A Muse Defused

by Arty

"Where's my funny story?"

The author turned to see his muse standing behind him, wings aflutter and tapping her foot impatiently.

"Well, hello to you too, sweetheart."

"Enough with the pleasantries you uptight Englishman! I want fun, I want laughter, I want sex, lots of sex..." Her diatribe faded into silence and her expression lost its severity and became dreamy.

"If you insist." He stood up from his chair and started to undo the buttons of his shirt.

"Don't be obtuse." Her expression returned to its previous, unwonted severity.

"Oooh. I'm in trouble now."

"Leave my cat out of it."

The author laughed out loud and the muse attempted, unsuccessfully, to keep a straight face. "Stop it. I'm telling you off. Laughter is not an appropriate response."

The author formed the intention of redoing his buttons and returning to his seat.

"Don't you dare!"

"That's most disconcerting, you know?"

"What?"

"Reading my mind like that."

"It's not really mind reading, it's more like being you and knowing what you are going to do next."

"Oh."

"So what are you waiting for?"

"You said you were telling me off, and you didn't say it."

"Say what?"

"'Off'"

The muse giggled at the juvenile humour. "I believe one of us was getting undressed."

The author busied himself, obeying the muse's implied command. When he had finished he looked speculatively at his muse. An idea crossed his mind and a look of concentration appeared on his face.

"Don't you.... mppfff"

"Sorry, I went too far."

"Mmmm ... hate gags."

"Now where were we? Oh yes the list: fun, laughter and sex. Do you mind if I do the laughter part first, then we can combine the fun and the sex. Not that you are in any position to object as far as I can see."

The author stroked his muse's naked body, as she lay spread-eagled on the bed in his cellar. Many scented candles illuminated her in their romantic glow as the flush of her arousal spread across her breasts. The muse began to breath deeply.

"This doesn't unnnggg feel like hmmmmm laughter, oh god!"

The author smiled and a feather appeared in his hand. The muse's eyes widened at the sight. "Save your breath dearest, I promised you laughter and that's what you're going to get."

The author trailed the tip of the feather across the muse's breasts and into her armpits. Making lazy circles in them, the muse was helpless to resist the ticklish laughter, which this treatment evoked. The author spent the next half-hour experimenting with his feather and his fingertips. Finally, sensing that his muse was getting tired, he stopped and kissed her.

"Is that enough laughter for my muse?"

"Just wait, you'll get yours!" Her smile robbed the threat of any sting.

"I can't wait. In the meantime I think fun and sex were next on the menu?" So saying the author knelt between the widespread legs of his muse and put his tongue and lips to work. At first he concentrated on arousing her and denying her release. Finally he took pity on her and drove her relentlessly from one climax to the next. Eventually he stopped his assault and untied her ankles; then, holding her legs apart with his arms, he penetrated her with a single swift stroke. The muse cried out as her author thrust strongly. Finally, unable to restrain himself further, her author cried out his own climax. His solo became a duet as the muse came once more.

The muse slipped her hands from the loops of silk that constituted her voluntary bondage and held her author tightly to her breasts.

"Was that to your musely satisfaction, your museness?"

"I think it's a good start. You didn't have anything better to do did you?"

The author saw the glint in her eye. It was going to be a long day.

"No, dear."

"I'm glad you see things my way. Let's try that last bit again shall we..."

-Fin-