Writer’s Block

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Olivia was a writer. It’s not just what she did, it was what, in her mind, defined her. Short stories, poems, and novellas spanning all manner of genres. She’d taken great delight sharing them with her small circle of friends, sometimes even shyly reading them out loud, quietly pleased at the praise they’d heaped on her, each time pushing herself to improve. Jack had been especially supportive, always sending her motivational emails or glowing reviews, finding bright moments in even the failed tales she’d been embarrassed to share with anyone else, encouraging her to start fresh, coaxing her to work harder, to improve, to do what she loved. It had all dried up one day, though. The dread of every author. Writer’s block. Nothing she wrote seemed to satisfy her. No matter what subject she’d chosen, she felt uninspired… “You stuck?” The question had been asked casually, but immediately she felt pressed and began pushing her food around her plate with the tines of her fork. She answered with a shrug, refusing to elaborate, hoping Jack would let the subject drop, a hint of color warming her cheeks. “Hey, it happens.” He went on. “Why don’t you try writing something different. A new style. Push yourself. Experiment. Write stories that ‘Olivia,” – he curled his fingers into quotation marks with a grin, knowing it would irritate her – “would never dare to write, O.” And so she did. She began writing again, this time, her tales veering off into very adult matter. Not smut, of course. At least not at first. But certainly there’d been an element of erotica seeping into her romances, her prose, even her more traditional swords and sorcery themed fantasies. And, as time went by, the other elements faded away, and they became something very different. Sordid tales starring her. Sexual fantasies come to life on the page. Still, whenever anyone asked, she shrugged them off, saying she’d been taking some time off. A break from writing. The truth was, she was rather embarrassed about sharing her stories now, something she’d always done. The spicier they’d gotten, in fact, the less comfortable she was passing them around the small circle of friends who’d become her sounding board before sending them off to various magazines or posting them online at the several story sites she’d been frequenting over the last few years, something she’d also stopped doing. “Just seems like you’ve been withdrawn, O.” She let it go, not caring to explain that, no, she hadn’t really stopped writing, only that she wasn’t comfortable sharing her deepest, darkest fantasies with some of her closest friends. Still, the thought had taken seed, and it worried at her, not only through dinner, but for the rest of the week. What would he have said if she’d simply put down her fork and looked him straight in the eye and told him the truth. “I’m writing sex stories, Jack. Steamy, hot, masturbation stories, that I read over and over, late at night, while I…. you know….” She laughed at that thought, all too aware of her elevated heart beat and the way her breath quickened as she replayed the scene in her mind, picturing the look on his face at her admission. Not that she was a prude, but of all her friends, she was the least comfortable talking about sex when the subject came up. They met again the following weekend, as was their habit. Always a different location, trying out as many of the city’s diverse restaurants as they could. And, as usual, Olivia still worried over their last conversation, wondering if he’d pick up on it again, half hoping he would, wondering what, if anything, she would tell him about her new direction. In fact, when he didn’t, she brought it up herself, instantly regretting her brief moment of bravery as soon as the words left her mouth. “I’ve been writing, Jack.” “Oh?” he mumbled, swallowing a bite of his tamale, one eyebrow quirking skyward. He allowed her to go on at her own pace, clearly aware of her nervous habit of rearranging the food on her plate, continuing to eat in silence until, finally, she continued. “Yeah.” She murmered, picking out a particularly succulent green bean and biting it in half. “Good. “ he said, leaving it at that, not pushing her for details, letting her lead the conversation in a different direction. That night, she sat down at her lap top and started tapping out words, pausing every other paragraph to reread her story, deleting it each and every time with an exasperated sigh. Every single time she imagined the conversation having gone differently and suddenly, the steamy romance she was attempting seemed trite. At least now, if he queried her, she rokettube could honestly brush him off with an excuse. “Yeah, just a case of writer’s block, Jack. Seems like I just can’t get started on anything with any substance…” “Maybe you need inspiration, Olivia. Maybe you need to act out your stories. I’d be happy to help. What kind of stories do you want to write?” “Erotica.” She whispered, unable to meet his gaze. “Romance?” he chuckled . You’ve written plenty of those already. “Not romantic fluff, Jack. Sex stories.” And, instead of laughing at her, he reached over and stroked her cheek softly with the back of his fingertips. “That’s so sexy, Olivia. Maybe you could read them to me, sometime….” She put the laptop aside, and leaned back on the sofa, eyes closed, trying to imagine the scene she thought she wanted to write about. Instead, uninvited, the image of her and Jack, sitting across the table from each other as she finally let go of all her inhibitions and spilled the beans… As she played out the scene in her head, she found her hand slipping beneath the waistband of her sweats, inside of her plain cotton panties, her finger moving slowly up and down the cleft of her vagina with a soft moan. She amended ‘vagina’ to ‘cunt’. Cunt felt so much dirtier and, in her fantasies, she was a dirty girl. The Olivia in her stories was sexually adventurous and confident, with a streak of kink that she’d never explored with any of her very vanilla boyfriends. Just like Jack, a fact she knew from all the times she’d listened to him talk about past girlfriends. Yeah, he was cocky, but she admired that about him, wished that she could be a bold as he was somewhere besides the written page. Suddenly, inspiration took her. Blushing furiously, she reached for her laptop again, and resumed writing one handed, balancing it on her slowly spreading thighs as she slowly teased her clit free, her finger slick with pussy juices after slipping it inside of her suddenly dripping wet pussy as she re-wrote what she’d written. “What kind of stories, Olivia?” Jack asked her. “Sex stories.” She told him, her heart pumping in her chest, her voice a breathy whisper. Nervously, she sat back, licking her lips, her gaze never leaving his. “Stroke stories. I write them for… well, myself, I guess. And then, late at night I read them over and I touch myself and… and I make myself cum….” “Tell me more.” He said, his dark eyes suddenly intent, dropping to her breasts. She paused, a frown on her face, carefully backspacing as one finger circled her sensitive, swollen clit, pleasuring herself at a slow pace, not in a hurry to finish herself off. Not until she was finished with the story. Then, and only then, would she allow herself release. “dropping to her tits.” “Much better.” She mumbled, liking the raw language that the Olivia of her stories used, vowing to stay in character as much as possible. “There weren’t so many buttons undone earlier, O. You do that in the restroom?” “Yes, Jack. That’s not all I did.” There was a hint of sass in her smile, her lashes fluttering. “That’s not all…” She reached under the table, brushing her fingertips against his knees until he responded, reaching for her hand, his eyes going wide as she pressed a pair of sheer black panties into his hand, the material damp with arousal. “I didn’t really need to go.” She admitted, enjoying the surprised look on his face. “I spent my time playing with myself, Jack. And the entire time, I imagined you standing there, watching me from the doorway of the stall, my legs spread wide, so you could see my cunt. My hot, wet cunt, Jack. If you looked right now, you could see it. I’ve got my legs spread wide for you, my skirt hiked up on my thighs. I bet you never imagined I was such a dirty girl, did you?” She almost withdrew her hand, eager to let her fingers fly over the keyboard and write and yet… what she was doing felt too good to stop. Breathing hard, she did her best, one hand inside her damp panties, spreading her vulva with index and ring while her middle finger slipping in an out of her dripping wet… “Fuck hole.” She breathed, triumphant at the choice of words. “Finger fucking myself while thinking of my best friend. I really am a dirty girl.” She watched, her mouth opening suggestively, her pulse quickening as he pretended to drop a napkin, affording him a good view beneath the table. She fought the urge to close her legs and smooth down her skirt, instead parting them wider, her hem riding up until she was completely exposed to his gaze. “My god, O.” he managed, doing his best to sit up straight, adjusting asyalı porno himself self-consciously. “You shave.” “I did that for you, Jack.” She smiled, pursing her lips into the shape of a kiss. “I know how much you like a smooth pussy.” She moaned, her thumb stroking through the soft curls of her pubes, remembering that night that he’d laughingly admitted it, wondering what it would feel to be bare down there, to shave herself smooth, knowing that she was doing it just for him. Suddenly anxious, she began pumping her finger in and out of her pussy, her thumb rubbing back and forth over her engorged clit, groaning in ecstasy as she pleasured herself. “Fuck.” She cried softly, shuddering uncontrollably, her legs spasming, unable to keep her fingers on the keyboard, her hand drifting upwards under her comfortably oversized tee so that she could roll her nipple between her thumb and finger, her story momentarily forgotten as her head fell back against the sofa and her moans morphed into a single sharp ecstatic cry as her orgasm rolled through her like a tidal wave. For the first time in her life she dressed for their weekly dinner “date”, critiquing herself in the mirror, glad she’d left herself enough time to change not once, but three different times. Once for being too slutty, once for not being slutty enough, and a third just because she’d decided she wanted to go for subtly sexy, not slutty. “This is a mistake.” she thought, staring at her reflection, her hands shaking slightly as she smoothed her skirt down. It wasn’t as short as the one in her story, but it was short enough to make her feel exposed, especially if she went through with her plan of slipping into the restroom and removing her sheer violet panties after having finishing off at least a couple of glasses of wine to give her confidence, or at least to lower her inhibitions. “It doesn’t matter. I’m going to chicken out. At least it’s kind of fun fantasizing about it.” Her top had been a compromise, too. A V-necked top that showed a hint of cleavage, worn over a sheer bra matching her underwear. Form-fitting enough to be sexy, but certainly not something she wouldn’t wear normally. She smiled, resisting the urge to put her hair back into her usual pony tail. Her light blonde curls looked fetching framing a heart shaped face. She’d gone for subdued with her make-up and not so restrained with three inch heels. She toyed with the idea of leaving her black rimmed glasses behind, but then, with an impish smile, recalled on of Jack’s throw away remarks from not so long ago when she’d considered going with something more stylish. “Those make you look like a sexy librarian. Most guys have a secret lust for getting it on in the book stacks with someone who looks like you, O.” She left them on, hoping that Jack was ‘most guys’, blushing as she recalled shaving her pussy for the first time yesterday, and how she’d been unable to keep her hands off it ever since. In fact, she could already feel the sheer material of her panties sliding across her smooth mound, slowly soaking up her arousal until she could almost smell it. “This is a mistake.” She told herself as she touched up her lip gloss in the rearview mirror before pulling out of her driveway, doing her best to ignore her misgivings. “You look nice.” Olivia blushed, her breath catching slightly as she slid into her seat, her plan already falling apart. It was one thing to write about exposing herself to her best friend in a public place, quite another to actually do it. It was almost a relief to realize that this was going to be just another in a long series of weekly meet-ups. She’d have a little wine to relax, enjoy some good food, pick up with their normal, safe banter, and write it off as a failed experiment. “So do you, Jack. You always do.” She quipped, feeling playful now that she’d given up on her stupid fantasy. She ordered a Daiquiri, forgoing her usual glass of wine. And then another, her nervousness dispelled by the alcohol. Soon, she was feeling loose, loose enough that when he brought up the subject of writing again, she slipped up. Instead of brushing him off, she answered truthfully, with an embarrassed giggle. “I don’t really have writer’s block. It’s just that I… I’m writing…” Licking her lips, she leaned forward conspiratorially, her voice pitched low. “Dirty stories.” She watched with amusement as his eyebrows rose in disbelief. “Shy, quiet Olivia is writing… porn?” “Hush, you. Not porn. Erotic fantasies. Okay, yeah, it’s porn. And don’t you dare tell anyone, Jack. I mean it!” God, she azeri porno loved his laugh. Full and rich and mirrored in his dark eyes. “So, when am I going to get to read it?” “You’re not.” She muttered, unable to hold his gaze, absently stirring her drink with a straw. “Oh, come one, Olivia. What’s the point of writing if no else reads it?” “I read it.” She admitted, pulling her lower lip between her teeth, praying that he’d let her off the hook, knowing him better than that, watching him with eyes wide as he leaned over the table, halving the distance between them, brushing a stray strand of hair from her cheek with gentle fingertips. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of. Come on, It’s just me, your friend. Jack. It’s not like your writing lurid sex fantasies about me….” She watched in horror as his eyes widened in response to her soft, betraying gasp. “I’m not, they’re not!” she hissed, but it was too late, and she knew it. She could see it in his eyes. “Yeah, sure. Okay. But if you ever change your mind, I’d love to read them. And I won’t judge you. Ok, shutting up now.” As promised, he dropped the subject, allowing her to relax, a second cocktail allowing her to actually enjoy the rest of their time together, enjoying his company without any pressure, as friends. And yet, in the back of her mind… “Tell me about them, O.” he asked, reaching under the narrow table, his hand resting on her knee, finger tips brushing against the hem of her skirt. “They’re dirty, Jack. And they’re about you.” “Tell me more.” Shivering as he toyed with her, caressing the inside of her thigh as she stared into his eyes, her legs spreading without her consent for him, aching for him to continue, knowing what he didn’t, that she’d shaved her pussy bare just for him. “I know you think I’m a bit vanilla, but I’m not.” “Come sit beside me, Olivia, and tell me.” He insisted, smiling like a wolf as she hurriedly slid from her side of the booth and joined him, her hip pressing against his, turning herself slightly towards him, offering herself to his touch, her legs spread for him like a dirty girl Once again, she found her left hand drifting down between her legs, her right carefully creating words on the screen of her laptop, carefully backspacing over the words ‘dirty girl’… like a slut. A nasty little slut, hungry for him, praying for him to run his hand along the inside of her thigh, breathing hard, sure that someone would notice at any minute, and not caring as his smile brightened with the discovery of her smoothly shaved cunt. “For you.” she breathed, gripping the table’s edge with all her strength as his questing finger pushed between her pouting lips, stroking a longing moan from her. “I’m going to make you cum, Olivia. Is that what you want?” “God, yes. Please, Jack. I want to cum for you.” “In front of everyone?” “Yes.” She hissed, reaching between her legs and trapping his hand against her aching pussy, forcing his finger deep inside of her as she began pumping her hips, unable to stop herself until she finally “Jack!” she cried out, her orgasm leaving her senseless, her laptop slipping from her thighs, the sofa cushion dark with the juice from her quivering cunt. Breathless, she simply slumped back, murmuring softly as she teased herself to another orgasm, and then a third, a fourth, each time calling out his name as she came until she was too worn out to even roll off the couch and crawl down the hall into bed, where she collapsed, naked from the waist down, her slumbering dreams as erotic as her waking fantasies. “Here.” Olivia pressed a flash drive into his hand, blushing furiously. She’d been dreading this moment all through dinner, wondering if she’d go through with it or chicken out. “This is…?” “You said you wanted to read them, Jack.” She managed, giving him a quick hug before hurrying to her car, catching his thoughtful expression in the rearview mirror as she left the parking lot. That night, she ‘dressed up’ before settling down at the dining room table to write. She wanted to feel as dirty as the Olivia in her stories. In fact, after work one night, she’d done a little shopping and treated herself to a new wardrobe, one that would have raised the eyebrows of most of her friends and family if they ever saw her. Not that she intended for them to. She sat at the table, feeling somewhat foolish, looking more like a school girl than a woman of 26. Pleated Miniskirt, button up blouse, fishnet stocking attached to a garter, which had proven to be more of a pain than she’d expected. Wanting to feel ‘slutty’ she’d passed on wearing a bra or panties. She felt deliciously decadent as she opened up her word program, a glass of wine within easy reach. “Go into the ladies’ room and take off your panties for me.” He whispered in her ear, his warm breath tickling her throat, making her moan softly in anticipation.

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