Distraction
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Posted:Mar 11, 2008 5:46 am
Last Updated:Mar 12, 2008 8:49 am
1983 Views
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I watched the little signs. Kathi isn’t subtle. She thinks she is, but she is too sensitive and too open for such evasion. Biting at her thumbnail, scratching that lovely neck, restlessly moving those lovely legs; obviously, she was more anxious than she let on. Job interviews suck. So much hangs on so many facets over which you have no control. This had gone on long enough.
I crossed to the couch and sat beside her. She looked up, waiting. I could have wasted a lot of time and energy explaining, but that had never been my style. Staring into her warm eyes, I said “Let’s go.” and taking her hand, led her to the bedroom.
I could feel her faint resistance. She wanted to stew and worry. She knew that it would have no effect on the interview, and would only make her sick and restless, but she felt it was a debt to be paid. Fortunately, she knew that in this instance, I came first.
By the time we reached the side of the bed, she had given herself over to me. I knew it and so did she.
Lying on the bed, I indicated the floor. She knew what I wished. Moving back a step or two, she reached for the hem of the shapeless sweatshirt that hid the treasures I wished to see revealed. Slowly, softly swaying, Kathi pulled the shirt up her long, lean body, and over her head, I loved the disarray of her long hair as it spilled over her shoulders. The bra was a plain cotton one, but I noted it was frayed and worn. She would have to be punished for this infraction. She knew I was coming over to be with her. I could not accept such disregard, but I said nothing. The offending garment was thrown after the sweatshirt onto the vanity bench. In the back of my mind I was already devising an appropriate punishment to fit that crime, even as I enjoyed watching her caress her small but delightfully formed breasts. Kathi often complained of their size, but I found them exquisitely sensitive and delightfully formed ; the pale sienna aureoles, the size of silver dollars, the long prominent nipples that gave me such pleasure, the feel and fullness of them all pleased me. She worked the small lines from the bra out of her skin, knowing that this would please me, and knowing that the more she pleased me the more intense would be our moment.
The jeans were also old and worn, but they were so deliciously molded to her lovely butt and legs that I had insisted she wear them. I knew that getting them off, while still standing and moving about, would be difficult, but that made it more pleasurable. In time, Kathi had come to know this and to understand. I made myself comfortable.
Opening the snap and pulling down the zipper, she moved closer. I saw that at least she had worn proper panties. With dresses and some shorts she was forbidden to wear panties, but with the tight jeans, a thong or similar small accoutrement was somehow more erotic. These were pale green satin bikinis that I had bought for her the past St. Patrick’s day. We had our own parade.
Moving back, Kathi slid the jeans down over her hips. Snug, and sinuous, the jeans clung to the rise of her lovely ass, as the sheer green material….what there was of it…was slowly revealed tightly drawn over that posterior. I watched as she pushed the jeans down. There was no way to push them down without bending from the waist, pushing her butt out toward me. So few women can do this and still look this good. I felt my pride swell …along with my cock.
The next part was, for me, a special pleasure. I had taught her the yoga position of the crane. She wondered at the time why I had worked with her so hard on this one position. Now, as she stood, straight and balanced, and drew her right foot from the jeans, then raising her left foot, bent at the knee, as her lovely back was straight and in repose, she easily drew the jeans off her foot, and cast them aside. Only then did she slowly lower the leg. I thoroughly enjoyed the play of her muscles in those long slender legs as she performed this slow ballet.
Turning, now, her head lowered, her dark hair cascading forwarded to shade her face, her breasts proudly forward, even as her hands were turned back and arms and shoulders drawn back to offer herself. Kathi waited.
I savored the offering. She had moved too quickly, and should have taken her time, but she had done well in the presentation, and waited, now, with a well-practiced patience.
I sat on the side of the bed. I held out my arms. She stepped between my open embrace. My hands caressed her pantied ass, slowly, lingeringly. I felt I would never tire of the feel of her flesh in my hands. Sliding my fingers inside the waistband of the panties, I slowly, drew them down her legs. The journey, with the palms of my hand on her legs, guiding the panties down her legs, was slow and sensuous, reminding her of my pleasure. I felt her tremble. Leaving the panties on the floor at her feet, I guided her across my lap. She trembled, knowing she was to be spanked. If this were just play, I would have pulled her to the bed and enjoyed her body first before spanking, but the choice to draw her across my knees gave her the understanding that she was being punished. I prefer, for more serious spankings to use my right hand so I draped her accordingly.
Where does one put her arms? How does she hold her head? So many novice questions on the path to the kind of understanding we now had. Kathi’s arms were draped over her head, the backs of her hands on the floor. Her head was turned in toward the bed. No seeking distraction. She would accept.
“That bra is fine for doing laundry in, or washing my car, but when I come to visit, I expect the gifts you offer to be presented in settings worthy of them. The panties were a delight.”
With that, and without waiting for or needing any further acknowledgement, I slapped her ass, hard. I had already decided that eight hard slaps were sufficient. From experience I knew that more than that was truly painful for her, and less, unimpressive. The lesson would be learned. I deliberately, varied the placing of the slaps, and the timing, stopping to caress her rapidly reddening cheeks as she lay so beautifully across my lap.
When the punishment phase was over, and I had placed a forgiving kiss on each cheek, I rolled her onto the bed. The rough nap of the spread would further remind her of her infraction, even as our lovemaking would remind her of why it mattered.
Gazing into her eyes, my hand came up her body, slowly, and caressed her breasts, teasing the taut nipples which were already well-distended. My teeth played with these upright sentinels even as my hand slid between her legs, savoring the moisture that waited there, attesting her pleasure in surrender.
I had brought a tin into the room. Small, it was sitting on the table by the bed. Moving away from her, I picked it up, watching her eyes. Moving her arms into the outthrust position, I spread her legs similarly, and gave her the look. She understood that she was to keep this position, as though bound by the strongest ties, as, indeed, she was; bound by her love for me.
From the tin, I drew the sterile needle and suture I had gotten from work. Her eyes widened and a tremor ran through her flushed body. I ignored her totally as I prepared the suture and the sterile field. Kathi was almost hyperventilating as I turned back to her. She knew that she had the right to call a halt at any time. Time was our safe word. If she wished to discuss a fear, or limit, or merely prepare and compose herself, she had only to call Time. I waited. Her tongue came out and licked her soft lips, but she said nothing. Carefully, painting her breasts with the brownish red betadine, I blew softly on the wet nipples watching gooseflesh rise on her breasts. Her body trembled. Slowly, I cupped her left breast in my left hand, and brought the fine, sharp needle to her skin. Piercing only the dermis, I passed the needle through a half inch space and out. Her eyes closed, Kathi’s breasts strained to my caress. The next suture was the same distance away. Then another.
Looking at the thin suture and the small bead of blood where the needle had last exited her soft skin, I felt a powerful longing for her. Going first to the bureau, I brought back the camera and caught some close-up shots of the breast, now a pale golden color, with the pale blue sutures and the sharp, glistening needle lying next to her nipple. I cut off the needle and returned it to the tin. My hand caressed the breast that now seemed almost alive with a passion of its own. Her arms and legs firmly held, Kathi’s hips moved on the bed, as I slid between her thighs and with a hard and ready thrust entered her. She cried out, and gave herself over to our fucking, raising her hips to meet my thrusts, and grinding herself against me, passionately, even as my hand thrilled to the feel of the sutures on her breast.
As she neared her peak, the tell-tale flush rising up her lovely neck, my fingers found the end of the suture. As she surrendered to the orgasm that shook her body and I felt my own release, I pulled the sutures loose, and Kathi screamed my name. Her trembling waves of passion seemed to go on and on. I enjoyed each spasm of her lovely body, holding myself in her and pressing her body to the bed with my own. I drew her arms down around me, releasing her, and her legs locked around mine, in a delightfully spent embrace.
I did not think the interview would keep her awake. Later, she told me that her still sensitive right breast was the focus of her world during the entire process. She got the job.
……………………………….....
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Inspiration
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Posted:Feb 4, 2008 6:03 am
Last Updated:Feb 7, 2008 4:49 am
2169 Views
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INSPIRATION
K. woke twenty minutes after the alarm stopped ringing. Blurred green eyes stared uncomprehendingly at the glowing red numbers as her stomach flipped. Wake the , grab a shower, brush your hair.. Fuck the hair… dressing the … even when they’re bigger they cannot seem to do it all alone. Pack two lunches; gets the last three dollars from the gas money. Shit.
Just another day.
K. drops the last one off.. Dying for a cup of coffee, counting the change in the console. Then, her eyes catch a glimpse of her face in the mirror. No makeup, hair disheveled, blouse buttoned crooked. K. laughed.
Thinking of Him. Thinking that this is exactly the way he loves her best. Remembering the ache in her nipples after the other nights play. How carefully she had to avoid letting see the stripes of which she was so proud. Fourteen is just a little too young, but … one day…. His hands on her neck, controlling her, caressing her: totally possessing her.
Totally unaware of the time or the traffic that passes around her, K recalls with each sense of her being His lips, His hands. His eyes claiming each part of her body with casual confidence. She feels the dampness between her thighs even now as she remembers the way He wound the ace bandages around her arms, binding her to the chair, like strong hands; like His hands, holding her in position. His lips and teeth on the sensitive nipples of her breasts. His fingers trailing across her body. Then the wrapping of her legs to the chair legs, spreading her thighs, exposing her to His eyes, to His touch, to His lips. How He teased and tormented her, now rough, now gentle, now bringing her to the very edge of anticipation then leaving her hanging , whimpering softly into her gag, as her blindfolded eyes wept.
Funny, their play lasted only an hour or so, but was so totally engrossing that she felt as though days had passed. He had taken her beyond herself and all self awareness. She was but a throbbing, aching, burning need that was His to quench or to ignore. K shuddered and laughed to herself. Brushing her hair and fixing her blouse, feeling her heart stop racing, and that lovely feeling of peace settle over her, she started the car and drove to work. Who needs coffee, anyway?
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for aloner at Christmas...s
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Posted:Dec 23, 2007 8:22 am
Last Updated:Jan 8, 2008 6:30 am
1928 Views
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Stocking Stuffer...s..
Aloner had finished setting out the gifts, and stuffing the stockings.
She knew the would be waking up in just six hours and the bedlam would
reign, but for the moment she was enjoying the stillness. The decorated
tree was aglow, and the room seemed almost suffused with a quiet joy.
The knock at the door startled her. Who the heck shows up at two minutes
to midnight on Christmas eve?
She was adventurous, but not stupid. She peered through the spy hole first.
The Santa hat was too much, but He was holding a Christmas Stocking. She
stared at him for a few moments, enjoying the delay in opening the door.
He stared at the viewer, as though knowing that she was there.
"I didn't expect you." She said, opening the door.
"Obviously." He smiled looking at the sweat pants and Christmas tee that
she wore.
"You didn't call."
"No."
A. stepped back and watched Him walk into the living room. He seemed to
absorb the whole room in a moment, somehow, making it his own. She always
wondered how He did that.
"Can I get you something?"
He smiled. She stared at the stocking in His hands. A little larger than
the ' but traditional red felt and white satin.. with a scripted A.
"For me?"
He shrugged, handing her the stocking.
At the top were some fancy imported chocolates. A felt her mouth water, but
didn't open them. Next came a pair of padded hand cuffs. She smiled. This
was more what she had expected. R. took the cuffs and affixed them to her
wrists, placing the key in His pocket. A. smiled. The cuffs had a three foot
length of chain so she had no problem opening the stocking.
Next was a ball gag and a blind fold. He put on the gag, but left the blindfold
at her forehead.
The next item was a small leather bag, which He took from her and put on the
arm of the chair. She wanted to ask, but already was getting into the moment and
knew she would not. As she reached into the stocking for the last item, He
gripped her hand through the felt. She looked up into his hungry eyes. Pulling
the stocking away from her, He grasped the chain and pulled her against himself.
A. came willingly,
She smiled around the gag as He slid the blindfold into place. Pulling her by the
links that held her hands, He led her to the basement door. She heard the door open
then the chain being raised, drawing her arms up and drawing her against the door.
She knew there was a strong hook, for winter gear, on the inside of the door. She knew
He had put it there. She wasn't at all surprized that the length of the chain was just
enough to keep her suspended on her toes. She felt the tee being raised as His hands
wandered possessively and lingeringly over her breasts and nipples and across her back.
He had always told her how much He loved the muscles of her back. A. felt something being
rubbed over her skin. She realized it was the leather bag that He had set aside. Something
was inside of it, but she could not tell what it was. The soft leather on her sensitive skin
was already heightening her awareness. She squirmed.
Then He was opening the bag, and she heard and felt it drop at her feet. Then she felt
nothing... He knew this drove her crazy. He was waiting... making her wait... tingling, aching,
longing for the next moment.
She felt his hands at her waistband and her sweatpants were drawn down to pool around her feet.
The cool air on her naked ass was a promise and a tease. She moaned into her gag. Then she felt
the lightest touch on the rise of her ass. A long pause, then another touch. Soft, brushing, then
slowly drawn across her lovely ass, and as her mind registered the feel of the cat on her skin,
His hand brought it down across her soft skin in a sharp slap that sent a tremor through her
legs and her body. Then the cat crossed her back and her thighs, and as she writhed and curled
her body, the cat found more places to play; now her nipples, the soft flesh of her abdomen, the
sensitive skin under her arms.
There was no way to know where it would land, next, or when. A. was trembling when He finally
stopped. Her whole being was aglow, even more than the Christmas tree. She didn't know if He was
just teasing, or was done, or....
Then she felt his hand on her moist pussy, caressing and probing. She felt Him find that spot, and
she trembled as He knowingly played her like a violin. The first orgasm took her by surprize, but
He persisted, and as she found herself rising to the next level, as his fingers pinched her nipples
and his teeth nipped at the muscles of her neck and shoulders, A. felt his hardness press between
her legs and she spread them as far as she could in her position as he filled her and then stroked
and drove her into a trembling mind-numbing orgasm that left them both delightfully drained.
He left her hanging, as he got the moist towel and cleaned her up. Then He released her and left her
to draw herself together.
Back in the living room, he was holding the stocking. A. could see that there was something still in
the toe. He dangled it, and she approached, wondering. She reached into the stocking. The small box
was deep red and well constructed. Within, on a velvet pad, lay a silver collar with their initials
entwined upon it. Her hands shook as she held it. Her eyes sought his. He took the collar from her
and she felt it click around her neck and the sound was the happiest sound she had ever heard.
............... just a tale... but a nice one...s....
Merry Christmas... Rory
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beginnings....
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Posted:Dec 19, 2007 9:39 am
Last Updated:May 19, 2010 7:19 am
2510 Views
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Funny how sometimes it takes so little to alter your perceptions. I was still working on my first drink, when she set her sights on me. I saw her, across the room. That narrowing of the eyes that says, 'hmmm', then the slow, sensual smile as she builds her scenario. All it would have taken was a nod, or a shake of the head, but I chose the coward's way out. I walked away.
It wasn't that I didn't find her attractive. Her full body lightly covered with a pale green dress that left little enough to the imagination. Strong legs with full thighs that stretched the dress as she shifted her position. Long dark auburn hair that brushed the pale shoulders. Full sensual lips that promised a full menu of delights.
No. I am not gay. I had just left a long relationship and now I felt numb. Maybe that was why the drink seemed to hit me so hard. My grip on reality was a bit tenuous.
Forty minutes later, putting that first glass, finally empty into the sink I turned around. She was standing just inside the kitchen door. Alone in a small room, hard not to notice. She walked with a deliberately undulating grace over to me.
"Gretchen. Or did you know that?"
"Why would I know that?"
She shrugged with a smile.
Her eyes went to my crotch. Then her hands followed. Through my slacks, she rubbed my cock. Being normal, it rose to the occassion.
"Mmmm. Somebody likes me."
I let my hands fall to her shoulders. She pressed forward, her lips capturing mine, as her tongue probed and her hand grasped me through the fabric, bringing me to a full and uncomfortable state.
"Aww...we can't leave you like that."
She takes my hand. I'm not sure what she plans, nor if I really want to do this but there is something so unreal about it that I just follow, thoroughly enjoying the play of her buttocks against the fabric of her dress, betting she had no panties on, and somehow finding that thought more erotic than I should.
She led me right past the hostess, and into the powder room. Half the party must have seen us. She turned me and kissed me again, but this time her hands went right to my belt. With practised ease she had my pants and shorts down and my erection in her hand.
She looked up at me with a smile as she slid to her knees, caressing my cock and cupping my balls as her lips encircled the head. She had an amazing mouth. I couldn't believe how she seemed to sense every reaction, and control the whole experience. Her warm moist tongue played along the ridge of the underside of my cock as she massaged my balls almost but not quite to the point of pain.
I felt myself getting close, but Gretchen controlled the pace and moved her mouth across my abdomen as she stroked me to keep me close to the edge, then when I thought I might go nuts, she began rocking her head up and down my cock and moaning as I warned , "I'm cumming!", and she pumped me and sucked until I thought I would never stop cumming.
Then she stood up and kissed me, my hot cum still on her lips.
"Mmmmm... nice. Thank you."
She turned and opened the door. I stood there, my now limp cock sticking out as she walked away. I pushed the door closed, and cleaned myself up, then exited.
I don't know if I expected to see her waiting, but she had gone. Or gone on. I couldn't imagine mixing with the party, and wondering how many people had seen me standing there , post cum, and discarded. I went home.
It was two weeks later that I saw her again. The small grocery store was a popular one for the neighborhood, but I hadn't seen her before, so it was a surprize. I smiled at her, but then went on shopping.
"You're mad at me?"
"Not at all."
"But you don't want to talk to me?"
I looked at her. In jeans and a sweater, she was more relaxed looking, but somehow still very hot. As though she read my mind, Gretchen smiled.
"Hello, Gretchen. My name is Steve, by the way."
"Hi, Steve. Do you actually eat that crap?"
I looked into the basket. The fish fillets were fresh. The carrots and the spinach were fresh. Then I saw the hot dogs.
I laughed. Somehow, after the way we'd met, it seemed really bizarre that she would pick on me for liking hot dogs.
"A guilty pleasure."
"Now that I can relate to."
"Really?"
She stared into my eyes, her own narrowing slightly as she tried to decide if the remark was clever or snide.
"So are we going out?"
"There's a play at the college, tonight."
"Okay. Pick me up at seven, ok?"
"Where?"
"I'll meet you at the Mines."
The Mines was the local name for the Kingston Mines ... a coffeehouse.
I nodded. I really wasn't sure if I was going to go or not. That air of unreality was still all around us.
She looked great. The short jean skirt she wore would have been more appropriate on a less full figured woman, but somehow on Gretchen it looked right. The peasant blouse was loose and sheer enough that I caught a lot of glimpses. I realized that a lot of peple from the ticket lady to the usher to the program girl to the guys who took the seats behind us saw almost as much as I did, but Gretchen seemed to find all that just topping.
We talked about the play, and about writers, and music. Every time I tried to get it to a personal level, she smiled that smile and asked me something sexual. I got the hint.
Back at the Mines we had hot chocolate, mine was Belgian, she grinned at me as she asked for French with extra cream. I had to use the bathroom. At the Mines they have two unisex bathrooms, side by side. As I opened the door, afterward, Gretchen was standing there.
"Thank God, I picked the right door." She laughed as she pushed me back inside and her lips came down on mine.
I kneaded her naked breasts under the loose shirt, she kneaded my cock, then her hands opened my belt. I tried to hold her back. I wanted to go back to my place and do it right. She pulled back, and stared at me, then went back to what she had in mind. Her talented mouth took me quickly to the top and over. Then the sticky kiss. Then she walked out again. I straightened up after closing the door in the face of the young girl who had been waiting.
When I came out, I half expected her to be gone, but she was sipping her chocolate and licking the cream from her lips.
We listened to a not very good aging hippie folk singer, and listening to the conversations of strangers. Every now and then I would feel Gretchen's foot on my thigh, nudging between my legs. When we left, I walked toward my place, but at the corner, she stopped.
"I go this way."
I started to turn. She gave me the same look she had given me when I tried to stop her oral game. She kissed me hard then walked away. It occurred to me that I didn't know how to get in touch with her.
Almost two weeks later, sitting in the Mines, she comes up and hugs me from behind, lightly biting my ear.
"Hello, Gretchen."
"How did you know it was me?"
I shrugged. I was surprized to realize I had actually missed her.
Today's outfit was a long linen skirt over a catsuit that fit tight enough to show the outline of her aureolae. She saw me looking and without even looking to see if anyone were near, she pulled the scoop neck down to bare the rapidly rising nipple. I let my tongue trace across my lips. She laughed.
"Want to go back to my place?"
I looked at her.
"Sure."
"Come on."
Not at all surprisingly, she lived over a Wiccan shop.
"They have some great oils."
I could imagine.
Her small apartment was warm and somehow overstuffed. The big comfy chair in the living room, the studio bed with its big fluffy bolsters. In place of the usual artwork, she had dreamcatchers and macrame that somehow seemed to fit.
She left me in the living room and went into her bedroom.
"You coming in?"
I walked to the door. The catsuit was on the floor. The skirt was across the back of a chair. The bed was big and deep and covered with pillows. I stood there in the door frame enjoying looking. She peeled back the covers to show her full lovely body. Her pubic hair was full and thick and drew my eyes. I undressed. She covered up, pulling the covers up to her chin.
Gretchen scooted over but kept the covers up as I slid under the covers next to her. I took my time. We kissed. Then she was all over me, and rubbing that hairy bush against me and sucking my neck and digging her nails into my shoulders, as my hand caressed her ass and tried to caress her breasts.
Then she tried to slide down under the covers. Not this time. I pulled her up. She tried the stare. I stared back. She turned away. I slid down under the covers. She tried to get away. My tongue found her slit through the hair and teased her clitoris. She moaned and kept trying to pull me back up, while trying to move herself into the lower position. I wouldn't let her. My fingers teased as my tongue probed. Gretchen groaned and cursed and pulled my hair. I kept licking her. Then I reached up and bit her nipple and as she arched her back I slid my body up and entered her.
Gretchen struggled to get away. This was nuts. I pounded into her and she sank her teeth hard into my neck. I pulled her head back by the hair; she squirmed but even as I felt my own orgasm bursting she screamed like she was dying and shuddered through her own orgasm.
Lying together, her arms around me, her leg between mine, she seemed totally different.
I realized somehow that this had been what it was all about. She had wanted me to dominate her. I didn't even know what Domination was, but this had been what she had wanted.
We made love often over the next few weeks but it was always the same. Sometimes the struggle was almost a fight, but she never walked away.
I was sitting in the Mines when she walked in with another man. He was tall, thin, and very 'artsy'. I chuckled to myself.
I gave her a two finger salute and a lick of the lips. She laughed and blew me a kiss.
..........................R
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Play On
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Posted:Dec 13, 2007 8:40 am
Last Updated:May 19, 2010 7:28 am
1631 Views
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Are you now a lady in waiting for another?
Does my sceptre no longer command you?
You bend a knee but no longer kneel to recieve me
Have you found some new liege to relieve me?
Have your depths gone unplumbed by my failing years?
Do you wish a larger lance at your command?
Do I fail to stir that which you wish to see stirred?
Do I leave your lovely cockpit still unmanned?
We have weathered the seasons and the years
Dark days and golden staves have been our song..
yet your eye seems to wander to the parapets
and I cannot help but wonder to whom your thoughts belong.
Yet I will not, no , cannot abdicate your throne
for here and only here does my heart reign
and should your love no longer be my realm
then should I find my very life to be in vain.......
R
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The encounter
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Posted:Nov 15, 2007 9:33 am
Last Updated:May 19, 2010 7:29 am
2850 Views
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The Lady In the Waiting Area
I had never actually met SL. In a chat room, we flirted and shared moments of understanding and appreciation that made her something more than just a casual chat friend, but the distance between us made anything more a problem. Then she let me know she had a layover at the airport near me and was interested in a face to face.
We thought we would have about six hours which would be too much or far too little time depending on the meeting. Then the airlines got into the equation. Her plane was over three hours late and took forty minutes to deplane, and boarding was scheduled for an hour and a half later. There wouldn't even be time for dinner and a drink at the nearby hotel where I might have prudently rented a room.
I had sent her my picture, but had only a part of hers..... a very nice part, but not one I expected to recognize in an airport.
"Hi. Rory, right?"
I looked at her. I had thought about my 'opening line'. Should I be cool and casual? Should I be formal? Perhaps a little Elizabethean? It didn't matter. Her long blond hair, mildly unkempt from her trip, the lovely, intelligent face with its laugh lines and open countenance. The full fit figure of her body in a chic skirt and jacket with a soft sweater top took my thoughts away. Thoughts of the empty hotel room filled my mind.
"Hi." I said , lamely.
"Been waiting long?"
"Forever, I think. Do you have to get your bags or anything?"
"Nope. All on automatic, We are free.... for at least eighty minutes."
We both laughed. I hoped she felt as dissappointed as I did. We made our way to the airport lounge and the better of the indifferent restaurants. She had eaten on the plane, and my appetite was not for anything on their menu. We ordered drinks.
We covered all the usual small talk, probably talking too fast, trying to get the 'preliminaries' out of the way.
I found I loved her voice and her laugh. Very important. We had more in common than I had realized and it was fun discovering some of the same thoughts in another, even when some of the emphasis was different. It gave new perspective.
As we were served fresh drinks, the conversation hit a lull. It could have been awkward, or uncomfortable. It was neither. I felt I had known SL all my life and been waiting for her to come home. She seemed to know how I felt and to revel in it. As I sipped my Guinness, she stretched out a toe to caress my calf. Nothing too obvious. Just a soft stroke. But such an intimate and familiar act that it carried a volume of sexuality in it.
I smiled. Licking the foam from my lips, I let my tongue slowly wander around my lips in a sensual sweep that brought a smile to her face and to her eyes. She sipped her wine, and let a finger trace across the nipple which had now shown up nicely against the soft material of her top. My left foot pressed against hers in a pedal hug.
Throughout all of this we kept up a conversation about people we 'knew' on the site. CD: ; and heaven; TM and the lovely lass; BV: Lukn: so may others. Some not around as much, some in new names but still sharing a part of the whole. Meanwhile, we played. She managed to arch her shoulders so that those lovely breasts looked as though they would leap, dolphin like from the prison of her jacket. I shifted my legs so the growing evidence of her campaign's effectiveness was pressing forward. Her eyes lingered as she let her tongue touch her lips. I wanted her right there in the airport terminal. From the prominence of her nipples to the squirming of her lovely butt I was sure she felt the same. Airport security would make any attempt at consummation impossible. I thought with sorrow of my empty hotel bed. We talked.
Finishing our drinks we decided to walk around the terminal. Our bodies could not have gotten closer if we shared a skin. Our awareness of each other was so acute as to be painful. I didn't even want to talk anymore. Just being with SL was enough.
Standing in front of the plate glass looking out at the planes on the tarmac, I told her of Fort Mifflin, a Revollutionary war fort that saw service up to WWI. How odd that such a relic should be right next to such a metropolitan airport. I promised to take her on a tour next time. Perhaps we would see the ghosts. Leaning into me, SL managed to position us so her lovely rear pressed delightfully against my hardness. She pressed back and all of my world was focused on that one point of the universe where our bodies met, striving to achieve what clothes and propriety would deny. Realizing that the butress next to us completely hid our left side, I brought my left hand to her lovely hip, slowly caressing her lovely ass as it edged down and lifted the hem of her delightfully short skirt. With a gasp, she chuckled and turned herself so more of us was in that slight protection. Her hand reached back and found my hard cock straining against my slacks. Without even hesitating, she found the tab of my zipper and drew it down. The excitement of knowing what we were risking and the awareness of so many people passing by made the moment maddening. As I pulled up her skirt I realized that she had no panties on.. What a woman. Had she travelled that way?
"Do you usually go bareback?"
"No. Only when I am with someone. I took them off when I went to the ladies room while you got our drinks."
It made me feel good that she had wanted me at least as long as I had wanted her. Fumbling a condom onto my hard penis with one hand was tricky, but she managed. Very slowly, letting the tip of my cock lovingly traverse the crack of her buttocks, I lowered myself as she raised up, and then it was there and I held very still while she opened herself as best she could and then pressed herself back, slowly, deeply, completely impaling herself on my hard cock. We stood a moment, just appreciating the warmth and the attachment. I wanted to stand like that for hours but the first boarding call for her flight jarred us both from our thoughts. Pressing my left hand to her breast I teased that lovely nipple, longing to lave it with my tongue, catch it in my teeth. There was so much I wanted to do with this lovely silken lady, but for now, she squirmed against me and I rocked my hips, hoping it wasn't too obvious to anyone walking by, and glad that the nearness of the boarding call made most hurry. I didn't want to hurry at all. I could hear her breathing and I longed to kiss her deeply and share that breath, but for now I just pumped faster and warned her that I was close. She pressed back against me and as I felt the inescapable throbbing of my cock she moaned beautifully and I felt her own orgasm shaking her body.
We lay against each other. staring out at the planes, and seeing nothing. Then with a sigh that was almost a whimper she pulled away, and I zipped up and straightened her skirt. Shakily we walked to the boarding area. Without a ticket I had to leave her there. We kissed. For the first time, there in front of the minimum wage security dogs, and I was unwilling to let her go.
Watching her board the plane, I waited until she had gone on board, then I stood at the glass until her plane was airborn. After all., sometimes flights get cancelled. As it lifted off taking a part of me with it, I felt a tap on my shoulder.
"Hi. I got bumped. Know where I can get a bed?"
Boy did I know.
//////////////////////////////////////////////// R. ...............................totally a work of well inspired fiction.....
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3
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betting on us
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Posted:Oct 4, 2007 10:23 am
Last Updated:May 19, 2010 7:30 am
2134 Views
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The Game
"You catch the game last night?"
I felt my face grinning.
"Oh, Yeah."
I heard my coworker going on about how the local team was robbed and was gonna come back. My mind was on the game.
Carly and I had been dating and playing for a couple of months, but we were still too new to experiment. Then the game came. I didn't even know she was such a big fan. I was going to watch a police drama, but she wanted to watch the first game of the series.
"Baseball? Then we can watch curling, and aquaballet, and paint dry...."
" I don't believe you don't want to watch the big game."
" If it were football, or basketball, maybe, but baseball? Come on. "
" Well, if you want me to go home."
I looked at her. She had my favorite short shorts and cut off tee on, with the sheerest bra and I was sure matching thong.
"Hey, you want to watch baseball, no problem. Those guys aren't going to win, anyway."
"Oh, now you're the expert."
I shrugged.
"Want to bet?"
Bet? I looked at those lovely breasts and that sweet body and I knew. I just knew.
"Yeah. I'll bet. You ready to put up?"
From the look on her face, I knew she knew what I had in mind.
"Okay. Name it."
"Winner takes all. If you win, we do whatever you want. I win, we do whatever I want."
She looked at me and she knew that I was up to something, but she hated to lose, and I think she was curious.
"You're on, stud."
I really don't like baseball. Most of the game is the battery and the rest is talk. I have never watched a game more intensely in my life. I was screaming at the coaches, the ump, the batboy. I was hanging on every pitch for the last six outs, and even the lame commentary didn't get to me.
I turned off the television and turned to Carly. She was smiling, but not without a certain gritting of her teeth. She really hates to lose, which of course is part of the fun.
"Shall we retire to the bedroom?"
She followed me, her eyes watching for any hint of what was to come.
"Okay. Let's get the preliminaries out of the way. Strip. Slow and sexy. Like you want to make me happy."
Carly is more of a 'let's do it' lover, so this was uncomfortable territory for her, which is why I started here.
She peeled off her tee shirt and threw it on the chair.
"Never mind. I should have known you'd welch."
"What? You said strip."
"Yeah. I didn't say take your clothes off. I said 'strip'. You know the difference. You just can't give in."
She glared at me for a long minute, then, slowly, with a soft sway, she began opening the snap of her shorts. She lowered the zipper, and eased the shorts part way down, but stopped with her mound just covered, and reached behind her to unsnap the sheer bra.
I sat on the chair and leaned back in my best lord of the manor manner. She smiled. Almost as though she meant it.
Holding the bra against her breasts, she shrugged out of the straps, and slowly lowered it to expose those lovely mounds. Next, she slipped out of her sandals, and slowly, eased a finger around the waistband of the shorts, letting them slowly descend, until they slid to the floor, where she stepped out of them flinging them at me with her foot.
I nodded, appreciatively, but with constraint. I wanted her to work harder.
She reached to the waistband of her thong. I shook my head, indicating that she should turn around, slowly. Knowing how she hated to be 'inspected like a piece of beef', she turned and swayed that lovely ass at me, then slowly turned back around. I gave no indication of my approval, or disapproval. She turned around again, presenting that lovely almost naked ass to me, as she slowly peeled the thong off her hips, and drew it down her lovely thighs. I watched the small piece of fabric drop to her feet. Slowly, Carly turned and again flipped the thong at me. I caught it, and without expression. tore it in pieces and dropped them on the floor.
Something new came into her eyes. Fear? Excitement?
I beckoned her closer. She drew near, and I grasped her wrist, drawing her closer. I pulled her across my lap. I could feel her fighting herself, wanting to protest. Wanting to say something, but not wanting to admit to her reluctance. I knew she hated to surrender herself, and I gave her no option. She knew she could stop at any time, but she knew that I would consider that welshing. I loved it.
Lying across my lap, I caressed her ass, and her thighs. I let my hand drift between her legs, knowing that at that moment she was totally mine. I could take my time and do whatever I wanted. I savored the moment and the flesh that was mine to explore, knowing that she was becoming aware of that same ownership. Would she resent it? Was I destroying whatever we had? If I was, then it was probably just as well. This was my world.
Tracing my finger tips across her curved derriere, I paused and then let the hand slap down with the pleasure and passion that she had engendered. Her whole body jumped in my lap, and she bit back the whimper that pleased me both in itself and in her desire to stiffle it.
I varied the rhythm and the timing of the slaps, with occasional tracing of the nails across the hot, red bottom. Carly squirmed and writhed on my lap, and I felt myself growing hard, but took my time. My fingers traced up between her lovely thighs, and my fingers met the moisture in her cunt. I let my fingers tease and play there feeling her writhe now with the mixed pleasure/pain that she was experiencing for the first time. I let my moist fingers tease her sensitive ass hole and she whimpered and writhed beneath me.
I stopped. Carly lay docile and still across my lap. I didn't touch her. I just waited letting her anticipate and wonder.
"Stand."
She stood. I stepped past her to the bed. I took my own clothes off, leaving them on the floor. I looked at her.
"Pick up these clothes."
She looked at me a moment. She was lost in the erotic, but the mundane was a surprise. She gathered up the clothes and dumped them on the chair. I stared at her, my expression carefully bland.
Carly carefully folded the clothes and put them back on the chair. I nodded. She had to learn.
"Kneel."
She walked over. She seemed to be getting the idea. She knelt slowly in front of me. Caressing her lovely breasts, I enjoyed the casual ownership privelege I was assuming. She started to look up. I slapped her face, lightly.
"Did I tell you to look up?"
"No. "
"No, Sir."
"No, Sir."
I could see her breathing harder. This was her anger and her resolve. I caressed her face, and neck, then kissed her softly. Running my fingers across her lovley lips, I pressed a finger into her mouth and felt her softly suck it. I caressed her face with my other hand. Withdrawing my finger, I presented my hard cock, and she took it in her mouth.
I gave no instruction, nor did I move. She would have to decide for herself. After a fairly short pause, Carly slowly took my length into her hot moist mouth, slowly, sucking me in, and then slowly easing her head back, letting her tongue tease the crown of my cock, then taking me back into her mouth. I savored her efforts until I was afraid I might lose it. I had other plans.
I stepped away, leaving her with saliva dripping from her lips and a surprised look on her face.
"Up on the bed. On your hands and knees."
Carly kept her head down, and climbed up onto the bed. Positioning herself as directed she waited. I kept her waiting. I could feel her wanting to look at me, but she remembered the slap, and she waited with almost a quivering anticipation.
Moving to the closet, I opened it and took down the thick leather belt that I wore with my jeans. I don't know if she peeked or if she guessed , but Carly's whole body was trembling. I took my time. I was tempted to snap the belt, but that seemed to melodramatic, besides she seemed to know full well what was coming.
The first strike of the leather was just hard enough to hurt, but not so hard as to terrify. Many people cannot take that much pain at first. By the fourth strike, Carly's lovely ass was a barber pole of red and white stripes that made me harder than I had ever been. Two more strikes to even the color. Then I stopped. She waited , her whole body heaving with her breathing and her passion. I reached under and squeezed her lovely breast. Laying the belt on the pillow near her head, I climbed onto the bed. Moving behind her, I positioned my cock at the wet sopping entrance to her cunt and slowly entered her. I stopped with my length fully inside of her. Then lightly striking her sensitive ass, I thrust in and out and she shuddered and stiffled a scream as she surrendered to an orgasm that shook her whole being.
I stopped. My cock deep inside her spasming cunt.
When she seemed to calm down, I withdrew until only the tip was still in her. Then I thrust back to the hilt. Knowing that my hips were bumping her burning flesh. Soon she was thusting with me. I stopped.
As she settled, I withdrew completely.
Positioning my cock at the tight opening of her rectum, I heard her whimper. I waited. She was almost panting. I waited and let my hands caress her untouched skin ... her back... her tummy..... the fronts of her thighs.
Grasping her hips, I slowly pressed forward, feeling her tight ass ease open as my cock entered her. Feeling Carly surrender herself to me, and loving her in that moment of sweet possession/surrender.
My cock moved in and out , slowly at first but with building speed and Carly pressed back against me to take me in more deeply, and I thrust and with a growl that seemed to come from the base of my balls, I emptied myself into her tight ass.
When I withdrew, I lay down beside her. She didn't move. I smiled at her, my fingers toying casually with her breasts and nipples.
"Lie down."
She dropped to the bed. I got some cream and applied it gently to her still glowing ass. I kissed her back and her shoulders. I got up and got dressed and went into the living room.
A short while later, Carly came into the living room, she had her top and her shorts and sandals on. Her breasts moved freely under the sheer fabric. She went to the kitchen and got me a beer. She set it next to my chair. I smiled and let my hand wander over her still tender ass. She gasped but stood still.
I love baseball.......
................................................... R.
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0
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for the impish one....
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Posted:Aug 27, 2007 9:13 am
Last Updated:Mar 31, 2008 6:07 am
2395 Views
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I was looking forward to Anna’s visit. I had spent much of the day preparing. I planned on a special night.
She arrived a few minutes early, as I preferred. She was dressed in a blouse and skirt and the heels that I loved because they made her long legs look so strong and shapely. She was taller than I but that was never a concern for me. I think she is finally getting past it.
“Come in.”
“Thank you, Sir.”
We ate the poached salmon and the pilaf, and after a dish of chocolate swirl ice cream. I laughed to myself at how vanilla it all seemed. She sensed the laughter but had no idea what I was thinking.
“You have had a good day, Master?”
“Not bad. Sold another story. Started a new one.”
“That is great, Master. Are we celebrating?”
“Soon, woman….soon.”
I went to the puter to check my email, leaving her to clean up.
When she was finished, she came to me and sat on the floor with her lovely head on my thigh. I loved the feel of her there, and indeed, could easily have sat there all evening, but there was more on the agenda.
I closed down the computer and lifted her lovely head. Standing, I drew her up beside me. She tried to lower her head and stoop. I laughed, and realizing why, she stood up to her full lovely height. Reaching up I took the glasses from her face. She started, and raised her hands, but stopped. She knew it was my right.
Taking her by the hand I led her to the bedroom.
I had rearranged the room, and placed indirect spot lighting about the room. With Anna’s poor vision and the odd shadows and configurations, she was disoriented which , of course, was the plan. I turned on the music I had preset. The strains of the Brandenburg concerto filled the room. The small strobe light added to the confusion, and the scented candles began to fill the air.
Anna’s lovely body trembled with her anticipation. I knew that she was acutely aware of her total dependence upon me, and was savoring her anticipation.
Standing before her, I whispered in her ear,
“You have only to say ‘no mas’, and I will stop.”
She didn’t even hesitate.
Standing straight and tall, she smiled as she turned her hands out to the front and closed her eyes.
My hands slowly unbuttoned the blouse, taking my time and savoring the unveiling of her form. Slowly, I pulled out her blouse. She trembled as it slid down her arms to fall at her feet. The sheer bra was hard put to support her lovely breasts. I unhooked and unzipped the skirt and let it fall. The sheer panties matched the bra. She wore thigh high hose, as she knew I liked. Taking her in my arms, I easily lifted her from the pool of cloth and stood her by the bed.. My hands took there time, deliberately ignoring the strains of the music, and creating a symphony of my own. I loved the way Anna’s nipples rose to the pinch of my fingers, and the dampness of the sheer fabric as my tongue caressed these lovely buds..
The lingerie was probably expensive. Anna has good taste. Raising the razor sharp dirk from the table, I touched the point to the tip of her breast and ran it around the circle of her large pink aureoles. Her quick gasp showed she knew well what I held in my hand.
I slit the straps of the bra and pulled the cups down to expose her breasts. In the odd lighting, her face was flushed and I could see her breasts rise with her breathing. I waited. Then the blade slid easily between those lovely full orbs and the ruined bra fell to the floor.
My edge caressed her soft breasts, as she trembled. The point moved down her breast s and circled her nipple. A small bead of crimson rose, as she sighed. My tongue touched the bead of warm blood, and Anna arched her lovely back to raise more of it to my lips. I stepped back. Around us the lights and the music played as the candles scent vied with the muskiness that was now rising about her. Taking the front of her panties in my hand, I slid my knife in and cut from the leg hole to the waist, and cast aside the scrap of cloth. I could see in the spot of the light I had positioned the glisten of her moisture on the downy yellow fleece of her womanhood.
Walking behind her I caressed her lovely ass., with my hand , then with the edge of my blade.
Standing behind her, I took off my own clothing, knowing that she had no idea where I was, or what I was doing. She had entrusted herself to me without reservation. I had no desire to hurry this, but I could feel my own need rising.
The blood had dried on her lovely breast. I took her in my arms and our lips met. My hands caressed her ass, as she pressed her hungering body to mine. I knew that she knew I was naked, now and that my cock was hard and hungering for her. I stepped back. Anna felt not to follow me with her body. I felt so proud of her love. Drawing her to the bed, I positioned her on her stomach. She let me stretch those lovely smooth legs apart and I slipped the silken nooses on them drawing them further apart. Next her arms were suspended over her head
I stood back. How lovely she looked arrayed like that. I put the dirk down on the table, and raised the cat that laid there. Letting the tails trail softly across the rise of her buttocks, I smiled to see her shiver. I raised the cat, and saw her involuntary bracing. I waited. When she began to relax, the lash came down in a flat spread across the fleshy loveliness of her buttocks. She stiffened, but made no sound. I spaced the lashes apart and with varying intensities, from her lovely thighs to the small of her back.
When she was a red glow of pleasure-pain, I paused.
I could almost feel Anna straining to sense where I was: what I was doing. Yet she made no sound.
Taking the cream in my hands I slowly covered the redness, knowing that the ministration was a painful on the tender flesh as the lash had been but that the cream would soon ease her pain and leave her with only the warmth and the memory.
Loosing her bonds , I turned my Anna over . I stretched her arms out straight. Leaning close, I whispered.
“Do not move.”
 spread her legs apart, and kneeling between her legs, I slowly fed myself into her wet sopping opening.
Anna trembled as my cock filled her and I lay upon her hot flesh. My hands were rough on her breasts, even as my lips softly caressed her neck and lip.
My hips moved , slowly at first, but faster as I felt her strive not to move beneath me and she held her arms and legs spread. Soon I was pounding into her and our music easily matched the symphony as we drove to our goal. As I felt my own climax rising, I growled,
“Cum with me.”
And with an anguished cry that seemed to be torn from her, Anna joined me in a mind and soul shattering orgasm, that left us both spent.
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long awaited ... gnt dance two
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Posted:Jul 31, 2007 5:14 am
Last Updated:May 19, 2010 7:31 am
2552 Views
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The party was not unlike those that had gone before,
drinks in hand, conversation mostly bland, all semmingly planned
to go just so far on the line of decomrum, so far and no more....
but somehow, soomeway, the meter became unscanned.
Across the not so crowded room
there eyes met in a glancing blow
somethning exchanged or reacted
that neither would mention, or know
Rising, they circled , half smiles in place,
hands set free in an unchoreographed dance
secret emotions clouded each lovely face
totally ignoring those who would look askance
Theri movements, so subtle, yet so elegantly played
they challenged each soul to sing or hum along
as their passions in the open became blatantly arrayed
and the two chose to dance to theri own private song......
R.
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The Diary
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Posted:Jul 15, 2007 12:57 pm
Last Updated:May 19, 2010 7:31 am
1794 Views
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In many cities around the world there is a strange sport or past-time, mostly among the younger adults, of roof-running. They trespass, they disturb people, they risk life and limb, and achieve nothing except a glorious passage.
If he were twenty years younger, Gil Stafford might well be a roof runner.
In every culture, in every time, man has found outlets for this over-riding compulsion to dominate his environment; spelunking, free climbing, sky diving, out-backing. For some men and some women their world is a place from which escape must be found.
At fifty-two, Gil was in fair shape, more by chance and moderation than through any virtue on his part. He was also totally bored. His job in market management for a publishing consortium had become routine and repetitive. He met all of his bench-marks and was considered a good employee. Anna, Gil’s wife of twenty-two years was an attractive, intelligent, if somewhat humorless woman who made few demands of his time and seemed quite content with her life.
Gil’s , Randy, age sixteen, and , Erica, thirteen, were almost sadly predictable.
What prompted these mid-life crisis thoughts? A cute, new co-worker? A chance reading of an old novel? Did a friend suddenly move to New Jersey and take up painting. No.
Some weeks back, as the weather had turned milder, Gil decided to skip lunch and go for a walk. He had no expectations of seeing anything, or meeting anyone. He expected the same streets that he had walked for so many years to offer the same views and the same people.
Around the corner from his office, was the stationary store. Gil never took pens home from work. It just seemed wrong to him. He was looking at a pen that was just like the one his family had bought him two years before to celebrate his fiftieth birthday. There, under the silver pen was the open page of an executive diary. Gil stared.
Unbidden , into his mind came the memory of ship’s logs, in ancient barks and ketches as captains made their precarious living and recorded the minutiae of their day in detail that spoke of heroic deeds and portentious occasions. Of star ships and first encounters. Of explorers forging a new world and putting aside their fears, their need for stability, to find a new world.
Hand tooled leather in a deep mahogany shade, with a tight binding that seemed to promise that in some distant future, the pages would remain intact, and tractable to fingers still unborn. A noble witness to a great man or woman’s life and mind.
Gazing at the cream bond paper, Gil could see it lying between his hands as he took his silver pen and……
Gil Stafford looked at the book that cried out to be filled with insight and reflections of a life lived boldly. He knew that the diary of his days, which he would have called comfortable and complete, would be but pages and pages of the same actions, the same thoughts, the same dull routine.
Saddened by this thought, Gil walked on. Had he never in his life wanted more? Had he ever sought to dominate, to conquer, to master a moment? He could think of none. He could not think of a single moment of his life that was not a product of the moment before.
The rest of that day, and the following forty-eight hours moved with the same tempo and path of those that had gone before. Outwardly, nothing seemed changed, but inside, Gil seethed with a rising consciousness that he had lived fifty-two years, three months and some days of a life that may just as well never have been lived at all.
Leaving work on Friday afternoon, Gil purchased the Diary, waiting with feigned patience, as the young clerk embossed the fine leather with the initials ‘G S’. The die was cast.
His purchase, still in the black-topped cardboard box in the center drawer of his desk in the corner of the guest room, designated dad’s den, Gil changed his clothes, walked the dog, and washed his hands for supper. The first hint of change came with Toby. A cocker spaniel with droopy eyes and a curious if not insistent nature, the waited by the door, tail wagging furiously, as Gil got the leash and plastic bag. Gil looked at the wildly dancing tail. Did he always do that? Gil couldn’t remember. Toby was Anne’s dog, but walks and the vet and the groomer had somehow become dad’s job. Gil must have walked Toby over a thousand times, but for the life of him, he had no idea if the small scut-tail had always vibrated with such unbridled passion.
Walking out the front door, they routinely headed right , and followed the blocks back home, sometimes, if it were nice out, or the seemed restless, they would skip the second right hand turn and go an extra block. Today, Toby pulled left. Gil started to correct him, but stopped. He stood, waiting to see what the would do. Looking up at Gil, Toby turned and walked left. Gil followed. The walk was more of a wander, and Gil laughed at the many stops to sniff and ‘mark’ the route. He found himself discussing it with the dog, and commenting on his actions. As they got home, Gil felt as though he had never walked the in his life.
At home, he washed up in the kitchen then sat at the table watching his wife.
“What’s the matter?” she asked.
“Nothing. Why?”
“You’re sitting there watching me.”
“Can’t I watch you?”
Gil realized that he was making Anne feel uncomfortable. He went into the living room.
Picking up the local paper, he turned to the back page. Comfortably methodical, Gil had always read the paper straight through. The front page was generally given to some local concern or story, unless the national news intruded. The second page had a feature with excerpts from the paper from past eras. Gil had often been amused by the change in the style of writing and reporting, and the newsworthiness of some of the articles. The third page was the ‘hard news’ page. Then came some features, some editorials and then the ads and fillers. The back page featured a young woman, strongly set, and grimly determined as she held the bat, waiting forever for a pitch that would never come. Gil read the caption. Margaret Scanlon was a fielder for the Red Lantern Tavern team. They were in the playoffs for the third year. Gil wondered about people who played games for a tavern. Did she work there? Was she a regular customer?
Glancing over the want ads with their odd titles; ‘Rooms to share’; Situations wanted - Medical’; each of which seemed to hold its own story, Gil reached the comics. Now, he turned to the front, but ignored most of the ‘major’ articles and focused on the fillers. He was surprised to feel the smile on his face at the antics of his fellow beings.
Gil usually didn’t bother with the comics, but today he read each one and actually laughed out loud at one point which made Anne, who was now looking at a magazine, look up, sharply. Folding the paper and returning it to the reading rack by his chair, Gil’s hand fell on the book he was currently reading. With his hand resting idly on its spine, he could see the chapters. It was a personal account of the or grandson of a revolutionary era President as he led troops for the South in the War Between the States. Though the book purported to be a ‘recollection’, as Gil read, he was struck with the careful phrasing that cited generals from long forgotten frays, and balanced reports with reflection in such a way as to avoid seeming to indict anyone even for serious mistakes. When a retreating General burned the only local bridge, Taylor notes how the General noted his apparent dismay and asked why. After explaining an axiom from his own days at West Point, he showed that by leaving this single passage open, the army could have mounted an effective rear guard that would have easily contained pursuit and limited the rear-ground.
Taylor notes that thereafter the General sought his council more often. Gil smiled at the memory and believed that Taylor had written the book as a future text-book for the Point.
At supper, Randy was telling a story from his chemistry class. Gil looked at his . Randy was almost as tall as his father’s own five-nine, but lighter than Gil’s one sixty. A nice looking boy who could fit in with most groups. As Gil listened to Randy’s tale of his teacher who seemed to relish demonstrations that exploded, flared or shocked, Gil wondered how Randy felt about this man.
“Do most of the like him?”
Randy looked at his father as though just noticing him.
“I don’t know. I guess. His class is usually fun.”
Gil nodded but seemed to have heard something that hadn’t been said.
Gil helped Anne clear the table but when she seemed uncomfortable with his presence he went outside. With his small but well-equipped tool box, Gil fixed the stuck back door, then trimmed some of the shrubs in his yard. Looking at his yard Gil realized he felt nothing. He was neither pleased nor motivated. It was a yard. The grass was short, the edges trimmed, the few shrubs neat. It was not unlike most of the yards on his street. Did he wish he had some flowers or ivy? Not really. Gil knew the yard was of little consequence to him. He smiled at the thought of taking up all the grass and shrubs and laying maintenance free gravel. Shaking his head he went back into the house.
Back in the living room, Gil had trouble focusing on any television program. Anne was reading her latest historical romance and would be nodding off shortly, to wake in time to go to bed at the start of the news. Turning the television to the station she liked for news, Gil went to bed. He never saw the anxious look his wife cast on her sleeping husband as she went to bed.
Saturday. Weekly shopping. Chores. Magazine reading disguised as a nap. Not today.
In the market, Gil watched Anne as she chose items with casual disdain, rarely consulting a coupon or sale circular. Watching her, Gil realized that the grocery bill was probably almost exactly the same every week Gil wondered if this were true of everyone. Did most people seek such lives of least existence?
At the register, Anne already had six twenty dollar bills in hand for the total of one sixteen forty-two that was rung up. Gil shook his head with a smile.
Putting away the groceries, Gil thought about the rest of the day. He wondered what Anne would say if he said; “Let’s go fishing.”. But he hadn’t fished in years, and never with Anne. They must have done things together when they were dating, but for now Gil could not recall a single moment. They had friends with whom they had gone to movies or skating or parties, but most were long gone from their lives.
“Do you ever hear from Rosie?”
“Rosie. From school?”
“Yeah. You two were friends, right. She was your maid of honor.”
“On their last Christmas card she said they might be moving back to the area, but that was, what, two years ago? Nothing since. Why? What made you think of her?”
Gil thought of trying to explain the convoluted paths his thoughts had taken to prompt his question.
“Just popped into my head.”
Gil wondered if he should try to explain to Anne what his mind was going through, but, what, exactly, was his mind going through? A mid-life crisis? Gil paled at the hollowness of the cliché. Was that all this was? By next week would he forget all of this and one day find that diary in the center drawer and wonder why he had bought it at all? Oddly, this thought made him sadder than any that had gone before.
“I’m going to take a ride.” He said.
“Okay. If you happen by a drug store, we need some tissues. I forgot at the market.”
“No problem.”
Sitting in the car, Gil could not remember ever getting into his car without knowing exactly where he was going. As he turned the key, he listened to the sound of the motor and smiled.
One of the problems with living in the same suburb for two decades, was that it was virtually impossible to get lost. No matter which way Gil aimed the car, he could readily envision every street and destination within reasonable travel time. Right turn on Chester Pike: Walmarts; McDonalds; Fidelity Bank; St. Rose’s with its new landscaping; Skinner’s garage. Left on Chester pike; Chester, Bullen’s lane with its straight curve to MacDade and the Woodlyn shopping center. Gil went left. At the Rite-Aid, he bought the tissues, and looked at some of the impulse items they kept near the register. None caught his fancy.
His one errand done, Gil turned left out of the seedy old parking lot, and drove into Chester. Though born there, he had not spent much time there in the last twenty years.
On impulse, he drove to the Park. In high school, he had run through the park. In his off hours he had wandered the park and swum in the creek. The creek looked shallower and dirtier than Gil remembered, but there were still playing there. The tennis courts didn’t seem as well-cared for as he remembered but Gil knew that might only be memory.
Walking across the hilly terrain toward the band-shell, Gil wondered if they still had bands. Had they ever had bands? He seemed to recall a battle of the bands with a lot of people his own age, but that was almost forty years ago. The band shell was just a shell and gave nothing away.
Standing there, Gil remembered the fire works. He could not have been more that five or six when his family stopped driving to Chester park for the annual fire works, but he could remember his mother and father packing his four brothers and sisters into the old country squire wagon and packing a hamper and some old blankets. He remembered the smell of the oily mosquito repellent, and the taste of it when it touched your tongue. The scent of the punks and cat-tails and fancy bug candles that his father thought were so sharp. Gil smiled standing there in the park. In truth, he had never particularly cared for the sharp almost painful noise of the fireworks, and the bright colors seemed pale against the technicolor world in which he now lived, but at that time the fourth fire works were the major event of the summer. Feeling his age, now, Gil drove home.
Monday. Gil took his regular train into the city. Instead of reading or doing the cross-word puzzle, Gil studied his fellow travelers.
Gil looked at the graying man in mechanic’s overalls. Did he work in a gas station? If so why did he ride the train to work? Did he work for the railroad? Gil knew the man’s often got on the train a few stops down the line. They would chat as they rode. Gil wondered if this was the only time they saw each other. For a moment he thought of Erica ten years from now getting on this same train and sitting across from him, asking about Anne and Toby.
Gil looked around the train. All of these people had lives of their own. Their own fears, lusts, angers and hungers.
At work, Gil looked at his co-workers and seemed to see them as he had never seen them before. Millie. A cute, young girl, who seemed to be worried about some unknown expiration date: best if used by…. At twenty-eight, she dressed younger and flirted openly, but Gil realized that it was all show. Her implied invitation had all the sincerity of a used-car salesman. Gil wondered if she knew this about herself or if she saw herself as the cute young thing of the office. Sue was prettier and looked at you when you spoke with her. Knowledgeable about sports and cars, she got along well with the men in the office. She was happily married and had a the same age as Gil’s .
“Hi, Sue. How are the ?”
“Fine, Gil. May is going to be the death of me, but just two years and we can ship them out.”
At lunch time, Gil walked out of his building, but instead of walking up Broad, he crossed over and went down the old metal-capped concrete steps that led into the under-ground that was the heart of Philadelphia’s transit system. Buying some tokens, Gil got on the south-bound train. He had no destination in mind. In truth, he had never ridden the Broad street subway in this direction, and hadn’t ridden at all since his days at Temple.
The people on the noon train were an interesting mix of students, mothers with small and senior citizens taking advantage of the off-peak rides.
Five minutes and six stops later, Gil got off the train. Hardly ‘lost’ since he knew he had only to cross Broad and take the next north-bound train to be back at work, still, it was a section of Broad street that was as alien to Gil as any foreign land.
Gil walked down a narrow street of row homes. Most were over a hundred years old. Some were well-kept, and reflected a pride and sometimes a bit of whimsy, like the porcelain duck that sat in a window box. Some showed signs of long neglect. Gil felt bad for the people whose houses adjoined these derelicts. An older woman nodded as she passed and Gil returned her nod. He thought about the fact that no one from his office knew where he was, or would ever guess where he had been made him smile and made the moment that much more intense.
Passing a consignment store with items he could hardly recognize, and hearing music from a small café that reminded him of his long ago honeymoon in the Bahamas. The train ride back to the office seemed too short. Gil felt his office self settle over his features as a mask. That thought made him smile, and Millie winked at him. Gil tried not to laugh.
After walking Toby and enjoying dinner, and Randy’s ramble about the way the music scene kept stealing moments from Philadelphia without ever giving it its due. Erica seemed more concerned with mastering curling with her lacrosse stick. Gil offered to have a catch with her later.
When the had gone to their rooms, and Anne was nodding over her book, Gil walked into his office. Sitting at his desk, he took the gift-pen from its box, and using a tissue he cleaned the tip. Then with hands that showed not a tremble, he drew out the diary.
Writing the date at the top of the page, Gil seemed almost to watch as his hands described the weather and the tone of the day. He saw his thoughts on the graying man and his , and the office and its characters. He saw the subway ride and remembered the signs above the hand bars and the little map that he had not even realized he had seen. The neighborhood and the lives and stories that inhabited it. Then the passionate lines from his flowed onto the paper. The sight of the fading day in his ’s auburn hair as she caught the lacrosse ball and curling her wrist spun and returned his toss with ease.
His hands caressed the leather as he closed the book. He smiled at the last line his silver pen had written on that first of many pages; “Sometimes, to see a whole new world, we need only open our eyes.”
………………………………..........................................................
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Ana's sonnet
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Posted:Jul 8, 2007 12:24 pm
Last Updated:May 19, 2010 7:32 am
2268 Views
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REFLECTIONS
Ana gazes with feigned indifference
at her reflection and she sighs
A magic tour from form to essence
but the looking glass never lies
The breasts so proudly demanding
by time and gravity undone
Her long, lean legs still outstanding
more inclined to walk now than run
Her golden hair perhaps less bright
and lines of smiles touch her face
yet.... in the glow of her lover's light
consumed by passion's embrace
joy and life and laughter live in her blue eyes
and Ana stoops to conquer... the mirror never lies......
Rory
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sipping memories
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Posted:Jul 6, 2007 5:04 pm
Last Updated:Apr 29, 2024 3:32 am
1690 Views
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The Irish whiskey teased my tongue. The scent of it filling my mind, as the flavor captured my mind. Looking up, I saw her. The grey in her hair was too random to be from a salon, and too artful to be totally natural. Her pale green eyes were alive with a mischievous smile that hadn’t yet reached her full lips. The small lines at the sides of those lips told of the laughter and the joy she carried within.
I remembered the night we had made love for the first time. The laughter was always there in the background, ready to reduce us to helplessness. Even when I had tied her wrists and raised them over her head, delighting in the way it drew her full breasts up and the nipples offered themselves to my lips and teeth. Even as I drew her higher and higher, without letting her reach that crescendo that her body screamed for, still in her eyes the laughter lingered, locking us together in a dance that we could no more halt than our own breath.
The tremor in her arms as she strained. The tightening of her thighs as she strained against the ties that bound her. I was aware of her as of no woman I had ever known.
Then her body convulsed in a spasm of joy and release and the laughter became a song of joy and praise.
Lying there in the post release stupor, I smiled and poured some whiskey in my glass. I stared down at her lovely body laid out before me, and the ice tinkled in the glass.
“You want another?”
I looked up at the bartender’s bored face.
“No. I think I’ve had enough.”
I wondered who she was. I wondered if ……. But then the loneliness returned.
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gnt dance.... 1...
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Posted:Jul 3, 2007 2:57 pm
Last Updated:Jul 11, 2007 4:34 pm
1817 Views
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the room seemed quieter than usual. odd for so early in the day... I wandered about, and noted the flickering of a candle.. moving to the table, I felt the stir of air, that came from the seam of an heretofore unnoted passage. knowing, somehow that this was no accident, I entered the passage feeling it close softly behind me....
the shadowy walls were close and there was little light. I followed a soft sound of bells.. faint and almost unheard... the room that opened before me was more like the great hall of a celtic chieftain than one of those old cold castles that so many seem to long for. There I saw TM, sitting on a chair of rough-hewn wood. He grinned with a wind as I entered. I took a bench by the wall. Others there I saw.. and knew.
In the clearing, TM's lass moved sensuosly, her fair hair brushing her naked shoulders as her slender body moved in the robe that fell in soft almost sheer joy from her lovely high breasts.
I had always known of the sensuality and grace of the fair lady, but here she was offering herself, to Him for all to see.. His eyes drank deeply from the grail of her beauty, glowing with the madness she stirred in His soul...
Then there was another... shorter, with darker hair and the palest eyes... she moved about the perimeter of the floor, almost as though unaware, but clearly as unaware as any moth of the flame...
the lovely anna, impish as ever... rising often to her toes as though trying to match the lofty stature of her lovely friend.. They did not touch and did not gaze into each others eyes, yet their dance wove in a mysterious manner that seemed to draw them closer, and closer.. was the air in the room growing still?..or was it the breath which my lungs held in anticipation?...
anna's dress caressed one shoulder as it cascaded across her breasts, fuller and wider apart than those of the lovely lass.. they pressed against the fragile fabric with a hunger to be free.
Just inches apart, now, the two women moved their arms one fair one darker, weaving without touching as they coexisted in a space that threatened to collapse from the demands upon it.
Slender hips thrust and buttocks flowed beneath the soft caress of a cloth that I so envied in that moment. Moving slower now, their breasts almost but never quite touching as their nipples strained to reach to each other and their lips, fair soft, luxurious lips almost brushed but passed as though through a space that surrendered as they moved in a time suspended...
then their arms raised high, they turned and back to back with barely a breath of air between the shapely curves of their lovely backs, anna's shorter fuller frame seeming to fit as though goddess designed into the slender caress of lass' fair form, and how they could not touch seemed an assault on all reason as all watched and waited and the soft bells that they wore, tinkled with a soft otherworld feel and they stopped....and turned and their lips drew closer that they breathed each other's life's breath, and the candles dimmed........
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