Writing Stories

The memories of that afternoon, holding a stranger's cock in my hand, come flooding back to me, sending my fingers down to my pussy, but again they are foiled by that plastic toy.

I realise it is still running on the lowest setting so I turn it up, trying to finish my story before it incapacitates me once again. But it wins the race by a long mile. I am writhing in the chair before I manage to finish the paragraph.

The climax is huge but I still want to keep it going as long as I can, holding my hands clasped together to stop me from turning it off. My legs are sticking out straight in front of me almost knocking the computer table over in their violent response to that machine.

I am at the point of passing out before I stop it. I can hardly breathe, gasping for air. I must have been holding my breath for the whole time so no wonder I feel faint.

My whole body is drenched in sweat. The chair is soaked with my juices. What am I becoming? Does writing these stories make other people feel the same way? Is that why so many amateur authors send in their stories? I had really thought it was to titillate other people or to be able to tell someone what you had done without the risk of being thought a freak. Can you imagine what the nice old lady next door would have said if, when she asked me how that holiday went, I had told her then what I am now telling the world now, albeit anonymously.

Perhaps I'm a bit of a freak getting off on my own stories, but this is not an isolated incident. Most times I get so worked up reliving the situation, or, if its fiction, thinking it is me who is the girl involved, I have to play with myself.

This has been an exceptionally sexy story and trying to write it has been made worse by finding that self-contained thrilling machine. It has been called into service quite a few times since that day and it has never let me down yet. The wonders of modern science!

Incidentally, I wished my hands had been tied at one point in my story and I had a chance to find out what that was like only a few days later. I really shouldn't tell him everything should I?

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Footnote: I am always glad to get feedback, positive or negative, about each story ... but please don't be rude or too unkind as I'm always learning. If you wish to include a valid email address I will get back to you. Perhaps any authors reading this might like to tell me whether they get turned on whilst writing.

My sincere thanks go to my editor 'grumpyg' for sorting out the punctuation, correcting grammar, and otherwise improving the readability of this story.