Writer's Block Unlocked

He pushed her up against the kitchen table, his need to great to wait even the ten steps it would take to get them to the bedroom. He would make a feast of her and consume every once of her desire.

The question was, how?

Quinn looked up to study her kitchen table. Would he lay her on her back across the table like she was Sunday dinner, or would he bend her over and take her from behind as her hands splayed across the table in front of her.

Which was hotter?

She had never been fucked over the kitchen table before and wasn't even sure if one was more plausible than the other. She stood from her desk and crossed to the table.

Sexy romance heroines clearly never have three days worth of mail on their table when their crush finally bangs them on it, she thought to herself as she stacked up the strewn piles on her table and placed them neatly on the counter.

She bent over at the hips, letting her torso lay across the cool of the table. Her sundress was thin, and she could already feel her nipples harden and push back against the wood surface. The narrow end of the dining room table was pushed up against the wall and a mirror had been hung to make the table look twice as long in the small apartment. Quinn angled her head up to study herself in the mirror.

How hot would it be to watch herself get fucked from behind?

Her pussy throbbed at the thought. It has far too long since she had been good and thoroughly fucked. She didn't want just sex, she wanted to be plundered like a goddamn pirate ship.

She imagined the hero of her story behind her, his rough hands on her hips to hold her steady and he rammed himself into her. Was he a grunter or a dirty talker?

Unable to contain her lust anymore, she removed one hand from the table and slipped it under her dress and into the waistband of her panties. No teasing or foreplay, her hand went right to her clit.

This is how he wanted it- too desperate in need to get undressed, just her dress hiked up around her ass as her sopping wet panties were wrenched down to her knees.

Her finger worked hard over her clit, an orgasm already dangerously close to the surface. She was going to come hard and fast, and then she would take herself to the bedroom to find her favorite vibrator and imagine the scene slower and in great detail until her clit was too sensitive to touch. And then she would actually write the scene in the novel.

She was imagining the bite of his pants zipper against her ass when a knock at the door interrupted her fantasy. She stilled suddenly like a squirrel in the street.

Who the hell could that be?

Part of her wanted to ignore it and finish what she was doing. Her pussy throbbed as she thought how hot it would be to cover her own mouth and muffle her orgasm as a stranger stood on the other side of the door none the wiser as to what was happening.

But curiosity got the better of her. Who would be knocking at her door at 9:15 on a Saturday night?

In a frustrated huff, she pushed herself back into a standing position and smoothed out her dress. She glanced at the table, a silent promise that she'd be back.

She crossed to the door, taking a brief look through the peephole. In the fisheye view, she saw her neighbor, Ben, standing there with her laundry basket in hand.

Well, at least now she had a face for those fantasies later, she thought as she unlocked the door and swung it open.

"Hey, Ben, what's up?" She tried to sound casual and not like she could smell her own arousal wafting off of her.

"Hey, Quinn, I'm so sorry to bother you this late." Ben gave her a sheepish smile. "But my washing machine died mid cycle. I called building management but since it's not an emergency in their minds I have to wait until Monday. But I'm supposed to be taking my grandmother to brunch tomorrow for her birthday and I'm all out of clean shirts. Is there any way I can use your washing machine to at least get the soap out?"

"Of course! Unlike building maintenance, I know that being presentable for your grandmother is definitely an emergency. Come on in." She opened the door wider to allow him inside. She caught the smell of Irish Spring soap on him as he brushed past her and she wondered if he had just come from the shower himself.

She led him to the small laundry room. All the apartments were laid out the same so he certainly already knew where it was, but she had left a load of laundry in the dryer and wanted to clear the space for him. "You can run the full load cycle if you want. I'm a night owl anyway, so do whatever you need. You won't be disturbing me."

"Are you sure? Thanks, I really appreciate it. I owe you one." Ben placed his laundry basket on the top of the machine.

He stepped back to allow her through, but even still the back of Quinn's laundry laden hands brushed the warm solidness of his chest. "Sorry" she said with a blush.

"Oh you dropped something," Ben stopped to pick up a fallen laundry item, both of them realizing a minute too late that he was holding a hot pink pair of lace panties.

She was torn between embarrassment and the arousing hope that he was imagining her in them.

Blushing, he put them back on the pile of laundry in her arms.

She padded her way to the bedroom to put her laundry down, wondering if maybe she should excuse herself to the bathroom long enough to rub that orgasm out so she could focus on being a good hostess to her neighbor.

Her sexy neighbor.

Her sexy firefighter neighbor who took his grandmother to brunch for her birthday.

The truth is, Quinn had wanted Ben's hands on her panties since the first time she had met him, but she hadn't been single then. And as unfulfilled as she had been in her relationship, she wasn't the type of cheat. Although more than once she had imagined Ben in his tight firehouse t-shirt throwing her over his shoulder like she was nothing, his hand on her ass as he did... his finger sliding down between her legs...

Focus. She tried to compose herself before heading back into the living room. "Can I get you something? Beer?"

"Beer would be great," Ben smiled at her. He was looking around at her apartment, taking in the curated chaos of books, photos and knickknacks that made it her home.

He ran his hand along the spines of a row of books. "Wait, did you write all these?"

Quinn opened the fridge, smiling. She should try to appear humble, but she was still so proud to see her name in print like that. "Guilty as charged."

Ben lifted one from the shelf and studied it, reading the blurb on the back.

She dug through her drawer to find the bottle opener, watching Ben flip through the pages. He stopped to read a passage and she watched his face. She could tell he's landed on a smutty section by his expression alone. Judging by the book he was holding and where he was, it was likely where the sorceress drained the prince's life force through an enchanted blow job. It was an erotic, gender-bent take in Sleeping Beauty. She was proud of it, even if she'd all but given herself TMJ blocking the scene using her college boyfriend as a stand in prince.

He hadn't minded, of course. Quinn saw him about a year back, his wife and new baby in tow. He was happy with his life- and she was genuinely happy for him- but as he hugged her goodbye he whispered in her ear that no one had ever blown him that good before or since.

She crossed the living room to Ben, handing him the beer.

He cleared his throat, sliding the book back onto the shelf. "You have quite the vivid writing style."

She smiled coyly. "I have quite the vivid imagination."

Quinn glanced down, noting the outline of Ben's dick against the soft mesh of his basketball shorts. He wasn't lewdly erect, but the tease of it made it all the more erotic.

Been took a long drag of his beer. "I saw Ian moved out. Sorry, that must be tough."

She shook her head. "Thanks, but it was for the best. He was having some renovations done on his condo, it was only ever supposed to be temporary. But even still, it was way too soon for us to be living together. Although I guess it's a blessing in disguise that I got to see somewhat early on all the ways we weren't compatible."

He nodded considering. "Like what?"

"He was rude to the waiters when he went out to eat. And he couldn't be bothered to put a towel on the rack if his life depended on it. Just inconsiderate stuff. Plus he was ashamed of my career."

Ben wrinkled his brow. "Really? Why? You look pretty successful from where I'm standing. That's, what, seven published novels?"

"Eight," she said with a small smile. "But he always would just tell people I'm a copywriter. Which I do to supplement my income sometimes. But I'm finally able to stand on my books alone, and he would never mention them. He was always worried that people would look them up and see how smutty they are."

He rolled his eyes. "Are you kidding me? Romance novels are the most popular of any genre. Clearly a bit of written sex isn't terribly taboo to most people."

"You'd think so, but he was still embarrassed by it."

"But I bet he didn't mind your imagination when he got the full force of it himself." Ben raised an eyebrow at her.

"Ha, you'd think so. But the problem was, he had no imagination himself. He was a once a week, missionary position with the lights off kind of guy." She scoffed.

"Seriously?"

"Seriously. At first I thought it was tender, romantic even. But by the fifth time, it stopped being romantic and it started being routine." She let out an annoyed puff of air. "I was trying to write a scene once where the couple is standing against a wall and I wanted him to help me figure out the mechanics of it to make sure it rang realistic. You would have thought I was asking him to try out pony play by how befuddled he was by the whole thing."

Ben ran a hand through his dark hair, watching her. "What an idiot. Guy has a sexy woman with a wild imagination and the kinkest he can get is an impression of vanilla pudding?"

Quinn had been simmering with annoyance at the memory of Ian, but now she stopped short. Ben just called her sexy. Strong-shouldered, standing-mere-feet-away-from-her-kitchen-table Ben just called her sexy.

She could play coy. She could decide that it was too risky to make a move on a guy who lived only a few doors down. It could get awkward as hell when they crossed paths at the mailboxes if things didn't pan out.

She took a long sip of beer and placed the bottle down on the coffee table. Fuck it, she could always get a P.O. Box. "You know, I'm actually stuck in the middle of writing a scene right now. You might be able to help me out, that is if you're interested."

His whiskey brown eyes only watched her, not taking long to consider the matter. "I mean, you are letting me use your washing machine. It's the least I can do to say thank you."

She took his beer bottle from his hand and placed it on the coffee table next to hers. She took his hand in hers and led him to the kitchen table. She felt the rough callous of his hands and quivered at the thought of them scraping across the soft skin of her thighs.

She turned to face him, her ass pushed gently against the edge of the table. "The book I'm writing now is a take on Little Red Riding Hood. When a much more adult Red strays from the path it's not an actual wolf she meets, but a stranger who shows her about temptation."

Ben ran a finger through one of Quinn's red curls. "You want me to be the Big Bad Wolf?"

"Particularly in the scene where he takes Red on the kitchen table." She grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled him until they were flush against each other. "I want to know if it's better for her to be laying on her back or bent over the table and taken from behind."

He leaned in, his mouth a breath away from hers. "Happy to help a neighbor in need," he said before pressing his lips to hers.

The kiss was electric, pulsing through Quinn and igniting all the need she had been denied before.

Ben wrapped his arms around her, pulling her even closer into him. She could feel his hardness straining against his shorts. His thick length a tantalizing promise against the softness of her belly.

She tangled her hands through his dark hair as he moved hungry kisses down her neck. She was thankful that the spaghetti strap sundress she wore left so much open skin for him to explore, which he did without abandon.

He lifted as if she were nothing, sitting on the table. His hand slid the strap of her dress down, allowing him to more easily kiss a trail down to her breast. She slid her hands under his t-shirt, relishing the strength of him under her hands. She scratched him gently, causing her to nip at her breast. She leaned her head back, moaning softly at the gentle pain.

He kissed a trail back up her neck, his breath hot on her ear. "What was it the Big Bad Wolf said? 'All the better to eat you with, my dear?' Lie back and spread your legs for me."

Fuck, she loved it when a guy was just the right amount of bossy. She complied, the chill of the table pleasant against her feverish skin. Her right breast lay exposed from his ministrations, and she held it in her hands, pinching her own nipple.

He stood on the crux of her legs for a moment watching her. "Damn, that's hot. I always thought maybe pyou were prim and bookish, but seeing you laid out like this is one of the sexiest things I've ever seen."

He got to his knees and placed his hands on her knees, sliding them slowly up her legs. Hands still on her legs, he ran his thumbs over either edge of her panties. He was centimeters from her salty slit, and the way he was teasing her made Quinn's back arch off the table.

Ben gave a low laugh. "So sensitive. I bet it's been so long since you've been teased like this. When was the last time someone made you come so hard you saw stars?" His fingers traced the lines of her panties, but his fingers didn't stray inside.

Quinn tried to think, but her brain was clouded with lust. "Over a year. Maybe more." Honestly, it had been before Ian, so maybe it was more like years.

Ben ran his finger straight up the length of her labia, sending a shiver of pleasure through her. "We're going to fix that."

"Please," was all she could muster as she felt Ben pull her panties to the side to give him access to her.

With his left hand he held her panties to the side, his right hand tracing down her lips. "So fucking wet for me," he breathed as his finger slid into her without resistance. His mouth was against her, working his tongue over her clit as he pistoned a finger in and out of her.

She moaned, happy to know that she wouldn't be disturbing the neighbor on the other side of the wall since he was the one making her so loud.

A second finger entered her cunt as his tongue continued to flick her clit. Ian had gone down on her once for her birthday, and while it had felt nice, it was nothing like the waves of absolute pleasure Ben was sending through her.

A third finger slipped in, the trio crooked over to finger her g-spot. The sensation was too much to bear and it sent Quinn over the edge. She came loud and hard, her eyes blinking so rapidly she briefly wondered if he was having some sort of pleasure induced seizure.

Ben kept himself pressed to her, riding the waves of her orgasm until they slowed. Her breath came in ragged heaves as she tried to regain herself from the strongest orgasm anyone- herself included- had ever given her.

Ben stood, looking down at her as he licked her juices from his fingers. "It's probably for the best that Ian was so boring in bed. If I had to listen to you come like that through the walls all the time, I would lose my mind with lust."

"Good news for you, no one else has ever made me come like that. So if you want to hear that again, you'll have to do it yourself." She was trying to sound teasing, but he pulled her to the edge of the table so her still sensitive pussy pressed against the erection trapped in his shorts. Another moan escaped her lips.

"Oh I plan on it. Only problem is, I don't have a condom. I just got tested and I'm clean, but I need to know you're protected first."

She had never been so turned on by responsibility before, of course the thick cock pulsing only a few layers of fabric away from her pussy helped. She wrapped her legs around him to pull him closer. "I have an IUD and I was tested after the breakup. I'm clean and I need to feel you inside me."

He groaned as she moved her hips, trying to rub herself up his length. She pushed herself back up to sitting, capturing his mouth with hers. Her energy with back, and with it the renewed need for an urgent, hard fuck.

She reached down to pull his shorts just far enough for his cock to spring out. She broke the kiss so she could stare at it, marveling at the veiny girth. "Goddamn, I didn't know all firefighters came equipped with their own fire hose."

Lust clouded his eyes, indicating that time for banter was over. "You wanted to be bent over the table. Flip over."

She complied, feeling the rush of his dominance. She wasn't usually so submissive, but something told her a cock that big was used to being the boss. And if his fucking was half as good as his oral, she'd gladly spread herself open like a little slut for him.

Just like her lonely fantasies barely an hour before, Ben pushed her skirt up to her waist, yanking her panties down to give him free access to her waiting pussy.

Quinn's hands splayed out on the table, holding herself up just enough to watch Ben in the mirror. He caught her eyes in the mirror and gave her a dirty smile. "That's right. Watch me fuck you. I want you to watch yourself come."

Quinn felt him grasp hold of his own cock and run it down the length of her slit, teasing her. She tried to push back against him, but he placed a hand on her lower back to hold her in place. He kept moving his cock head slowly against her. "Not so fast. Do you think your tight little pussy can handle my cock?"

She whimpered. "I need you in me."

He didn't make her beg, pushing his length deep inside of her. Quinn gasped. As wet as she was, she wasn't prepared for how much his girth stretched her. He teetered between pleasure and pain in a way she hadn't felt since the first few times after she lost her virginity.

Ben watched her face in the mirror, holding himself still inside her. "Touch yourself. I want to feel you come on my cock."

She reached hand down, moving her fingers against her clit. She didn't lose eye contact with him as he started moving in her, the combination of his stretching and her fingers making him slide smoother and faster into her.

"Fuck, you feel good." He gripped her hips as he pumped into her. "I've wanted you since the first time I saw you. You had on that plaid skirt and a too tight sweater. You looked like a sexy librarian. I've thought so many times about pushing you against a bookshelf while we both tried to keep quiet."

Quinn's fingers moved faster at his dirty talk. She loved a man who knew good dialogue was a sure fire to make a writer come. "I've wanted you too since that day."

"Yeah? Did you touch yourself while you thought about my cock inside you?" He rammed himself harder, filling herself to the hilt.

"Yes, so many times." It was true. After another bland Sunday night after Ian had rolled off her to take a shower she imagined riding Ben as she and her vibrator raced to the finish before the shower turned off.

"Is it as good as you imagined?"

"Better than I ever dreamed of." She was certain she was never going to be able to eat a meal at this table again without smelling the sex on it.

His hand reached out to grasp her hair, holding it just tight enough to ensure she was looking at him in the mirror. "Come for me. Show me how you come when you touch yourself thinking about me."