She hurries to the computer. The small window of time is here and she has to take advantage of it. She is alone now. The world has retreated for a few precious minutes and she intends to use it.
She checks his blog. If she was efficient, she would have already pulled down her pants but no, she doesn’t like to be that easy. She likes to pretend that today she won’t masturbate. She likes the illusion that she must be seduced. Perhaps today, he won’t charm her libido like he owns it.
He has a story up. She leans forward and reads. Sometimes she laughs. A typo confuses her but she moves past it. The story pulls her in. She doesn’t even notice her thighs parting.
A good part makes her grab her breast. She sinks her fingers into her soft flesh, imagining the character is groping her. Because there is cruelty in the story, she is cruel to her nipple. She pinches and twists. Her moans are in time with the character’s.
A better part makes her reach between her legs. A zipper is undone. She lifts her bottom to pull her pants down to her ankles. She thinks about reaching for her toy but she can’t spare the time. The story is getting hot and her fingers are good enough.
She strokes. She reads. Her fingers attend to her wet sex in that way known only to her. Deep down, she thinks the writer would know. If he ever touched her with more than just words, his fingers would magically know. How could he not?
A very good part makes her gasp. She reads it again. Her fingers go deeper. her fingers go faster. She reads that very good part for a third time, knowing she will thinking about it all day long.
She climaxes. She keeps reading.
She climaxes again. The story is not quite done.
She reaches the end. Her sex is not quite satisfied.
She reads the very good part again. Her final orgasm makes her cry out.
Exhausted, wet and smelling of sex, she looks at the comments. There are none. She thinks about adding one. Flush with orgasm, flying high on joy and lust; she thinks of what to say. What could she say?
She closes the page and returns to her life. The window of time is past. Reality comes creeping back.
Hours later, she is busy. The world moves on but she has a secret smile. She thinks about the very good part.