Return of the Muse

by Arty

The 'phone engineer had left. The author entered the last of the ADSL configuration parameters. "What the hell did 'ITU G.dmt' mean, anyway?"

Now to test the router; what was a reasonable test of his new 512KB downstream pipe? Naked news? He ruminated on the phrase, 'naked news' almost the same as 'naked muse'.

"You called?"

The familiar tones, enticing perfume and rustle of fairy wings signalled the unheralded return of his muse. He swivelled in his chair to face her and surveyed her glorious unclothed figure.

"You're back then?"

"Seems like it."

"Good."

"Yes, isn't it?"

The twinkle in their eyes was the only outward manifestation of the deep feelings that were hidden in the mundane exchange.

"So why are you standing over there and not sitting where you should be? I'm sure there's a clause somewhere in the standard author/muse agreement: muse shall always be seated on author's lap whenever possible."

Almost as if teleported, the author's lap was suddenly filled with wriggling, giggling and squirming muse. Together they indulged their favourite occupation: make the muse cum. The author's fingers enticed several satisfying climaxes from his muse while he showered her up-turned face with kisses.

"My turn."

The author and the muse surveyed the cellar; it was a little musty from disuse. Over by one wall a crop lay on the floor where it had been dropped. A small purple dinosaur sat on a table. The author caught sight of it and shuddered. Before he had a chance to dwell upon the incident that the toy represented he found himself naked lying on the bed. His muse straddled his chest and smiled down at him.

"Now where were we before we were so rudely interrupted?"

-Fin-