Always on His Mind

Posted by Sarahbear on June 24, 2010

I’ve noticed a trend and it’s one I love. My husband loves to wrote stories. Since we began reviewing sex toys his stories are more sexual in nature. We had been exchanging stories via text message and on our own private blog for a while. Now he’s found an outlet on his own blog and submits his erotica to eLust whenever he can. He’s been participating in twitterotica with EdenFantasys and even fussed at me for not telling him there was such a contest. He even tweets about it when there isn’t a contest going on, just because he loves it.

And it’s fucking hot!

He’s got a way with words. I love reading anything he writes. I probably love reading it more than other people because I can see myself and our love life through his words. I mean, we talk a lot about our sex life. About our dreams, our wants, and our desires, but there is something about the way he tells a story that says so much more. The women he describes always have a resemblance to me, both in appearance and demeanor. The places they go are places we’ve gone or have talked about going. The things they do usually involve some aspect of our own sex life. Even when he was in the midst of an affair he was thinking of me, as crazy as that sounds. I’ve read the erotica he and The Whore shared and those stories weren’t about her. They were about me. Always. One of the stories in particular was about a night out. A woman with her hair curled in a lovely black dress and a trip to the restaurant.

He adores when I curl my hair. He always has. At the restaurant the woman ordered fried ravioli and stuffed chicken marsala, which is what I order every time we go eat at Olive Garden. When I read that story I slapped the shit out of him. I was angry. I saw a series of stories with personal details about me that he was attributing to her. Now that I’ve had time to heal and our relationship is better than ever I’ve realized that what he always wanted was me. It helps me on my bad days to think of that.

Yesterday he came home early from work to take me to the doctor. I had read his most recent story when I woke up that morning. We were going on a date after the appointment. Because of that story I curled my hair. When he walked in his jaw dropped, as expected, and he kept telling me how sexy I was all day. His hands stayed on my neck, fiddling with the curls. He asked if I had read his story and if that was why I curled my hair. I nodded. He said that all of his stories couldn’t feature a brunette with emerald green eyes. I just smiled because I know that no matter what he writes there will always be a piece of me in the stories.

I’m always on his mind.