was terrible. After some reasonably successful contributions to Literotica, I had writers block. How could that happen? To me, of all people? I'd already churned out a fair amount of imaginative material. And I always had plenty of ideas in my mind. But now, I was barren.

In an attempt to break free from my confines, I'd started one new story after another. It was no good. I'd torn up each new idea after a solitary few paragraphs. It seemed I could not grasp how to proceed. Or perhaps it was simply that I was writing rubbish? This couldn't be happening! Not to me!

My Literotica friends all tried to help. Often with words of comfort. Many with suggestions. But nothing worked. Not the praise for previous works. Not the recommendations for new storylines. Nor the comments that I should just give it time. I did give it time! That didn't help.

So, my friends. What does any adult, mature, red-blooded writer do when they have a severe case of writers block? Bury their head in the sand, of course. Refuse to answer emails, or IM's. Stop eating. Stop drinking. Stop shaving. Stop most things (wanking apart). Quite frankly, it was the only way! Rebel against the world of Literotica. Or the world in general, come to that.

Over time, even my friends on Literotica stopped contacting me. I was yesterday's man. A lost cause it seemed. To everyone!

Everyone, that is, except Nancy Anderson.

Nancy was a 37 year-old hotwife. Her biography had first drawn me to her. The piece that said: All my life I have loved sex. I was blessed with great looks and I learned early how to use my body to get what I wanted. I guess you could call me a nymphomaniac, or maybe a sex addict. I don't know but it hasn't hurt me any I guess.

Not only was that writing par excellence, but the images it created went straight to my loins. Quite frankly, I did the only thing any red-blooded male could do. I had a good wank.

Then I saw Nancy's photograph. Although her face was hidden, her silken dark hair hung past her shoulders. She was clearly a stunning beauty.

And her figure! The word voluptuous seemed invented for a body that stood tall and proud in only a short white top and skimpy light green panties. Her photograph gave me an instant hard-on. In an earlier life, Nancy could have been Helen of Troy. I did the only other thing any hearty male could do.

I had another working wank. Only, it was even better this time.

I was in love! Or was that lust? This married woman from San Diego was inside my head.

Nancy had kept in touch after I first contacted her. And when I developed writers block, she stayed in touch. After a while, she was the only one. It was then I discovered my affliction had its compensations - Nancy sent me a couple more photos to cheer me up!

And there was only one comment I could make. Fuuuuuuuuuuck!

Her photos immediately transferred themselves for use as wallpaper and screensavers. And, naturally enough, I printed copies and pinned them to the walls of every room in my house.

Eventually, my communication with Nancy moved from emails to Instant Messenger. She was upping the ante in her efforts to get me back on the straight and narrow.

"Hal, you've got to snap out of this," she typed in a typically forthright manner. Cruel to be kind.

"I know," I responded, meaning anything but that.

"So...?"

"I'll be fine in a few days," I lied.

"It's been four weeks!"

"I know." I was full of conversation.

"It's time for you to return to your friends at Literotica. We miss your stories."

I stared at the words on my screen and sighed. If only I could produce some more stories!

"Nancy," I moaned into the computer, typing as fast as my writer's block fingers would allow. "I've tried. It's just not working for me right now."

"You shouldn't give up," she typed.

"I haven't," I lied again. "I just need a little inspiration."

There was a pause before she typed her reply. "My photo's don't inspire you?"

I laughed for the first time in four weeks. "Oh, they DO!!!" I responded. "Absolutely!"

"So..."

"I'm almost there..."

"Are you wanking?"

"No, no," I hurriedly typed. That had been half an hour ago.

"Well?" she asked.

"I mean I'm almost there with getting myself able to write again."

"Is that true?"

I couldn't lie. Not to Nancy. "Er... not quite..."

"Very well," she typed. "In that case, you leave me no choice..."

My typing suddenly quickened. "No choice?"

"That's right. See you soon. Bye."

See me soon? What did that mean?

*

It didn't take long to find out. Three days in fact. When I answered the door, late morning, she stood there. Despite never having seen her face, I immediately knew who it was. Nancy didn't need to introduce herself. And after all this time imaging how she looked... I now knew.

The only words to describe this voluptuous Goddess were stunningly beautiful.

Her soft eyes smiled at me as the high sun framed her in the doorway. She was a combination of incredible, sun-shining righteousness and smoldering, teasing, wickedness. My dark angel of mercy had appeared.

"Hello Hal," she said. Well, actually, she didn't say. She purred.

I blinked and swallowed nervously.

With a flick of her long, dark hair she walked past me, her eyes sweeping across the unkempt state of the room. I'm sure I heard a little snort. Her eyebrows raised in disappointment as she turned back to me.

For my part, my bleary eyes ran across her black, half buttoned top and the prominent breasts that pushed against the fabric. Somehow I tore my gaze down to her dark blue jeans and on down to her black Jimmy Choo high heels. Blue jeans and high heels... sexxxxy!

Aware of my gaze, she swung around and allowed my eyes to feast on her ass. Glory be! It was the most rounded, sweetest, peach of an ass that the Good Lord had ever bestowed on a woman.

She swung back to face me, settling her hands on her hips. "Well?" she asked, as if seeking my critique.

For a few seconds, I thought of a combination of all the words I could bestow on this dark haired beauty. My mind attempted to form them into a cohesive sentence that was sufficiently articulate to impress her.

"Fuuuuuuuck!" I eventually exclaimed.

She smiled. The room lit up. "Quite," she answered, as if accepting my comprehensive assessment.

She surveyed my stubbled face, my creased clothes, before turning back to gaze around the room. All were in roughly the same state.

"Hal," she purred. Nancy didn't speak, she purred. A throaty like growl. "Have you any idea how difficult it was for me to sneak away from my husband to be with you today?"

I shook my head. Nancy had sneaked away from her husband? To be with me? I felt little Hal rear inside my jeans. That boy was ready for action. I immediately dismissed the thought, sending a message from brain to cock to behave.

"He's working late, so I have some time." She labored on the word 'some'. I wondered exactly how long that was. But at the minute I was just in listening mode.

"Let's agree one one thing, Hal," she admonished. "You need to shave and shower, clean up this place, eat, and then get back to your writing."

My shoulders slumped. Get back to my writing? That just wasn't possible.

"Can't," I said, putting on my best little boy lost voice.

"Can't what?" she asked.

"Can't write!" My head momentarily went down before I jerked it back upwards again. I was missing an opportunity to stare child-like at her sensational body.

Nancy smiled. The room lit up again. "Bite sized chunks," she said.

I'd like to say that her words hit home, but I was too busy staring at her tits.

"Face first. Then room. Then clothes. Then writing. Then eat." She spoke as if reading out a shopping list. "Where's the bathroom?"

My eyes went to the door and my wet dream followed my gaze. She turned and walked towards it. As I watched the majestic sway of her ass, she looked at me over her shoulder. "C'mon!"

I followed meekly. Who wouldn't? Even so, I took slow, begrudging steps to Nancy's purposeful movements so that I could savor her perfect ass!

When I entered the bathroom, she had already unscrewed the tub of coconut shaving cream and was lathering the badger bristles of my shaving brush.

"Sit," she commanded, nodding at the edge of the bathtub.

I did, reluctantly plumping myself down on the curved rim. I stared at the floor. When I looked back up, Nancy had three buttons of her blouse already unfastened.

"I don't want any shaving cream on my clothes," she explained.

I watched incredulously as she undid the final two buttons and slowly pulled the blouse out of her jeans.

"Besides," she said, her eyes sparkling at me, "it seems to me that you need some encouragement."

She slipped the blouse off her body to reveal a lacy, black, push-up piece of exotic lingerie. I was unsure whether it was a Wonderbra, but I knew I was staring at Wonderbreasts. They spilled over the top of the material, offering the most deliciously provocative sight I've ever seen.

I stared, transfixed. The smooth slopes of her breasts rose and fell gently. For a few moments, my dark haired angel allowed me to admire her twin glories. "Okay," she eventually purred.

That one word was enough to tell me that my sightseeing tour was temporarily interrupted. "Hold still," she directed. She stepped across me and teasingly sat across my lap. I was dazzled by the bare skin of the upper slope of the cleavage that threatened to push itself into my face. Oh fuuuuuuuuck!

My dark haired beauty smoothly caressed the shaving cream across my hard bristles, taking extra care to cover every appropriate piece of skin. I did hold still, well every part of me except one. I wondered if Nancy could feel little Hal. He was pressing against her, through our respective jeans. I glanced at her nipples, pushing through the bra. They looked as hard as my cock.

When she turned to replace the brush with my cut-throat, the twist of her body pressed little Hal closer against her pussy. I couldn't help the small moan, nor the bigger one when she repeated the friction as she swung back.

"Well, Hall," she purred. "At least something is working around here." She paused. "But can I ask you something..."

My infatuated eyes stared up into hers.

"Would you quit humping my leg?" There was nothing accusatory in her words, just a simple request.

I looked down and saw that somehow my hips were gyrating against her. Ooops. "It's been a while," I mumbled, in my best apologetic tone.

My wet dream nodded as if in sympathy, before shaving me gently. With a certain tenderness, I thought. Her left hand eased my face from one side to the other as she worked, and her eyes shone triumphantly into mine with each stroke. I unsuccessfully prayed for little Hal to behave himself. He wasn't listening.

"Well that's your face taken care off," my dark haired angel eventually told me. She ran her right hand across the smoothness she'd just created. "Our next step is to clean up the place."

"Clean up..." I began, before emitting a further moan as she pressed down on my cock. She eased herself off my body, rubbing her mounds of joy across my face as she stood up.

"Think of that as further encouragement," she purred over her shoulder as she walked to the bathroom door, blouse in hand. "C'mon..." she added.

Like her personal lap dog, I followed Nancy into the living room. Not for the first time since her arrival, my jaw dropped. The angel of mercy was slipping out her jeans.

I watched incredulously as they dropped to the floor. She picked them up and laid them on top of the blouse she'd carefully placed across the back of a chair. The high-sided, black thong that matched her bra left nothing to the imagination. Fuuuuuuuuck!

As she swung around to face the other way, the two cheeks that had promised so much exceeded even my wildest imagination. The roundness of her buttocks was absolutely perfection. Mouth watering twin globes of joy. Created for a Goddess, perfect on my angel.

Somehow, even without looking, Nancy knew exactly were my eyes were located. "I know," she purred. "I'm Blessed."

It took us a couple of hours to clean the house. Every room was in a similar, messy, state. And I have to admit she worked like a Trojan, not just clearing up every misplaced item, not just washing the variety of dishes piled in the sink, not just cleaning all the worktops and tables, but vacuuming each carpet afterwards.

I have to say that when I concentrated, I worked hard too. But how do you concentrate when you are following a voluptuous dark haired angel dressed only in the skimpiest, black lingerie? I lost count of the number of times I had to pause to replace my tongue in my mouth.

*

Eventually, each room was spick and span and Nancy jumped on the couch, lying across it, her wonderful cleavage attempting to escape over the top of her bra.

She beamed up at me. "So, you have my photographs in every room?" she purred.

I blinked in embarrassment, but it wasn't something I could deny. "Er... yeah."

"How often do you think of me?" my angel asked.

"Every day," I mumbled.

"How often do you look at my photos?"

"Every day," I mumbled again.

"How often do you wank over me?"

That wasn't a question an angel should be asking, but there was no point lying. I quickly worked out roughly the number of times little Hal and I had played whilst thinking of Nancy. It wasn't difficult.

"Every day," I mumbled for a third time.

My dark haired beauty raised an eyebrow. She knew she'd caught me out.

I confessed. "Sometimes twice a day!"

Satisfied, Nancy nodded. She slid to her feet, suddenly all business again. "So that's you shaved and the house cleaned," she purred. "Halfway there!"

Halfway there? I looked at the voluptuous vision standing in front of me, hands on her hips. She tilted her head to one side, her thrusting tits spilling over her bra, her thong just about concealing her treasure. Every red-blooded male's wet dream. Certainly, mine.

"After your shower, we'll get you into some clean clothes," she said.

Shower?

"Follow me," came the command. I would have followed those tight, tanned buttocks anywhere.

She led me back to my modest bathroom. I watched, hypnotized, as the perfect body in front of me turned on the shower and adjusted the temperature. She swung back, her dazzling smile lighting up the bathroom. Taking two steps towards me, she pulled my red t-shirt from my jeans and tugged it over my head. I struggled in my attempt to help her, and then gave a soft cough.

"Nancy, I can manage..."

Her hands were unzipping my jeans. I coughed again, attempting to cover my embarrassment.

"Nancy..." I began again as I unsteadily stepped out of my jeans.

When she yanked my boxers to the floor, I felt faint.

"Not the biggest I've ever seen," she confided, despite the fact that little Hal was standing to full attention. "But impressive enough nonetheless."

I slipped both hands to cover my pride and joy. She smacked them away. "Don't be silly," she chastised. "I'll see it when we're in the shower."

I almost swallowed my tongue. We?

Nancy reached upwards to her bra. "Front fastening," she purred, as if I needed some sort of explanation.

My eyes widened to saucer like proportions as her jutting breasts bounced free. Her twin round globes of perfection were comparable to anything Playboy had to offer.

Seeing my jaw-dropping gaze, Nancy shook them for me. They provocatively bounced again before they settled. My feeling of faintness returned. They stared at me, so beautifully round, so perfectly curved, so wonderfully balanced.

"Oh, Nancy," I moaned.

"Think of it as more encouragement," she purred, her eyes gleaming at me as she bent forward to remove her thong. "We'll have you writing again before the day is out."

My eyes alternated between the truly fabulous thrusting breasts and the velvet smoothness between her legs. Her supermodel body was perfect. Simply perfect.

"After you," she purred, motioning me toward the running shower.

Her breasts brushed against my arms and back as she followed me in. God, those majestic nipples were rock hard. I stood there like the village idiot, the water bouncing off my head and running down my face whilst I awaited further instructions.

"Put your hands on my shoulders," my wet dream told me.

I did. They trembled as they touched her naked skin. Taking the round bar of soap, Nancy began to wash me. Every part of me. Every bit except my private parts. Thank goodness for that! As much as this red-blooded male was purring under the soft touch, her fingers on my hardness may have led to an eruption that outdid Mount Vesuvius.

As my angel's slippery, soapy, hands slid over my body, I closed my eyes. Was this heaven? Little Hal was as hard as he'd been even in the good old days and Nancy's ministrations were turning him into an iron rod. The greatest gift Nancy could give me seemed to be coming true.

As she soaped me, I could not tear my eyes away from her full breasts. Had circumstances been different, I would have been unable to resist taking one or both of her hard nipples into my mouth. But this was Nancy, my angel of mercy. There was no way I should be thinking of sex when her pure motive was to get me writing again.

"I think there's another reason for your writer's block," she purred, interrupting my lewd thoughts.

"Ye...es?" my voice croaked. Her soapy hands felt delicious.

"You need relief!"

I needed relief? We'd already established that relief had been a daily occurrence. Nancy read my mind.

"It's not the same by yourself," she continued. "You need a woman's touch."

Fuuuuuuuck!

I know this sounds impossible but I swear little Hal grew another couple of inches.

"What do you think?" she asked, slipping a hand under my balls and softly stroking them both.

I knew exactly what I thought! Her other hand slowly ran along the length of my hard cock. I heard her give a little groan as I twitched. Or was it my groan?

"See... you need relief," she repeated, nodding her head in confirmation. Her hand now began to smoothly stroke little Hal. Except little Hal was now big Hal. "A good cum will free the mind!"

"Nancy..." I half pleaded. "I have a good cum every day..."

"Not like this," the dark haired angel turned temptress purred. "Not by Nancy."

Well, yes, I thought, they were all Nancy induced. But I had to admit this was different. As my eyes were now closed, I felt rather than saw her slide down my body. I opened them and glanced down.

My wet dream was crouched in front of me, her eyes fixed on my cock, one arm hooked around the back of my legs, one hand stroking long and slow. Water cascaded from her shoulders, and her long, dark hair was soaking wet. I was in a porn movie! My breathing became more ragged. I'm sure that Nancy's was faster, too.

"Careful," I cautioned, feeling my balls starting to churn. I knew what was approaching.

"You do this every day?" she asked.

I mumbled something that passed as a yes.

"Sometimes twice a day?"

Another mumble.

"Hmmm, and you always think of me?"

The mumble was this time accompanied by a rapid nodding of my head.

"Hmmm, well, we need to make this one different."

Different? How? The thought had just formed when Nancy's wet mouth descended on little Hal. Oh, Holy Fuuuuuuuuck!

My angel turned porn star bobbed her head, taking more and more of my cock between her lips with each dip. Her saliva drooled down along its length and mixed in with the water cascading down from the shower. My hands settled on her deliciously long, wet hair as Nancy took my balls in her mouth, one by one.

"Oh fuck, Nancy," I heard someone say. It was my voice and appeared to be some sort of warning. My wet dream's response was to leave my balls and deep-throat little Hal. Fuuuuuuuuck!