A writer searching for erotic inspiration discovers his perfect muse.

“My editor said I could write anything I wanted,” I told my lovely wife who was standing in my home office doorway. She’d just come in and had paused, seeing me at my desk, staring with uncharacteristic blankness at my computer screen.

Normally at this time of day I’d be writing up a storm. But one of my editors would also have given me a specific assignment.

Yvonne tilted her dark-haired head. “Isn’t it freeing to have all your options?”

“After eight years in this business I’m used to parameters.” My business was adult literature. I wrote erotic stories and books. It was a good living because I could produce quickly, to any specifications.

“Well,” Yvonne smiled, “I’m sure you’ll think of something. You always do.” She continued on her way upstairs.

I got up and went to my bookshelves. I liked my editor and he probably thought he was giving me a treat: write a porn story of my own choosing, any topic. No category suggested, no test-marketed theme offered.

My eyes wandered the titles of my past books and anthologies, all brimming with professionally rendered eroticism. I enjoyed my field. I truly thought I made the world a slightly better place with each tale of romance and unbridled carnality that I wrote. I couldn’t let the prudes and the squares win.

Yvonne had always been incredibly supportive. She didn’t think I was “squandering” my writing talent like some acquaintances did. Frankly, she thought my porn was damn hot. I had married very wisely.

I pulled out a random title. It was Snow Bunnies, the second novel I ever wrote. In it two beautiful accomplished women chase a suave ski champion to resorts around the world. In the confrontation scene, the female rivals simultaneously discover the ugly truth about the lothario skier and he flees with a third woman, both clad only in bunny slippers. I thought that was hilarious at the time. I’ve matured some since, but it still makes me chuckle.

I flipped to the scene at the book’s end and read…

“Brie’s eyes felt seared by the sight of Randolf and that bitch’s bare butt bobbing away through the snow beyond the cabin’s open door. Valerie was laughing like a loon. It was she who shut the door against the cold, leaning back and gazing intensely at Brie, who stared back. It was the third time the two of them had locked eyes like this recently. Filled with passion and longing. But this time Randolf was gone — truly gone — from their lives.

“I saw her exposed breasts, firm and high. Her nipples stood stiffly.”

“‘Why don’t we throw another log on the fire?’ Valerie suggested with a purr in her voice.

“Brie’s flesh responded with a tingle. Again, she felt the allure of this woman — someone no longer a rival, she realized. As she went to the stone fireplace, Valerie stepped up behind her. Brie felt arms snake around her trim middle. She remembered the near-fistfight they’d had in Switzerland, but this was nothing like that incident.

“She turned, and Valerie’s cool Teutonic face was so close. With a feeling of pushing off at the top of an expert ski run, she put her lips to the other woman’s, just grazing. The contact raised gooseflesh all over her body.

“When Valerie kissed her back with a voracious growl, thrusting out her tongue, Brie’s pussy started to flow with arousal. She answered Valerie’s fierce tongue-stab with one of her own. They kissed deeply, moaning into each other’s mouth.

“Hands tore at snow jackets, zippers parted, fingers hastened with buttons. Boots and ski pants went flying. When Brie finished snapping her black panties down her toned legs, she found Valerie posed naked and glorious before her, firelight making magic of that magnificent feminine form.

“Who the fuck needs Randolf’s cock when I can have this? she wondered giddily, as the two women lay down before the fire, the same spot where both of them had planned to finally consummate matters with the international ski champ. In seconds, Valerie had maneuvered them into a 69 position. Brie, with a vast happy sigh, at long last buried her face between her new lover’s creamy thighs, at the same instant that Valerie’s electric tongue speared her streaming pussy…”

It’s surely unseemly to be aroused by one’s own writing. But pride in my words made me swell a bit. (Ahem.) Sales on this book had been decent. I wondered, abstractly, just how many people had gotten off from reading it. How many remote orgasms had I induced?

I opened another volume, a collection entitled Butt Seriously. I’d been invited to contribute to the anal-themed anthology. I found my story in the pages…

“It had obsessed Keith for years, the thought of that forbidden passage. With three different serious long-term girlfriends he had pled his case. He had promised to be excruciatingly gentle. He swore he would never brag about the ‘conquest’ to any friends. If she would only let him try it — just once!

“He had accepted each woman’s negative response, but the desire never left him. It wasn’t that he expected an asshole to grip his cock so much more perfectly than a typical pussy. But for a woman to take a man up her ass was to want him in the most intimate way.

“Keith longed to be valued like that, to be trusted so utterly.

“When he started going out with Amelia, who he’d met at a company softball game, he took things slowly. Rushing a physical relationship wasn’t his style. He liked this woman, who was athletic and cheerful.

“It was weeks after their first date before they ended up in bed. She was wiry and energetic, and he responded to her every movement. They hit a rhythm usually reserved for lovers of much longer acquaintance. Keith was thrilled. He plowed her streaming pussy with his eager cock. He kneaded her gorgeous tits and plucked the succulent nipples. She raked her fingers across his back.

“After she’d quaked her way through a climax, she grinned and maneuvered herself onto her hands and knees. ‘Put that big fuckstick in me!’ she commanded. More than happy to, he moved in behind and started to reslot himself into her dripping pussy. At that point Amelia said in a husky tone, ‘My ass is waiting for you. Sink that cock in my dark hole!’

“Keith’s head whirled. His soul sang. Trembling, he moved to fulfill his deep desire, at long last…”

So often it was the anticipation that counted in an erotic story. Sex was sex. It was carnal mechanics, no matter how wondrously fun. But it required supporting tension, backstory.

Sometimes it was that material I enjoyed writing most. The sexual setup. The sweaty expectations. I yanked another book off my shelf, hands shaking a bit, my hard cock straining in my pants. I read…

“Hana had full control. Power hummed in her naked body — naked but for the tall gleaming boots she wore and the black gloves that held the two leashes. She grinned ferociously down at the two men kneeling on the floor. Both were hugely hard, their cocks bobbing helplessly.

“The two gorgeous muscular men had separately sworn their devotion to her. Harris had thought he had the upper hand with her, that his money, his jet, his sports cars meant he could dictate her life.

“Edwin, on the other hand, had tried to set himself up as her intellectual superior. He had come in to advise her on her aunt’s will, and had stayed on to wine and dine her, to pontificate about literature and philosophy.

“Neither had meant her harm, but both had seriously underestimated her. Not only was she more independent and intelligent than either suspected, she was far more perceptive. She had seen into these two worldly men, into their very beings. She understood their most hidden desires, even if they would never admit to them.

“The room was done in black, velvet drapes over the windows. The bed was massive, but these two didn’t deserve a bed. Not yet.

“The two men trembled, waiting. They understood enough by now to know she meant to administer some serious punishment. Within reach were a riding crop, a wooden paddle, and a whip. But there were other ways to demonstrate, finally and completely, who was dominant here.

“Hana gave the two leashes a yank, rattling the links and tightening the leather dog collars about the two throats. ‘Now,’ she said, ‘I’m going to watch you two suck each other off.’

“The twin moans of apprehension and desire which rose from the two submissive males sent molten shivers of pleasure through Hana’s pussy…”

I stepped back and gazed in wonder at the evidence of my erotic literary output filling the bookshelves.

Obviously, I demonstrated real range in my chosen field. In fact, I’d written just about every type of pornographic story that the law and my own morals would allow. Where was I to go next? What to do with this freedom my editor had granted me?

I left my office, dazed. I was 34. I lived in a nice house and enjoyed a terrific marriage. My sex life was spectacular. I was a success, by any standard. Why should a simple writing assignment — one of hundreds I’d undertaken — throw me for such a loop?

Having wandered upstairs, I went to our bedroom. I meant to do something unprecedented. I was going to ask Yvonne what kind of story she thought I should write. She was knowledgeable of my work, my style. I would leave it in her hands.

Instead, I froze in the doorway. My eyes widened, and my cock surged back into full hardness. Beautiful, healthy, well-toned Yvonne was standing before the bedroom’s broad full-length mirror. She was facing away from me and admiring her reflection.

Her legs were clad in dark stockings, and she was fiddling with the garters which attached to a lacy garter belt. Her bare ass was sculpted perfection, as taut as the day we’d met. In the mirror I saw her exposed breasts, firm and high. Her nipples stood stiffly. Her dark hair fell about her shoulders.

“No, harder! I’m gonna fucking come from this!”

She met my goggle-eyed gaze in the mirror. “Finished with work?” she asked.

“Uh…I’m taking a break.”

“Good. Why don’t you fill me in on what you’re up to?” She smiled saucily at her own porno-esque dialogue.

I took a few steps into the room. Yvonne, still looking at me via the big mirror, stopped me with, “Lose the clothes, lover.”

I halted and undressed. It wasn’t quite as smooth as the characters in my stories. I had to balance like a stork to peel off my socks. But it felt good to free my cock from the confinement of my pants.

I found myself facing both Yvonne’s and my own naked reflections. Certainly, I thought her the more attractive of the two of us. I’m not a narcissist, and I liked her parts better. But the strange scene forced me to confront myself. I was in fine physical shape — not a bodybuilder, not even much of an athlete, but I ran a lot and ate right and had a very decent body, I thought.

Yvonne, who was my age, didn’t look the least bit ridiculous in that lingerie. She wore it in the best smoky Victorian tradition of clandestine red-hot sexuality. It occurred to me to wonder if she’d had this gear on underneath her clothes when she’d paused at my office earlier. She did that sometimes, waiting until we were driving somewhere or sitting down at a restaurant to tell me about the frilly underthings she was sporting. Then she’d give me a glimpse, hiking up a skirt or pulling down a waistband.

In some ways, my real life wasn’t too far removed from the sex-fantasy fiction I wrote.

Still Yvonne didn’t turn from the mirror, and by now I didn’t want her to. Often enough we’d made love on the room’s large comfortable bed, with that mirror reflecting our activities. It was fun, sort of a sideshow, getting occasional glimpses of ourselves in our happy, naked glory.

This, though, was something different. I moved up slowly behind her, footsteps light on the deep white carpet. In the wide mirror I watched the man with the hard-on slip up behind the ravishing woman in the sexy underwear. Man, I envied that guy. Wait. What…?

I decided to go with that disconnect, or to embrace the weird doubling of the moment — whichever it was. Yvonne often made me lose myself in our intimate encounters. Time and place would slip away, leaving me aware of only her body, her spirit, her beautiful self.

Directly behind her now, I inhaled the fragrance of her long shiny dark hair. I saw the rise and fall of her shoulders as her breathing quickened.

I delicately traced my fingertips along her upper arms. Her body shivered. I bent to kiss her shoulder. I looked up into the mirror once more, this time to watch the masculine hands moving around from behind my wife to close on her luscious breasts.

At the same instant I found my hands full of those luxuriant mounds. The mirror woman moaned. So did Yvonne. I squeezed her tits, pulling her back toward me.

She fell against my chest, and my cockhead brushed the silky texture of her ass. The sensation shot an electric jolt through me, awakening my deep reserves of desire. Pleasure and excitement took control of the mechanics of my body. My cock strained with need. Every part of me seemed to be coming to overheated life.

Yvonne pushed her ass back against me. My cock pressed neatly into the accommodating crevasse. She reached behind with both hands and squeezed the ripe halves of her ass tightly around my shaft. It was like when I straddled her chest and she closed her tits around my cock and had me fuck her that way until I blew my load over her face. Like I said, we had a great sex life.

I thrust myself gently between those squeezing ass cheeks, not penetrating her, just sliding along that groove. The pleasure continued to build in me. I worked her breasts. When I caught her nipples between my fingers, she growled, “Tweak my buds, baby! Hard!”

In the mirror that lucky man was pinching the hot woman’s stiff pink nipples. Her face was a mask of pleasure. I could see the man’s motions behind her as he humped against her butt.

I knew Yvonne’s thresholds, how a particular act could stop being fun and become a tad too rough. But when I eased the pressure on her nubs, she gasped, “No, harder! I’m gonna fucking come from this!”

Indeed, her body was wriggling wildly now. I put on the pressure again, pinching her buds between my thumbs and fingertips. Yvonne is a vastly sensual creature, and it doesn’t take drastic action to coax her into an orgasm. But I couldn’t remember ever getting her off this way.

I grinned, bearing down even harder. She cried out, still squeezing her ass cheeks around my cock. A climax wracked her body. I saw it in the mirror as an almost tangible energy, raging its way up her lovely form, wrenching such pleasure from her.

I released her nipples. Her back was damp with perspiration, and I saw a gleam of sweat between her breasts in the wide mirror. I bent again, kissing her earlobe, her throat, her shoulder. She murmured with post-orgasmic delight.

It was natural to continue the kissing in the direction I was going. Everything with Yvonne felt natural and easy. We were two mutually attracted beings who reveled in one another’s physicality.

I left a trail of kisses down her back, tasting her sweat. She perceived where I was unmistakably heading and happily bent forward, spreading her stocking-clad legs and planting her palms on the surface of the mirror. She was bent forward entirely from the waist as I reached the small of her back.

The perfume of her pussy filled my nostrils. I savored the scent. I knelt behind her, running my hands up the sheer fabric of the stockings, feeling the tautness of her legs beneath. Her knees shook a bit.

My fingers spread the lush hemispheres of her ass. I dropped kiss after kiss down along the warm valley. When I reached her asshole, I gave it a flick with my tongue. She cried out. I decided to swirl it thoroughly with my tongue, even penetrating inside. I loved every inch of her.

But her pussy awaited. I liked going after her sweet slit from this angle. I trailed my tongue along her dripping cleft. This was her true flavor, stronger than her sweat. The tang of it overwhelmed me, sending hints of ecstasy through me.

I ate her harder, grinding my mouth against her drenched opening and driving my tongue into her. She bucked back against me, taking me deeper inside. I slathered her clit. Her hand thumped against the mirror as she called out, “Yes, Ian! Eat my pussy! Fuck — that’s so good!”

I could just see over the sweet swells of her ass, see her face twisting as her second climax hit her. Through her dark cascading hair I watched her eyes roll back into her skull. Her body writhed.

Juice poured into my open mouth. I drank what she gave, knowing this was the essence of the woman I loved. Afterward, I sank back momentarily onto my haunches, dizzy and dazzled. Then I rose.

In the mirror the man’s face was glossy. He had an almost crazed look, an expression of pure lust. His cock was still fiercely hard. The beautiful woman remained bent over at her waist. There was, obviously, only one thing for him to do.

I placed my hands on her hips, gripping the taut flesh and feeling the lacy rasp of the garter belt. My cock was so stiff it barely twitched. I bent slightly at the knees, set my swollen cockhead against Yvonne’s glistening pussy, and thrust my way inside.

“Shoot it in me! Give me that sweet fucking load!”

Her familiar grip took me, the sublime grasp of those pussy walls. I had fucked this woman endlessly over the years of our marriage, but it had never grown stale. We didn’t need to reinvent the sex act every time, but when we happened upon something new and novel, we didn’t shy from it. Like this wild mirror-fuck.

I stroked into her, slamming her to her core with this helpful angle she was providing us. Each penetration felt like its own miracle. The incredible pleasures of the body never failed to amaze me. Humans possessed all this potential for joy and gratification. It was literally built into our physical forms. Whatever force had put the universe together, it had done us a great kindness.

Our fleshy smacks filled the bedroom. My balls spanked Yvonne’s clit. I was pounding her now, feeling the final overdrive kick in. My calf muscles stood out. I watched a flush of effort darken my face. My chest gleamed with sweat.

Yvonne was crying out again as a third climax overtook her, “Shoot it in me! Give me that sweet fucking load!”

I was already an eye blink away from coming. With another thrust or two, the critical overload hit. Every circuit in my brain blew, and my cock started jetting deep inside her. Every spurt tore through me, wringing pleasure from my flesh and bones.

After the last listless wrench, we sank onto the fleecy carpet. We lay together, Yvonne in my arms. I softly kissed her from behind. The couple in the mirror had lain down, too, spent and content.

I said, “You know, I came up here to ask if you had any ideas for a story.”

She turned slowly. When she met my eyes, she nodded toward the mirror and smiled. “You’re kidding, right?”

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