I knew it wasn’t a very wise thing to do. It wasn’t my house, I only rented the place. But after today, I just needed it. I was spent from a long day at work, I picked up the kids from my grandparents’ house – yay for sleepovers – where I was allowed to smoke inside, since they always did the same thing. “You don’t have to go outside,” my grandmother would exclaim, putting the ashtray in the middle of the coffee table. I smiled, and obliged. But now I didn’t feel like going outside. It was cold, raining just a little, and I was sitting at my desk, trying to write another story. It had been ages, and I was feeling like it all week. I grabbed myself a drink, had some chocolate nearby, put some nice music through the speakers and was all set. Even some toys nearby, so I could keep myself horny. It always worked best to write when horny I found. I had to get though that writing block. Only problem that, I was now all set and ready, but felt I was craving a cigarette.

I couldn’t do this. It wasn’t my house at all. I should pick my lazy ass up and should just go smoke outside. Everything would smell of smoke in the morning. On the other hand, I really needed to write. And it would help me relax a bit. And what would one cigarette hurt? I’d just put on a scented candle after and it’d be all better. Everything for art, right?

So I grabbed the pack of cigarettes and lighter from my coat, grabbed a little Tupperware container I didn’t use for anything anyway to use as an ashtray, and sat down at my desk again. I wasn’t wearing much, just a grey leopard sweater over a black tank top and some grey sweatpants. I fired up my pc, and lit a cig up. It felt great, calm, and relaxing. I started typing away, feeling the tension flow out of my body, while my fingers stroked the keyboard.

After a while of typing, I felt pretty worked up. Writing erotica always gets to me, it fires us something in me. Also due to the fact that some of the stories that I write are actually true to story – sometimes a little tweak here or there, but often it’s the truth and nothing but the truth. Amongst my other stories, that contained fantasies, or dreams that I’ve had, you would have a hard time figuring out which was which. And I liked that, the not knowing, keeping people wondering if what they just read was an actual experience or something that sprouted from my imagination. I decided it was time to heat things up a little more, and I opened my bag with toys. The weekend before I went away with one of my partners, my girlfriend actually. And I had been too lazy to unpack my bag of toys – or as I called the bag that was inside that one, filled with my Bad Dragons, “bag of dicks”. Too soon for a dick though, I grabbed my Hitachi out of the bag, and plugged it into the wall outlet. I stepped out of my sweatpants, and took off my sweater as well. I was feeling quite hot already, and feeling the buzzing of that wand against my clit wouldn’t help.

I sat down at my desk again, and put the wand on it’s lowest setting. No need to rush. I kept typing, while the device was buzzing and pulsing away on my pussy. Handsfree pleasure, and getting work done. I was quite happy with myself. Until that started to change. I found that my focus was getting less, or, to be clear, the focus on the writing was declining, where the focus on that warm, tingly feeling in my crotch only grew. I started to moan and shift around in my seat. I took my fingers off the key board and started feeling my body. It felt like my skin was on fire, I was feeling so hot. I decided to take off my tank top as well, and my hardened nipples were happy to be freed from the restricting fabric. I felt my breasts for a bit, kneading them in my hands, flicking my nipples, while still grinding against the buzzing wand, which I then put on a higher setting. I already started to drip, I could feel a dampness between my legs. I figured writing had to wait a bit, I should try to relax a bit. My eye fell on the package of cigarettes, and it might be my horny hazed mind doing the thinking, but I thought “why the hell not?” So I lit one up, and sat back in my chair, while the wand did its work.

I felt so happy, so relaxed. Everything was good. I was feeling warm, hot even, sitting here with such immense pleasure engulfing my body. Each time I took a drag from my cigarette I felt the haziness in my head get bigger. And I liked it. There was so much stress in my life, especially the past few months. And there still was. But that was all gone. All that mattered was the smoke filling my lungs, the music filling my ears, creating a symphony with the low tremble of the wand. And that feeling. That amazing, relaxing feeling. Everything was gone. Until it hit me, the extasy. And it hit me hard. My legs tensed, body started to quiver underneath the power of my orgasm, and I squirted all over my chair. When I came down from my high a little, I took another drag of my cigarette. Post orgasm, it felt even better.

I figured I would be able to write some more now. But I found myself still very, very aroused. I cleaned up my chair and tried to focus on the story again. The wand still happily buzzing away, on a more teasing setting now. But I couldn’t focus, not on the story at least. My hand went to my pussy, rubbing it, stroking it. My lips were so puffy from the wand, and so sensitive, I just couldn’t help myself. I was a slave to my own arousal now. I started fingering away, holding the wand just above my clit for the right pressure. I started grinding, and it didn’t took long before I climaxed again. I created a monster. And speaking of monsters, I was quite craving one right now. I put the wand on my desk, grabbed my bag of dicks, and found the one that I was looking for; Nova. Nova the Breeder they called him. And he was, even in its medium size, quite the impressive toy. I put it down on my chair and straddled him, slowly lowering myself over his ridges, slowly filling my pussy. I was still soaking wet from all the arousal, and I slid right down the shaft, then slowly grinding against his knot, stretching my pussy.

After a while of grinding I started typing again. Imagining the story, while feeling so full, was better than I could imagine. Living the story so to say. Everything for art. I didn’t mind one bit. I crammed out a few hundred words again, and with the climax in the story building up, so was mine. I started riding him faster, thinking of her using it on me, just as it happened in my story. I closed my eyes and started to moan. I could almost see her face, her eyes piercing mine, filled with so much arousal as she fucked me with Nova. She wanted me to cum. And I did, I came for her. My juices ran down the shaft as I moaned her name through clenched teeth, my legs shaking and trembling, tits shaking.

I typed away again, happily. Content. Cigarette in my mouth, wrapping up the story, feeling just as fulfilled as I did in the story. I should write again more often.