Creative Juices

"Writing is easy. You just sit down at a typewriter and open a vein."

~Red Smith

She stares at her laptop, the screen blank, the cursor blinking, mocking her. A cool breeze dances around her, moonlight streams in from a window. She hears the bed creak as he shifts his weight, searching for her. A deep sigh emanates from within; the heavy tread of slumbering muscles grows closer. Suddenly his arms are around her, his mouth upon her neck and shoulders.

"Why are you still up, it's almost 2:00 am? Come to bed." His body is warm.

"Can't. Have to have this finished by morning."

She feels his hands on her flesh, feels the chair pull back from the table as he positions himself on the floor before her. He buries his head between her legs.

"Come to bed," he insists, his lips dancing across hers.
"I won't take 'no' for an answer."

She smiles, and lets her hand fall upon his unruly hair as he pleasures her. He always tries so hard, she thinks. She lets him gorge himself, the balls of her feet bracing against the table, his lips and tongue accelerating as he strokes himself.

Staggering to his feet, he gasps.

"Switch seats," and pulls her onto his lap, thrusting deep inside her. She holds him tight as she rides him, her mind racing. She begins to vocalize encouragement; it makes him climax faster. Suddenly he erupts, squeezing her closer to him. They sit quietly, their breath fast and shallow. Slowly she stands up, wobbly, and pulls him to his feet, turning him towards the bedroom. Playfully swatting his ass she sends him off.

"I'll be in shortly," she whispers.

He shuffles away, laughing to himself.

"No you won't. I'm always a distant second to your one true love."

She hears him fall back into bed. She returns to her computer, her fingers dancing across the keyboard.