12.18.2009
12.16.2009
12.15.2009
My Secret Formula
Lissette's Introduction to Pleasure
When I first met Lissette she was sitting in a restaurant bar having a Dr. Pepper. I was struck by the way she took long sips between looking at people,men and women, but more lingeringly at the men. She was in her late twenties, as best I could guess. She shined with a light that was hard to describe. It made her physical appearance trivial, although she was as beautiful as every other vivacious, thinking and feeling miracle walking the earth.
I immediately knew that I had to teach her the vast intricacies of sexual pleasure. I could see that she wanted to know everything about it from the way her lower lip parted in a smile from time to time, and her eyes glimmered with little fires. When she saw me she knew that I was thinking about her, and that lip quivered ever so slightly. This woman would be my masterpiece for the eternities we would be joined as one, for however brief or lengthy.. That fact was as clear to me as the rising and setting of the sun, and the clouds drifting on the quick breezes in the sky. I would teach her my way of pleasure, and in return she would allow me to take mine. It was such a simple thing.
recap of detailed thought narrative:
stripping in the living room/dining room
exploring her body
slow, brief on-table intercourse
move to bed
knees in crooks of elbows
changing tempo and rhythm
full missionary - faked/halfway femme orgasm
doggie style
1st full femme orgasm
slowdown leading to cunnilingus
stress position
2nd full femme orgasm
1st male orgasm
close cuddling
unexpected femme desire for more
fellatio
female superior
above --[fill in physical details at most active points]
[dialog at slow moments]
3rd female orgasm
beyond expected limits--
male superior from bottom
2nd male orgasm
full body massage of Lissette
coffee and desert in bed
sleep
morning sex -
69
promise of 2nd session
deux:
games without gear
nude interrogation
oral body worship from Lissette
polishing her bottom desires
in house humiliation - nude service and subservience
full pleasuring with zero control - melting Lissette
allowing Lissette, no, forcing Lissette to go free
four days
the end
and only good feelings left behind
no pain or anal at all- all pussy and orgasm... FREE!!eleventy1!
[write, write, write, paste, paste, paste]
When I first met Lissette she was sitting in a restaurant bar having a Dr. Pepper. I was struck by the way she took long sips between looking at people,men and women, but more lingeringly at the men. She was in her late twenties, as best I could guess. She shined with a light that was hard to describe. It made her physical appearance trivial, although she was as beautiful as every other vivacious, thinking and feeling miracle walking the earth.
I immediately knew that I had to teach her the vast intricacies of sexual pleasure. I could see that she wanted to know everything about it from the way her lower lip parted in a smile from time to time, and her eyes glimmered with little fires. When she saw me she knew that I was thinking about her, and that lip quivered ever so slightly. This woman would be my masterpiece for the eternities we would be joined as one, for however brief or lengthy.. That fact was as clear to me as the rising and setting of the sun, and the clouds drifting on the quick breezes in the sky. I would teach her my way of pleasure, and in return she would allow me to take mine. It was such a simple thing.
recap of detailed thought narrative:
stripping in the living room/dining room
exploring her body
slow, brief on-table intercourse
move to bed
knees in crooks of elbows
changing tempo and rhythm
full missionary - faked/halfway femme orgasm
doggie style
1st full femme orgasm
slowdown leading to cunnilingus
stress position
2nd full femme orgasm
1st male orgasm
close cuddling
unexpected femme desire for more
fellatio
female superior
above --[fill in physical details at most active points]
[dialog at slow moments]
3rd female orgasm
beyond expected limits--
male superior from bottom
2nd male orgasm
full body massage of Lissette
coffee and desert in bed
sleep
morning sex -
69
promise of 2nd session
deux:
games without gear
nude interrogation
oral body worship from Lissette
polishing her bottom desires
in house humiliation - nude service and subservience
full pleasuring with zero control - melting Lissette
allowing Lissette, no, forcing Lissette to go free
four days
the end
and only good feelings left behind
no pain or anal at all- all pussy and orgasm... FREE!!eleventy1!
[write, write, write, paste, paste, paste]
7.19.2009
☯Detox☯
It was 114℉ when Rob checked into the detox center. He hadn't even been drinking, much less doing any drugs. He rolled into Phoenix from Santa Fe in late July with what was left of his last paycheck from a job picking up giant rocks. It wasn't enough to get the lights turned on, and he hadn't gotten a job before the heat wave hit. One afternoon, as he boiled in his own juices, he got the idea to check into detox for air conditioning. One hour later he had done that.
He signed some forms. Rob made sure they knew how much he needed help, on account of all the dope he told them he had been doing. He didn't feel guilty about it. There were empty beds
The social worker in charge of admissions gave him a little handbook of rights and responsibilities. She said some words. He nodded occasionally, trying to keep his eyes open. The only time it was possible to sleep inside his blast furnace of a house was in the three hours right before dawn. That was when the temperature dropped to a balmy 98℉. By the time he decided to check into detox he had become so sleep deprived he was having fever dreams. The nice lady got Rob checked in before he passed out though.
Detox had never struck Rob as a place he might enjoy, but he knew nothing about it. In his imagination the place had to be fairly horrible, since it was full of guys coming off of drugs and alcohol. Imagine his surprise when he discovered guys and girls were all in the same place. Not only had he no reason to worry about being stuck with a bunch of men, but some of the girls were very attractive. Attractive girls with drug habits were one of his big weaknesses. They always liked Rob, and Rob always liked them.
A nice lady wearing white hospital scrubs and a grandma sweater introduced him to everyone. Her name was Emily, and the three most attractive girls were named Denise, Jenn and Becky. One little mousy chick was named Kristie, and the rest of them just never made it into Rob's awareness. He doubted he would be able to make it there very long, regardless of how nice the temperature was. Remembering everyone's name really didn't strike him as a priority. He already felt guilty for being there.
It turned out he arrived right before dinner. A lady wearing blue scrubs brought it in on a rolling cart. It was two ham sandwiches, ice cold. He managed to sit down next to the mousy girl, Kristie. Rob almost knocked one of the dudes over snagging the seat. The guy did not look happy. Rob apologized for "tripping," and the guy, who was really detoxing, went back into his shell. That made Rob feel even guiltier, because the guy was probably in drug withdrawal hell. He justified his actions by thinking he did the poor alcoholic/addict a favor. People in recovery aren't supposed to have relationships.
When playing odds girls who are in the middle, that is to say average in appearance, not too beautiful, not too plain, almost always struck Rob as the easiest to approach and talk to. Kristie looked at him like there were horns growing out of his head though. He was working on the second sandwich already. He wasn't just hot, He was hungry too. Kristie asked, "How can you eat that?"
"How can you not eat it? There's got to be all of 400 calories here. It's not enough to keep someone alive," Rob responded as he finished the second sandwich. He felt warmed up to eat some real food, but there was nothing left.
"I've got food in my bag. Somebody told me the food was terrible, so I brought a bunch with me."
"Really? What've you got?"
"Oh, no. No, I'm not telling you. You're going to try to get some, and I don't have enough."
Rob really looked at Kristie then. She had short brown hair that got curly right before it ended. Just for a second he thought it looked like she decided to discipline it, for not doing what she wanted, by cutting it off. She had a light frosting of freckles on her cheekbones, and she had glasses. She wasn't pale, which was only strange because for some reason she looked as though she ought to be.
That moment hit Rob right in the solar plexus, like so many other moments in the past. Kristie gave off all the warmth and intelligence of someone truly beautiful on the inside. When a person like that looked back at Rob, there was nothing he could do to resist feeling an attraction to them. Their goodness made him hungry and thirsty at the same time. He wanted to drink their essence up with a straw, and then clean out the inside of the cup with his fingers.
Kristie looked at him with a puzzled expression. When she saw Emily come through the door she whispered, "We're not supposed to talk to the guys." That news could not have been more unwelcome to Rob in that instant. She had pretty eyes, and he wouldn't be able to keep looking into them.
There was an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting right after dinner, which was right before going to bed at an awfully early hour. Alcoholics Anonymous meetings took place four times a day, Rob was told when he asked. In his mind that meant they had him until daylight, tops. After that it would be adios, amigo. Raging inferno at his house or not, he wouldn't be there much longer. Something about their blue book made him want to get drunk and snort blow, and those were habits he could not afford.
Just on a lark Rob wrote Kristie a note. It said, "Meet me in the showers a half hour after lights out." He got Kristie's attention without Emily noticing. Emily very likely wanted nothing more than to go home, so it wasn't that difficult. That was good, because when Rob threw the note and hit Kristie in the face with it a small amount of confusion ensued. Emily may as well have been asleep.
The honest truth was that Rob forgot about the note long before the AA "meeting" ended. Some poor sot went on and on about drinking. At one point the sot paused. As quickly as humanly possible Rob said,"Thank you for sharing." The alcoholic just finished inhaling enough air to speak for another five minutes, and then jumped right back into his marathon. When Rob fell asleep and very nearly fell out of the chair, Emily decided it was time to end the group. Rob took a shower and went to the men's dormitory area. He was asleep within seconds of hitting the bed.
Something seemed horribly wrong to Rob. He was asleep, and the cold air was magnificent. The blanket pulled high around his neck felt cozy and comfortable. That's why the voice and the tapping on his leg disturbed him so greatly. He doubted very seriously he had told the front desk a wake up call was necessary.
Then Rob opened his eyes. He discovered he had gone through with the crazy plan to check himself into detox. Then he noticed the guy who would never shut up standing at the foot of the bed. The guy was trying to say something, Rob couldn't help but notice, having woken up all the way.
"Kristie told me to get you," he said.
"Who?" Rob asked.
"Kristie, man. The girl you threw the note at."
That's when Rob remembered. He felt like telling the dude to go get Kristie and bring her back to his bed. Somehow Rob didn't think all the other guys would go for the loud sounds of sex, and he could think of no easy way to explain it. Rob knew it only took one person being unhappy for the experience to go from great to terrible in an instant. He dragged himself into a sitting position, hoping it was worth it.
Rob didn't get all the way dressed. He put on a t-shirt and went in his boxers. He reasoned that if he got caught it wouldn't matter what he was wearing anyway. He found it difficult to believe they wouldn't be nabbed immediately, until he made it to the showers. There were no cameras, no desk, no guard, no nurse, no nothing. When he stepped into the shower room it was just he and Kristie.
He barely caught a glimpse of her before Kristie was right next to him. She had on Rug Rats pajamas, and she managed to make them look sexy and cute at the same time. She was was a little shorter than Rob was. He could tell because she had to stand on her tiptoes to kiss him.
He tried to say something, but she stopped him. Thinking back it struck him how intelligent it was for her to do that. If she paid attention to anything he said it would have intruded upon her fantasy. And Kristie had some kind of fantasy. That was what led her to believe kissing Rob in a bathroom at detox was a good idea, and he knew that.
Kissing Kristie back felt good to him. It made Rob feel like it was the right thing to do. Her lips tasted faintly like strawberries. He almost laughed about it, but it was too nice being close to her. They were all over each other. They were getting breathless from the kissing, and it ignited a strong passion in both of them.
Rob wrapped Kristie up in his long arms and measured everything about her. He could feel how she was muscular in some places, and dainty in others. He could feel her breasts rubbing up against the bottom of his chest. They were proportioned just right. She didn't have huge breasts, but they were perfect on her exactly the way they were. Kristie felt to him like the best example of how a completely ordinary, normal and average person was evidence of divine creation. The mere idea she might want to change something about herself to fit a mold for society struck him as insane.
***
For her part Kristie savored the sensations that made Rob who he was. She noticed how he had really hairy legs, but his arms weren't quite the same. She looked at how his deep tan also meant that his hair was sun bleached. It was much lighter on his arms than on the backs of his legs. She felt how strong he was as he gripped her, and the feeling made her light headed. There was a desire in her loins that made her face turn bright red, and she started sweating even though it felt ice cold on her skin.
Kristie continued to run the fingers of her left hand through Rob's hair and over his neck and back. With her left hand she reached inside his boxer shorts and felt the solid, heavy manhood that was sticking straight up, almost parallel to his body. She judged that it was only around eight inches, but it was so thick her fingers couldn't meet on the side opposite her palm. That struck her as shockingly large. It made her breathing quicken and her heart skip a beat.
Kristie went from shocked to a little bit frightened. She was not easy. She did not sleep around, and Rob's size was so much different than what she had in the past. The only reason she had decided to have the encounter was because Kristie thought Rob was incredibly good looking. In her mind it would have been nuts to refuse the offer.
Kristie had to see him up close. She slid down between his arms and his body until she was squatting in front of him, his sex at the same level as her eyes. She pulled his underwear down and the sight caused her to suck in air with a slight hissing sound. It was larger than anything she had seen in person, by far.
She cupped his testicles in her left hand, which felt heavy and swollen. With her right hand Kristie stroked up and down his shaft lightly. She spent a little extra time on the ring of flesh separating the head from the rest of it, having learned how sensitive it was from one of her boyfriends. Sure enough he moaned a couple of times as she reached the sensitive areas.
Kristie couldn't resist seeing what he tasted like. She didn't bother with trying to perform oral sex. Looking at him up close and thinking about it made her jaw hurt The experience was making her unbelievably wet, and she was so flushed she was on fire. She knew he didn't want her to stop. She couldn't help it. Kristie had decided she had to get that thing inside her before she exploded.
Kristie stood up out of the squat, dropped her bottoms and bent over one of the sinks across from the showers. Rob was behind her in an instant. She had absolutely no problem with vaginal dryness. When Rob began slowly pushing into her there was a sensation of pain. She told him to pull back for a second, and she reached back and pulled her labia out of the way as best she could. The idea that he could see her so exposed made her feel terribly humiliated and overwhelmed by desire.
That time Rod made it all the way in. Kristie thought it very likely he could sense when the motion was hindered in any way, because a couple of times when she felt uncomfortable twinges he slowed down. All that stopped after the first minute. From then on she was practically lathered, and he was sliding in and out too fast for her to catch her breath. The sensation was building up faster than she could cope with.
Kristie decided to come, and she decided not to feel guilty about. Instead of trying to hold off the approaching waves of pleasure she strained to make it happen faster. It worked too. Rob was still high and dry as she climaxed, and despite being a little bit scared of getting caught she made a good deal of noise.
Within fifteen seconds she made Rob stop. He emitted a short but pathetic sound when he had to stop. Kristie felt sorry for him, and even thought, “Bless his heart.” Kristie had never been one of the women who had a difficult time having an orgasm. Even still, her few boyfriends had never seemed to be able to restrain their pleasure until she had hers. Rob was not like those guys, obviously.
Kristie decided to take pity on him. She pulled up her pajamas and snuggled up close to him, standing up, and pulled his shirt over his head. As he finished taking it off she kissed and licked his chest slowly as she took all of him into her grasp. She cupped and stroked him, focusing on his sensitive areas she had already learned. It didn't take long at all for her to drive him over the edge.
Kristie thought it was cute how Rob's entire body seemed to stiffen just as he got to orgasm. Then he shook, small tremors that migrated from some parts of his body to others as she milked him. She raised her eyebrows at the size of the mess he made as it all came spurting out. She was really glad all of that had not found its way up into her body. It kept coming for 3 or 4 seconds. Kristie giggled despite herself, thinking about the uber spooging she had just witnessed.
Rob had to stop her that time. Another few seconds of it would have driven him insane. Kristie had always wanted to do that, but she knew it wasn't the time or place. At precisely that moment she heard a door open, at the end of the hallway closest to the men's sleeping area. Kristie said, “Bye-bye, lover boy. I have to get back to bed." Then she rushed out and down the hall before the orderly could find out she hadn't been in bed the whole time.
Kristie heard the sounds of Rob not being nearly so lucky. The orderly must have gotten him coming out of the showers, because to Kristie's ears there was something bigger than just a sleepwalker being discussed. When she heard new voices she knew they had attached Rob to the small puddle of stuff in front of the sinks. She pulled her sheet over her head, in case he said something, so she could pretend she had been asleep. She new he wouldn't say anything though, and he didn't.
The two never saw each other again.
He signed some forms. Rob made sure they knew how much he needed help, on account of all the dope he told them he had been doing. He didn't feel guilty about it. There were empty beds
The social worker in charge of admissions gave him a little handbook of rights and responsibilities. She said some words. He nodded occasionally, trying to keep his eyes open. The only time it was possible to sleep inside his blast furnace of a house was in the three hours right before dawn. That was when the temperature dropped to a balmy 98℉. By the time he decided to check into detox he had become so sleep deprived he was having fever dreams. The nice lady got Rob checked in before he passed out though.
Detox had never struck Rob as a place he might enjoy, but he knew nothing about it. In his imagination the place had to be fairly horrible, since it was full of guys coming off of drugs and alcohol. Imagine his surprise when he discovered guys and girls were all in the same place. Not only had he no reason to worry about being stuck with a bunch of men, but some of the girls were very attractive. Attractive girls with drug habits were one of his big weaknesses. They always liked Rob, and Rob always liked them.
A nice lady wearing white hospital scrubs and a grandma sweater introduced him to everyone. Her name was Emily, and the three most attractive girls were named Denise, Jenn and Becky. One little mousy chick was named Kristie, and the rest of them just never made it into Rob's awareness. He doubted he would be able to make it there very long, regardless of how nice the temperature was. Remembering everyone's name really didn't strike him as a priority. He already felt guilty for being there.
It turned out he arrived right before dinner. A lady wearing blue scrubs brought it in on a rolling cart. It was two ham sandwiches, ice cold. He managed to sit down next to the mousy girl, Kristie. Rob almost knocked one of the dudes over snagging the seat. The guy did not look happy. Rob apologized for "tripping," and the guy, who was really detoxing, went back into his shell. That made Rob feel even guiltier, because the guy was probably in drug withdrawal hell. He justified his actions by thinking he did the poor alcoholic/addict a favor. People in recovery aren't supposed to have relationships.
When playing odds girls who are in the middle, that is to say average in appearance, not too beautiful, not too plain, almost always struck Rob as the easiest to approach and talk to. Kristie looked at him like there were horns growing out of his head though. He was working on the second sandwich already. He wasn't just hot, He was hungry too. Kristie asked, "How can you eat that?"
"How can you not eat it? There's got to be all of 400 calories here. It's not enough to keep someone alive," Rob responded as he finished the second sandwich. He felt warmed up to eat some real food, but there was nothing left.
"I've got food in my bag. Somebody told me the food was terrible, so I brought a bunch with me."
"Really? What've you got?"
"Oh, no. No, I'm not telling you. You're going to try to get some, and I don't have enough."
Rob really looked at Kristie then. She had short brown hair that got curly right before it ended. Just for a second he thought it looked like she decided to discipline it, for not doing what she wanted, by cutting it off. She had a light frosting of freckles on her cheekbones, and she had glasses. She wasn't pale, which was only strange because for some reason she looked as though she ought to be.
That moment hit Rob right in the solar plexus, like so many other moments in the past. Kristie gave off all the warmth and intelligence of someone truly beautiful on the inside. When a person like that looked back at Rob, there was nothing he could do to resist feeling an attraction to them. Their goodness made him hungry and thirsty at the same time. He wanted to drink their essence up with a straw, and then clean out the inside of the cup with his fingers.
Kristie looked at him with a puzzled expression. When she saw Emily come through the door she whispered, "We're not supposed to talk to the guys." That news could not have been more unwelcome to Rob in that instant. She had pretty eyes, and he wouldn't be able to keep looking into them.
There was an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting right after dinner, which was right before going to bed at an awfully early hour. Alcoholics Anonymous meetings took place four times a day, Rob was told when he asked. In his mind that meant they had him until daylight, tops. After that it would be adios, amigo. Raging inferno at his house or not, he wouldn't be there much longer. Something about their blue book made him want to get drunk and snort blow, and those were habits he could not afford.
Just on a lark Rob wrote Kristie a note. It said, "Meet me in the showers a half hour after lights out." He got Kristie's attention without Emily noticing. Emily very likely wanted nothing more than to go home, so it wasn't that difficult. That was good, because when Rob threw the note and hit Kristie in the face with it a small amount of confusion ensued. Emily may as well have been asleep.
The honest truth was that Rob forgot about the note long before the AA "meeting" ended. Some poor sot went on and on about drinking. At one point the sot paused. As quickly as humanly possible Rob said,"Thank you for sharing." The alcoholic just finished inhaling enough air to speak for another five minutes, and then jumped right back into his marathon. When Rob fell asleep and very nearly fell out of the chair, Emily decided it was time to end the group. Rob took a shower and went to the men's dormitory area. He was asleep within seconds of hitting the bed.
Something seemed horribly wrong to Rob. He was asleep, and the cold air was magnificent. The blanket pulled high around his neck felt cozy and comfortable. That's why the voice and the tapping on his leg disturbed him so greatly. He doubted very seriously he had told the front desk a wake up call was necessary.
Then Rob opened his eyes. He discovered he had gone through with the crazy plan to check himself into detox. Then he noticed the guy who would never shut up standing at the foot of the bed. The guy was trying to say something, Rob couldn't help but notice, having woken up all the way.
"Kristie told me to get you," he said.
"Who?" Rob asked.
"Kristie, man. The girl you threw the note at."
That's when Rob remembered. He felt like telling the dude to go get Kristie and bring her back to his bed. Somehow Rob didn't think all the other guys would go for the loud sounds of sex, and he could think of no easy way to explain it. Rob knew it only took one person being unhappy for the experience to go from great to terrible in an instant. He dragged himself into a sitting position, hoping it was worth it.
Rob didn't get all the way dressed. He put on a t-shirt and went in his boxers. He reasoned that if he got caught it wouldn't matter what he was wearing anyway. He found it difficult to believe they wouldn't be nabbed immediately, until he made it to the showers. There were no cameras, no desk, no guard, no nurse, no nothing. When he stepped into the shower room it was just he and Kristie.
He barely caught a glimpse of her before Kristie was right next to him. She had on Rug Rats pajamas, and she managed to make them look sexy and cute at the same time. She was was a little shorter than Rob was. He could tell because she had to stand on her tiptoes to kiss him.
He tried to say something, but she stopped him. Thinking back it struck him how intelligent it was for her to do that. If she paid attention to anything he said it would have intruded upon her fantasy. And Kristie had some kind of fantasy. That was what led her to believe kissing Rob in a bathroom at detox was a good idea, and he knew that.
Kissing Kristie back felt good to him. It made Rob feel like it was the right thing to do. Her lips tasted faintly like strawberries. He almost laughed about it, but it was too nice being close to her. They were all over each other. They were getting breathless from the kissing, and it ignited a strong passion in both of them.
Rob wrapped Kristie up in his long arms and measured everything about her. He could feel how she was muscular in some places, and dainty in others. He could feel her breasts rubbing up against the bottom of his chest. They were proportioned just right. She didn't have huge breasts, but they were perfect on her exactly the way they were. Kristie felt to him like the best example of how a completely ordinary, normal and average person was evidence of divine creation. The mere idea she might want to change something about herself to fit a mold for society struck him as insane.
***
For her part Kristie savored the sensations that made Rob who he was. She noticed how he had really hairy legs, but his arms weren't quite the same. She looked at how his deep tan also meant that his hair was sun bleached. It was much lighter on his arms than on the backs of his legs. She felt how strong he was as he gripped her, and the feeling made her light headed. There was a desire in her loins that made her face turn bright red, and she started sweating even though it felt ice cold on her skin.
Kristie continued to run the fingers of her left hand through Rob's hair and over his neck and back. With her left hand she reached inside his boxer shorts and felt the solid, heavy manhood that was sticking straight up, almost parallel to his body. She judged that it was only around eight inches, but it was so thick her fingers couldn't meet on the side opposite her palm. That struck her as shockingly large. It made her breathing quicken and her heart skip a beat.
Kristie went from shocked to a little bit frightened. She was not easy. She did not sleep around, and Rob's size was so much different than what she had in the past. The only reason she had decided to have the encounter was because Kristie thought Rob was incredibly good looking. In her mind it would have been nuts to refuse the offer.
Kristie had to see him up close. She slid down between his arms and his body until she was squatting in front of him, his sex at the same level as her eyes. She pulled his underwear down and the sight caused her to suck in air with a slight hissing sound. It was larger than anything she had seen in person, by far.
She cupped his testicles in her left hand, which felt heavy and swollen. With her right hand Kristie stroked up and down his shaft lightly. She spent a little extra time on the ring of flesh separating the head from the rest of it, having learned how sensitive it was from one of her boyfriends. Sure enough he moaned a couple of times as she reached the sensitive areas.
Kristie couldn't resist seeing what he tasted like. She didn't bother with trying to perform oral sex. Looking at him up close and thinking about it made her jaw hurt The experience was making her unbelievably wet, and she was so flushed she was on fire. She knew he didn't want her to stop. She couldn't help it. Kristie had decided she had to get that thing inside her before she exploded.
Kristie stood up out of the squat, dropped her bottoms and bent over one of the sinks across from the showers. Rob was behind her in an instant. She had absolutely no problem with vaginal dryness. When Rob began slowly pushing into her there was a sensation of pain. She told him to pull back for a second, and she reached back and pulled her labia out of the way as best she could. The idea that he could see her so exposed made her feel terribly humiliated and overwhelmed by desire.
That time Rod made it all the way in. Kristie thought it very likely he could sense when the motion was hindered in any way, because a couple of times when she felt uncomfortable twinges he slowed down. All that stopped after the first minute. From then on she was practically lathered, and he was sliding in and out too fast for her to catch her breath. The sensation was building up faster than she could cope with.
Kristie decided to come, and she decided not to feel guilty about. Instead of trying to hold off the approaching waves of pleasure she strained to make it happen faster. It worked too. Rob was still high and dry as she climaxed, and despite being a little bit scared of getting caught she made a good deal of noise.
Within fifteen seconds she made Rob stop. He emitted a short but pathetic sound when he had to stop. Kristie felt sorry for him, and even thought, “Bless his heart.” Kristie had never been one of the women who had a difficult time having an orgasm. Even still, her few boyfriends had never seemed to be able to restrain their pleasure until she had hers. Rob was not like those guys, obviously.
Kristie decided to take pity on him. She pulled up her pajamas and snuggled up close to him, standing up, and pulled his shirt over his head. As he finished taking it off she kissed and licked his chest slowly as she took all of him into her grasp. She cupped and stroked him, focusing on his sensitive areas she had already learned. It didn't take long at all for her to drive him over the edge.
Kristie thought it was cute how Rob's entire body seemed to stiffen just as he got to orgasm. Then he shook, small tremors that migrated from some parts of his body to others as she milked him. She raised her eyebrows at the size of the mess he made as it all came spurting out. She was really glad all of that had not found its way up into her body. It kept coming for 3 or 4 seconds. Kristie giggled despite herself, thinking about the uber spooging she had just witnessed.
Rob had to stop her that time. Another few seconds of it would have driven him insane. Kristie had always wanted to do that, but she knew it wasn't the time or place. At precisely that moment she heard a door open, at the end of the hallway closest to the men's sleeping area. Kristie said, “Bye-bye, lover boy. I have to get back to bed." Then she rushed out and down the hall before the orderly could find out she hadn't been in bed the whole time.
Kristie heard the sounds of Rob not being nearly so lucky. The orderly must have gotten him coming out of the showers, because to Kristie's ears there was something bigger than just a sleepwalker being discussed. When she heard new voices she knew they had attached Rob to the small puddle of stuff in front of the sinks. She pulled her sheet over her head, in case he said something, so she could pretend she had been asleep. She new he wouldn't say anything though, and he didn't.
The two never saw each other again.
7.05.2009
Just a Simple Short Memory
It was early in the morning early in the month of May, and we were having breakfast in bed. I was with my favorite girl in the whole world. As long as we were together there was nothing in the world that I couldn't find the strength to deal with.
That morning the biggest problem was that there were only three pats of butter. She had asked for two extra ones for her blueberry muffin, so that meant she needed three. I had a blueberry muffin also. That meant if she was going to get three pats of butter I wouldn't have any butter. It was quite the quandary.
"Anne, it's okay. I don't really need butter. My muffin is okay without butter," I told her. I knew better than to think she would just let it go. It never hurt to try though. There were times when Anne wouldn't really care about something so trivial.
"It's not about the butter," she said. "I think the room service girl did it on purpose because I asked her twice to make sure I got two extra pats of butter. Did you see how she smirked when you opened the door?"
"That may not have been the same person who took your order on the phone though," I said, regretting having opened my mouth even as I heard the words coming out.
"You know it was the same girl, John. Of course it was the same girl. That's why she smirked at me. She was making it a point to mess with me about the butter."
"Hey, I know you're right. I just don't want you to be upset. I want to have fun today. This is our trip, and we don't need to let the room service girl, or anyone else, mess it up for us. You can have my butter --" I could tell she was going to get bent out of shape if I took that tack, so I changed in mid sentence "-- or I can get her to come back and be mean to her. I'll do whatever you want me to so it won't bother you anymore."
"You're so sweet," she smiled when she said it. The room always lit up when she smiled, or at least it did for me.
Anne and I met at a birthday party for one of my friends. She went to the party with my sister's best friend. She hadn't counted on meeting anyone she liked there, and really neither did I. If somebody had told I would meet somebody that night who I would be involved with indefinitely, then I would have thought they were crazy. It was supposed to be just a small get together, and my little group was fished out.
Arriving at the punch bowl at the same as the attractive young lady didn't go so well. I bumped into her and caused her to drop her glass. It didn't break, but it did splatter punch onto the seat of an antique chair. Amid profuse apologies on my part we struck up a conversation. We found we had a lot in common. We both felt the kind of attraction and crackling positive energy that hits you when sex seems inevitable.
The amazing thing to me was that Anne almost to a tee fit the description of someone I didn't consider my type. She was dressed conservatively, with knee length khaki shorts and a simple blue button down long sleeve shirt, buttoned at the wrists and almost to the top at her throat. She had sparkling white tennis shoes with white ankle socks that had little pink puffballs at the back, which I had made fun of many times before I met her.
Anne's hair was very neatly pulled into a French braid. I couldn't really tell how long it was because of the braid, but her hair was sandy blond and had to be fairly long considering how formidable the braid was. She had on pearl earrings and a pearl necklace. She had on a small tennis watch which was a non-pretentious regular type of Seiko, which said she liked good watches but Seiko was her price range. All of these things amounted to basically my opposite in appearance.
Right after one of my friends saw me talking to her he made his way behind her so she couldn't see him. He then proceeded to make fun of her pearl necklace with exaggerated jacking off motions, complete with a mimed money shot. I should have known I was with a future girlfriend by the way I got angry at one of my friends for making fun of her. That's definitely not the way a guy acts when he's not interested in a girl.
When I said she was practically my opposite in appearance it was absolutely true. I was wearing cut offs of thick linen khaki pants. The bottom edges were frayed extensively. I tugged at the frayed edges subconsciously whenever I talked to somebody, which didn't improve the condition of the fray. I remember I was wearing a not fade away that was so old the color had not faded, but the fabric was so thin it almost looked as if it had. I always wore sandals. That night I had on a pair of huaraches that were three yeas old, and wouldn't make it another year.
My skin was very dark from being in the sun all the time. The most distinct tan lines on my entire body were on my feet. When I took my sandals off my skin was white underneath the straps. The reason my feet had the most distinctive tan lines was because there was a gradual change of color from my upper body into my pelvic area. I didn't have any tan lines on my upper body at all because just the slightest hint of nice weather and good sunshine prompted me to yank my shirt off immediately. I loved the way the warm sun felt on my skin, even though people constantly warned me about how bad it was.
I was six foot one unless I had to wear shoes. I weighed 182 pounds, which struck me as a little heavy, although the same people who warned me about the sun always told me I was not overweight. I did landscaping work, so there was no need to go to a gym. Everyone who did landscaping wound up with really good looking muscle structure, and I was no exception. My abs were well defined, although not so much they looked like something I spent a lot of time on them. My whole body was like that. I had well toned and defined muscle lines, but not so much it looked like I worked out in front of a mirror.
My hair was dark and thick, and curled just a little bit when I let it grow out a little. I didn't have long hair, but I liked it to be long enough that people could tell I could grow it long if I wanted to. My hair didn't have a natural part in it. It just sort of hung off the top in whatever direction it decided to. It almost had a life of its own.
My legs were really hairy in front, but not so much in the back. Of course that was true of my arms as well. I had a lot of hair on my chest, but not very much on my stomach. I was often very thankful to God that my back didn't have any hair on it. A hairy back always struck me as a terrible thing to have. I don't know what I would have had to do to get rid of it, but any way I could think of sounded painful.
I kept my private areas really well trimmed and short. I actually did shave in a small circle around the base of my cock. Hair could be a distraction at times when a distraction was the last thing I wanted. I did not shave my entire crotch because no matter what I did there would be nasty itchy bumps all over the place. I had figured that maybe if I worked in an office or something it would be no big deal, but working out in the sun just made problem free crotch shaving an impossibility.
One time I told a chick about my shaving policy, and she had decided that was something she couldn't bear to think about. Sh had just gotten finished telling me about hers. I thought it would be okay to talk about, but she didn't like it at all. That may be just one detail too many, but how can anyone know what they are getting in advance if conversation is limited to only work safe topics. I don't think that girl was right for me anyway, but I always approached the shaving topic with a little extra caution after that (in case it looked like the subject might cause a little feminine freak out).
So there I was, all tall, dark and physically fit, standing next to a young woman who looked like she was about to take a class of first graders on a field trip to the closest Talbots. We both felt the electricity in the air. I wanted to get that girl out of those straight straight vanilla straight clothes, get her hair down around her shoulder and get all up inside her. In retrospect I am quite sure Anne was also thinking she wanted me to get her out of those clothes and all up inside her, as soon as possible.
We left the party in a hurry. Anne told my sister's friend that she had found a different ride home, which probably would have turned into a fifteen minute long dish fest in the bathroom if Anne hadn't been in such a rush. We jumped into my Celica and headed for her place, because it was closer.
Once we got to her apartment we were kissing and macking on each other before we could even get the door open. She fumbled for the keys as I nuzzled against her neck and behind her left ear. Anne made a little squeal when I blew lightly at her earlobe and nipped it between my teeth. We did not fall through the door when she got it open, but only because I caught the frame at the last second.
Anne got her hands inside my t-shirt, but not for long because I lost the shirt in one fluid motion. Her shirt had buttons. It would have been missing a bunch of buttons if she hadn't stopped me. She got the top two undone and snaked out of it. I knew her bras would be white before I ever saw it. It was holding up two perfectly full and average C cup breasts with absolutely average dark pinkish nipples. I had my arms around her before she could get her shorts all the way off. I let her get my shorts off, because I was busy with what I had of her at that moment.
I had gotten Anne's hair halfway down when my cock came free of the shorts and underwear that had been holding it back. It felt so good to have it swing up and away from my pelvic area. There's such a feeling of confinement when it's trapped inside clothes. That unpleasantness was compounded if my balls somehow got stuck too far in front when I got hard. Get everything out and free could be almost as good as sex sometimes.
Anne seemed quite happy with what she had discovered. There was nothing special about the size of my manhood. It wasn't small, it wasn't too big. I really have never had much of a basis for comparison. It would easily be over seven and a half inches almost all the time, but one time when I was super excited my girlfriend measured and it was slightly over eight. I've been told that without the cushioning hair it feels a little longer inside a woman, which was half of my reason for shaving at all.
Anne wasn't worried about any of those things. She was kissing and sucking on my chest while she played with my cock leisurely. Her slow and gentle stroking was making me hard as a rock. It was pointed straight up at the ceiling between the two of us. While she used her right hand to stroke me she was using her left hand to lazily play with my balls. She was cupping them and feeling their size. Then Anne would let them hang free for a second before gathering them into her warm grasp again in a slightly different way. The feeling of being held and not held, held and not held, was turning me on to the extreme. No woman had ever done that to me before.
I had gotten all of her hair down before putting my hands to work feeling every inch of her that was within my reach. I measured the size of her beautiful bottom with my hands. I did not have to bend over to trace the outline of her ass cheeks. I ran my hands around the bottom of Anne's ass where it meets her thighs, and my arms were long enough to graze the lower part of her sex from behind.
Meanwhile I was kissing and licking every part of her upper body, her neck, her ears. I usually didn't kiss until I knew the girl better, because kissing was the easiest way to catch a cold. In her case I just knew she wasn't sick at all. I was kissing her then, but not for very long. Anne had decided foreplay in the foyer was played out. She showed me by taking my hand and leading me into the living room, on the way to the bedroom.
We were both naked. She was nice to look at. I've never felt there was anything good looking about a man, especially not me. I usually didn't like walking around in the nude, because there's so much stuff going on with a man's body. We did not make it across the living room. I felt a little bit dirty, but I wanted to treat her like she wasn't clean and pure. I wanted her to feel out of place wearing the boring little outfit she had on when we met. I wanted to make her more fully aware of the sexuality of what we were doing.
I said, "Anne, let's just stay here."
She looked at me with a little confusion in her eyes, but she could tell from my face I wasn't being strange or anything. She asked, "What do you want to do?"
"Could you bend over the back of the couch and let me do you from behind?"
Her face turned bright red. She stammered, "Sh-sure, I could do that."
I pulled her in close to me and turned her around. We took the couple of steps over to the back of the couch, and I signaled for her to bend over the back. I did that by tapping her lightly once with my left hand and positioning her with my right hand with just a little nudge. She just knew how I wanted her and got that way.
Anne's pussy was a little too low, but the fix for that is really easy with a soft backed sofa. I got her to spread her legs slightly, put some weight on the couch, and then lean further forward a tad. It meant her sex was exposed upwards toward my lower stomach. Instead of having to get us the same height I leaned forward onto her a little. I didn't do it yet though. I liked the way she looked exposed and bent over.
She was holding the weight of her upper body with her arms on the sofa cushions. I told her to let her weight go until Anne was propped on her elbows. That turned her pussy upward just a little more, and caused her head to be closer to the seat cushions.
I didn't touch Anne with anything but my hands. I ran my hands over her back and down her legs. I stroked her ribcage, not enough to make her scream from the ticklishness of it, but enough to give her goose bumps all over her body. I played with her for a minute or so, massaging her clit and feeling the warmth and wetness of her pussy. She groaned a few times. Anne was probably about to try to rape me when I decided I had teased her enough.
I guided myself down into her as I leaned over the back of the sofa with her. I used my longer arms to keep my weight on the top of her pelvic region and on the back of the couch on either side of her, and my longer legs kept me from firmly on the floor. It was a physically demanding position for me, but it's like a much more pronounced doggy style for a woman.
I pulled in and out of her slowly at first. She understood immediately what I had done when my balls slapped onto her clitoris not only with the force of my thrust but also with the power of gravity. Every in stroke my balls landed right there on her most sensitive spot and stayed there until I pulled back, whereas in doggy style there was just the slap before gravity took control. As I picked up the pace it started getting to her in a big way. I've been told that it can cause soreness if I did it too long though.
I was just about to reposition us, because the last thing I wanted to do was make her hurt so early in the night. I needed have worried, because she came right away. Anne told me to stop, but when I was about to pull out she said, "Don't you dare." I leaned over onto her with all my weight then, because it really did take a lot of work to make love that way.
A few seconds went by, and then Anne asked me, "Are we going to be able to get out of this position?"
We both laughed. I did manage to get off of her without losing my little guy in the process. I helped her up, or tried to. She pulled me over onto the couch with her where we laid snuggling for a little while. We did in fact make it to the bedroom after that, and it was a good night. It wasn't magical, but it was great sex nonetheless. I had no problem taking just great sex and hoping for magical later.
I was thinking about that night while I was looking at her carefully dividing the three pats of butter into six halves. She looked so normal, but she was so not normal. I think it's funny how that worked out. I looked like a stoner, and I was straight laced hard working responsibility guy. She looked like a Stepford wife, and inside she was sort of like Mary Shelley. She was from a boring environment,and that's what she looked like. Her exterior didn't match her interior at all though. It was like something out of an urban fantasy when we were together, sometimes. It was nice being with her.
[Like a lot of things I write these days I felt it was more important to finish it on time than to finish it the way I wanted. I have problems {not health problems, just problems}. I would rather have a finished work posted where it didn't end to my liking than nothing of it posted at all, perhaps never getting posted.]
That morning the biggest problem was that there were only three pats of butter. She had asked for two extra ones for her blueberry muffin, so that meant she needed three. I had a blueberry muffin also. That meant if she was going to get three pats of butter I wouldn't have any butter. It was quite the quandary.
"Anne, it's okay. I don't really need butter. My muffin is okay without butter," I told her. I knew better than to think she would just let it go. It never hurt to try though. There were times when Anne wouldn't really care about something so trivial.
"It's not about the butter," she said. "I think the room service girl did it on purpose because I asked her twice to make sure I got two extra pats of butter. Did you see how she smirked when you opened the door?"
"That may not have been the same person who took your order on the phone though," I said, regretting having opened my mouth even as I heard the words coming out.
"You know it was the same girl, John. Of course it was the same girl. That's why she smirked at me. She was making it a point to mess with me about the butter."
"Hey, I know you're right. I just don't want you to be upset. I want to have fun today. This is our trip, and we don't need to let the room service girl, or anyone else, mess it up for us. You can have my butter --" I could tell she was going to get bent out of shape if I took that tack, so I changed in mid sentence "-- or I can get her to come back and be mean to her. I'll do whatever you want me to so it won't bother you anymore."
"You're so sweet," she smiled when she said it. The room always lit up when she smiled, or at least it did for me.
Anne and I met at a birthday party for one of my friends. She went to the party with my sister's best friend. She hadn't counted on meeting anyone she liked there, and really neither did I. If somebody had told I would meet somebody that night who I would be involved with indefinitely, then I would have thought they were crazy. It was supposed to be just a small get together, and my little group was fished out.
Arriving at the punch bowl at the same as the attractive young lady didn't go so well. I bumped into her and caused her to drop her glass. It didn't break, but it did splatter punch onto the seat of an antique chair. Amid profuse apologies on my part we struck up a conversation. We found we had a lot in common. We both felt the kind of attraction and crackling positive energy that hits you when sex seems inevitable.
The amazing thing to me was that Anne almost to a tee fit the description of someone I didn't consider my type. She was dressed conservatively, with knee length khaki shorts and a simple blue button down long sleeve shirt, buttoned at the wrists and almost to the top at her throat. She had sparkling white tennis shoes with white ankle socks that had little pink puffballs at the back, which I had made fun of many times before I met her.
Anne's hair was very neatly pulled into a French braid. I couldn't really tell how long it was because of the braid, but her hair was sandy blond and had to be fairly long considering how formidable the braid was. She had on pearl earrings and a pearl necklace. She had on a small tennis watch which was a non-pretentious regular type of Seiko, which said she liked good watches but Seiko was her price range. All of these things amounted to basically my opposite in appearance.
Right after one of my friends saw me talking to her he made his way behind her so she couldn't see him. He then proceeded to make fun of her pearl necklace with exaggerated jacking off motions, complete with a mimed money shot. I should have known I was with a future girlfriend by the way I got angry at one of my friends for making fun of her. That's definitely not the way a guy acts when he's not interested in a girl.
When I said she was practically my opposite in appearance it was absolutely true. I was wearing cut offs of thick linen khaki pants. The bottom edges were frayed extensively. I tugged at the frayed edges subconsciously whenever I talked to somebody, which didn't improve the condition of the fray. I remember I was wearing a not fade away that was so old the color had not faded, but the fabric was so thin it almost looked as if it had. I always wore sandals. That night I had on a pair of huaraches that were three yeas old, and wouldn't make it another year.
My skin was very dark from being in the sun all the time. The most distinct tan lines on my entire body were on my feet. When I took my sandals off my skin was white underneath the straps. The reason my feet had the most distinctive tan lines was because there was a gradual change of color from my upper body into my pelvic area. I didn't have any tan lines on my upper body at all because just the slightest hint of nice weather and good sunshine prompted me to yank my shirt off immediately. I loved the way the warm sun felt on my skin, even though people constantly warned me about how bad it was.
I was six foot one unless I had to wear shoes. I weighed 182 pounds, which struck me as a little heavy, although the same people who warned me about the sun always told me I was not overweight. I did landscaping work, so there was no need to go to a gym. Everyone who did landscaping wound up with really good looking muscle structure, and I was no exception. My abs were well defined, although not so much they looked like something I spent a lot of time on them. My whole body was like that. I had well toned and defined muscle lines, but not so much it looked like I worked out in front of a mirror.
My hair was dark and thick, and curled just a little bit when I let it grow out a little. I didn't have long hair, but I liked it to be long enough that people could tell I could grow it long if I wanted to. My hair didn't have a natural part in it. It just sort of hung off the top in whatever direction it decided to. It almost had a life of its own.
My legs were really hairy in front, but not so much in the back. Of course that was true of my arms as well. I had a lot of hair on my chest, but not very much on my stomach. I was often very thankful to God that my back didn't have any hair on it. A hairy back always struck me as a terrible thing to have. I don't know what I would have had to do to get rid of it, but any way I could think of sounded painful.
I kept my private areas really well trimmed and short. I actually did shave in a small circle around the base of my cock. Hair could be a distraction at times when a distraction was the last thing I wanted. I did not shave my entire crotch because no matter what I did there would be nasty itchy bumps all over the place. I had figured that maybe if I worked in an office or something it would be no big deal, but working out in the sun just made problem free crotch shaving an impossibility.
One time I told a chick about my shaving policy, and she had decided that was something she couldn't bear to think about. Sh had just gotten finished telling me about hers. I thought it would be okay to talk about, but she didn't like it at all. That may be just one detail too many, but how can anyone know what they are getting in advance if conversation is limited to only work safe topics. I don't think that girl was right for me anyway, but I always approached the shaving topic with a little extra caution after that (in case it looked like the subject might cause a little feminine freak out).
So there I was, all tall, dark and physically fit, standing next to a young woman who looked like she was about to take a class of first graders on a field trip to the closest Talbots. We both felt the electricity in the air. I wanted to get that girl out of those straight straight vanilla straight clothes, get her hair down around her shoulder and get all up inside her. In retrospect I am quite sure Anne was also thinking she wanted me to get her out of those clothes and all up inside her, as soon as possible.
We left the party in a hurry. Anne told my sister's friend that she had found a different ride home, which probably would have turned into a fifteen minute long dish fest in the bathroom if Anne hadn't been in such a rush. We jumped into my Celica and headed for her place, because it was closer.
Once we got to her apartment we were kissing and macking on each other before we could even get the door open. She fumbled for the keys as I nuzzled against her neck and behind her left ear. Anne made a little squeal when I blew lightly at her earlobe and nipped it between my teeth. We did not fall through the door when she got it open, but only because I caught the frame at the last second.
Anne got her hands inside my t-shirt, but not for long because I lost the shirt in one fluid motion. Her shirt had buttons. It would have been missing a bunch of buttons if she hadn't stopped me. She got the top two undone and snaked out of it. I knew her bras would be white before I ever saw it. It was holding up two perfectly full and average C cup breasts with absolutely average dark pinkish nipples. I had my arms around her before she could get her shorts all the way off. I let her get my shorts off, because I was busy with what I had of her at that moment.
I had gotten Anne's hair halfway down when my cock came free of the shorts and underwear that had been holding it back. It felt so good to have it swing up and away from my pelvic area. There's such a feeling of confinement when it's trapped inside clothes. That unpleasantness was compounded if my balls somehow got stuck too far in front when I got hard. Get everything out and free could be almost as good as sex sometimes.
Anne seemed quite happy with what she had discovered. There was nothing special about the size of my manhood. It wasn't small, it wasn't too big. I really have never had much of a basis for comparison. It would easily be over seven and a half inches almost all the time, but one time when I was super excited my girlfriend measured and it was slightly over eight. I've been told that without the cushioning hair it feels a little longer inside a woman, which was half of my reason for shaving at all.
Anne wasn't worried about any of those things. She was kissing and sucking on my chest while she played with my cock leisurely. Her slow and gentle stroking was making me hard as a rock. It was pointed straight up at the ceiling between the two of us. While she used her right hand to stroke me she was using her left hand to lazily play with my balls. She was cupping them and feeling their size. Then Anne would let them hang free for a second before gathering them into her warm grasp again in a slightly different way. The feeling of being held and not held, held and not held, was turning me on to the extreme. No woman had ever done that to me before.
I had gotten all of her hair down before putting my hands to work feeling every inch of her that was within my reach. I measured the size of her beautiful bottom with my hands. I did not have to bend over to trace the outline of her ass cheeks. I ran my hands around the bottom of Anne's ass where it meets her thighs, and my arms were long enough to graze the lower part of her sex from behind.
Meanwhile I was kissing and licking every part of her upper body, her neck, her ears. I usually didn't kiss until I knew the girl better, because kissing was the easiest way to catch a cold. In her case I just knew she wasn't sick at all. I was kissing her then, but not for very long. Anne had decided foreplay in the foyer was played out. She showed me by taking my hand and leading me into the living room, on the way to the bedroom.
We were both naked. She was nice to look at. I've never felt there was anything good looking about a man, especially not me. I usually didn't like walking around in the nude, because there's so much stuff going on with a man's body. We did not make it across the living room. I felt a little bit dirty, but I wanted to treat her like she wasn't clean and pure. I wanted her to feel out of place wearing the boring little outfit she had on when we met. I wanted to make her more fully aware of the sexuality of what we were doing.
I said, "Anne, let's just stay here."
She looked at me with a little confusion in her eyes, but she could tell from my face I wasn't being strange or anything. She asked, "What do you want to do?"
"Could you bend over the back of the couch and let me do you from behind?"
Her face turned bright red. She stammered, "Sh-sure, I could do that."
I pulled her in close to me and turned her around. We took the couple of steps over to the back of the couch, and I signaled for her to bend over the back. I did that by tapping her lightly once with my left hand and positioning her with my right hand with just a little nudge. She just knew how I wanted her and got that way.
Anne's pussy was a little too low, but the fix for that is really easy with a soft backed sofa. I got her to spread her legs slightly, put some weight on the couch, and then lean further forward a tad. It meant her sex was exposed upwards toward my lower stomach. Instead of having to get us the same height I leaned forward onto her a little. I didn't do it yet though. I liked the way she looked exposed and bent over.
She was holding the weight of her upper body with her arms on the sofa cushions. I told her to let her weight go until Anne was propped on her elbows. That turned her pussy upward just a little more, and caused her head to be closer to the seat cushions.
I didn't touch Anne with anything but my hands. I ran my hands over her back and down her legs. I stroked her ribcage, not enough to make her scream from the ticklishness of it, but enough to give her goose bumps all over her body. I played with her for a minute or so, massaging her clit and feeling the warmth and wetness of her pussy. She groaned a few times. Anne was probably about to try to rape me when I decided I had teased her enough.
I guided myself down into her as I leaned over the back of the sofa with her. I used my longer arms to keep my weight on the top of her pelvic region and on the back of the couch on either side of her, and my longer legs kept me from firmly on the floor. It was a physically demanding position for me, but it's like a much more pronounced doggy style for a woman.
I pulled in and out of her slowly at first. She understood immediately what I had done when my balls slapped onto her clitoris not only with the force of my thrust but also with the power of gravity. Every in stroke my balls landed right there on her most sensitive spot and stayed there until I pulled back, whereas in doggy style there was just the slap before gravity took control. As I picked up the pace it started getting to her in a big way. I've been told that it can cause soreness if I did it too long though.
I was just about to reposition us, because the last thing I wanted to do was make her hurt so early in the night. I needed have worried, because she came right away. Anne told me to stop, but when I was about to pull out she said, "Don't you dare." I leaned over onto her with all my weight then, because it really did take a lot of work to make love that way.
A few seconds went by, and then Anne asked me, "Are we going to be able to get out of this position?"
We both laughed. I did manage to get off of her without losing my little guy in the process. I helped her up, or tried to. She pulled me over onto the couch with her where we laid snuggling for a little while. We did in fact make it to the bedroom after that, and it was a good night. It wasn't magical, but it was great sex nonetheless. I had no problem taking just great sex and hoping for magical later.
I was thinking about that night while I was looking at her carefully dividing the three pats of butter into six halves. She looked so normal, but she was so not normal. I think it's funny how that worked out. I looked like a stoner, and I was straight laced hard working responsibility guy. She looked like a Stepford wife, and inside she was sort of like Mary Shelley. She was from a boring environment,and that's what she looked like. Her exterior didn't match her interior at all though. It was like something out of an urban fantasy when we were together, sometimes. It was nice being with her.
[Like a lot of things I write these days I felt it was more important to finish it on time than to finish it the way I wanted. I have problems {not health problems, just problems}. I would rather have a finished work posted where it didn't end to my liking than nothing of it posted at all, perhaps never getting posted.]
6.26.2009
Outside
It hit me that there's an awful lot of outdoor sex going on at this site. I've never done that, and I can't imagine I'd like it. Maybe it's my subconscious mind saying, "Dude, you need to get out more." I'm not sure. It struck me as strange though, and if it occurred to me it had to have occurred to other people.
6.25.2009
Clouds in the Distance
Having some difficulties. Non-fiction doesn't take anything personal. It doesn't diminish creative potential. My fiction and poetry requires a certain amount of emotional involvement. Depending on what's being written there can be very little emotion involved, or there can be a lot. This little erotica blog has taken a a piece of my subconscious mind.
About 14 years ago I quit writing erotica. It's easiest to explain as it involves the expectations of readers. People who enjoy reading about sexuality and freedom of sexual expression are very greedy about those feelings. They always want more.
The orgasm is the ultimate addiction because it's always free and always available. Once people find something they enjoy sexually, they have a tendency to return to it. If it has something to do with the written word, then people want more words, more stories. With my erotica it means they want more of me.
What is written here is an extension of my thoughts and consciousness. The cohesion of the words flows from my own essence. When it's presented to the world for people to read, they are being given a part of myself. With heightened expectations, with a sense of urgency or demand, what there is of me begins to diminish. As that happens the writing becomes less and less meaningful, until finally it is meaningless. That makes erotica worthless as well. Without my emotional involvement it's just dirty. It's no longer art.
I am an artist with words. Sounds and imagines have been a small part of my self expression, but that's a tiny percentage of what I have created using words. I don't write dirty stories. Creating pornography does not make me feel good, and so I do not do it. Even if sometimes what I write is extremely sexual, sensual and erotic, it contains my heart and soul. There's a very big difference.
This blog isn't ever going to be an assembly line for tawdry fantasies. The post started here two nights ago should have been finished that night. It wasn't honest, and so it tapered off. It's very important from my perspective that things like that don't happen, or else the words will stop coming out altogether.
To be honest, truly honest, takes focus and concentration. Let me show you what it means when erotica is not pornography. True sensuality is butterflies in your stomach. Sexuality is like a warm ball of light that expands and intensifies until it becomes a ball of spiritual fire and energy that engulfs its creators with pleasure and emotion.
It's like driving into the country in a convertible with the top down. It's like late spring on a Sunday morning. The wind is cool and there's a hint of morning moisture as it whips and flies across our skin. There are just enough clouds in the sky to keep the sun from hitting us long enough for us to heat up uncomfortably, and the temperature is in the mid 70's.
It was said that it is that way, and so being must be examined for the barest of instances. It is like that because those moments live on forever, but the moments have already happened. So it was like that, and in the future they will be like that. True timelessness knows no tense or history, no present future; no future passed us by.
We stopped at the old abandoned plantation house that once belonged to my dead great grandparents. We pulled up into the shell driveway, which was barely visible after all the years of disuse. I got out and walked around to your side of the car to open the door for you. The scene was like something out of a painting from a period of art that never existed, and will never exist in the future.
I held your hand as you stepped out and stood next to me. Your hand was so small compared to mine, so dainty. I didn't say anything because you didn't like it when anyone thought of you as fragile or precious. You didn't wear nail polish, but your nails looked better than those of people who do. I worried when I held your hand, because you felt too thin. It killed me to think society may have convinced you to stay thin instead of eating right and eating well.
You looked at me and I gazed back at you as your eyes caught mine and held them for a moment. Looking into your eyes felt like I had just let go of a rope that was holding me to the earth. It was like I could see stars and clouds and comets and moons, but none of them meant anything compared to you. You kept me from getting lost by smiling. Your happiness dragged me back to standing next to you. The distant galaxies of your pupils would have to wait.
There was a small strand of your hair hanging down over your face. You spent so much time on your hair, trying to make it look good. You always looked beautiful to me. It wouldn't have mattered if you had shaved your head, or if you had never done anything but brush it out straight. It was like you. There was nothing about it I didn't find wonderful.
The old house was falling apart. The roof was caved in and half of the porch. Some of the massive beams were cypress, but the place hadn't belonged to my family in two generations. It was just slowly giving in to time, the weather, the wind and the rain. I wanted to take you up to the second floor, but it was obvious the stairs weren't safe anymore. We could see through the front door that half of them were gone and the other half looked to be close on their heels.
The condition of the house didn't really affect our plans. We wanted to have a picnic in the country. We also wanted to get away from civilization and all the people. That vanishing testament to a history of suffering and delusional grandeur definitely fit the bill.
The old plantation was fifteen miles west of the Mississippi smack in the middle of nowhere. Anybody who didn't know how to get there would never find it with a map. I couldn't explain how to get there, and I had made the trip many times. Suffice it to say that the road was traveled very lightly.
I helped get the picnic set up. I spread out the blanket under a live oak out behind the house. There was a stretch of gravel and bare dirt from the house to the tree. The grass didn't like it under the tree or in the compacted earth. That meant that under the tree was a perfect place to sit down, eat and enjoy being alone with each other.
I helped you bring the food. We had little quarter summer sausage sandwiches with little slices of Swiss cheese on them. There were fresh strawberries and herbal crackers with some kind of spread on top that were heavenly. We didn't bring a lot of food though, because really we just wanted to be together.
When we finished eating you stuck the stuff inside the basket (where you found the basket I just don't know). You scooched over and climbed on top me while I was sill sitting Indian style. You straddled my lap and plopped down so we were face to face. You smelled so good being close to you made me feel high.
We talked while we held each and kissed now and then. You told me that you'd love me forever. I told you that I knew. We made the soft cooing sounds young lovers make when they are very close to each other. I told you I couldn't begin to describe to you how much you meant to me. I tried to find words to tell you, but there was just an empty place in the part of the human vocabulary devoted to undying love.
There were tears in the corners of your eyes. When I saw them the sight pulled at tiny strings hanging from my heart. I reached up my hand to brush them away as they started to roll down your cheeks. I looked at you with a question in my eyes, and I could see an answer coming back from you.
All of our thoughts and words were coming out of us backwards. There were no sounds because our thoughts were too loud to hear anything else. The sunshine was falling from the earth up into the sky, as the smallest of all smallest things moved intricately across tiny planes where oxygen molecules were as giants, exploding into themselves with nothing to hide. The pain and the gorgeousness of loving someone so intensely... time stopped for it; no ideas exist there and so no words could ever be brought back.
In that instant my lips were moving closer to yours. Your eyes told me love and my every countenanced breath and labored measuring moved from one tiny point to another, which should not be possible at all. Somewhere inside the minutiae there are infinite dimensions... gulfs of darkness and clusters of stars that define twinkle and blinking slowly, circularly, respond to every thought with images and encrusted crystals standing end to end. And of more not much could be said.
As I kissed you existence flowed back into itself from where nothing exists into where everything exists. I told you that I loved you more strongly than anything the world has ever known before. Every syllable, heartbeat and breath made it the truth. I ran my fingers through your hair as you pulled me in as tight as we could be, together.
We became one being with two hearts but only one mind, and with no thoughts but that now is the now. Now is forever. Is more, and has never been lost as the present, the greatest gift. Even though left in the distant past, that love does not fade nor ever diminish in stature nor ever be forgotten.
We separated and I helped you stand up. On our feet again you kissed me lightly on the lips and pulled away. I reached for you as you were backing up, but you yanked your hand back from mine. Laughing you stepped quickly backwards and my movements looked awkward and silly. You said, "Nannie nannie boo boo" and giggled because I could not get you.
I made a concerted effort to chase you down, and you let me grab you by the back porch of the old plantation house. We tussled for a second, and being wrapped up with you turned me on so quickly it may as well have been a faucet of desire. Where one second we were sweet and in love beyond all human understanding, in the next second we were dying to consummate our love once more. We were constantly consummating our love back then, much like now, or as I always liked to say, fucking like bunnies who found they only had one day to live.
You tried to set the pace, but I grabbed you and tore the shirt off of you, over your head. You acted as though you were struggling. As I spun you around and bent you over the front porch it was obvious you were not. You wanted me as badly as I wanted you.
You unbuttoned your shorts just in time to save the button as I yanked them down. They landed on the ground around your ankles. Your perfect ass was right in front of me. As you spread your legs to make it easier for me your perfect sex was right in front of me as well. My cock felt like it was going to explode. It was so incredibly sexy just being behind you like that, but I had to have it all. I tore my shorts off of me too, as fast as I could.
I was inside you within a minute of us getting off the picnic blanket. All the foreplay we needed was had in eating strawberries while we watched each other. I knew your body so well. I could tell from feeling you just before I pushed in that you were easily as wet as you needed to be, maybe even a little bit too wet. Neither one of us understood why we were always dying to have sex. We just knew that we were, and so we were once again.
I slowed way down to keep from coming too soon. There wasn't any fun in coming without you. I was firm that no woman should ever be left behind with me behind her, except that you were every woman I ever needed. I slowed down so slow you asked me to stop teasing you. I made sure not to make contact with your clit as I pulled in and out of you in long, agonizingly measured strokes. That made you moan very loudly.
I reached around your right leg and rubbed your most sensitive spot lightly. I kept wetting my fingers inside you to make sure there wasn't a hint of friction from playing with you. We both always took great care not to allow chafing or irritation, because that would put an end to our play for three or four days, or worse, even longer. I could feel you begin to tremble, a little. I knew that what I was doing could ruin your whole experience, and that would not do.
I pulled out and got you to turn around facing me. I put your shorts on the edge of the porch for you to sit on. It seemed like good luck was on our side, because the porch was exactly the right height for me to do you sitting down while I stood.
You opened your legs really wide and stuck your tongue out at me, which was the sexiest thing. You had a way of making the simplest thing seem absolutely wanton and lewd. As I came in close you guided me into you. I fit into you perfectly, at least that's what it felt like to me, and what you also said. You groaned as I pushed until the tip was somewhere deep inside of you. I could feel a limit right before the entire shaft was buried, but I pushed until you had all of me. You cursed quietly a couple of times.
You once told me my cock was the most interesting thing. It was tiny until I got excited, and then it was actually above average length and girth. You informed me I was what women called "a grower, not a shower." When you informed me of that it ended a feeling of inferiority that had dogged me since I had hit puberty. It made me feel even better when you told me I was almost a little too big. I'm not sure I believed that, but you always had a way of making me feel wanted.
You locked your legs behind me and wrapped me up in the tightest hug you could muster. None of it was enough to slow me down. I plunged in and out of you with abandon, every in stroke grinding into you as deeply as I could. Every out stroke I pulled almost all the way out before opening a path to your center all over again. Every time I was all the way in you made a yelping sound, and you exhaled every time on my way back out.
In not time at all you were coming for me. I told you how good that was. It made me proud of you when you came so hard. I wanted you to come so hard you couldn't breathe. I always tried to make it happen. I pulled your neck against my shoulder to make it harder for you to draw oxygen. You taught me to do that because it got you off harder.
We both sometimes wondered if it would kill the other person when we fucked. We had made our love play into a blood sport. We weren't going into it lightly. We were bad ass when it came to having sex with each other. You always impressed me. You were a fucking Amazon warrior goddess in bed. I couldn't even imagine somebody who would be better at it than you.
You came and came, moaning and then screaming because I wouldn't stop until I was done. Somewhere far away from where my cock was impaling you I felt you clawing my back to shreds. I could almost feel the blood as it dripped down my skin onto the ground. My cock was so hard it had gone beyond painfully stiff. The pressure in my balls kept building, until finally I came too.
There was an explosion inside my head that looked like the 4th of July. The pleasure was so intense I'm positive my heart did stop for a few seconds. I couldn't move. The shakes I got weren't obvious or easy to see, but they meant I had totally lost control of my motor functions for a few seconds. When I came back to reality my first thought was of getting dressed again. I had totally forgotten we were at an abandoned plantation house in the middle of fucking nowhere.
You looked at me and started laughing. I don't even remember what you said. It was something like, "Are you sure you're okay, baby?" I know I didn't answer you. I'm not sure what I would have said if I had tried.
I felt better after I was dressed, which took me longer than you. I sat down, because I really needed to. You giggled at me again, and I mentioned how fast you could get dressed if it was important. You hit me on the shoulder. I could hear a little thunder in the distance, and the clouds looked a little darker than they had when we first got there.
It looked like we would have to go home, back to where all the people and insanity was. We held hands and looked at the sky for a while before we left. Everything had a way of looking beautiful when I was with you. I couldn't even imagine what it would be like if you weren't there.
And that's what I mean by emotional content. That's what I mean by saying that I don't create trash. I am an artist, not a pornographer. I feel very sorry for anyone who hasn't felt so close to another human being. There is no greater pleasure than being in love. I sometimes understand why so many people hate though. They hate because they don't have love. It's wrong that they hate, and that hatred likely keeps them from true happiness. I'm glad I'm not the sort of person who has nothing but hatred.
I'm a lover. This was fiction. I have felt the same sort of love for every woman I have ever been with. They were all so beautiful, inside and out. God gave me something incredible. He gave me the gift of communication. Because of that gift I have known love so many times. I always have more than enough to go around.
I'm looking for a lover again right now. I always give one hundred percent. If you see me remember that I give myself away freely. All you have to do is make sure I know you want me. I'll give it to you. I can't think of anything I'd like more than to give you all my love.
About 14 years ago I quit writing erotica. It's easiest to explain as it involves the expectations of readers. People who enjoy reading about sexuality and freedom of sexual expression are very greedy about those feelings. They always want more.
The orgasm is the ultimate addiction because it's always free and always available. Once people find something they enjoy sexually, they have a tendency to return to it. If it has something to do with the written word, then people want more words, more stories. With my erotica it means they want more of me.
What is written here is an extension of my thoughts and consciousness. The cohesion of the words flows from my own essence. When it's presented to the world for people to read, they are being given a part of myself. With heightened expectations, with a sense of urgency or demand, what there is of me begins to diminish. As that happens the writing becomes less and less meaningful, until finally it is meaningless. That makes erotica worthless as well. Without my emotional involvement it's just dirty. It's no longer art.
I am an artist with words. Sounds and imagines have been a small part of my self expression, but that's a tiny percentage of what I have created using words. I don't write dirty stories. Creating pornography does not make me feel good, and so I do not do it. Even if sometimes what I write is extremely sexual, sensual and erotic, it contains my heart and soul. There's a very big difference.
This blog isn't ever going to be an assembly line for tawdry fantasies. The post started here two nights ago should have been finished that night. It wasn't honest, and so it tapered off. It's very important from my perspective that things like that don't happen, or else the words will stop coming out altogether.
To be honest, truly honest, takes focus and concentration. Let me show you what it means when erotica is not pornography. True sensuality is butterflies in your stomach. Sexuality is like a warm ball of light that expands and intensifies until it becomes a ball of spiritual fire and energy that engulfs its creators with pleasure and emotion.
It's like driving into the country in a convertible with the top down. It's like late spring on a Sunday morning. The wind is cool and there's a hint of morning moisture as it whips and flies across our skin. There are just enough clouds in the sky to keep the sun from hitting us long enough for us to heat up uncomfortably, and the temperature is in the mid 70's.
It was said that it is that way, and so being must be examined for the barest of instances. It is like that because those moments live on forever, but the moments have already happened. So it was like that, and in the future they will be like that. True timelessness knows no tense or history, no present future; no future passed us by.
We stopped at the old abandoned plantation house that once belonged to my dead great grandparents. We pulled up into the shell driveway, which was barely visible after all the years of disuse. I got out and walked around to your side of the car to open the door for you. The scene was like something out of a painting from a period of art that never existed, and will never exist in the future.
I held your hand as you stepped out and stood next to me. Your hand was so small compared to mine, so dainty. I didn't say anything because you didn't like it when anyone thought of you as fragile or precious. You didn't wear nail polish, but your nails looked better than those of people who do. I worried when I held your hand, because you felt too thin. It killed me to think society may have convinced you to stay thin instead of eating right and eating well.
You looked at me and I gazed back at you as your eyes caught mine and held them for a moment. Looking into your eyes felt like I had just let go of a rope that was holding me to the earth. It was like I could see stars and clouds and comets and moons, but none of them meant anything compared to you. You kept me from getting lost by smiling. Your happiness dragged me back to standing next to you. The distant galaxies of your pupils would have to wait.
There was a small strand of your hair hanging down over your face. You spent so much time on your hair, trying to make it look good. You always looked beautiful to me. It wouldn't have mattered if you had shaved your head, or if you had never done anything but brush it out straight. It was like you. There was nothing about it I didn't find wonderful.
The old house was falling apart. The roof was caved in and half of the porch. Some of the massive beams were cypress, but the place hadn't belonged to my family in two generations. It was just slowly giving in to time, the weather, the wind and the rain. I wanted to take you up to the second floor, but it was obvious the stairs weren't safe anymore. We could see through the front door that half of them were gone and the other half looked to be close on their heels.
The condition of the house didn't really affect our plans. We wanted to have a picnic in the country. We also wanted to get away from civilization and all the people. That vanishing testament to a history of suffering and delusional grandeur definitely fit the bill.
The old plantation was fifteen miles west of the Mississippi smack in the middle of nowhere. Anybody who didn't know how to get there would never find it with a map. I couldn't explain how to get there, and I had made the trip many times. Suffice it to say that the road was traveled very lightly.
I helped get the picnic set up. I spread out the blanket under a live oak out behind the house. There was a stretch of gravel and bare dirt from the house to the tree. The grass didn't like it under the tree or in the compacted earth. That meant that under the tree was a perfect place to sit down, eat and enjoy being alone with each other.
I helped you bring the food. We had little quarter summer sausage sandwiches with little slices of Swiss cheese on them. There were fresh strawberries and herbal crackers with some kind of spread on top that were heavenly. We didn't bring a lot of food though, because really we just wanted to be together.
When we finished eating you stuck the stuff inside the basket (where you found the basket I just don't know). You scooched over and climbed on top me while I was sill sitting Indian style. You straddled my lap and plopped down so we were face to face. You smelled so good being close to you made me feel high.
We talked while we held each and kissed now and then. You told me that you'd love me forever. I told you that I knew. We made the soft cooing sounds young lovers make when they are very close to each other. I told you I couldn't begin to describe to you how much you meant to me. I tried to find words to tell you, but there was just an empty place in the part of the human vocabulary devoted to undying love.
There were tears in the corners of your eyes. When I saw them the sight pulled at tiny strings hanging from my heart. I reached up my hand to brush them away as they started to roll down your cheeks. I looked at you with a question in my eyes, and I could see an answer coming back from you.
All of our thoughts and words were coming out of us backwards. There were no sounds because our thoughts were too loud to hear anything else. The sunshine was falling from the earth up into the sky, as the smallest of all smallest things moved intricately across tiny planes where oxygen molecules were as giants, exploding into themselves with nothing to hide. The pain and the gorgeousness of loving someone so intensely... time stopped for it; no ideas exist there and so no words could ever be brought back.
In that instant my lips were moving closer to yours. Your eyes told me love and my every countenanced breath and labored measuring moved from one tiny point to another, which should not be possible at all. Somewhere inside the minutiae there are infinite dimensions... gulfs of darkness and clusters of stars that define twinkle and blinking slowly, circularly, respond to every thought with images and encrusted crystals standing end to end. And of more not much could be said.
As I kissed you existence flowed back into itself from where nothing exists into where everything exists. I told you that I loved you more strongly than anything the world has ever known before. Every syllable, heartbeat and breath made it the truth. I ran my fingers through your hair as you pulled me in as tight as we could be, together.
We became one being with two hearts but only one mind, and with no thoughts but that now is the now. Now is forever. Is more, and has never been lost as the present, the greatest gift. Even though left in the distant past, that love does not fade nor ever diminish in stature nor ever be forgotten.
We separated and I helped you stand up. On our feet again you kissed me lightly on the lips and pulled away. I reached for you as you were backing up, but you yanked your hand back from mine. Laughing you stepped quickly backwards and my movements looked awkward and silly. You said, "Nannie nannie boo boo" and giggled because I could not get you.
I made a concerted effort to chase you down, and you let me grab you by the back porch of the old plantation house. We tussled for a second, and being wrapped up with you turned me on so quickly it may as well have been a faucet of desire. Where one second we were sweet and in love beyond all human understanding, in the next second we were dying to consummate our love once more. We were constantly consummating our love back then, much like now, or as I always liked to say, fucking like bunnies who found they only had one day to live.
You tried to set the pace, but I grabbed you and tore the shirt off of you, over your head. You acted as though you were struggling. As I spun you around and bent you over the front porch it was obvious you were not. You wanted me as badly as I wanted you.
You unbuttoned your shorts just in time to save the button as I yanked them down. They landed on the ground around your ankles. Your perfect ass was right in front of me. As you spread your legs to make it easier for me your perfect sex was right in front of me as well. My cock felt like it was going to explode. It was so incredibly sexy just being behind you like that, but I had to have it all. I tore my shorts off of me too, as fast as I could.
I was inside you within a minute of us getting off the picnic blanket. All the foreplay we needed was had in eating strawberries while we watched each other. I knew your body so well. I could tell from feeling you just before I pushed in that you were easily as wet as you needed to be, maybe even a little bit too wet. Neither one of us understood why we were always dying to have sex. We just knew that we were, and so we were once again.
I slowed way down to keep from coming too soon. There wasn't any fun in coming without you. I was firm that no woman should ever be left behind with me behind her, except that you were every woman I ever needed. I slowed down so slow you asked me to stop teasing you. I made sure not to make contact with your clit as I pulled in and out of you in long, agonizingly measured strokes. That made you moan very loudly.
I reached around your right leg and rubbed your most sensitive spot lightly. I kept wetting my fingers inside you to make sure there wasn't a hint of friction from playing with you. We both always took great care not to allow chafing or irritation, because that would put an end to our play for three or four days, or worse, even longer. I could feel you begin to tremble, a little. I knew that what I was doing could ruin your whole experience, and that would not do.
I pulled out and got you to turn around facing me. I put your shorts on the edge of the porch for you to sit on. It seemed like good luck was on our side, because the porch was exactly the right height for me to do you sitting down while I stood.
You opened your legs really wide and stuck your tongue out at me, which was the sexiest thing. You had a way of making the simplest thing seem absolutely wanton and lewd. As I came in close you guided me into you. I fit into you perfectly, at least that's what it felt like to me, and what you also said. You groaned as I pushed until the tip was somewhere deep inside of you. I could feel a limit right before the entire shaft was buried, but I pushed until you had all of me. You cursed quietly a couple of times.
You once told me my cock was the most interesting thing. It was tiny until I got excited, and then it was actually above average length and girth. You informed me I was what women called "a grower, not a shower." When you informed me of that it ended a feeling of inferiority that had dogged me since I had hit puberty. It made me feel even better when you told me I was almost a little too big. I'm not sure I believed that, but you always had a way of making me feel wanted.
You locked your legs behind me and wrapped me up in the tightest hug you could muster. None of it was enough to slow me down. I plunged in and out of you with abandon, every in stroke grinding into you as deeply as I could. Every out stroke I pulled almost all the way out before opening a path to your center all over again. Every time I was all the way in you made a yelping sound, and you exhaled every time on my way back out.
In not time at all you were coming for me. I told you how good that was. It made me proud of you when you came so hard. I wanted you to come so hard you couldn't breathe. I always tried to make it happen. I pulled your neck against my shoulder to make it harder for you to draw oxygen. You taught me to do that because it got you off harder.
We both sometimes wondered if it would kill the other person when we fucked. We had made our love play into a blood sport. We weren't going into it lightly. We were bad ass when it came to having sex with each other. You always impressed me. You were a fucking Amazon warrior goddess in bed. I couldn't even imagine somebody who would be better at it than you.
You came and came, moaning and then screaming because I wouldn't stop until I was done. Somewhere far away from where my cock was impaling you I felt you clawing my back to shreds. I could almost feel the blood as it dripped down my skin onto the ground. My cock was so hard it had gone beyond painfully stiff. The pressure in my balls kept building, until finally I came too.
There was an explosion inside my head that looked like the 4th of July. The pleasure was so intense I'm positive my heart did stop for a few seconds. I couldn't move. The shakes I got weren't obvious or easy to see, but they meant I had totally lost control of my motor functions for a few seconds. When I came back to reality my first thought was of getting dressed again. I had totally forgotten we were at an abandoned plantation house in the middle of fucking nowhere.
You looked at me and started laughing. I don't even remember what you said. It was something like, "Are you sure you're okay, baby?" I know I didn't answer you. I'm not sure what I would have said if I had tried.
I felt better after I was dressed, which took me longer than you. I sat down, because I really needed to. You giggled at me again, and I mentioned how fast you could get dressed if it was important. You hit me on the shoulder. I could hear a little thunder in the distance, and the clouds looked a little darker than they had when we first got there.
It looked like we would have to go home, back to where all the people and insanity was. We held hands and looked at the sky for a while before we left. Everything had a way of looking beautiful when I was with you. I couldn't even imagine what it would be like if you weren't there.
And that's what I mean by emotional content. That's what I mean by saying that I don't create trash. I am an artist, not a pornographer. I feel very sorry for anyone who hasn't felt so close to another human being. There is no greater pleasure than being in love. I sometimes understand why so many people hate though. They hate because they don't have love. It's wrong that they hate, and that hatred likely keeps them from true happiness. I'm glad I'm not the sort of person who has nothing but hatred.
I'm a lover. This was fiction. I have felt the same sort of love for every woman I have ever been with. They were all so beautiful, inside and out. God gave me something incredible. He gave me the gift of communication. Because of that gift I have known love so many times. I always have more than enough to go around.
I'm looking for a lover again right now. I always give one hundred percent. If you see me remember that I give myself away freely. All you have to do is make sure I know you want me. I'll give it to you. I can't think of anything I'd like more than to give you all my love.
6.23.2009
Room Service
Lisa had been in the Royal Orleans three of the four nights she was supposed to be there. She had flown to New Orleans for a conference on risk assessment. The conference was so boring she wanted to hang herself during the intermission of the very first meeting. She had signed up for the conference to get away from the office for a few days, and because she thought New Orleans would be fun. She was still waiting for the fun part.
Lisa enjoyed the time in the French Quarter, although it was not exactly what she remembered. She had memories of it being no holds barred, but now she found it uptight and expensive. She noticed the hurricane had changed the city a lot, and she didn't mean the flood. There was an over all sense of depression and gloom hanging over a place that had once been very laid back and relaxed.
For her last night she didn't intend to do any of the things normal tourists do. Lisa wasn't going out to eat. She wasn't going to any bars, although she planned to have a couple of treats. She had made a breakthrough on enjoying the last bit of her trip to the crescent city. Lisa bit her bottom lip in anticipation.
The night before she had gone to a local hangout called The Abby. The first two nights she explored the tourist bars and gay bars on Bourbon Street, which were all packed and very loud. The Abby was completely different than those places. It wasn't lit up with expensive lighting, the music wasn't loud and there was a place to sit at the end of the bar furthest from the door. She had settled in to see what the place had going on.
After Lisa's second hurricane daiquiri with extra shots a woman came through the front door. The newly arrived woman was tall and had long black hair in a loose ponytail down her back. Lisa took one look at her and knew immediately what the black haired woman enjoyed.
The woman was wearing mid-thigh black leather boots with rows of little buckles from the top of her feet all the way up her legs. The straps and buckles were black outlined with red. The woman was wearing a black leather mini skirt and an impossibly binding corset with matching buckles, although it also had cords and eyelets for additional tightening.
What caught Lisa's eye more than anything was the leash the woman was holding in her right hand. She was holding the chain leash by a leather strap at the end of it. The other end of the leash was fastened to a collar worn around the neck of a really good looking guy who had to be in his twenties. He didn't have a shirt on, and looked to be in fantastic shape.
Lisa realized she had been blatantly staring at the couple after they entered the bar. She grew up in a small town in Pennsylvania. Lisa had never seen anything like a woman leading a man around on a leash. It was right out of one of her sexual fantasies, so she couldn't look away. The only fantasy she had that was naughtier than having a male sex slave was being a sex slave herself. Just thinking about it made her get a little warm and sensitive
The woman came over and introduced herself, obviously because Lisa couldn't find anything else to look at. "Hi there. My name is Olivia," the black haired woman said to Lisa in a warm matter-of-fact tone. Olivia almost stuck he right hand out to take Lisa's, but realized the complication of doing so with a leash in her hand. Instead Olivia stuck out her left hand a little bit awkwardly, surely because she had to be right handed.
Olivia was about to say something when Lisa cut her off. "Is this your boyfriend?" Lisa asked pointedly about the guy wearing the collar. At close range his abdomen muscles were very distinct. The previously unknown detail that he was wearing tight leather jeans leaped right out at her.
"Goodness no. This is just one of my slaves. I think his name is Jacques, but I forget some times. I don't need to know his name. He pleases me when he is ordered to do so, but most of the time I rent him out to please other women."
"You... rent him out... to please other women?" Lisa asked as if she did not understand the words at all.
Lisa wasn't looking at Olivia at all anymore. Jacques was proving to be far more interesting. Jacques looked at her and smiled. He was not a big or tall man, but he was very well proportioned. He was about 5'10" tall, with curly dark brown hair and a dark olive complexion. He had eyes that hovered between green and brown. They were quite possibly the most interesting eyes she had ever seen, and she found herself lost for a moment.
"Why yes, dear. I most certainly do rent him out. Are you interested?" Olivia asked her pointedly.
"I want to say yes, but this is happening so fast."
"Maybe a little sample will help you make up your mind," Olivia said. She looked over her right shoulder at Jacques and told him, "Show this wonderful young woman what you can do for her. No hands either, and you had better be good."
Jacques moseyed up to Lisa and pressed in really close to her. He kept his hands behind his back as he smelled her neck slowly. Lisa could feel the warm air on the bare flesh just below her left cheek. He blew on her left ear softly and sucked on the lobe for just a split second.
Lisa could feel a growing bulge in the leather pants Jacques was wearing. She got goosebumps all over and moistened as her skin flushed a dark red. Jacques was moving almost his entire body against her, back and forth and up and down. His leather pants and bare skin were driving Lisa out of her mind.
Lisa's enjoyment was interrupted by Olivia, who said, "Come along, Jacques. Leave the nice lady alone."
Olivia turned as if to walk away. It occurred to Lisa she was dealing with a very experienced sexual facilitator, but it didn't matter. Lisa knew exactly how she wanted to end her short stay in New Orleans. For that matter she also knew what she wanted for her birthday and Christmas combined.
"How much, Olivia?"
Olivia took one last look at her, to make sure Lisa wasn't a cop. The sight made her snicker almost imperceptibly. "For $400 you can have him for the night."
Olivia expected Lisa to bargain or appear shocked. What she go instead was the quick vocal response, "Okay. What do I have to do? Can I take him home now?"
Olivia smiled very broadly and laughed. She liked the young woman. A lot of people would be shy or timid. Lisa knew what she wanted, and she apparently wanted it yesterday. Unfortunately Olivia and Jacques had a prior engagement.
"He can come round to see you tomorrow night. We have plans for tonight," Olivia said mischievously. Lisa could swear she saw Jacques redden a little even in the shadowy gloom of The Abbey. "Why don't you tell us where you'll be tomorrow night."
Lisa had told them. She didn't pay any attention to the seminars the next day, the last day of the conference. She was so excited she had problems sitting still waiting for the hour to arrive.
Lisa was waiting in one of the hotel chairs looking out the window onto one of the French Quarter streets when the doorbell rang. She walked over to the door and peeped out the front. It was Jacques all right. She thought he looked good enough to eat. She opened the door to let him in, and knew immediately she was about to have the time of her life.
continued...
Excuse any errors.
It's way past my peak writing hours.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Note: I've been working on something else that was for here. It's becoming something far different than erotica, so it won't be posted here. That's why I had to write this from scratch tonight.
Lisa enjoyed the time in the French Quarter, although it was not exactly what she remembered. She had memories of it being no holds barred, but now she found it uptight and expensive. She noticed the hurricane had changed the city a lot, and she didn't mean the flood. There was an over all sense of depression and gloom hanging over a place that had once been very laid back and relaxed.
For her last night she didn't intend to do any of the things normal tourists do. Lisa wasn't going out to eat. She wasn't going to any bars, although she planned to have a couple of treats. She had made a breakthrough on enjoying the last bit of her trip to the crescent city. Lisa bit her bottom lip in anticipation.
The night before she had gone to a local hangout called The Abby. The first two nights she explored the tourist bars and gay bars on Bourbon Street, which were all packed and very loud. The Abby was completely different than those places. It wasn't lit up with expensive lighting, the music wasn't loud and there was a place to sit at the end of the bar furthest from the door. She had settled in to see what the place had going on.
After Lisa's second hurricane daiquiri with extra shots a woman came through the front door. The newly arrived woman was tall and had long black hair in a loose ponytail down her back. Lisa took one look at her and knew immediately what the black haired woman enjoyed.
The woman was wearing mid-thigh black leather boots with rows of little buckles from the top of her feet all the way up her legs. The straps and buckles were black outlined with red. The woman was wearing a black leather mini skirt and an impossibly binding corset with matching buckles, although it also had cords and eyelets for additional tightening.
What caught Lisa's eye more than anything was the leash the woman was holding in her right hand. She was holding the chain leash by a leather strap at the end of it. The other end of the leash was fastened to a collar worn around the neck of a really good looking guy who had to be in his twenties. He didn't have a shirt on, and looked to be in fantastic shape.
Lisa realized she had been blatantly staring at the couple after they entered the bar. She grew up in a small town in Pennsylvania. Lisa had never seen anything like a woman leading a man around on a leash. It was right out of one of her sexual fantasies, so she couldn't look away. The only fantasy she had that was naughtier than having a male sex slave was being a sex slave herself. Just thinking about it made her get a little warm and sensitive
The woman came over and introduced herself, obviously because Lisa couldn't find anything else to look at. "Hi there. My name is Olivia," the black haired woman said to Lisa in a warm matter-of-fact tone. Olivia almost stuck he right hand out to take Lisa's, but realized the complication of doing so with a leash in her hand. Instead Olivia stuck out her left hand a little bit awkwardly, surely because she had to be right handed.
Olivia was about to say something when Lisa cut her off. "Is this your boyfriend?" Lisa asked pointedly about the guy wearing the collar. At close range his abdomen muscles were very distinct. The previously unknown detail that he was wearing tight leather jeans leaped right out at her.
"Goodness no. This is just one of my slaves. I think his name is Jacques, but I forget some times. I don't need to know his name. He pleases me when he is ordered to do so, but most of the time I rent him out to please other women."
"You... rent him out... to please other women?" Lisa asked as if she did not understand the words at all.
Lisa wasn't looking at Olivia at all anymore. Jacques was proving to be far more interesting. Jacques looked at her and smiled. He was not a big or tall man, but he was very well proportioned. He was about 5'10" tall, with curly dark brown hair and a dark olive complexion. He had eyes that hovered between green and brown. They were quite possibly the most interesting eyes she had ever seen, and she found herself lost for a moment.
"Why yes, dear. I most certainly do rent him out. Are you interested?" Olivia asked her pointedly.
"I want to say yes, but this is happening so fast."
"Maybe a little sample will help you make up your mind," Olivia said. She looked over her right shoulder at Jacques and told him, "Show this wonderful young woman what you can do for her. No hands either, and you had better be good."
Jacques moseyed up to Lisa and pressed in really close to her. He kept his hands behind his back as he smelled her neck slowly. Lisa could feel the warm air on the bare flesh just below her left cheek. He blew on her left ear softly and sucked on the lobe for just a split second.
Lisa could feel a growing bulge in the leather pants Jacques was wearing. She got goosebumps all over and moistened as her skin flushed a dark red. Jacques was moving almost his entire body against her, back and forth and up and down. His leather pants and bare skin were driving Lisa out of her mind.
Lisa's enjoyment was interrupted by Olivia, who said, "Come along, Jacques. Leave the nice lady alone."
Olivia turned as if to walk away. It occurred to Lisa she was dealing with a very experienced sexual facilitator, but it didn't matter. Lisa knew exactly how she wanted to end her short stay in New Orleans. For that matter she also knew what she wanted for her birthday and Christmas combined.
"How much, Olivia?"
Olivia took one last look at her, to make sure Lisa wasn't a cop. The sight made her snicker almost imperceptibly. "For $400 you can have him for the night."
Olivia expected Lisa to bargain or appear shocked. What she go instead was the quick vocal response, "Okay. What do I have to do? Can I take him home now?"
Olivia smiled very broadly and laughed. She liked the young woman. A lot of people would be shy or timid. Lisa knew what she wanted, and she apparently wanted it yesterday. Unfortunately Olivia and Jacques had a prior engagement.
"He can come round to see you tomorrow night. We have plans for tonight," Olivia said mischievously. Lisa could swear she saw Jacques redden a little even in the shadowy gloom of The Abbey. "Why don't you tell us where you'll be tomorrow night."
Lisa had told them. She didn't pay any attention to the seminars the next day, the last day of the conference. She was so excited she had problems sitting still waiting for the hour to arrive.
Lisa was waiting in one of the hotel chairs looking out the window onto one of the French Quarter streets when the doorbell rang. She walked over to the door and peeped out the front. It was Jacques all right. She thought he looked good enough to eat. She opened the door to let him in, and knew immediately she was about to have the time of her life.
continued...
Excuse any errors.
It's way past my peak writing hours.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Note: I've been working on something else that was for here. It's becoming something far different than erotica, so it won't be posted here. That's why I had to write this from scratch tonight.
6.17.2009
Little Story about Mark and Anne
Mark and Anne talked as he put his laundry into one of the washers. She couldn't believe this guy had just popped up right in front of her with laundry while she was looking for the laundry room. Anne tried not to get too excited though. In her experience most guys were only interested in sex.
Anne wanted the physical attention, to be sure, but that wasn't the end of it. Even if she did have just a vacation fling, she still wanted it to be meaningful and positive. From the way Mark spoke and acted she didn't think he was one of those guys who would hit and run. He seemed different to her. She found herself thinking about how stupid she could be, because she had only known him five minutes. She was also a really bad judge of men's character.
Mark was holding out his hand before she realized he had stopped talking. He had been telling her about the waves at a beach not far from the house he grew up in. Anne wished she had heard what he said before he held out his hand. She was starting to think that she would mess up everything with Mark before they even got to know each other.
"You were daydreaming. I do that a lot. I was just going to throw your clothes in with mine if you wanted me to," Mark said quietly. "I'm not poor, but I'm also not rich. The two dollars they want you to pay for each load of clothes is highway robbery, no matter how you look at it."
"That's really nice of you. Thank you," Anne told him as she held out her laundry sack. "You were talking about Hawaii, and I started thinking about how beautiful it must be. Your voice is almost hypnotic."
She laughed to cover up the constant internal critiquing of what she was saying. Mark smiled at her when she laughed, and somehow that made her genuinely more cheerful. He had a way of making her feel like her inadequacy wasn't a big deal. That's why she thought he might be different.
"Why did you leave Hawaii?" she asked him.
"There weren't enough jobs that paid well enough to make it worth staying. And it was a lonely place," he answered. He did not continue. Anne sensed something just beneath the surface of what he said.
"It was lonely there? Do you mean there weren't many people?"
"No, there were plenty of people. Well, it was nothing like one of the cities here on the mainland, but there are big towns. I wasn't far away from civilization or anything," he said. He could see the inquisitive look on her face so he added, "But I was involved with someone for a really long time. When we broke up she kept all our friends, and I got to be alone. That sounds so self pitying. I mean --"
Anne cut him off. "You don't have to tell me all that. I'm really sorry I brought it up. I hope I didn't bring up bad memories. I just wanted to know more about you... since we're sharing a washing machine now."
"It's okay. It was last year anyway. It wasn't that recent. I'm not sure even I realized how the whole thing has still been getting me down, until you asked me about it."
There were a few long moments of awkward silence between scattered minutes of small talk. The time was marked only by the sound of the spinning washing machine. Anne really couldn't think of anything to say. She was about to say something completely irrelevant, from way out in left field. Mark beat her to the punch.
"I'm only going to be here a couple of days. You seem like a really nice girl. I just don't want to lead you on concerning anything in the future. I have to be back at work less than 72 hours from now, in Atlanta. I can't imagine you'd want to hang out with me considering we have no time to spend together."
"But that's not true. 72 hours can be a long, long time. If we fill the time up right, it could be something we always remember," she told him as straightforward as she had the guts to.
Anne was actually surprised she was able to talk to him with such self confidence. Trusting herself had become a casualty of her last two failed relationships. She desperately needed to break the cycle of assholes. The washing machine finished as those thoughts echoed around in her head.
"Allow me," Anne told him. She transferred the contents of the washer to the dryer above it. The machines were all like that, washer on bottom and dryer on top, except for two over-sized sets of machines at the back of the room. She finished and started it up. Mark paid for the washer and she for the dryer. Anne knew she was getting off light in the exchange.
When she turned around she caught Mark looking at her. The way he looked at her caused her to moisten considerably. Her lower lip quivered as she returned his gaze. At that moment she didn't care about the past or the future, and there was nothing left inside her but want.
Mark was sitting on the washing machine next to the one they had just used. He had his legs spread, and Anne could make out a bulge running part of the way down the right leg of his shorts. She stepped up to him and put her arms around him. He did the same thing in one fluid motion. She made sure she was pressed up tightly against his manhood as they started kissing.
Anne could feel Mark's cock stiffening as their tongues met and investigated each other. He put his right hand on her ass and squeezed her left cheek, pulling her in even closer. She could even feel his pulse beneath the fabric of his shorts and through her flimsy t-shirt. She backed up and pulled back in with her mouth, just enough to break contact. Anne tasted his mouth from a different angle every time.
She put both of her hands under Mark's shirt. She could make out every individual muscle as she ran her hands over his smooth flesh. Even his smell was driving Anne crazy. By that time she wasn't smelling cologne, she was smelling him. She thought he smelled sort of like faint ocean spray and dry leather. She couldn't put her finger on it. Anne pulled off his shirt and began running her lips all over his upper body, sniffing very lightly as she went. She thought the smell had to be getting her drunk.
Mark stood up off of the washer, strode over to the door to the laundry room and closed it. He was surprised there was a lock on the door. He returned to Anne in nothing flat. He unclasped her bra in one quick snap, and her breasts came free under her t-shirt. He pulled her shirt and bra over her head, and admired the beautiful sight of her underneath. Anne pulled in close to him again, but she got a little surprise as her picked her up and sat her on the washer.
Anne could only play with his hair as he held her, with his arms behind her back. He was licking and sucking her nipples. He used his arms to reposition her slightly as he switched back and forth between her two breasts. He nipples had hardened and stiffened to such an extreme they were causing her a little discomfort. When Mark noticed how tight and swollen they were he started nipping at them. He bit them lightly at first and then somewhat harder as Anne moaned.
Mark turned his attention to Anne's shorts. She was too impatient to wait for him to undo them, so she skinned out of them in an instant. The metal of the washing machine lid was cold on her ass, but her pussy was so hot Anne thought it might go to her head. She had burning goosebumps all over her body as Mark examined her.
Mark took time out from driving Anne crazy by playing with her breasts to making her crazy by focusing on her sex. She turned bright red as he put his hands on her either side of her and pulled her open just a little bit. She was uncomfortably flush, and wanted him worse than she had wanted anything in a long, long time.
Anne came off of the washing machine. She had concluded that was slowing things down. She hadn't had sex in five months, and that resulted in a lot of built up pressure. She fumbled at the bow knot holding Mark's shorts up. Anne was already naked, and she decided it was getting past the time that he should be too.
"Hold on. I've got it," Mark said to her as he pulled the knot loose. "Are you sure you want to do this? Am I not going too fast?"
"Yeah. No, I'm naked because I was having doubts. Look, we can do this slow later. You can show me all your tricks. Whatever, but I'm going to explode if I can't get off in the next five minutes."
Mark giggled. Anne almost laughed too, and she wished she could have. The problem was that she was deadly serious. She was worried she might literally die if she couldn't get him inside her soon. Mark took a moment to pull out a condom, and Anne helped him roll it down his length securely. She was really glad he had that, even if she couldn't figure out where the hell it came from. She did make a halfhearted chuckle come out right before Mark picked her up.
Anne could feel the metal of the washing machine again, but this time she wasn't all the way on it. Mark was basically holding her up, but there was just enough of her in contact with the edge to keep him from having to hold up all of her weight.
Mark was kicking off the shorts as he hefted her, and she go a good look at his cock right before he was about to be inside her. She liked what she saw, a lot. He was circumcised, which she always considered very important for sanitary reasons. She could see that he didn't have an extremely long one, but his girth was way above average. A second later she sucked in air as he started pushing his way into her. "Way thicker than average," Anne thought to herself as it went in.
Anne wondered if Mark would stretch her out, because it was such a tight fit. After he was in all the way he started pulling back and plunging back in. Within a minute a lot of her consciousness centered on the incredible sensation of being full and empty. Marked rubbed against her clit with every down stroke, grinding into her to make sure he touched her inside as deeply as possible. Anne could feel him reaching places inside her she had never felt before.
The sensation of having Mark touch her like no man had ever been ale to was making Anne go somewhat out of her mind. Way back in the back of her awareness she could feel him squashing her clitoris between his padded pelvis and hers. The feeling almost became an entity all to itself, a creature of pleasure she could feel squirming between their bodies at the exact place where they met, where she was most sensitive.
The feeling coming from her loins grew and grew. The pleasure from her clit reached out to tiny, thin threads of pleasure all over inside Anne. It felt as though the connections between all the pleasures grew in intensity, becoming bigger and bigger and bigger. No longer were there separate feelings connected to each other. Her pleasure had spread equally through all parts of her, and at the center of it Mark was still pulling in and out of her.
Just as the pleasure began to reach a critical point Mark picked her all the way off of the washing machine. He was holding her in midair and pounding into her with abandon. The pleasure exploded from her pussy in wave after wave of exquisite release.
Anne's orgasm was so intense she was seeing colors behind her eyelids. It was like she was in a tunnel, and everything that moved past her reached deep into her and pulled out another uniquely pleasurable sensation. Her body was trembling violently, and she found a few tears had steamed down her cheeks. She had no idea when or why, but she knew it felt good.
At that moment Mark came. Anne thanked God for Mark's sense as she felt a massive expansion of the rubber inside her. Mark sat her back down on top of the washing machine, and pulled out gingerly. Sure enough, Anne was right, and she was super thankful it wasn't inside her. She could only imagine the sloppiness of the elevator ride up to her condo.
Anne jumped down and began throwing her clothes back on. Mark was faster than she was. In seconds they looked like nothing had ever happened, except for the part where they looked like they had just had sex with each other. Right then the dryer buzzed.
"Anne, would you like to go get dinner with me?" Mark asked as he separated their clothes.
"That sounds great. Don't think I'm just gonna jump into bed with you after it's over though. I'm not that type of girl," Anne said with a smirk.
"Well, I am that type of boy though," Mark said with a smile. "You may have to watch your self around me."
"I believe that. I certainly believe that," Anne said in a slightly sultry tone.
Anne had forgotten all about the rain. The vacation had already become a good one, and she was pretty sure it was going to get better. Not only that, they didn't have to worry about a break up. It was all good.
Anne wanted the physical attention, to be sure, but that wasn't the end of it. Even if she did have just a vacation fling, she still wanted it to be meaningful and positive. From the way Mark spoke and acted she didn't think he was one of those guys who would hit and run. He seemed different to her. She found herself thinking about how stupid she could be, because she had only known him five minutes. She was also a really bad judge of men's character.
Mark was holding out his hand before she realized he had stopped talking. He had been telling her about the waves at a beach not far from the house he grew up in. Anne wished she had heard what he said before he held out his hand. She was starting to think that she would mess up everything with Mark before they even got to know each other.
"You were daydreaming. I do that a lot. I was just going to throw your clothes in with mine if you wanted me to," Mark said quietly. "I'm not poor, but I'm also not rich. The two dollars they want you to pay for each load of clothes is highway robbery, no matter how you look at it."
"That's really nice of you. Thank you," Anne told him as she held out her laundry sack. "You were talking about Hawaii, and I started thinking about how beautiful it must be. Your voice is almost hypnotic."
She laughed to cover up the constant internal critiquing of what she was saying. Mark smiled at her when she laughed, and somehow that made her genuinely more cheerful. He had a way of making her feel like her inadequacy wasn't a big deal. That's why she thought he might be different.
"Why did you leave Hawaii?" she asked him.
"There weren't enough jobs that paid well enough to make it worth staying. And it was a lonely place," he answered. He did not continue. Anne sensed something just beneath the surface of what he said.
"It was lonely there? Do you mean there weren't many people?"
"No, there were plenty of people. Well, it was nothing like one of the cities here on the mainland, but there are big towns. I wasn't far away from civilization or anything," he said. He could see the inquisitive look on her face so he added, "But I was involved with someone for a really long time. When we broke up she kept all our friends, and I got to be alone. That sounds so self pitying. I mean --"
Anne cut him off. "You don't have to tell me all that. I'm really sorry I brought it up. I hope I didn't bring up bad memories. I just wanted to know more about you... since we're sharing a washing machine now."
"It's okay. It was last year anyway. It wasn't that recent. I'm not sure even I realized how the whole thing has still been getting me down, until you asked me about it."
There were a few long moments of awkward silence between scattered minutes of small talk. The time was marked only by the sound of the spinning washing machine. Anne really couldn't think of anything to say. She was about to say something completely irrelevant, from way out in left field. Mark beat her to the punch.
"I'm only going to be here a couple of days. You seem like a really nice girl. I just don't want to lead you on concerning anything in the future. I have to be back at work less than 72 hours from now, in Atlanta. I can't imagine you'd want to hang out with me considering we have no time to spend together."
"But that's not true. 72 hours can be a long, long time. If we fill the time up right, it could be something we always remember," she told him as straightforward as she had the guts to.
Anne was actually surprised she was able to talk to him with such self confidence. Trusting herself had become a casualty of her last two failed relationships. She desperately needed to break the cycle of assholes. The washing machine finished as those thoughts echoed around in her head.
"Allow me," Anne told him. She transferred the contents of the washer to the dryer above it. The machines were all like that, washer on bottom and dryer on top, except for two over-sized sets of machines at the back of the room. She finished and started it up. Mark paid for the washer and she for the dryer. Anne knew she was getting off light in the exchange.
When she turned around she caught Mark looking at her. The way he looked at her caused her to moisten considerably. Her lower lip quivered as she returned his gaze. At that moment she didn't care about the past or the future, and there was nothing left inside her but want.
Mark was sitting on the washing machine next to the one they had just used. He had his legs spread, and Anne could make out a bulge running part of the way down the right leg of his shorts. She stepped up to him and put her arms around him. He did the same thing in one fluid motion. She made sure she was pressed up tightly against his manhood as they started kissing.
Anne could feel Mark's cock stiffening as their tongues met and investigated each other. He put his right hand on her ass and squeezed her left cheek, pulling her in even closer. She could even feel his pulse beneath the fabric of his shorts and through her flimsy t-shirt. She backed up and pulled back in with her mouth, just enough to break contact. Anne tasted his mouth from a different angle every time.
She put both of her hands under Mark's shirt. She could make out every individual muscle as she ran her hands over his smooth flesh. Even his smell was driving Anne crazy. By that time she wasn't smelling cologne, she was smelling him. She thought he smelled sort of like faint ocean spray and dry leather. She couldn't put her finger on it. Anne pulled off his shirt and began running her lips all over his upper body, sniffing very lightly as she went. She thought the smell had to be getting her drunk.
Mark stood up off of the washer, strode over to the door to the laundry room and closed it. He was surprised there was a lock on the door. He returned to Anne in nothing flat. He unclasped her bra in one quick snap, and her breasts came free under her t-shirt. He pulled her shirt and bra over her head, and admired the beautiful sight of her underneath. Anne pulled in close to him again, but she got a little surprise as her picked her up and sat her on the washer.
Anne could only play with his hair as he held her, with his arms behind her back. He was licking and sucking her nipples. He used his arms to reposition her slightly as he switched back and forth between her two breasts. He nipples had hardened and stiffened to such an extreme they were causing her a little discomfort. When Mark noticed how tight and swollen they were he started nipping at them. He bit them lightly at first and then somewhat harder as Anne moaned.
Mark turned his attention to Anne's shorts. She was too impatient to wait for him to undo them, so she skinned out of them in an instant. The metal of the washing machine lid was cold on her ass, but her pussy was so hot Anne thought it might go to her head. She had burning goosebumps all over her body as Mark examined her.
Mark took time out from driving Anne crazy by playing with her breasts to making her crazy by focusing on her sex. She turned bright red as he put his hands on her either side of her and pulled her open just a little bit. She was uncomfortably flush, and wanted him worse than she had wanted anything in a long, long time.
Anne came off of the washing machine. She had concluded that was slowing things down. She hadn't had sex in five months, and that resulted in a lot of built up pressure. She fumbled at the bow knot holding Mark's shorts up. Anne was already naked, and she decided it was getting past the time that he should be too.
"Hold on. I've got it," Mark said to her as he pulled the knot loose. "Are you sure you want to do this? Am I not going too fast?"
"Yeah. No, I'm naked because I was having doubts. Look, we can do this slow later. You can show me all your tricks. Whatever, but I'm going to explode if I can't get off in the next five minutes."
Mark giggled. Anne almost laughed too, and she wished she could have. The problem was that she was deadly serious. She was worried she might literally die if she couldn't get him inside her soon. Mark took a moment to pull out a condom, and Anne helped him roll it down his length securely. She was really glad he had that, even if she couldn't figure out where the hell it came from. She did make a halfhearted chuckle come out right before Mark picked her up.
Anne could feel the metal of the washing machine again, but this time she wasn't all the way on it. Mark was basically holding her up, but there was just enough of her in contact with the edge to keep him from having to hold up all of her weight.
Mark was kicking off the shorts as he hefted her, and she go a good look at his cock right before he was about to be inside her. She liked what she saw, a lot. He was circumcised, which she always considered very important for sanitary reasons. She could see that he didn't have an extremely long one, but his girth was way above average. A second later she sucked in air as he started pushing his way into her. "Way thicker than average," Anne thought to herself as it went in.
Anne wondered if Mark would stretch her out, because it was such a tight fit. After he was in all the way he started pulling back and plunging back in. Within a minute a lot of her consciousness centered on the incredible sensation of being full and empty. Marked rubbed against her clit with every down stroke, grinding into her to make sure he touched her inside as deeply as possible. Anne could feel him reaching places inside her she had never felt before.
The sensation of having Mark touch her like no man had ever been ale to was making Anne go somewhat out of her mind. Way back in the back of her awareness she could feel him squashing her clitoris between his padded pelvis and hers. The feeling almost became an entity all to itself, a creature of pleasure she could feel squirming between their bodies at the exact place where they met, where she was most sensitive.
The feeling coming from her loins grew and grew. The pleasure from her clit reached out to tiny, thin threads of pleasure all over inside Anne. It felt as though the connections between all the pleasures grew in intensity, becoming bigger and bigger and bigger. No longer were there separate feelings connected to each other. Her pleasure had spread equally through all parts of her, and at the center of it Mark was still pulling in and out of her.
Just as the pleasure began to reach a critical point Mark picked her all the way off of the washing machine. He was holding her in midair and pounding into her with abandon. The pleasure exploded from her pussy in wave after wave of exquisite release.
Anne's orgasm was so intense she was seeing colors behind her eyelids. It was like she was in a tunnel, and everything that moved past her reached deep into her and pulled out another uniquely pleasurable sensation. Her body was trembling violently, and she found a few tears had steamed down her cheeks. She had no idea when or why, but she knew it felt good.
At that moment Mark came. Anne thanked God for Mark's sense as she felt a massive expansion of the rubber inside her. Mark sat her back down on top of the washing machine, and pulled out gingerly. Sure enough, Anne was right, and she was super thankful it wasn't inside her. She could only imagine the sloppiness of the elevator ride up to her condo.
Anne jumped down and began throwing her clothes back on. Mark was faster than she was. In seconds they looked like nothing had ever happened, except for the part where they looked like they had just had sex with each other. Right then the dryer buzzed.
"Anne, would you like to go get dinner with me?" Mark asked as he separated their clothes.
"That sounds great. Don't think I'm just gonna jump into bed with you after it's over though. I'm not that type of girl," Anne said with a smirk.
"Well, I am that type of boy though," Mark said with a smile. "You may have to watch your self around me."
"I believe that. I certainly believe that," Anne said in a slightly sultry tone.
Anne had forgotten all about the rain. The vacation had already become a good one, and she was pretty sure it was going to get better. Not only that, they didn't have to worry about a break up. It was all good.
6.14.2009
The Beach: Part One [Rated G]
Anne was sitting on the balcony of the condo she had rented for $200 a day in Destin, Florida. She had saved for her vacation all year. She had wanted it to be the best week of the year. The rain that hadn't stopped in the three days since she had arrived there made it difficult for her wish to come true. She was happy she at least got to look at the waves.
There was a bag on the floor just inside the door. It contained all of the stuff she was going to be taking down to the beach every day, where she was going to be working on her tan. There was sunscreen to keep her from soaking up harmful UV rays. She had sun glasses so guys couldn't tell she was scoping them out. There were binoculars so she could check out guys that were far away. There was a great big towel, a copy of a Dark Hunter book by Sherrilyn Kenyon and a giant sippy water cup with a no spill lid. In fact, all she was missing was a beach and some sunlight.
Anne didn't like bars. In her mind there was nobody in bars but drunks. Drunk people reminded her of one of her creepy uncles who was drinking every time she ever saw him. She never liked the way he looked at her. Since she didn't go to bars and there was no beach, there she was on the balcony.
Anne wondered how much blood would splatter if she jumped. She wasn't suicidal, but she did have a macabre sense of humor at times. For about the millionth time since she got there she wished someone was with her. Her friend Catherine wanted to go, but couldn't get away from work the week Anne had reserved long in advance. There was nothing that could be done about it by the time the loneliness of the vacation became a reality.
Anne went inside, but left the sliding glass door to the balcony open. The wind coming in from the Gulf felt like the perfect temperature, a spectacular thing to feel on her body. From the seventh floor she could see fishing boats on the water what looked like miles away. She didn't get her binoculars to look at them because she had gotten so sick of that already she wanted to fling them out the door. The only thing really stopping her was the possibility she could kill someone below if they were hit by the falling object.
She went into the bedroom. Originally she had unpacked her suitcase neatly into the chest of drawers and closet. Somewhere around hour 40 of her vacation she began taking every single item out and trying it on. There were now jeans, shirts, a couple of dresses, lingerie, underwear, socks and some shoes, scattered all over the room. She gathered everything up to take down to the laundry on the second floor. That was going to be her fun activity that early afternoon.
Everything that didn't need refreshing was put up. Everything that did was bundled up in a hemp laundry sack. Anne left the condo carrying the sack and locked the door behind her. "Her" condo was at the eastern end of a long line of other condos. It was one condo from the bigger, more expensive condos on the corners of the building. The elevators were locate in the dead center of the two sides.
Anne took the elevator down to the second floor and stepped out looking for a sign pointing to the laundry room. She didn't find one. She walked to the end of the balcony and condos on both the eastern and western sides of the building. She couldn't find a sign anywhere. She got back in the elevator and went down to ground level.
There were even fewer places for her to look on the bottom floor. Anne walked around with the laundry sack until she was sure she not only looked stupid but would also not find the laundry room. She distinctly remembered the the lady on the phone telling her that there as a laundry on the second floor of the building. Since she had decided to vacation there based on word of mouth she didn't have any sort of brochure to look at. She was rapidly becoming disgusted with everything about the trip.
Anne decided to try one more place before giving up, the third floor. She was already plotting her next move if the laundry room wasn't there. The next step would be going to the manager's office and smashing everything she could get her hands on. Then she was going to go up to her room and throw everything in it off the balcony. Anne was not in a good mood.
She got back in the elevator and pressed the button for the third floor. When the doors opened up there was a beautiful young guy standing in front of her, evidently waiting for the elevator. He had a laundry sack in his hands. Anne found her mouth had come open, and she was blocking the entrance to the elevator. She wanted to say something, but nothing came out.
The guy who left her speechless was around six feet tall. He had dark skin and curly dark brown hair. It was the longer kind of curls though, not the short frizzy kind of curls that somebody could get from a perm. His eyes looked out of place. Their greenish blue color clashed slightly with his skin. That served to draw more attention to his eyes, which Anne was finding herself lost in.
"Do you mind if I share the elevator?" he asked Anne. "I realize you're going up, which is not the direction of the laundry, but I left some clothes in a friend's condo up on the fifth floor that I need back."
Anne gathered her wits, stepped out of the way and said, "Sure. It's not my elevator anyway." Her words echoed around in her head, and she started thinking, "Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Focus, Anne. Focus."
"I'm looking for the laundry too. I mean, I need to wash clothes. Where is the laundry?" she asked. As the doors closed she realized she had intended to get off there on the third floor, until the doors opened and she saw the man.
"It's on the second floor," he said politely, as though nothing in the world seemed out of place to him. He evidently could not hear the jumbled confusion in her head.
"I looked on the second floor already. That's why I was about to look on the third floor, where you were," the words spilled out without Anne consciously formulating them. That was probably good, she thought, because that removed the chance of her saying something stupid in overcompensation for her nervousness.
"That's the fourth floor, the..."
Anne broke in with, "But I pushed the button for the second floor."
"... first floor is labeled LL, the second floor is labeled 1," he said with a big smile on his face.
Anne felt herself turning bright red. The man's proximity was making her feel drunk. He had on some really elusive cologne that she could barely smell, but which was out of this world. She looked down to try to hide his eyes, but wound up looking at his legs.
"Of course he has perfect legs. I wouldn't be crashing and burning if he had muscular dystrophy or something," she thought to herself. The elevator doors opened and the guy stepped out. Anne wanted to say something but there just wasn't anything there.
"I tell you what. Walk down to my friend's room with me. I'll grab my stuff, and then I'll show you where to find the laundry room. By the way, I'm Charles.
"That sounds great," Anne replied. "My name is Anne."
Charles was already walking down the hall by the time she said her name. She admired the way he looked in olive green cargo shorts and a white t-shirt. It was the sort of clothing that didn't cost a lot of money, but attractive people could make look like a million bucks. They passed a big window, and she could see that light rain was still falling.
Charles stopped in front of the door to the condo one back from the corner and knocked on it lightly. When nobody answered he put his finger to his lips. "Shhh." He then opened the door and snuck in, leaving it cracked just a little as he went inside. He was back out in just under a minute.
Charles pulled the door closed and made a signal for Anne to follow him. He picked the pace up quickly. Anne found herself jogging down the hall behind him. The elevator was sill on that floor. Just as they stepped into it Anne could hear a woman's voice yelling, "Charles! Was that you?"
"That was a friend's girlfriend," Charles explained. "I owe her money."
Anne found herself smiling conspiratorially. She got a little thrill in her stomach thinking she had just done something risky with a gorgeous guy. She was just about to ask Charles where he was from when they got to the floor labeled 1. He beat her to the punch.
"Where are you from, Anne?" he asked nicely.
"I'm from Northwest Arkansas. We have a big lake, but it doesn't have any waves." Anne wished somebody had been there to stomp on her foot before she got the whole sentence out. She also wished there was some way she could bang her head into a wall without Charles noticing. She recovered though.
"Where are you from, Charles?" she asked.
"I'm from Hawaii. My family has a fantastic place on Oahu," he glanced at her while he was talking. "And I can see you're wondering why I'm here if I could go home to Hawaii."
Actually, Anne had thought nothing of the sort. She was busy looking at him. In fact, she had to focus not to lose track of what he was saying.
"I'm listening," she said, hoping he hadn't really been waiting those few seconds for her to respond.
"And here's the laundry room," Charles announced.
The laundry room took up the amount of space two condos would have filled. There were a bunch of machines. The furthest thing from Anne's mind at that point was doing her laundry.
Charles started talking again, which helped her maintain composure. She wanted to make sure he didn't get away. At the same time she didn't really know anything about him. He could have had a girlfriend or a wife, for all she knew. She hoped she wasn't getting her hopes up just because he was being so friendly.
"I'm here because it's a quick trip from Atlanta. I'm a network security specialist for a firm there, and I can't manage to get free very often. Even when I do get a break it's not for very long. A friend of mine from Duke owns a couple of condos here, which he rents out for extra income. He lets friends stay for free, so here I am."
"I'm here because I've never been to a coast before. I wanted to swim and get tan and enjoy the weather. Instead all I've gotten is soggy," Anne said pitifully.
"Well, you can hang around with me if you want to," Charles told her.
Anne hoped hadn't just said that because he felt sorry for her. Then, almost as quickly, she decided she didn't care why he said it. She wanted to have at least one good memory of Florida. She decided she was looking at it, and she liked what she saw.
"Are you sure, Charles? I don't want to intrude on your life," she lied.
"Absolutely," he answered.
"That sounds fantastic. Really. Do you want to share a washing machine?"
As she spoke Anne decided her vacation was starting to look up. She was very glad the building's management hadn't made it easy to find the laundry room. That was the best thing that had happened to her in Florida so far.
[I promise I won't leave this hanging very long. I want to finish it as much as anyone wants to read it.]
There was a bag on the floor just inside the door. It contained all of the stuff she was going to be taking down to the beach every day, where she was going to be working on her tan. There was sunscreen to keep her from soaking up harmful UV rays. She had sun glasses so guys couldn't tell she was scoping them out. There were binoculars so she could check out guys that were far away. There was a great big towel, a copy of a Dark Hunter book by Sherrilyn Kenyon and a giant sippy water cup with a no spill lid. In fact, all she was missing was a beach and some sunlight.
Anne didn't like bars. In her mind there was nobody in bars but drunks. Drunk people reminded her of one of her creepy uncles who was drinking every time she ever saw him. She never liked the way he looked at her. Since she didn't go to bars and there was no beach, there she was on the balcony.
Anne wondered how much blood would splatter if she jumped. She wasn't suicidal, but she did have a macabre sense of humor at times. For about the millionth time since she got there she wished someone was with her. Her friend Catherine wanted to go, but couldn't get away from work the week Anne had reserved long in advance. There was nothing that could be done about it by the time the loneliness of the vacation became a reality.
Anne went inside, but left the sliding glass door to the balcony open. The wind coming in from the Gulf felt like the perfect temperature, a spectacular thing to feel on her body. From the seventh floor she could see fishing boats on the water what looked like miles away. She didn't get her binoculars to look at them because she had gotten so sick of that already she wanted to fling them out the door. The only thing really stopping her was the possibility she could kill someone below if they were hit by the falling object.
She went into the bedroom. Originally she had unpacked her suitcase neatly into the chest of drawers and closet. Somewhere around hour 40 of her vacation she began taking every single item out and trying it on. There were now jeans, shirts, a couple of dresses, lingerie, underwear, socks and some shoes, scattered all over the room. She gathered everything up to take down to the laundry on the second floor. That was going to be her fun activity that early afternoon.
Everything that didn't need refreshing was put up. Everything that did was bundled up in a hemp laundry sack. Anne left the condo carrying the sack and locked the door behind her. "Her" condo was at the eastern end of a long line of other condos. It was one condo from the bigger, more expensive condos on the corners of the building. The elevators were locate in the dead center of the two sides.
Anne took the elevator down to the second floor and stepped out looking for a sign pointing to the laundry room. She didn't find one. She walked to the end of the balcony and condos on both the eastern and western sides of the building. She couldn't find a sign anywhere. She got back in the elevator and went down to ground level.
There were even fewer places for her to look on the bottom floor. Anne walked around with the laundry sack until she was sure she not only looked stupid but would also not find the laundry room. She distinctly remembered the the lady on the phone telling her that there as a laundry on the second floor of the building. Since she had decided to vacation there based on word of mouth she didn't have any sort of brochure to look at. She was rapidly becoming disgusted with everything about the trip.
Anne decided to try one more place before giving up, the third floor. She was already plotting her next move if the laundry room wasn't there. The next step would be going to the manager's office and smashing everything she could get her hands on. Then she was going to go up to her room and throw everything in it off the balcony. Anne was not in a good mood.
She got back in the elevator and pressed the button for the third floor. When the doors opened up there was a beautiful young guy standing in front of her, evidently waiting for the elevator. He had a laundry sack in his hands. Anne found her mouth had come open, and she was blocking the entrance to the elevator. She wanted to say something, but nothing came out.
The guy who left her speechless was around six feet tall. He had dark skin and curly dark brown hair. It was the longer kind of curls though, not the short frizzy kind of curls that somebody could get from a perm. His eyes looked out of place. Their greenish blue color clashed slightly with his skin. That served to draw more attention to his eyes, which Anne was finding herself lost in.
"Do you mind if I share the elevator?" he asked Anne. "I realize you're going up, which is not the direction of the laundry, but I left some clothes in a friend's condo up on the fifth floor that I need back."
Anne gathered her wits, stepped out of the way and said, "Sure. It's not my elevator anyway." Her words echoed around in her head, and she started thinking, "Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Focus, Anne. Focus."
"I'm looking for the laundry too. I mean, I need to wash clothes. Where is the laundry?" she asked. As the doors closed she realized she had intended to get off there on the third floor, until the doors opened and she saw the man.
"It's on the second floor," he said politely, as though nothing in the world seemed out of place to him. He evidently could not hear the jumbled confusion in her head.
"I looked on the second floor already. That's why I was about to look on the third floor, where you were," the words spilled out without Anne consciously formulating them. That was probably good, she thought, because that removed the chance of her saying something stupid in overcompensation for her nervousness.
"That's the fourth floor, the..."
Anne broke in with, "But I pushed the button for the second floor."
"... first floor is labeled LL, the second floor is labeled 1," he said with a big smile on his face.
Anne felt herself turning bright red. The man's proximity was making her feel drunk. He had on some really elusive cologne that she could barely smell, but which was out of this world. She looked down to try to hide his eyes, but wound up looking at his legs.
"Of course he has perfect legs. I wouldn't be crashing and burning if he had muscular dystrophy or something," she thought to herself. The elevator doors opened and the guy stepped out. Anne wanted to say something but there just wasn't anything there.
"I tell you what. Walk down to my friend's room with me. I'll grab my stuff, and then I'll show you where to find the laundry room. By the way, I'm Charles.
"That sounds great," Anne replied. "My name is Anne."
Charles was already walking down the hall by the time she said her name. She admired the way he looked in olive green cargo shorts and a white t-shirt. It was the sort of clothing that didn't cost a lot of money, but attractive people could make look like a million bucks. They passed a big window, and she could see that light rain was still falling.
Charles stopped in front of the door to the condo one back from the corner and knocked on it lightly. When nobody answered he put his finger to his lips. "Shhh." He then opened the door and snuck in, leaving it cracked just a little as he went inside. He was back out in just under a minute.
Charles pulled the door closed and made a signal for Anne to follow him. He picked the pace up quickly. Anne found herself jogging down the hall behind him. The elevator was sill on that floor. Just as they stepped into it Anne could hear a woman's voice yelling, "Charles! Was that you?"
"That was a friend's girlfriend," Charles explained. "I owe her money."
Anne found herself smiling conspiratorially. She got a little thrill in her stomach thinking she had just done something risky with a gorgeous guy. She was just about to ask Charles where he was from when they got to the floor labeled 1. He beat her to the punch.
"Where are you from, Anne?" he asked nicely.
"I'm from Northwest Arkansas. We have a big lake, but it doesn't have any waves." Anne wished somebody had been there to stomp on her foot before she got the whole sentence out. She also wished there was some way she could bang her head into a wall without Charles noticing. She recovered though.
"Where are you from, Charles?" she asked.
"I'm from Hawaii. My family has a fantastic place on Oahu," he glanced at her while he was talking. "And I can see you're wondering why I'm here if I could go home to Hawaii."
Actually, Anne had thought nothing of the sort. She was busy looking at him. In fact, she had to focus not to lose track of what he was saying.
"I'm listening," she said, hoping he hadn't really been waiting those few seconds for her to respond.
"And here's the laundry room," Charles announced.
The laundry room took up the amount of space two condos would have filled. There were a bunch of machines. The furthest thing from Anne's mind at that point was doing her laundry.
Charles started talking again, which helped her maintain composure. She wanted to make sure he didn't get away. At the same time she didn't really know anything about him. He could have had a girlfriend or a wife, for all she knew. She hoped she wasn't getting her hopes up just because he was being so friendly.
"I'm here because it's a quick trip from Atlanta. I'm a network security specialist for a firm there, and I can't manage to get free very often. Even when I do get a break it's not for very long. A friend of mine from Duke owns a couple of condos here, which he rents out for extra income. He lets friends stay for free, so here I am."
"I'm here because I've never been to a coast before. I wanted to swim and get tan and enjoy the weather. Instead all I've gotten is soggy," Anne said pitifully.
"Well, you can hang around with me if you want to," Charles told her.
Anne hoped hadn't just said that because he felt sorry for her. Then, almost as quickly, she decided she didn't care why he said it. She wanted to have at least one good memory of Florida. She decided she was looking at it, and she liked what she saw.
"Are you sure, Charles? I don't want to intrude on your life," she lied.
"Absolutely," he answered.
"That sounds fantastic. Really. Do you want to share a washing machine?"
As she spoke Anne decided her vacation was starting to look up. She was very glad the building's management hadn't made it easy to find the laundry room. That was the best thing that had happened to her in Florida so far.
[I promise I won't leave this hanging very long. I want to finish it as much as anyone wants to read it.]
6.13.2009
Monday morning
This blog is devoted to creating erotic material for women
I don't know if it's working
But I can tell you it doesn't make me horny.
I don't know if it's working
But I can tell you it doesn't make me horny.
6.12.2009
Evangeline Loves Mark
Angie was sitting by the pool waiting for her boyfriend Mark to come over. She had been working on her tan since early April. Getting tan early in the year was one of the great benefits of living in the deep south. She always made sure to use a good sunscreen, and she didn't believe that the sun were as bad as all the experts made it out to be.
She was sipping a Corona longneck and reading Things Fall Apart, by Chinua Achebe. Angie had on an aquamarine bikini and dark sunglasses. There was just he slightest trace of perspiration on her forehead, because the weather was almost perfect. She put the Corona down, picked up a small sweatband she had attached to her keys and wiped her forehead with it. She flicked back a little wisp of hair that had separated from her long brown ponytail.
Angie heard Mark's truck when it got close to her house. He had a an old Chevy step side. It was loud even when it had a good new muffler, which it didn't. She had told him she would be by the pool, so he walked through a gate at the side of the house and into the back patio and pool area. She drank in the sight of him as he came around the corner.
Mark was right around six feet tall and he had blonde hair. Angie like to run her fingers through it. She thought it was probably the softest hair she had ever touched. Before she met Mark she had really never thought specifically about anyone's hair before, and so she considered even more attractive since her appreciation of it was unique among all her experiences.
The twenty-seven year old walked over to the other Chaise lounge, right next to hers, and sat down on it gently. Angie had become very observant of the way he acted and carried himself. She contrasted what she noticed about Mark with other men. She had seen a lot of men plop down when they sat, or sit down awkwardly. Mark moved fluidly, and sat down just as fluidly.
Angie also noticed that when they were walking together in public Mark made almost no noise when he walked. It was something about the way he put his feet down on their outside edge, rolling from heel to toe. Angie thought about the fact that she was thinking about that and decided that she must be in deep trouble. There was a one hundred percent chance that she was falling in love with him.
"How long have you been out here?" Mark asked.
Angie admired the way he always eased his way into conversations the way he sat down in chairs. She flushed slightly from the candor of her thoughts. The had only been dating for 4 months. She knew she could be setting herself up for a big fall if he didn't feel as strongly about her as she did about him. She didn't let those thoughts spill into her words though.
"About an hour. I was actually considering going inside," Angie replied in a light hearted tone.
She sat up to get out of the Chaise lounge. She almost stopped when she saw the look on Mark's face, but then decided she would be better off near her alcohol. He looked very serious. She got up and walked into the house as though nothing was out of the ordinary. Mark followed her.
When Angie got inside and Mark closed the sliding glass door behind them, she turned and looked at him to see if she should be worried. One look told her she probably should be. Tears began to well up in her arms.
"What's wrong, Angie? Are you okay? What is it?" Mark asked her in one exhalation of concerned words.
"Are you going to break up with me, Mark?" she somehow got out, and a couple of tears rolled down her cheeks.
"What? No. I mean -- no. Why would you think that, Angie? What happened?"
"I don't know. You just look so serious, and I've been thinking a lot. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to do this, didn't want to do this. Oh, God, you probably think I'm a lunatic now," she got out before she began really crying.
Mark rushed across the distance between them and wrapped his long, muscular arms around her. He pulled her close to him and hugged her, putting his right hand on the back of her head so he could touch her hair. He kissed the top of her head and told her he loved her. Evangeline heard him. It was the first time he ever said it to her. Her sadness started lifting like a weight had been removed.
"Do you really love me?" she asked him.
"I love you more than anything, Angie. That's what I wanted to tell you. I've been in love with you. I don't know why I couldn't tell you before. I made you cry. Damn, that was the last thing I ever wanted to do."
"No, you didn't make me cry. I just get scared. I've been so stupid about guys. I always seem attracted to the ones that treat me like shit. It's like there's a sign on my back that says 'hurt me' or something."
Mark put a finger over her lips and then picked her up like she was light as a feather. She gave out a little squeal, and he picked her up a slightly higher so he could kiss her lips. He carried her to the bed and laid her down on the mattress. It didn't even occur to Angie that he hadn't asked if he could do that, and it definitely didn't enter her mind to say no.
Mark took off his sandals and sprawled out on his right side, his face close to hers. Angie looked into his big, blue eyes and nearly lost herself. There were little flecks of gold and green in them. She thought she could see him behind the irises, his wit and soft spoken words being born just inside those windows to his soul. She bounced and rolled slightly so she was just short of being on top of him.
Mark looked into her eyes, slightly puffy from having cried just a couple of minutes earlier. She looked flushed, some of which as the time spent in the sun. The other part of it had everything to do with them being in bed together.
Angie kissed him for a couple of seconds, just pressing her lips to his. She felt his tongue touch her lips, but she didn't let it in. She pulled away for a second and looked into his eyes again, then climbed all the way on top of him. She was straddling him as she kissed him again. This time she slipped her tongue into his welcoming mouth, and both their tongues came together in a little oral dance. The sounds they were making were sloppy, and a little drop of saliva was left in the corner of Mark's mouth as she pulled away.
Mark reached down and unbuttoned his khaki shorts. Angie sat up into the straddle position and then moved over to the side to help him get his shorts and underwear off. He shed the shirt very quickly. She sucked in air in the faintest of little whistles as his manhood came free of the clothing.
Angie had always thought the male genitals were not pleasant to look at, but something about Mark's struck her as beautiful. She didn't know what it took to make a circumcision excellent, but she figured it would have to be what Mark had. It looked exactly like she imagined the perfect penis would look like. There was a pronounced ring of flesh around the top, making the head just slightly larger than the shaft before it tapered down. It made her mouth water.
She sprawled halfway across his legs, propped on her left arm and facing him. She tucked her knees up close to his hip while he just lay there on his back. She took his hard cock in her right hand, which further increased it's rigidity. She could feel the dorsal vein pulsing to the rhythm of his heart beat. She stroked him softly and gently.
Mark laid on his back watching her and looking content, for a little while. When Angie could tell he was about to lose patience she leaned forward and licked him. She could feel him tense slightly. She had been experimenting with his reactions the past few times they had made love, because she really wanted to be too good for him to leave. Angie had no idea how deeply he had fallen for her.
She took him in her mouth, which made him groan. For the next few minutes she played with him, sucking and licking to gauge his reactions. Angie decided she would become good at what he liked very soon. Mark wasn't the sort of guy who wanted to keep all the pleasure and fun to himself.
When Mark begin pulling away from her and sitting up Angie's heart rate increased a little. She got excited, because allowing Mark to make love to her was a mind blowing experience. There had been a few times when they made love that she thought she might die from the intensity of the orgasm. Angie couldn't wait to die if it was going to feel like that. That was one of the funny little thoughts that flew through her mind as she replaced Mark as the person laying back.
It took Angie about two seconds to lose the bikini. Mark moved on top of her into the missionary position. Angie reached down and guided him into her aching, slippery pussy. She gasped as he pushed until he was all the way inside her. She had never really attempted to judge how big he was. She knew that it seemed really big before he was inside her, and even bigger after he was.
Mark started rocking against her hips with enough force to pick her bottom up off the bed ever so slightly. When he did that it not only forced him deeper into her, but it also ground her clit against his pelvis. The combination was decimating her self control.
Angie found the most maddening part of the pleasure was that he would slow down almost to a stop, removing the contact from her most sensitive surface region. While he went slow he would slide himself in and out of her about four inches at a time, teasingly. She didn't know if it was the act of teasing her that was doing he number on her head and body, or if it was the idea that he wanted to tease her that was driving her crazy. She didn't really care, but she knew that she needed him to do it harder and faster.
Angie reached her hands down from where they had been scratching him on his back and grabbed his buns. There were very muscular, and grabbing them made her upper lip quiver almost imperceptibly. She attempted to force him to do what she wanted by pulling him in closer, but he resisted. That's when she knew he was doing it on purpose. She made a pitiful moaning sound.
"Do you want me to do it harder, baby?" he asked her.
"Yes, please," she answered.
"Please what?"
"Please do it harder. Please do it deeper too."
"Say pretty please," Mark continued tormenting her.
"Pretty please... with a cherry on top... pretty please."
"Pretty please what?" he asked again.
"God, Mark, just fuck me. Fuck me, please. I can't stand it."
That was all Mark needed to hear. He began pistoning his full length in and out of her. He had to really pull back to get the tip almost all the way out, and then he would slam it all the way into her. He wasn't doing it all that hard, but it was enough that Angie thought she might pass out. He started doing it faster and faster. The action tore a long moan out of Angie that turned into a near scream during the seconds it hung on in the air.
A consciousness bending orgasm ripped through her after about two minutes. Her body started to shake, beginning at her toes and moving it's way up to her brain. She quivered and trembled violently as Mark continued mastering her.
Just when Angie thought she wasn't going to be able to take it long enough for him to come, he did. She felt the liquid spurt inside her. He was shaking too, by that time. She figured he must be kind of worn out. She reasoned that the service he had just performed for her, for them, had to take a lot of energy. She was right.
Mark tried to climb off of her, but Angie wouldn't let him. She squeezed him tight to her for a long time. They were both drenched in sweat. She didn't let him go until he had gone completely soft inside her. Before that she wrote "Evangeline loves Mark" with the sweat on his back. Or at least that's what she tried to write. It was true too. Evangeline did love Mark.
[proofing after first publish]
She was sipping a Corona longneck and reading Things Fall Apart, by Chinua Achebe. Angie had on an aquamarine bikini and dark sunglasses. There was just he slightest trace of perspiration on her forehead, because the weather was almost perfect. She put the Corona down, picked up a small sweatband she had attached to her keys and wiped her forehead with it. She flicked back a little wisp of hair that had separated from her long brown ponytail.
Angie heard Mark's truck when it got close to her house. He had a an old Chevy step side. It was loud even when it had a good new muffler, which it didn't. She had told him she would be by the pool, so he walked through a gate at the side of the house and into the back patio and pool area. She drank in the sight of him as he came around the corner.
Mark was right around six feet tall and he had blonde hair. Angie like to run her fingers through it. She thought it was probably the softest hair she had ever touched. Before she met Mark she had really never thought specifically about anyone's hair before, and so she considered even more attractive since her appreciation of it was unique among all her experiences.
The twenty-seven year old walked over to the other Chaise lounge, right next to hers, and sat down on it gently. Angie had become very observant of the way he acted and carried himself. She contrasted what she noticed about Mark with other men. She had seen a lot of men plop down when they sat, or sit down awkwardly. Mark moved fluidly, and sat down just as fluidly.
Angie also noticed that when they were walking together in public Mark made almost no noise when he walked. It was something about the way he put his feet down on their outside edge, rolling from heel to toe. Angie thought about the fact that she was thinking about that and decided that she must be in deep trouble. There was a one hundred percent chance that she was falling in love with him.
"How long have you been out here?" Mark asked.
Angie admired the way he always eased his way into conversations the way he sat down in chairs. She flushed slightly from the candor of her thoughts. The had only been dating for 4 months. She knew she could be setting herself up for a big fall if he didn't feel as strongly about her as she did about him. She didn't let those thoughts spill into her words though.
"About an hour. I was actually considering going inside," Angie replied in a light hearted tone.
She sat up to get out of the Chaise lounge. She almost stopped when she saw the look on Mark's face, but then decided she would be better off near her alcohol. He looked very serious. She got up and walked into the house as though nothing was out of the ordinary. Mark followed her.
When Angie got inside and Mark closed the sliding glass door behind them, she turned and looked at him to see if she should be worried. One look told her she probably should be. Tears began to well up in her arms.
"What's wrong, Angie? Are you okay? What is it?" Mark asked her in one exhalation of concerned words.
"Are you going to break up with me, Mark?" she somehow got out, and a couple of tears rolled down her cheeks.
"What? No. I mean -- no. Why would you think that, Angie? What happened?"
"I don't know. You just look so serious, and I've been thinking a lot. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to do this, didn't want to do this. Oh, God, you probably think I'm a lunatic now," she got out before she began really crying.
Mark rushed across the distance between them and wrapped his long, muscular arms around her. He pulled her close to him and hugged her, putting his right hand on the back of her head so he could touch her hair. He kissed the top of her head and told her he loved her. Evangeline heard him. It was the first time he ever said it to her. Her sadness started lifting like a weight had been removed.
"Do you really love me?" she asked him.
"I love you more than anything, Angie. That's what I wanted to tell you. I've been in love with you. I don't know why I couldn't tell you before. I made you cry. Damn, that was the last thing I ever wanted to do."
"No, you didn't make me cry. I just get scared. I've been so stupid about guys. I always seem attracted to the ones that treat me like shit. It's like there's a sign on my back that says 'hurt me' or something."
Mark put a finger over her lips and then picked her up like she was light as a feather. She gave out a little squeal, and he picked her up a slightly higher so he could kiss her lips. He carried her to the bed and laid her down on the mattress. It didn't even occur to Angie that he hadn't asked if he could do that, and it definitely didn't enter her mind to say no.
Mark took off his sandals and sprawled out on his right side, his face close to hers. Angie looked into his big, blue eyes and nearly lost herself. There were little flecks of gold and green in them. She thought she could see him behind the irises, his wit and soft spoken words being born just inside those windows to his soul. She bounced and rolled slightly so she was just short of being on top of him.
Mark looked into her eyes, slightly puffy from having cried just a couple of minutes earlier. She looked flushed, some of which as the time spent in the sun. The other part of it had everything to do with them being in bed together.
Angie kissed him for a couple of seconds, just pressing her lips to his. She felt his tongue touch her lips, but she didn't let it in. She pulled away for a second and looked into his eyes again, then climbed all the way on top of him. She was straddling him as she kissed him again. This time she slipped her tongue into his welcoming mouth, and both their tongues came together in a little oral dance. The sounds they were making were sloppy, and a little drop of saliva was left in the corner of Mark's mouth as she pulled away.
Mark reached down and unbuttoned his khaki shorts. Angie sat up into the straddle position and then moved over to the side to help him get his shorts and underwear off. He shed the shirt very quickly. She sucked in air in the faintest of little whistles as his manhood came free of the clothing.
Angie had always thought the male genitals were not pleasant to look at, but something about Mark's struck her as beautiful. She didn't know what it took to make a circumcision excellent, but she figured it would have to be what Mark had. It looked exactly like she imagined the perfect penis would look like. There was a pronounced ring of flesh around the top, making the head just slightly larger than the shaft before it tapered down. It made her mouth water.
She sprawled halfway across his legs, propped on her left arm and facing him. She tucked her knees up close to his hip while he just lay there on his back. She took his hard cock in her right hand, which further increased it's rigidity. She could feel the dorsal vein pulsing to the rhythm of his heart beat. She stroked him softly and gently.
Mark laid on his back watching her and looking content, for a little while. When Angie could tell he was about to lose patience she leaned forward and licked him. She could feel him tense slightly. She had been experimenting with his reactions the past few times they had made love, because she really wanted to be too good for him to leave. Angie had no idea how deeply he had fallen for her.
She took him in her mouth, which made him groan. For the next few minutes she played with him, sucking and licking to gauge his reactions. Angie decided she would become good at what he liked very soon. Mark wasn't the sort of guy who wanted to keep all the pleasure and fun to himself.
When Mark begin pulling away from her and sitting up Angie's heart rate increased a little. She got excited, because allowing Mark to make love to her was a mind blowing experience. There had been a few times when they made love that she thought she might die from the intensity of the orgasm. Angie couldn't wait to die if it was going to feel like that. That was one of the funny little thoughts that flew through her mind as she replaced Mark as the person laying back.
It took Angie about two seconds to lose the bikini. Mark moved on top of her into the missionary position. Angie reached down and guided him into her aching, slippery pussy. She gasped as he pushed until he was all the way inside her. She had never really attempted to judge how big he was. She knew that it seemed really big before he was inside her, and even bigger after he was.
Mark started rocking against her hips with enough force to pick her bottom up off the bed ever so slightly. When he did that it not only forced him deeper into her, but it also ground her clit against his pelvis. The combination was decimating her self control.
Angie found the most maddening part of the pleasure was that he would slow down almost to a stop, removing the contact from her most sensitive surface region. While he went slow he would slide himself in and out of her about four inches at a time, teasingly. She didn't know if it was the act of teasing her that was doing he number on her head and body, or if it was the idea that he wanted to tease her that was driving her crazy. She didn't really care, but she knew that she needed him to do it harder and faster.
Angie reached her hands down from where they had been scratching him on his back and grabbed his buns. There were very muscular, and grabbing them made her upper lip quiver almost imperceptibly. She attempted to force him to do what she wanted by pulling him in closer, but he resisted. That's when she knew he was doing it on purpose. She made a pitiful moaning sound.
"Do you want me to do it harder, baby?" he asked her.
"Yes, please," she answered.
"Please what?"
"Please do it harder. Please do it deeper too."
"Say pretty please," Mark continued tormenting her.
"Pretty please... with a cherry on top... pretty please."
"Pretty please what?" he asked again.
"God, Mark, just fuck me. Fuck me, please. I can't stand it."
That was all Mark needed to hear. He began pistoning his full length in and out of her. He had to really pull back to get the tip almost all the way out, and then he would slam it all the way into her. He wasn't doing it all that hard, but it was enough that Angie thought she might pass out. He started doing it faster and faster. The action tore a long moan out of Angie that turned into a near scream during the seconds it hung on in the air.
A consciousness bending orgasm ripped through her after about two minutes. Her body started to shake, beginning at her toes and moving it's way up to her brain. She quivered and trembled violently as Mark continued mastering her.
Just when Angie thought she wasn't going to be able to take it long enough for him to come, he did. She felt the liquid spurt inside her. He was shaking too, by that time. She figured he must be kind of worn out. She reasoned that the service he had just performed for her, for them, had to take a lot of energy. She was right.
Mark tried to climb off of her, but Angie wouldn't let him. She squeezed him tight to her for a long time. They were both drenched in sweat. She didn't let him go until he had gone completely soft inside her. Before that she wrote "Evangeline loves Mark" with the sweat on his back. Or at least that's what she tried to write. It was true too. Evangeline did love Mark.
[proofing after first publish]
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