The Novelists Ch. 04: On Saturday

On Saturday, Jun 11, 2022, at 11:04 PM CET, Maddie Smithwrote:

Dearest Alan,

I have some good news for you dear, but I'm afraid that I also have some bad news to share.

I suppose that I need to start with the bad news, Alan: in preparation for tomorrow's flight, I went to get the required COVID test and discovered that I'm positive. That means that they won't let me fly--I'll need a negative test before they will allow me to return to the States. I've called the airline to inform them of the delay. The production company has graciously agreed to extend my stay here at the hotel. I'm feeling no symptoms at all except for a tiny tickle in my throat, so I must say that this comes as a surprise.

Now the good news dear: I will be extending your period of torment! In fact, since I am stuck in isolation here in my hotel room, I'm going to have lots of time on my hands, so to speak. I plan to spend the next few days taking baths, charging room service to the production company, and devising ever more elaborate ways to tease you.

Isn't that lovely, Alan?

Now, you asked me to tell you more about Annette. I don't know why you're interested in her. She's a bauble. A beautiful soap bubble. Impermanent. Sometimes I think she's not even real! But she is delightful to contemplate. She's an ex-model, I discovered. Tall and thin, with an elegant neck. Long brown hair that catches the light. That way that French women have of appearing perfectly turned out without seeming to try at all.

She's read all of your books, darling. I know! It's almost too much, isn't it? Young, pretty, a fan of yours. I'm sure if you were here, she would be our unicorn darling--the one we've looked for for so long. I might have mentioned it to her the other night--that we'd been looking for a third. She smiled and got very shy then.

Oh darling, here's what I want you to do now. I'm terribly worried that you might spill before I get home now. So I'm going to give you some new rules today so that we can both be certain you keep your promise to me.

Today's rule: you must read this letter only once--I hope that you've been stroking that fat cock of yours the whole time. But when you've finished, you must put away this letter, put away your cock, and not look at or touch either one until my next letter tomorrow.

Between now and then, you will send me another email. The subject of your submission is up to you, but I will give you one requirement: you must send me something that will put me in the mood, dear. I plan on reading your next letter in the tub with one of the new waterproof toys I bought yesterday.

Your deadline is midnight your time. Make it a good one.

-Maddie

On Saturday, Jun 12, 2022, at 11:45 PM EDT, Alan Smithwrote:

Maddie,

I'm crushed. I read your letter, as you instructed, with my cock in my hand, but my heart was in my throat. I was so focused on your return tomorrow, but this is... A blow. A real blow.

I suspect that you're getting a weird kick out of this though, aren't you? That the unexpected delay is making the wicked side of you grin at my misery. You are the source of my misery and my joy dear. I hope that it pleases you to know this.

I'm going to keep my promise. I will not touch myself until your next email arrives. I'm sitting in bed with my laptop now--it's quite warm in New York this week, so I'm wearing no clothes. I have a pillow between the laptop and my thighs to keep it from burning my hard cock, and to make it easier to keep my hands away. I don't think my cock has spent much time soft since you left though, whether I touch myself or not.

You want a tub tale? Alright, here we go:

I'd normally start by telling you how I'm going to pleasure you, but I know that I'm not supposed to talk about that. I dream about it though. I dream about being between your legs, licking your pussy, sliding my fingers in so slowly, gently, working you open, working you wet. When you're ready, I'd speed up--moving more firmly, purposefully. One finger, two. I dream about licking your clit and fucking you with my fingers while you cum over and over and over.

I know I'm not supposed to talk about that, so I won't even bring it up.

Instead, I'll talk about this: after you've cum once, twice, maybe, I would kiss my way up to your breasts, your neck. Imagine my cock sliding against your wet sex. I rub gently up and down. You've cum, but now you want to get fucked. You want me pressed against you, on top of you, my hips against your hips. You want my cock, my fat cock inside you. You hiss at me, "Do it!"

I tease you though... like you've been teasing me this whole time. It's a tiny moment of payback. You notice it, but you don't want to be in control right now, so you let it pass. Instead you beg again, "Do it!"

I am not gentle. I slam my cock into you. The first wave of feeling is incredible, and I worry that I will not last. I hold still, buried deep inside you. You're grinding on me, but I'm not grinding back. I'm just trying to hold on. I breathe. Once, twice. Then I find my control. I know that I can make it last. I begin again.

In. Out. Slowly at first, then faster.

"Fuck me!" you urge. "Fuck me now while you can!"

It's a threat, and it makes my hardon leap. I squeeze you tighter in my hands, pound my cock in and out. You're grunting in time with my thrusts, your hips thrusting up to meet mine, meeting my rhythm. Then, still meeting my thrusts with your hips, you press your hands against my chest. You want room. You want to play with my nipples. You take one in each hand, between your fingers. You don't waste time. You dig your nails into my tits, and I grunt in pain.

"I want your cum, you.." you urge. "Cum inside me, Alan. Fill me up..."

"Yes... Owwwwww...." I say. I want to cum too, but I don't want this to end. The feeling of you on my cock, my orgasm rising in my balls, the pain in my nipples...

"Now or never, Alan..." you say. "Cum right now or I'll never let you cum again!"

That does it. I burst over the edge. I explode into a million pieces. I feel rope after rope of cum pump into you. I pump and I pump and I pump. Finally, I just collapse on top of you, exhausted, panting.

***

Come home soon, love. I'm (still!) waiting for you.

-Alan

PS: I hope that gave you something good for your tub, dear.