The Chair

I must thank Will Crimson for inspiration. 🙂


“It’ll be alright.” Ron patted Ann’s shoulder.

“But… we’ve gone through so much together. Nearly five years. How can I just…”

“You’ll manage.”

Her lower lip quivered. “So how will I ever find another?”

Ron smiled. “It’s a chair. We’ll find one. Believe me.”

Ann looked at him and sighed. She watched as the trash man tossed her beloved desk chair up into the crusher. The torn padding, wonky wheels and the lopsided frame disappeared into the belly of the truck. She turned away and went back into the house. Ron followed. He looked at the empty spot in front of her desk. He rolled his chair over to fill the space. Then he grabbed his keys and they headed to the box stores.

“How on Earth can it be so difficult to find a chair? You remind me of Goldielocks. This one is too big, another too small. When will we find just right?” Ron was frustrated.

“I can’t help it. If the chair doesn’t feel right, the juices won’t flow. No creative juices, and no stories.”

“Fine. One more store left.” Ron headed for the car and they drove to American Office Furniture. They walked in and a cheery gentleman greeted them as they walked through the door.

“May I help you?”

Ann shook her head and kept walking toward a row of leather desk chairs. Ron turned and looked at the man. The name tag read ‘Will’. “Yes, Will. We’re looking for a desk chair. My wife is a writer and she just lost her old chair to wear and tear.”

Will nodded. “Let me guess. You’ve had no luck because none of them are quite right?”

Ron nodded with a look of long suffering on his face.

“We’ll just let her browse for a few minutes. Then I’ll show her the writer’s special. It comes in a number of styles. What exactly does she write?”

Ron blushed, looked at the floor and then mumbled. “Erotica.”

“Ah, I understand. I believe we have just the model for her. Romantic? BDSM? Alien?”

Ron didn’t think he could blush any harder, but he did. “Um… she does a little of everything.”

Will nodded. “Please follow me.” He headed down an aisle, towards some very traditional wooden desk chairs. No excessive padding. Some models had arms, while others were simply a seat and a back. All had wheels. He pointed to several chairs with intricately carved backs. “I believe that your wife might find one of these will work just fine.”

Ron inspected the chairs, but didn’t see anything that special. There were various forms of what looked like Celtic knotwork on the back of each chair. Some had a small pad on the seat. Others had nothing but smooth wood. He nodded, and looked up. Ann was half way across the store. “I’ll go get her.”

Fifteen minutes later, Ron brought Ann towards the row of chairs that Will had pointed out. “Give these a try. Maybe one will work.”

“Okay, but I’m almost to the point of giv…” She stopped mid sentence. Walking over to one of the carve backed chairs, she sat. She wriggled a bit, and then stood up. “That one’s almost right.”

“Would you like to try this one ma’am?” Will asked, seeming to appear from nowhere.

Ann startled. “Um, yeah.” She sat down. She wriggled a bit, turned and then leaned back. “This is really comfortable. Not much of a pad, but it’s… right.”

Ron sighed. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. I think so. Plus, the knotwork on the back is just beautiful. So fluid. I can’t make out the pattern.”

“It’s a Kracken.”

“Well, it’s beautiful. We’ll take it.” Ann stood up reluctantly.

Ron nodded. “Do we just take this chair? Or do you have flat packs that we have to assemble?”

“Oh, each chair is an individual. We’ll deliver it after it’s been given a final polish.” Will directed them towards a check out stand.

“Oh.” Ron pulled out his credit card.

“Would you like the extended warranty?”

Ron started to say no, when Ann interrupted. “Yes. I don’t want this chair to die after a few years. Not if we can get a warranty.”

“Of course, ma’am.” Will smiled as he rang up the purchase and took delivery information. He smiled as they walked out the door.

“Another satisfied customer?” Will’s supervisor asked.

“She will be.”

Two days later, Ron came home to find Ann sitting at her desk, her hands flying over the keys.

“I see your chair arrived.”

“Yes. It’s wonderful. I feel so good, that I’ve written nearly 4500 words on my latest story.” She stood up and gave him a kiss. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Dinner?”

“Oh! I got so wrapped up, I forgot. Can we go out?”


The next morning, Ron was woken up by the sound of Ann’s keyboard clacking away. He got up and walked out into the office. “What lit your fire?”

“Well, between good sex last night and a new chair, I’ve got my mojo back.” She smiled up at him, and wiggled in her chair. Her bathrobe opened slightly with her motion.

“Keep that up and you’ll be cleaning your seat. I know you.”

“Yeah. I already checked. The pad is washable.” Ann wriggled once more an went back to her writing.

Ron laughed. Ann got turned on when a story was going well. Plus, she was the juiciest woman he’d ever known. They kept towels in a bedside basket. “Well, you have fun. I’ve got to go to work out on Highway 69 with our cowboy client.”

Ann giggled. The highway was real, but it still made her giggle. She went back to her story as Ron headed for the shower. She wondered if she should shower too, as her thighs were still sticky and damp from the night before. She knew her bathrobe would be wet before she finished her story. In the end, she sipped her tea and kept writing.

Ann stood up an hour later. Her story was hot. Steamy. When she looked down, she saw a wet patch on the chair cushion. “Damn. I’ll have to sponge that before it stains.” She went off to get a cloth. Once she’d wiped the cushion, she headed for the shower. By the time she got back, the wet patch was dry, and had left no mark. Sitting down, she got comfortable and went back to writing.

Leaning back in her chair, she swore she felt something. She wriggled in her chair and the feeling disappeared. “Must have rolled a bit of clothing that shifted,” she thought. She went back to writing. Her story was turning her on, which was always a plus for an erotic writer, but it was also a distraction. Her panties were damp, as were her thighs. She thought about reaching down and touching herself. Just a little to settle herself down.

Looking at the clock, she saw that it was just after lunch. Hours before Ron was home. “Yeah.” She stood up, and took off her panties. Sitting down, she saved her work and went on the Internet to her favourite erotic writer’s site. She opened her thighs, and put her hand down between them as she began to read the latest installment of a six part story written by a friend. Her fingers played over her clit, and her juices flowed. She lost track of the story as her fingers thrust deeper into her pussy. Ann came hard, and she soaked her hand. Leaning back in the chair, she relaxed, and closed her eyes.

Ann came to a moment later as she felt her pussy throb. “What? That must have been some orgasm,” she thought. Then she realized that she felt a tickle. Something was touching her pussy, and stroking her clit. She looked at her hands, knowing that it wasn’t her. She started to get up, trying to figure out what was going on. She couldn’t move. “What in the hell?”

Ann looked down again and realized that there was something moving under her dress. That something was holding her down. She lifted her dress to see tentacles wrapped around her thighs. She screamed. Before she could draw breath again, a tentacle came up from under the chair and headed for her mouth. She struggled with it, only to suddenly feel pressure against her ass.

“Oh no! No! No! Noooo!” she cried as a tentacle threaded it’s way up her ass. The tentacle deep in her pussy throbbed, and pushed her over the top with another orgasm. As she shuddered, the tentacle found her mouth and filled it. Two more wrapped around her arms, pinning her to the chair. Juice filled her mouth. She swallowed in order not to choke. Her body juddered and twitched with orgasm after orgasm. She felt her belly swell with cum until it ran down her thighs. She could hear it dripping on the floor. The orgasms built until she thought she couldn’t take one more bit of pleasure. Then a tentacle slapped her clit until she arched hard, orgasming and then blacking out.

Ann woke up in bed with Ron standing over her.

“You alright?”

She blinked. “I guess so.” She had no memory of laying down. A vague memory of a dream hung in the back of her mind. She sat up.

“Well, what’s for dinner?”

“Macaroni and cheese. All I have to do is slide it in the oven.”

“Good.” He kissed her and they headed for the kitchen.

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