This story was written for ASSTR's anniversary. However, it was three hundred some words to long to be accepted and become an official part of the celebration. Since I don't have anything else to do with the story, I decided to post it anyway.

The story is written from a man's point of view. I wanted to see if I could pull it off. The story is also extremely short. I was trying to make it less than 500 words for the ASSTR anniversary. I didn't make it.

"What's this site?" my wife Bridget asked as she looked through the websites bookmarked on my computer."What does ASSTR stand for?" She bit her lower lip and flipped her blonde hair back, causing her braless breasts to jiggle inside the unbuttoned man's red silk pajama top she wore.

"ASSTR is a site where a bunch of erotica writers post their stories." I answered as my eyes focused on the curves of her breasts.

"Erotica writers?" she asked with a raised eyebrow, "you mean sick people that write pornographic stories," she continued. "And you told me that you don't look at porno sites."

I laughed and she gave me a weird look. "I don't. Well, sure some stories are pornographic, but you might be surprised at how good some of these writers are. All of the stories have sex in them, but the good ones aren't really all about sex." Bridget clicked on the bookmark and we watched as ASSTR's opening page loaded onto my computer.

"Click down there, where it says web site," I instructed. As she did, I continued to explain to her about ASSTR.

"I bet if you took the time to read some stories, even you would like them."

Bridget frowned at me and read through the screen. "I doubt it. There sure are a lot of stories here. Where should I click?"

I smiled at her and offered, "Here's a bet. I'll show you to a story, and if you don't like it, then I'll go shopping with you tomorrow for some jewelry, maybe a nice bracelet or necklace, but if you do enjoy it, then I get to buy a big screen TV."

"That's a sucker's bet," she answered with a big smile. "You know I hate porn. I've had my eye on a gorgeous tennis bracelet at Cartier's for a month. You're on."

"Click on the author's link." I told her. As the screen filled with the names of the authors, I tried to think of what writer to send her to and what story she would enjoy the most. There were so many great stories by so many good writers that I was stumped. John A., Michael D., Miss Behavin, Ann Douglas... where should I send her?

"I'm waiting," Bridget said as she impatiently tapped the mouse.

"I'm thinking," I answered as the names passed through my mind. M1ke Hunt, Janey, BitBard, EZ Riter, Maria Gonzales...

"If there are as many good writers as you say, you should be able to rattle one off the top of your head," she said as she smiled at me confidently.

"The problem isn't lack of good writers or stories, but I want to pick *the* story you'll enjoy the most."

"Just make sure the story's not too long," Bridget said. "I don't want to be here all night."

"I got it!" I exclaimed. "Click on DG."

"DG?" Bridget asked with a giggle as she clicked on DG's name. "Don't these people have last names? Look, Michael D, John A., Bronwen..."

"I'm sure they do, but I think most of these are pen names anyway," I answered as Dg's site came onto the monitor. "Look for a story named 'Remote-Control Wife.' It's short and sexy, but you get to know the characters enough to make you care about them." Bridget followed my instructions, and Dg's story filled the screen." I'll be in the living room trying to figure out where to put the big screen. I'll be back in half an hour," I said with a smirk.

Bridget held her hand up, smiling as she looked at her wrist. "The bracelet will look perfect here."

I left the room, closing the door behind me and watched TV for half an hour. When I approached the bedroom door, I opened it slightly and peeked in. Bridget stared blankly at the monitor, oblivious to everything around her. The pajama top was opened, her curvy body exposed. Her fingers softly pinched her nipples as her other hand busily rubbed her pussy. Suddenly, she closed her eyes and her head fell back as she let out a loud moan of ecstasy. Her hand furiously massaged her clitoris as she sprawled out in the chair, her breasts bouncing wildly as she climaxed, her loud moans filling the room.

As her orgasm drifted away, she slowly reopened her eyes and looked at the monitor. "Looks like you liked the story," I said loudly, smiling at my sexy wife still in the afterglow of her orgasm. "I know the perfect spot for the big screen. Right by the..."

"What?" she interrupted as she turned her head toward me and tried to get her bearings.

"I said it looks like you enjoyed the story."

Bridget giggled softly and closed her eyes momentarily. When she reopened them, she looked at me with a soft grin. "I guess so," she admitted. She stood and stepped toward me. "I guess you won the big screen, but first you have to take care of something very hot and wet," she added as she stepped toward me and peeled off the pajama top.

END