Unwritten

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Author’s Note:

This is not a love story.

At least, not the kind you’re used to.

What unfolds in the following pages is an exploration of desire, control, power, consent, and the spaces between love and longing–where routine can suffocate, and fantasy becomes a lifeline.

The characters in this story make choices that may challenge your values, your comfort, or your expectations. Some of those choices are raw. Some are explicit. Some walk along the edges of fidelity, dominance, and submission, framed always by mutual consent–but not always by clarity of purpose.

If you’re looking for something soft, safe, or simple–

This is not that story.

If these themes disturb you, offend you, or simply aren’t for you, I encourage you–genuinely–to step away. Find something that nourishes you instead.

But if you’re still here…

Welcome to Unwritten.

Note: While this story may appear long due to the spacing between lines, that structure is intentional–meant to enhance pacing, atmosphere, and emotional flow. It’s designed to let you breathe between each moment. Let the silence speak, too.

Chapter 1

James was thirty-four, tall and lean, with pale skin and a confident demeanor that rarely cracked. His jet-black hair was always neatly combed, and his dark eyes held a quiet, persuasive certainty. Despite having a modestly sized penus, James had never lacked confidence — a trait that had drawn Pauline to him from the very beginning.

Pauline was twenty-six, petite with an athletic frame that turned heads effortlessly. Her small breast sat high on her chest, and her ass was round and firm, a perfect balance of strength and sensuality. Her skin was porcelain white, her bright blue eyes full of curiosity and quiet passion, framed by soft waves of chestnut brown hair that fell just past her shoulders.

Pauline had never known another man besides James. He was her first boyfriend, her first everything. Their story had unfolded quickly–he proposed within a year, swept her away to Cleveland where he had landed a secure job, and they began their life as husband and wife.

Their days settled into an easy, predictable rhythm. Morning coffees shared in silence, commutes punctuated by light kisses, quiet dinners in the small apartment they called home. They loved each other deeply and sincerely, and while passion still flickered between them, it often felt like a gentle ember rather than a roaring flame.

They had built something solid. Familiar. But beneath Pauline’s calm, a restlessness sometimes stirred–quiet, vague, but growing.

This was the life they had made. And neither of them yet knew how much it was about to change.

It was a Thursday night. Rain tapped gently against the windows, and the living room was dimly lit by the flicker of a single lamp. James sat on the couch, legs stretched out, a half-empty glass of wine in his hand. Pauline walked in barefoot, her skin glowing softly under the warm light, wearing only a loose cotton shirt that barely covered the curve of her ass.

She didn’t say a word as she straddled him, her breath already quickening as his hands slid up beneath the shirt to cup her breast. James kissed her neck slowly, the way she liked, murmuring her name between each kiss. “You smell incredible tonight,” he whispered, nuzzling into her collarbone.

Pauline smiled faintly, tilting her head back as his hands moved lower, tracing the lines of her waist, her hips. She tugged at his shirt, pulling it over his head, then ran her palms across his chest, feeling the thrum of his heartbeat.

James pulled the cotton shirt over her head, exposing her nipples to the warm lamplight. He took one gently into his mouth, swirling his tongue slowly around it while she exhaled a soft, needy sound. Her fingers tangled in his hair as he trailed kisses down her belly, stopping just short of her pussy.

When he slid his fingers between her thighs, he found her already soaked. She gasped as he teased her gently, drawing slow circles that made her hips buck forward.

“Right there…” she murmured, pressing her forehead to his.

James nodded, positioning himself beneath her. She guided his penus inside her with a steady hand, inhaling sharply as it filled her inch by inch. Their bodies pressed close, skin to skin, a subtle sheen of sweat already building.

Pauline began to ride him slowly, her rhythm fluid, deliberate. James gripped her ass firmly, thrusting up in sync with her movements. Their moans grew louder, their breathing erratic, and for a moment, the rhythm between them felt nearly perfect.

But Pauline’s mind wandered, caught in a flicker of detachment. She focused on the feel of his hands, the curve of his neck, the tension in her thighs–but the spark inside her refused to catch fire.

James didn’t notice. He was lost in her, whispering her name, worshipping every inch of her with his mouth and hands. “You feel so good,” he gasped, his thrusts becoming faster, more erratic.

Pauline topkapı escort kept her pace steady, her hands on his chest, her mouth brushing his shoulder. She wanted to meet him there, to dissolve in the moment–but the wave never came.

James cried out, gripping her hips tightly as he pushed deep and released inside her, his penus pulsing as he filled her with cum. His body trembled beneath hers as he exhaled her name in a broken whisper.

Pauline collapsed against him, her forehead on his shoulder, her breath calm but unsatisfied. He held her there, stroking her back, whispering softly, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

But in the quiet that followed, her body still ached for something more.

And in the silence, she wondered–not for the first time–what it would feel like to be completely undone.

Chapter 2

Sunlight filtered through the blinds, slicing soft golden lines across their bedroom. Pauline stirred first. James was still asleep beside her, his arm draped loosely around her waist. She stayed there for a moment, staring at the ceiling, feeling the quiet weight of his touch. His warmth. His love.

And yet…

She gently slid out from under his arm and padded to the kitchen. The floor felt cold beneath her feet as she made coffee, the familiar hum of the machine filling the silence. James walked in minutes later, freshly showered, tie already half-knotted.

“Morning,” he said with a quick kiss to her cheek.

“Morning,” she echoed, handing him his mug.

They barely spoke. They didn’t need to. This was the rhythm of their mornings–efficient, silent, almost tender in its routine. By 7:15, James was grabbing his coat, keys in hand.

“Have a good day,” she said, watching him slip on his shoes.

“You too.” He smiled, then added, “Let’s do something nice this weekend, yeah?”

She nodded. “Sure.”

The door closed behind him, and with that, the house exhaled. Pauline stood in the silence for a few seconds longer before changing into her workout clothes.

Outside, the air was crisp and smelled faintly of damp earth. The neighborhood park, just four blocks away, was already dotted with early joggers and dog walkers. Pauline slipped her earbuds in, started her playlist, and ran. Not fast. Not slow. Just enough to move the weight inside her body, to keep her thoughts from sticking.

After the run, she stopped by the local grocery store–a cozy, independent place she liked. She walked the aisles with her small basket, picking up vegetables, eggs, a bottle of olive oil. As she reached for a bunch of thyme, she caught a glimpse of herself in the reflection of the freezer glass.

Still flushed from the run. Hair pulled back. Eyes a little distant.

Back home, she showered quickly, changed into a soft blouse and black slacks, and tied her hair in a loose ponytail. By 11:30, she was parking her car in front of the small private school where she worked part-time, helping coordinate art classes for younger students.

She liked it there. The kids were sweet. The staff was warm. It didn’t fill her with passion–but it filled her hours.

She walked in with a smile. Her routine continued.

The school smelled faintly of finger paint and pencil shavings, a scent Pauline had grown to associate with quiet purpose. The building was modest, with old wooden floors and colorful student artwork lining the hallways. Her classroom was at the far end, just beside the music room. She passed a few kids on her way in–some waved, others gave sleepy smiles. She always returned them.

Inside the small break room, the familiar buzz of the coffee maker greeted her, along with the sound of laughter.

“Look who finally shows up after we’ve made the good coffee,” said Maya, grinning. She leaned casually against the counter, tall and striking, with a warm, bronze complexion and thick, curly black hair pulled into a high puff. She wore a fitted maroon cardigan over high-waisted jeans, always stylish without trying too hard.

Pauline smiled. “Please, you know you only make it for yourself.”

“She’s not wrong,” chimed in Elena, who was pouring sugar into her tea. Elena was softer in manner, with delicate features and pale skin that flushed easily. Her strawberry-blonde bob framed her round face, and her voice always had a musical, lilting quality. She taught literature, and somehow always looked like she’d just stepped out of a 19th-century novel.

“I make it for the vibes,” Maya added, laughing. “And to keep me from murdering the third graders.”

Pauline chuckled and grabbed a cup. “You’d never survive without caffeine.”

“I’d never survive without you two,” Maya corrected, touching her chest dramatically. “Speaking of which, we’re thinking of going out Saturday night. Drinks. Dancing. Maybe some harmless flirting with strangers who own motorcycles. Interested?”

Pauline esenler escort paused mid-sip.

Elena raised a brow. “Don’t look so guilty. Married, not dead.”

Maya grinned. “Exactly. We just want your energy, girl. Plus, I’ve been dying to see you in that black top you wore at the holiday dinner. You know, the one that made the principal nearly trip over his own feet?”

Pauline blushed slightly. “I’ll think about it.”

“No thinking,” Maya said, pointing her stir stick like a wand. “Just doing. Or at least texting us a maybe before Friday.”

They exchanged a few more jokes before heading to their classrooms. Pauline walked to hers with a light smile still on her face. Their energy was contagious, comforting. And yet, even with their warmth, she felt slightly apart–like someone watching her own life from just outside the frame.

The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur of smudged pastels and eager little voices. Pauline guided her students through their self-portraits, gently correcting proportions, encouraging color choices, and taping the finished drawings on the far wall. Her hands moved with ease–this part of her life, at least, felt natural. The kids made her laugh, and their questions were innocent, sometimes hilarious.

“Miss Pauline, do you think cats dream in color?”

“I hope so,” she replied with a soft smile, kneeling beside the boy’s sketch. “Maybe they dream of being tigers.”

By 4:30, the halls were thinning out. Backpacks shuffled. Laughter echoed and then faded. Pauline stood in the quiet of her classroom, tidying supplies and wiping down the table surfaces. She liked these moments–the stillness after the noise. A brief silence where she could exhale.

She stepped out just as the sky was beginning to blush with the first hints of evening.

Maya and Elena were standing near the faculty parking lot, sipping what remained of their afternoon drinks.

“Well, look at you. Miss Productivity,” Maya teased, tossing her empty cup into a nearby bin. “You always stay later than us.”

“I like to reset the room,” Pauline said, shrugging. “Makes it easier in the morning.”

“You would be the responsible one,” Elena chimed in with a smirk. “Don’t forget about Saturday, okay?”

“I won’t.” Pauline smiled, pulling her bag onto her shoulder.

“You need it,” Maya said more seriously, her eyes softening. “Even a perfect marriage needs a little dancing.”

Pauline nodded, not quite answering. “See you tomorrow.”

“See you, babe.”

She walked to her car as the sky dimmed into cooler tones, her mind already shifting into the comfort of home. As soon as she got in, she put on soft jazz and let the familiar route settle her.

Back at the apartment, she kicked off her flats and opened the windows slightly to let in the evening air. The kitchen was small, but she had made it her space–green tiles, a few plants on the sill, wooden shelves James had helped her install.

She tied on her apron and began chopping onions, humming along to the music. Her movements were fluid, practiced. Tonight would be pasta with roasted vegetables. Simple. Comforting. Familiar.

The water began to boil. The oven clicked on.

She lit a candle on the dining table. Not for any special reason. Just for the softness it brought to the room.

By the time James would walk through the door, the apartment would be warm, fragrant, and welcoming.

Just like always.

Chapter 3

The door clicked open around 6:10. Pauline was just draining the pasta when she heard James’s familiar shuffle through the hallway.

“Smells amazing,” he called out, kicking off his shoes.

She smiled as he stepped into the kitchen. His tie was loosened, hair slightly tousled from a long day, but his face lit up the moment he saw her.

“Hey, beautiful.”

“Hey,” she said softly, drying her hands on a towel as he leaned in to kiss her.

James wrapped his arms around her waist, breathing her in for a moment. “God, I needed this. It’s been a day.”

“Tough one?”

“Not terrible. Just… long meetings, slow progress. You know how it is.”

She nodded, brushing his cheek gently with her fingers. “Dinner’s ready. Sit. I’ll bring everything.”

They moved to the table. The candle flickered between them, casting a warm light on his tired face. James took his first bite and gave a satisfied groan.

“Okay, I’m officially spoiled.”

Pauline smiled, watching him eat for a moment before taking her fork. A few bites in, she spoke.

“So… the girls were talking today about going out this Saturday.”

James looked up mid-chew. “Yeah? What girls?”

“Maya and Elena–the ones I’ve mentioned before. From the art department.”

James nodded, still chewing.

“Maya’s the tall one. Black, super confident, always laughing. She teaches third grade but could probably run the whole school if she wanted to.”

“Elena’s quieter. Very sweet. Literature aksaray escort teacher. Pale skin, reddish hair, soft voice. She always looks like she just wandered out of a bookshop.”

James smiled. “Sounds like a fun pair.”

“They are.” Pauline paused, twirling her fork. “They want to go dancing. Said I should come.”

James leaned back slightly, studying her. “What do you think?”

“I don’t know,” she said honestly. “I haven’t done something like that in a long time.”

He nodded slowly. “It could be fun. Blow off some steam.”

She waited, watching his face.

“But…” he added, “I actually just remembered–we might have that dinner Saturday night. The one with my boss and his wife.”

“Oh.”

“Nothing’s confirmed yet. I’ll find out tomorrow. If it’s on, you’ll come with me. But if not… go have fun with your friends.”

She smiled faintly. “Okay.”

James reached over the table and touched her hand. “We’ll figure it out tomorrow, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

After dinner, they cleaned up together in silence, a quiet domestic rhythm they had perfected over the years. James gave her a soft kiss on the forehead and disappeared into the bathroom for his shower.

Pauline stood in front of their dresser for a long moment, biting her lip as she opened the drawer where she kept the few delicate pieces she didn’t wear often. She chose a black lace bodysuit–sheer in the right places, hugging her waist and hips, dipping low between her tits with no support, only a whisper of suggestion. The fabric clung to her ass like liquid shadow, and the straps framed her shoulders delicately.

She let her hair down and added a touch of perfume behind her ears and between her thighs. Then she slipped under the covers, propped herself up on the pillows, and waited.

When James came out, towel slung low on his hips, his eyes landed on her–and stopped.

“Wow,” he said, voice low, appreciative. “You trying to kill me?”

Pauline smiled, tilting her head slightly, letting the sheets slide down just enough to reveal more of her tits beneath the lace. “Maybe.”

He dropped the towel without hesitation and crawled into bed, already half-hard, his hands immediately running down her sides as he kissed her mouth, her neck, then down the center of her chest.

“I love when you surprise me like this,” he murmured, sliding a hand between her thighs, cupping her gently through the fabric.

She pushed him gently onto his back, kissed her way down his chest, and then took his penus in her hand–already hot and pulsing–and slowly began to stroke. He let out a breath, sinking into the pillows as she lowered her head and took him into her mouth.

She moved slowly at first, savoring the way his hips bucked under her tongue, then faster, deeper, her lips wrapping tight, one hand teasing his ass, the other stroking what she couldn’t take in her mouth.

James groaned, fingers threading through her hair. “Fuck… Pauline… that feels–” He gasped. “You know what I’ve thought about?”

She glanced up, not stopping.

“I’ve had this fantasy,” he panted. “Of seeing you dressed up… like a prostitute. Standing on the street, high heels, heavy makeup, short skirt, talking dirty like you’re not my wife.”

Pauline froze for a fraction of a second, then let out a soft moan around his penus, sucking harder in response.

He groaned louder. “You’d knock on our own door, pretend to be a stranger… God, I’d pay you anything to come in.”

She lifted her head slightly and looked at him, breathless. “You’re insane.”

His eyes darkened. “Maybe.”

She gave him a wicked smile and took him back in, deeper now, swirling her tongue until he was gripping the sheets. Moments later, he tensed, pulling her head down and groaning as his penus twitched and he released a thick stream of cum across her face, hitting her cheek, her lips, her chin.

Pauline swallowed what she could, the rest dripping slowly down her neck. Her breathing was heavy, eyes half-lidded, lips wet.

But her thighs still ached. Her pussy pulsed with heat–but untouched, unfulfilled.

James collapsed back, smiling at her. “God… you’re perfect.”

She gave him a soft smile, wiped the cum from her chin with the back of her hand, and quietly slipped off the bed.

In the bathroom, she cleaned herself carefully, her expression blank. She changed into a soft cotton sleep shirt and returned to the bedroom, where James was already half-asleep.

She slipped into bed beside him just as he stirred.

“Gonna brush my teeth,” he mumbled, rolling out.

She watched him go, the light spilling from the bathroom briefly casting his silhouette across the room.

Alone, she stared at the ceiling, the silence now too loud. Her body still hummed with unsatisfied need, but her mind was already trying to silence it.

By the time James returned and slid into bed, she was turned on her side, eyes closed.

Chapter 4

The alarm buzzed softly just after six. Pauline stirred, eyes still heavy, her body slow to respond. James was already out of bed, the sound of the shower faint through the closed door.

She sat up, legs dangling over the side of the mattress, her fingertips grazing the sheets. Her pussy still throbbed with the echo of last night’s neglect, but she pushed the thought away.

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