Creative Writing

Amy knew Steve's face pretty well, in a "small town" kind of way. This wasn't unusual; having lived there all of her life she recognized most of the town's residents by sight and knew Steve from before High School, where he was a year ahead of her. It wasn't like they stopped and talked across shopping carts for hours at the grocery store, more that Steve was "just a guy" who seemed to be around—someone she always enjoyed exchanging a friendly smile with him at the gas station or the post office, but nothing more than that.

That summer she signed up for a creative writing class, one evening a week at the high school, and when she walked into the classroom on the first evening Steve was the last person she expected to see sitting in the front row, but there her was, smiling "hello" to her. Despite the mild anxiety she felt at starting the class, it was comforting to see a familiar face. She settled into a desk at the other side of the room from him and lost herself in the teacher's words.

When the class took its first coffee break Steve walked over to her. "Hi there. It's Amy, right? Tommy's sister."

She nodded and sipped at her soda. "And you're Steve, unless he has a twin. Isn't it funny what you learn about people you've known for so long? All this time I've seen you around... I never imagined you for a writer."

"I'd hardly say I was 'a writer'." He smiled, a little bashfully this time. "Can't say I had you down for a writer either." He indicated she might like to sit and they sat opposite each other at a free table. "So, what do you write?"

Amy gave a slight self-deprecating laugh. "Nothing... yet. I just thought I'd like to try something new. It was either this class, or macramé."

Steve's mischievous blue eyes softened further. "I guess getting tied up in words was more appealing than tying knots then?"

Amy laughed and explained that she was thinking about writing some travel memoirs or maybe just amuse herself by spending a few afternoons in the countryside, writing about her surroundings.

It wasn't the first time she'd noticed his quiet good looks, but this was the closest she'd been to his clean features and content manner. Steve's movements were assured and comfortable as he explained how this was the first formal writing course he'd taken, despite the constant output of words from his keyboard and printer. She was unexpectedly mesmerized by his conversation as Steve talked enthusiastically about how she would enjoy learning about the colors of words, and the pictures she would find herself creating.

Amy found herself smiling and leaning across the table as Steve's hands constantly moved with a grace not normally expected form someone who spoke with such quiet passion. However long she'd seen him around, this evening was the first time that she truly "met" Steve, and she found herself enjoying his company.

Steve was enjoying Amy's company also. It was easy to be captivated by her quiet confidence and stealthy good looks—they snuck up on you. As the break ended it was with a reluctant sigh that he stood and said, "Come on," he motioned that they should leave the break room, "better get back to class."

*****

The following week, Amy made a point of sitting next to him.

Steve smiled as she took her seat, elated and excited at her choice. He was more active than her in the class, his experience meant he had opinions on a lot of the curriculum and he was having fun with the subjects they discussed.

She was glad to have him close, and their glances to each other were comforting to Amy as she tried hard to combat her natural shyness and get the best out of the class.

He liked her. She was average build and height, but had a vibrant face that shone when she smiled, usually with an impish overtone. He found her increasingly attractive.

Steve was doodling on his notepad at one point, writing down a short description of Amy that he wanted to use for one of his characters sometime. "Blonde," he wrote, "strong, silky hair that sweeps away from the pale, pure, skin of her face. Glistening eyes, happy smile, not forced. Understated features, you only catch the beauty at second glance. She's the new friend you want to have and the girl you want to talk to at a party."

As they left the school building that evening she followed him out to the car park. "Hey Steve." He turned to see a quizzical look on her face. "You never did tell me... what kind of stuff do you write?"

He paused a few seconds before answering. "Oh, lots of things really. I like essays, short pieces on local buildings and things like that. Usually there's some social commentary in there as well. I'm six years into a novel that will probably take me twenty years to write," he laughed. "But I guess I have more fun writing erotic stories than anything else. Mostly that's what I've done lately."

Amy let the words sink in and tried not to look surprised. "You mean..."

He shifted a little uneasily. "Yep."

"Oh." Amy smiled wryly and started walking slowly towards her car again. "That's interesting."

Steve drove away disappointed that Amy might not be as likely to sit next to him the following week. Maybe he shouldn't have told her?

*****

Steve's stories, even though she'd never read any, were never far from her mind the whole of that next week. Amy couldn't get away from the thought of Steve, sitting at his desk, writing the kinds of things she imagined he would write about. She just knew those stories would be good though. Something about the way he talked about his writing, the passion he obviously had for it... she just knew she would like them, and that they would be hot.

The night before their next class Amy couldn't sleep. She started up at her ceiling, thinking about Steve's stories, imagining what it would be like to be one of the women in them, what it would feel like to be his girl and live out that fantasy.

She thought of the smile on his face as she kissed him, undressed him and massaged him. She could almost feel the power of him as he entered her and filled her. Thinking about the climax she would have with him made her dizzy. It was so real. When she found she had been stroking her wet pussy while she thought of him she realized the dizziness was real and moments later she exploded.

"Oh... my... God. Fuck me gently," she breathed as her orgasm finally began to subside. Steve had a lot to answer for, and he hadn't even touched her, let alone heard her ask him to fuck her.

*****

She was sitting in what had now become her usual seat when Steve came into the classroom and sat next to her, happy to find that his erotic writing admission had not alienated her.

They spent that evening's class talking about and practicing descriptions of one-street towns, but Amy was thinking about another subject entirely. She watched Steve's hands as he made notes on his pad and tapped at the keys of his laptop. It was easy to imagine those fingers undoing her zipper and pulling away her clothing. It was becoming all too easy to imagine her hands reciprocating on his jeans and shirt.

When the class was dismissed Steve hung around while she packed away her things and started to walk out of the building with her.

"You know," Amy was unsure how to ask, "I've been thinking about what you said, about your... other writing..."

"Yeah." Steve swallowed. "I, well... maybe I shouldn't've said anything."

"No, no, it's okay," she gained confidence. "It's just, well, I was thinking that I might like to try it."

"Oh," he considered. "You mean the writing part, don't you, not reading?"

"Yes." Amy nodded eagerly. "But I guess I wouldn't mind reading some also, if you think that would help me make a better job of the writing."

Steve conceded that it would, but stopped short of offering his own work for her review. He offered to help in any way he could though, and assured her it was not as difficult as she might think. "How would you like to get together sometime and throw an idea or two around?"

"I'd like that." Amy smiled at him and felt an immediate temperature increase in her panties. "Maybe not here though. I'm not sure the other students would approve."

He suggested they go for a coffee but Amy reluctantly declined. She was still thinking about discussing the intimate topics of the story she was beginning to visualize in public. It was a story Steve was starting to feature prominently in but being overheard in a coffee shop wasn't high on her agenda. She looked at her watch. It was just after nine.

"Are you rushing anywhere? I could make you some coffee at my place, if you have an hour?" She giggled self-consciously. "At least I won't worry about being overheard."

They agreed on the plan, and then Steve asked if she had eaten. When she shook her head he offered to pick up some food while she made the coffee. Amy gave him her address and they set off on their separate journeys, both of their pulse rates considerably higher than normal.

*****

Amy barely had a chance to perform an emergency tidy-up around her lounge and dig some coffee cups out of the dishwasher when he arrived at her door with a large bag of Chinese food.

As they worked their way through as much of the food as they could, the conversation was a little lighter and more expectant than they were used to. Neither of them was anxious to bring up the subject of writing and it was only when Amy was stuffing the empty cartons into a trash bag that she finally broached the subject.

Steve was sitting on her sofa, cradling the mug of coffee she had given him. "So," she started hesitantly, "how should I look to start my story?"

"I guess you need to work out what position your characters are in." He thought about what he said and his cheek reddened a shade. "I mean... what situation they're in, you know, how you want them to get together. Yes, you need to have that before you start to worry about positions."

Amy giggled. "I see what you mean." She walked over and sat at the opposite end of the sofa. "So, let's just say... my hero and heroine... they're in a class together. Macramé, say." She felt a flush in her own cheeks and also a tingle of excitement between her legs. "I guess I just need to engineer a way to get them together, and then get into describing what they get up to outside of class."

"Exactly," Steve agreed, happy that she'd taken the initiative, on her story at least.

"Now," Amy looked away from his eyes and looked demurely down towards the carpet, "what about when I want them to... you know, have sex?"

Steve stifled a small but understanding laugh. "Well," he paused, noticing a rising excitement and carefully finding his own words, "you need to find a way to describe things to a reader in a way that they'll be able to picture the... sex, but enjoy the images at the same time."

"How do I do that?"

Steve thought about the question for a few seconds, realizing that he'd already become highly aroused discussing this with Amy. He shuffled to ease the pressure on his erection and advised her, "You need to describe things the way you experience them. Write what the touch felt like, what the tongue was doing, how wet... well, you get the idea." He felt his cheeks flush. "And remember, it's not just about what they do physically... a key part of this is conveying to the reader what they are feeling inside... emotions."

Amy could barely believe how hot things had gotten between her legs, and was very aware of just how wet that part of her was, at least. Her heart was pounding as she wondered how bold she would let herself be as the electricity between them grew. She tried to casually glance at Steve's lap, wondering if he was in a similar state. She thought there might be an extra bulge there, but wasn't sure. God, how much would she like to find out?

"Maybe what you should do," Steve continued with his advice, "is that next time you, well... next time you're in that situation yourself, you should make some mental notes of how things feel. Then you'll be in a good position to describe them in your story."

"I think I know what you mean." Amy sounded vague, but that was because she had to drag her thoughts back to the conversation and away from the bulge Steve might be concealing.

"I mean like this." Steve shuffled along the sofa, closer to her, and gently ran his fingertips along her thigh. "Tell me what that feels like?"

Amy felt the brush of his touch through the denim of her jeans and as he drew his fingers towards her knee the sensations ran in the opposite direction, up her thigh and into the bubbling cauldron of her aching pussy. She swallowed and tried to speak without betraying herself.

"It feels like a feather being dragged along my bare skin. It makes my skin come alive. Feels like a lover's touch." She smiled at him. "It's kinda nice actually."

"See?" Steve withdrew his hand but stayed close on the sofa. "That's what you do. Just describe what you already know."

"I see." Amy leaned over a little. "And the same goes for what it feels like from the other side, how my fingers feel, and what they feel." She reached out and ran her hand slowly and gently up Steve's thigh, pressing a little harder than he did on her. "Like, how firm your... leg feels beneath the cloth."

"That's it." Steve managed to get the words out, feeling firmer than he had in a long time. "Certainly looks like you're getting the hang of it."

Amy continued her hand's journey much further up his thigh than he expected until, her fingertips were no more than a half-inch from his erection. She looked down and could easily see that the situation was having the same exciting effect on him as it was on her. The urge to just stretch out her touch a bit more and feel him was incredible, but somehow she managed to resist, looking up to see the mixture of relief and pain cross Steve's face as she drew her fingers away.

Her hand remained on his knee though, making no attempt to break the contact that had been established.

Steve's body suddenly felt like it was boiling over as the anticipation grew within him and he began to see the possibilities of the evening with Amy. He watched her chest move with each breath then looked up to see her eyes, still uncertain but definitely inviting.

"I'm still curious about translating those... more intimate, moments into a story," she said meekly. "I mean, I don't always remember those kinds of details when I'm... with someone." This time she was able to avoid looking away.

"I think I know what you mean." Steve allowed his arm to come around her and slowly started to move his hand over her back in large circular motions. "Do you think there's anything I could help you with there?" He leaned forward, closing the gap between their faces.

"Maybe." She disguised another swallow. "How would do you think you could help?"

"Well," Steve leaned over and pressed his lips softly to the base of her neck and worked his way up it with small kisses. "Maybe the first thing I should probably do is tell you how your lips taste."

Amy nodded, but Steve was already on his way to bringing his lips to hers. Their first kiss was tiny but electric. He barely let their lips touch but immediately allowed his tongue to dart out and taste her. "You're warm." He smiled. "You taste wonderful, soft lips but very exciting." He kissed her again, this time parting her lips and allowing their tongues to meet. She pulled him close and he felt the temperature rise everywhere.

Her hand found its way to the bulge in his pants before even she was expecting it. "You're hard," she breathed between kisses.

"Very," he replied, cupping her face in his palm as he kissed her over and over. "You're taking all of this in, right? For your story?"

"Yes." She gasped as he brought his hand up to firmly cup her breast. As he moved his hand and pushed against her she felt her nipple harden inside her clothes. At the same time her hand was moving slowly along his straining erection and wondering at how powerful it felt, even in its restricted confines. "I'd like to take notes on how it feels to get naked with someone for the first time."

Steve didn't need a second invitation and he immediately started to pull at the buttons on her shirt. As it slipped from her shoulders he caressed her newly exposed skin, running his hands over her upper arms and around her cleavage. Her heart was reaching new speeds when he reached around and pulled apart the clip on her bra. Amy actually closed her eyes and concentrated hard on how it felt as the bra fell away in front of her and allowed her breasts to slide forward and into Steve's hands.

Her nipples were hard and sensitive as he rolled them in the palms of his hands, through his fingers and then pulled on them with a teasing touch. "Oh," Amy almost moaned, "I definitely have to remember how good that feels."

As he continued to massage her nipples with one hand, his other started to gently work between her legs. She opened them willingly and his fingers pressed hard against the denim crotch that felt damp and was radiating heat. Amy couldn't believe how wet she felt as Steve's hand probed at her with a growing urgency. Her hands started moving again, pulling at his belt and easing the zipper down as far as it would go in their sitting positions. He shifted a little to help her, but the zipper was fully undone, so she thrust her fingers down the front of his pants to grasp as much as she could of his thick and hard cock.

"I'd forgotten how warm a cock feels," Amy panted. "This is definitely helping me with my story. Stand up. I want to see you too."

Steve pulled his hands away and stood up so she could kneel before him and pull away his jeans. He stood there for a few moments, mesmerized by the concentrated look in Amy's eyes as she took in every inch of the throbbing cock that was right in front of her eyes. Without a word she reached out with both hands and gently started to explore him.

At first she touched him lightly all over with her hands working in tandem to cover the pulsing head of his vertical cock, the hard shaft and the soft balls that felt full of more than promise to her touch. When she took a slightly firmer grasp and stroked him a few times Steve's body gave an involuntary shudder as waves of pleasure and relief flooded through him. Amy smiled at the reaction and held him tighter, squeezing around the rim of his cock, her thumb pressed under the tip. Then she licked lightly at him a few times before taking the head into her mouth and sucking on it hard, her hand still squeezing as she sucked.

Amy smiled as she recognized the familiar salty taste of pre-come as it oozed out from him. Still smiling, she loosened her grip on Steve's cock and stood up, falling easily into a deep kiss with him. While she adjusted her grip on him, and resumed some light stroking, she unbuttoned and pulled his shirt away with her other hand.

The feeling of Amy's hands working him, one stroking and one running all over his bare chest, was incredible for Steve. He reached down and found the waistband of her panties, almost as much to distract his own rising feelings as it was desperation to feel her. Pushing his fingers inside the sides of her remaining underwear, he started to ease them down, his whole body slipping to the floor as they eased down her long legs until they were low enough for Amy to step out of. Steve let one knee rest on the floor as he studied her newly exposed pussy.

She was neatly shaved all around her outer lips with a thin line of very sexy trimmed pubic hair reaching straight up from the top of her slit as far as it would go. Steve had seen girls trimmed like that in pictures before, but this was the first time he had been with a woman sexy enough to shave and trim herself that way. "Wow." he whispered through a smile as he brought his hand up to run over her belly and down through the line of hair. "You look so beautiful. God, you're sexy."