She awoke early as daylight broke through her sleep. She could hear the steady breathing of the man who slept beside her, as she slid silently from beneath the duvet, feeling the coolness of the floor as she walked across to the bathroom. She turned on the shower, allowing the water to run hot before stepping under the spray. She washed her hair, building a thick lather from the bubbles, and watched as it ran down her body, covering her breasts and nipples in foam. Her fingers moved across her skin as she washed herself. She remembered the intimacy they had shared the previous night during their love-making and smiled to herself. Her hand moved lower to her mound, and she gently caressed herself, parting her legs slightly, to allow her fingers entry. She rubbed the soap across her slit, and further back to her anus, running her fingertip around the smooth hole while deep in thought.
She snapped back to reality and remembered the day ahead. She had things to do and could not afford the luxury of self pleasure. She rinsed the remainder of the lather from her skin, and turning off the water, stepped from the shower. She dried herself using a towel that had been warming on the radiator, and rubbed her hair vigorously, before wrapping her bath robe around her, and leaving the bathroom.
First stop of the day was always the kettle; she couldn't function without a mug of tea, and headed downstairs to the kitchen. She filled the kettle and left it to boil while she went into the lounge. She pulled back the curtains and looked out onto a wet and windy day. The room was small, but brightly lit by the large window which looked out onto the garden. Her desk stood in the corner, and was home to her computer. Its companion was a large black leather computer chair, the kind with heavy arms, which most people seem to use. She turned the computer on and headed back into the kitchen to make her tea. She put a tea bag into a mug and then added the freshly boiled water, and then stirred it absent-mindedly as she gazed out of the window into the garden, watching the trees blowing in the wind.
She lived alone now, which certainly made things easier for them. He was able to call in frequently, and on occasions, such as this was sometimes even able to stay over-night. It gave them the opportunity to fully explore their fantasies during their love-making. She thought back to the way things had once been, snatched moments in hotel bedrooms, or in his car parked at an isolated beauty spot. At least now they were able to pleasure each other slowly and completely. Just recently she had come to understand herself more fully; it seemed that these days her every thought and mood was twined inexplicably with her sexuality, she felt relaxed and in tune with her body and able to share her self with her lover.
She removed the tea bag from the mug and added milk, then returned to the lounge, placing the mug of steaming tea on her desk. She sat in front of the screen and thought for a moment. She wanted to describe a scene that was in her mind, a scene that had evolved on a night when she had slept without him. A night when she had masturbated with him firmly in her mind. She began to type:
"Lying here, in my bed, alone, thinking of you. Remembering how horny you make me feel. Remembering the last time we fucked, the orgasm you gave me. The pictures you sent me this week, flashing through my mind. Your cock in my mouth in my cunt. Feeling wet between my legs. Feeling aroused. My nipples hard, rubbing against the duvet. Touching my nipples. Rubbing my hand across them. Pulling them. Squeezing them. Twisting. Imagining it is your touch on me. Imagining I can smell you near me. Wanting to kiss you hungrily. Wanting to fuck you. Wanting your cock. Reaching my hand lower. Feeling how wet my pussy is. Sliding my fingers along the length of my cunt. Pushing them inside me. Breathing slowly, deeply. Switching on the vibrator. Running it across the smoothness of my shaved lips. Moistening it in my pussy. Spreading my juices. Opening my legs wider. Separating my pussy lips. Sliding the vibrator in my hole. Pushing it in and out. Rolling the vibrator across the outside of my cunt. Across my clit. Teasing myself. My breathing becoming more rapid. Tingling now inside. Building deep within me. Face feeling hot. It feels good. Feels warm. Feels wet. Pushing it against my cervix. Applying pressure. Finding the spot. Holding it there. The vibrator rubbing up and down my slit. Touching my clit. Close to cumming. Breathing through it. Trying to hold back. Wanting it to last. The vibrator held against my clit. So close now. Moaning softly. Breathing fast. Cant slow it down now. So strong inside me. Fuck it feels good. Letting go. My clit throbbing. Warm relaxed waves wash through my cunt. My muscles tight. Pressure on my clit. Oh fuck....yesssss."
She was writing something for him; it was to be a surprise for his birthday, which was fast approaching. He loved to read the stories she wrote for him. He enjoyed the personal detail that was included in each story, the true meaning of the words hidden from the reader, but which had been added in a way that he alone would understand. It was her secret code to him.
Upstairs in the room above he was awake, he had felt her warmth leave the bed as she got up, and had awoken almost immediately. He had heard her in the shower, and had contemplated joining her, but he knew she had got up to write and so left her in privacy. He had heard her footsteps as she went downstairs and the noise from the tap as she filled the kettle. He lay there for a while thinking about her, thinking of the thoughts and ideas she had shared with him, her innermost thoughts and yet she had trusted him with them. Their relationship had become less frenzied and more relaxed, yet still intense, and passionate. They were both still keen to explore each other sexually, and felt comfortable sharing their fantasies. Just the thought of her was enough to arouse him, and he felt that all to familiar stirring beneath the sheets.
