My name is John, though I go by rgjohn, and I’ve written a few erotic books and some content for Literotica. When Emma read my work, she suggested I write about loving, female-led relationships—a genre she’s passionate about. It’s been a while since I’ve written, but a fan recently reignited my interest by asking me to turn his detailed journal into a story. Initially skeptical, I found myself captivated by his account of a Female-Led Relationship (FLR), a concept I hadn’t explored before. With a mix of curiosity and research, I’ve decided to craft a multi-part story spanning over 20 chapters. If you are just starting, you should begin your journey back at chapter 1.

When Anna came back, she said, “I was going to go into work for a couple of hours, but this is more important. I called in to let them know I wouldn’t be there so we can spend some time seeing if we have a solution to this problem. I will call in to the office again when we are done.”

I smiled broadly. There was hope after all. We moved into the living room with fresh cups of coffee and sat on the sofa. The panoramic view of the city skyline always had a calming effect, as if the vast expanse of the horizon could shrink our problems into insignificance. Today, though, I doubted it would be enough. Still, the sight of the clear blue sky helped me breathe a little easier.

I looked at Anna, and despite the comforting atmosphere of our conversation, she still seemed tense, her shoulders carrying an invisible weight.

“How are things going at work?” I asked gently.

She paused, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Why do you ask?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “You’ve been bringing a lot of work home lately. Earlier, you had to call in, which isn’t like you. And honestly, for the past couple of weeks, you’ve seemed unusually stressed—beyond the stress I’ve caused, I mean.”

Anna sighed heavily, her fingers tracing an invisible pattern on the arm of the sofa. “Well, you know I’m up for full partner.”

“Yes, and that’s incredible. You deserve it,” I said sincerely.

“It is incredible,” she said, but her voice lacked enthusiasm. “The problem is, there are two other attorneys being considered as well. You can imagine the politics involved. At least one of them is actively trying to sabotage me. Files have gone missing—important ones—and I know I didn’t just misplace them. On top of that, there are ridiculous rumors going around that I’m having an affair with one of the younger attorneys.”

I knew I shouldn't feel this way, but the mention of a young, probably handsome attorney stirred a pang of jealousy deep inside me. Knowing how I had been treating Anna over the past months only amplified that feeling, sending a sharp ache through my chest. Rationally, I knew she would never cheat on me, but emotionally, the fear lingered. And if she did… well, could I even blame her?

This wasn’t the time to dwell on such thoughts, so I pushed them firmly from my mind and focused on being the supportive husband she needed me to be, especially now.…

My name is John, though I go by rgjohn, and I’ve written a few erotic books and some content for Literotica. When Emma read my work, she suggested I write about loving, female-led relationships—a genre she’s passionate about. It’s been a while since I’ve written, but a fan recently reignited my interest by asking me to turn his detailed journal into a story. Initially skeptical, I found myself captivated by his account of a Female-Led Relationship (FLR), a concept I hadn’t explored before. With a mix of curiosity and research, I’ve decided to craft a multi-part story spanning over 20 chapters and below is the second chapter. If you are just starting, you should begin your journey back at chapter 1.

Over the next several days, Anna continued to retreat into her office, dining there alone and without acknowledging me.

Though I bustled around trying to make her comfortable and keep our home immaculate, she remained distant. I prepared her favorite meals, arranged fresh flowers around the apartment, even drew her a couple of soothing baths.

I stopped trying to initiate conversation, resigning myself to waiting for her to engage with me when she felt ready. Each day that she didn’t kick me out of the condo felt like a sign of hope for resolution. I anticipated our weekend together would offer a chance to speak.

That week, I avoided any pornographic content and dedicated my time on the Internet to finding ways to resolve my internal struggles. In an amazing stroke of luck, I stumbled upon a website, evolvingyourman.com, containing a discussions about Female-Led Relationships (FLR), a concept that while totally foreign to me, also intrigued me. As I dove deeper into the subject, I felt a spark of curiosity and hope—a potential solution to our troubles might lie within this unfamiliar territory.

On Friday night, I decided to create a sanctuary for Anna after what had clearly been a long and exhausting week—for her and for us. I prepared a hot bubble bath, adding scented oils and lighting candles around the bathroom to cast a warm, inviting glow. I carefully laid out her favorite fresh towels, ensuring everything was perfect. Unsure if she would respond otherwise, I sent her a text to let her know the bath was ready.

Minutes later, I heard her footsteps and the soft sound of water as she stepped into the tub. Relief washed over me; she had accepted the gesture. Hoping to elevate her experience, I poured a glass of her favorite chilled wine, placed the bottle in an ice bucket, and carried it to the bathroom.

I knocked gently on the door. When she didn’t respond, I hesitated before pushing it open softly. Anna was reclining in the tub, her head resting against the edge, eyes closed in peaceful surrender. The bubbles surrounded her, only the soft swells of her breasts visible above the water. Even this modest glimpse of her beauty was enough to cause a stirring below, but I quickly reined in my thoughts. This was about her, not me.

Silently, I placed the wine and bottle on a small tray near the tub. I didn’t say a word, not wanting to disturb her tranquility, and slipped out as quietly as I had entered.

Back in the bedroom, I continued my efforts to create an atmosphere she would appreciate. I changed the sheets to her favorite silk ones, smoothing them until they gleamed under the soft glow of the room’s new candlelight. I turned the bed down neatly, positioning the pillows just so, and set the stage with gentle, soothing music. I left the room with one lingering hope: that she might call for me, or at least see my efforts as an olive branch.

Time passed slowly as I waited, oscillating between anticipation and nervousness. When the silence stretched too long, curiosity got the better of me. I approached the bedroom door and peeked inside.

Anna was sprawled across the bed, a book resting on her lap. She seemed to have drifted off, the half-empty wine bottle standing sentinel on the nightstand. The sheets were pulled down, revealing her gorgeous, bare breasts rising and falling in rhythm with her breathing.

My breath caught, and I felt an immediate response below. Even after all this time, she had the power to stir something primal and reverent within me. At that moment, she was more than beautiful—she was divine.

…