Tuesday, May 15, 2018

Long Jacket

She wore high black heels and a long black jacket. The day was warm, breezy, too hot for a jacket.

She hadn't been touched in months, nearly a year. She was hungry. Nervous.

She knocked.

He sat in a chair. He wore khaki pants and a white t-shirt.

He looked at his phone. He hadn't been touched in months, nearly a year.

His body was shaking a bit, the anticipation and nerves tempered with a deep desire.

She heard him move, heard the click of the door.

The door closed. She was pushed against it. There lips met. Fire.

He unzipped the jacket.

She wore a think white tank and tiny black cotton panties.

His mouth was on her chest, tongue teasing a hardened nipple. Her hands in his hair.

His kisses floated down her stomach, to her thighs.

His tongue traced a line to her knee. Then kisses danced up her other leg.

Back down.

His mouth encircling her ankle. His tongue teasing the high arch of her small foot.

He stood again. Their mouths met and locked and their lips explored, exploded.

She felt the heat of his desire. Unzipped his pants as he grabbed her ass to pull her even closer.

He led her to the bed. Pulled her panties down and watched her take a seat.

His mouth focused on her thighs, kissing, licking, tasting. He delighted in her response, loved the smooth skin, the sweet taste.

His tongue parted the folds of her pussy... tasting the salty-sweet heaven. Light pressure on her clit, lips and tongue and desire. His whole mouth made love to her. He was relentless. He felt her near climax, and she felt a perfect suction, a sensation she'd nearly forgotten.

As she let herself go, he licked more gently, absorbing all she had for him.

He stood, kissed her lips, let her taste what she'd done to him.

She pulled her tank over her head, threw it on the floor.

His mouth on her breasts again and then she pushed back.

Her eyes went to his now throbbing cock.

She licked her lips and then he felt her tongue flick against his engorged head. The taste of his pre-cum ignited her. She took all of him in, then back out. Then licking up and down his thick shaft.

As she circled his head with her lips and tongue, she looked directly at him. The sight of her, this beautiful woman he'd wanted for years, nearly sent him over the edge.

He told her to turn around, and her ass was in his face.

He tasted her ass, teased her. She then felt his cock against her anus, then down.

He was inside her, her heels still on.

She begged him to fuck her, to fuck her hard.

He gave all he had, pushed deep, held himself there.

His hands now on her breasts, pinching and twisting her nipples.

Her pussy was incredibly wet and yet her grip was tight, intense.

He found a rhythm, pounded hard as she screamed for him not to stop.

She felt his mouth on her neck, felt his teeth bite her shoulder. She heard him grunt and felt him pulsing inside her.

His hot semen flowed and he held himself there, their bodies lightly sweating.

He let go, popped out. He collapsed on her back and turned her head to his, tasted her still desperate kiss.

As they lay together, he began to stroke her back, massaging her shoulders.

He straddled her, admiring her firm ass. As she relaxed, she raised her ass to meet him and each time she did, she made sure to tease his stiffening cock.

He turned her over, looked straight into her green eyes, and thrust his cock deep inside her again.

This was just the beginning. A stolen moment that would lead to more.

Friday, May 11, 2018

Borrowed Sugar

He snaps the pictures with his phone and sends them off as instructed. He waits. Dark circles of sweat already forming on his red polo shirt. He looks out the tiny window in the small space he rents. Some months, he actually makes the rent payment. The landlord says nothing as the building is old and the air conditioning barely works and she wants to present a somewhat full building to prospective renters.

He sees the number, knows what the call is. He answers. A few questions and a promise of a call back.

Fifteen minutes after he's sent the pictures and filled out a very short application, he's told he can get $400 in cash at a nearby store. He says yes.

His phone tells him the nearest location is just over a mile away. He walks in the July heat as driving would mean giving up a treasured parking spot.

He returns and finds that the air conditioning on his floor is now working. He removes his shirt and uses napkins from the men's room to pat his body down.  He stands near the vent and shivers as he is cooled.

He takes off his belt and leaves his shirt untucked. Opens the laptop and finds something resembling work to do.

A knock.

She's here. They never kiss. She doesn't like kissing.

He sits back behind his desk, she sits in the large, comfortable chair across from it.

Her voice. It is her voice that draws him in. Arouses him. He can't explain it, but when she talks, he is moved. His body reacts.

She is fifteen years younger, blonde curly hair, large breasts.

She's on her knees now, rubbing his thighs. He unbuttons his khakis, she unzips them.

Massaging his cock through boxer briefs, pulling it out.

He stands, pushes them down.

His cock is hard and the head is glistening with precum. She strokes it as he watches and smiles.

Teasing him with her tongue, tasting the saltiness.

He reaches down, urges her up and she removes her dress. His lips on her breasts, hungry, desperate.

She moves back down, his cock on her body.

He's back in her mouth, she's devouring him.

Hand in her hair, eyes closed, he's letting go. For one or two minutes, he allows himself to let go. As he becomes absorbed in the experience, his cock grows larger, pulses in her mouth.

He holds her head close, holds her still, thrusts and explodes and more and more. She's steady.  When he removes his cock from her mouth, she licks it, uses her fingers to wipe up the cum, licks more.

He pulls up his pants, zips. He sits in the chair behind his desk.

His head light and fuzzy and wonderful. He looks at her, she smiles.

She makes up some reason she needs to leave and at the door, he hands her a small envelope with a crisp one hundred dollar bill inside.

She's there and gone in fifteen minutes.

Thursday, February 22, 2018

13 Years

13 years since then. Since Seattle. Since the sun opened up in a way it never had before and never would again.

13 years since the beautiful green and rain dampened mornings.

13 years since I saw a path.

13 years since I was pure, whole, complete, and knew what to do.

13 years since I first had a drink alone.

13 years since I made up my mind.

13 years.

I walked everywhere and hardly slept. I worked, and wrote, and took it all in. I knew I was home, knew Seattle would be home -- or at least would be the way I found a way out. A way home.

I once thought there was a way I could find that clarity again. That my spirit could soar.

13 years since the one, brief opening.

13 years since I chose to try one more time, to give a little more of myself.

13 years since a month turned to two and turned to something from which I could never turn back.

Now 12 years since the darkness crept in, forever clouding the light.

I escaped that first darkness. I thought I did.

Now 9 years since the darkness returned. 8 years since it took over.

Just 6 years ago I realized I'd been robbed of joy. And that marked 7 years since Seattle. Since hope.

One sentence. Three words. Words I wouldn't say. Not out loud.

Instead, I wonder.

13 years ago I could have been pure, earnest, with but one tiny blemish.

13 years ago I might have offered myself as a source of strength to the brown-haired girl I'd known from school.  Or perhaps more eagerly pursued the clearly interested co-worker.

Or just left. To home. To Seattle. To Somewhere.

13 years since Seattle.

13 years since the bright sun. Since the clarity of purpose.

13 years since purity.

13 years since I was whole.

I can trace each minute in my mind, can see each hour pass, can feel my heart race and my spirit sing.

13 years.

Tuesday, February 20, 2018

A Few Minutes on Thursday

Their bodies stuck together with a light, pleasant sweat. Both completely naked, exactly the same height. Her long fingers played in his hair, their legs intertwined.

Her words soothed him and his words made her smile.

In these moments, he marveled at her beauty. Her small, perfect breasts with pierced nipples. The length of her tan legs. The Latin words written down one side of her body.

The sheets and comforter a deep red, the lights off and blinds drawn.

The day outside hot, summer at full strength.

Her sister back in about an hour.

But now, right now, for these few minutes, they could relax, close their eyes, say words, and smile.

Just minutes before, hot semen on her back, dripping down her leg...On all fours as he entered her, found rhythm, admired her tiny, tight asshole and the tattoo just above it, held her waist, and pushed all the way...

Before that, her mouth on him, his boxer briefs tossed aside, the head of his cock throbbing and pulsing against her lips and tongue.

Holding her after her climax, the one caused by his mouth, his fingers, his hungry tongue.

Never more than two hours together, mostly just over one.

They both craved those moments, those minutes. All of it intense, passionate, wondrous. The few minutes just before he left the most wonderful of all.

Alone. Together. Darkness. Words. Light touch on sensitive bodies.

Every Thursday for one summer. A few minutes.

Friday, January 5, 2018

One Evening

She wore a simple black dress and ankle strap black heels. Her skin glistened in the night air as they walked from his car to the hotel. Her hair was dark, her eyes a deep, mysterious brown.

In her heels, she was just taller than him. He wore a charcoal gray suit, crisp white shirt, black tie and cuff links. They walked briskly, both smiling inside and out. This was the first time in months they'd been alone together.

Over dinner, he leaned in to her, listened to her every word. She could sense his hunger, his desire to just be in her presence. She felt the same. Longed for him, craved the sound of his voice. No matter what the story, she wanted him to do the telling. And to see that smile he reserved for those he truly enjoyed. To see what he showed to no one else.

After the meal, they found their room. A rose and bottle of champagne greeted them. The room was all windows and they both looked out on the city they'd made their own.

He turned and pulled her close, kissed the lips he'd dreamed of for months. Her kiss, her touch, her taste, the scent of her soft skin - always, always on his mind. The way she stood in her heels, the way she kissed him softly, the way he wanted her and no one else.

His hands on her back, then to her ass. Her long fingers tracing his arm, pulling him to her.

He led her to the bed, took a knee, and presented her with the rose. Told her she was all he wanted, all he could imagine.

He removed each of her shoes, caressing her feet as he did. His lips pressed against her ankles, his hands on her calves, thighs.

He was facing her, kissing her again, unable to stop himself. His suit jacket off, his tie loose. He looked at her and was possessed.

His lips and hands all over her body, tasting, touching, feeling the heat of her passionate response. His head between her thighs, devouring as she reached a heavenly climax. He held her head in his hands, looked her in the eye and said, "Make love to me... "

He tossed her dress to the side, removed his own clothes, and they embraced. Side by side on the bed, they kissed again. Hands wandering, discovering anew. Each time felt like the first time. Each time was new, fresh, wonderful -- and familiar.

As he entered her, he looked deep into her eyes, saw the mystery there. He watched her complete surrender, just as he gave himself completely to her. He held her close, held himself inside her, and was still. He told her all he ever wanted was to be as close to her as possible.

Slowly, their bodies moved in a rocking rhythm. Her legs wrapped around him, his hands on her waist, their lips locked. The fire was in their eyes, though. The sex was in their minds. They had crossed into a mental, nearly spiritual place. The physical realm was present, was incredible, but this ... this was more.

As she looked at him, her eyes told him... and he looked directly into them as he let his orgasm go, let himself go, surrendered to her as she had to him.

Sticky, wet, beautiful together, they stayed in the warmth of the bed ... looked out into the dark and starry night, a darkness and sparkle her eyes matched.

After what seemed like hours like this, he got up and drew her a warm bath. He came back and took her to it, helped her in, bathed her. He admired every single inch of her body -- her hair, her shoulders, her nose, her breasts, the curve of her hips, the length of her legs, the arch of her foot. All of her -- the perfect and imperfect. He knew it was all his. Knew she saw him this way -- his slim  body, his dark hair and eyes, the fact they were the same height. All of it. The perfect and imperfect.

He helped her out, wrapped her in a robe, and took a quick shower. He came to the bed, unwrapped her robe, and wrapped himself around her. The sleep was deep, and dark, and wondrous... a dream that had just begun.

They woke to bright sun, to warmth, to bodies nearly stuck together from hours of peaceful sleep.

This one evening had set them apart.

Wednesday, October 4, 2017


All she could hear was the music. A deep, pulsing beat. Coming from the back of the house. The room was dark, a tinge of light coming from an open door down the hall.

The chair was wooden, high-backed. She wore black lace panties and a matching bra and nothing else. Her hands were tied tightly behind her back and fastened to the chair. Her ankles were knotted to the legs of the chair.

And all she could hear was the music.

She remembered him tying her up, then walking away. Then the music started.

She didn't know how long he'd been gone. Thirty minutes, maybe an hour.

The music didn't stop. Loud. Pulsing. Beating. Like her heart.

She felt beads of sweat on her head. The anticipation of what was next made her wet between her legs.

She didn't hear as he walked behind her, but she saw more light from the candle he carried.

He placed the candle on a table behind her chair. She saw his shadow to the side of her.

He was in front of her now. No shirt, only a well-fitting pair of boxer briefs. His body lean and hungry.

She watched as he massaged his cock through his briefs. Watched the way his eyes took all of her in. Watched as the cotton grew tighter around his stiffening member. Watched as pre-cum stained through the dark shorts. All the while, the music continued. Loud. Relentless. Her desire building.

She watched as his shorts dropped to the floor. Admired the strong, hard, pulsing cock as he stroked it. He let it go, let her see the full length and thickness of him.

He walked behind her, grabbed her throat, and brought her lips to his, taking an angry, hungry kiss -- taking her breath away. His hands wandered, down to her breasts, down to her aching pussy. His fingers beneath lace, teasing moist folds, opening her. A finger pressed in, a second joined. He stroked her, teased her clit, and she moaned in expectant delight.

One hand on her neck, his pussy-soaked fingers in her mouth as she licked every single drop of her desire.

He was in front of her now, his cock even stiffer than before.

He grabbed the back of her head, a handful of her hair. Shoved his cock over her lips, into her mouth, into her throat. Held it there as her eyes began to water. Pulled it out a bit... rubbed it on her lips, rubbed between her breasts. Then back into her mouth. In and out. Fucking her face, taking what he wanted.

His grip on her hair grew tighter and his cock moved faster. Over her lips, on her tongue, to her throat. Sometimes slipping completely out, then shoved back in. He was lost in the pleasure of her.

He pulled her down, all the way down his shaft, held her there and she felt the pulsing, the throbbing. His explosion was exquisite. He grunted, moaned her name. Thick, hot semen filled her throat and she took all she could.

He pulled back, his cock still semi-hard. He took her in, noticed the tears down her face, the cum dripping from her used mouth. Warm drops forming on her bra and breasts.

He walked behind her, whispered to her. She just smiled.

The music. Pulsing. Loud.

Her body aching. Hungry. Wanting more.

Monday, September 25, 2017

Black and Grey

She was often like this. No makeup, a simple grey tank top. A black hat to keep her dark hair under control.

Her face was beautiful. Glowing with youth and promise. This new, simple life was anything but simple. Still, she loved it. Loved him. Loved them together.

She heard him at the computer, typing. His words coming quickly, his keystrokes loud, aggressive.

She knew he'd been up quite early.

She walked into the office and sat in the chair across from his desk.

Simple shorts, the grey tank, the black cap. Bare feet.

He didn't look up. He kept writing. This is what he did.

She wanted to see him, to watch him work. To watch the thoughts in his mind go to the page.

After a moment, he noticed her. Noticed her scent. Though she wore no makeup, she was wearing her signature scent. A simple, enchanting scent that always got his attention.

He looked up. His eyes met hers. She glanced down as he took all of her in. Admired the simple, pure beauty of her face. Craved another glimpse of her dark, mysterious eyes. Smiled as he took in the way her ample breasts gave shape to the grey top. Enjoyed the site of her flesh creating a heavenly valley. The curves of her ass gave way to shapely legs and nice ankles and pleasant feet.

His writing would wait.

He got up from his chair and walked to her, knelt in front of her. His lips brush hers, then enveloped them. Her mouth responded with hunger. The simple, pure face turned into a burning fire of passion.

His hands on her waist, then her ass.. pushing her up, standing -- the two of them nearly the same height. Their lips in a dance of pure hunger. His hands beneath the grey tank top, fingers teasing aroused nipples..

His mouth on her neck, her shoulders... working down to the lush valley of her breasts.

His hands pushing down her shorts. Exposing the firmness of her flesh.

As their lips meet again, she reaches into his pants, strokes his rock hard cock through his cotton boxer briefs. She notices the pre-cum, the effect she's had on him.

Hand under waistband, fingers caressing the throbbing head of his hot cock.

He looks into her eyes and pulls away from their kiss.

Tells her to get to the floor.

She's on all fours, her head against the chair where she just sat. He pulls her shorts over her feet, tosses them away. His finger traces a line from the small of her back, down her ass, to the wet warmth of her aching pussy.

He puts his finger in his mouth, wets it... then teases her clit, her pussy.

She hears the sound of his pants unzipping. Hears him stroke the length of his cock.

His breath is on her neck, his lips graze her ear.

She is his lover forever, he says. The weight of him against her pushes her knees against the hardwood floor. The feel of his cock, resting against her ass, causes her desire to grow stronger.

He pulls her tank top over her head and kisses her down the length of one arm, the tip of his cock against her back.

He bites at her shoulder, licks and sucks and kisses her back.

His tongue traces down her spine and back up.

She feels the pulsing head of his angry cock against her ass, then lower, then inside her. He pushes in and she moans in delight.

He finds a rhythm and his hands cup her breasts, his body one with hers now.

He pushes himself in as deep as he can go and then holds himself there, bends over, kisses her neck, turns her head, and they kiss as their bodies relish the sweet pleasure.

He leans back, pulls her hair as her back arches to him. Her hand on her clit now, fingers teasing his balls as he fucks her.

He feels her grow warmer, pulse, she tightens around him and he slows a bit. She screams in pure bliss and he thrusts hard, harder, deep. He groans and then whispers her name. His body wet with sweat and hers sticky beneath him. His hot cum deep inside, a drop or two dripping as his cock leaves her body.

He collapses to the floor, pulls her to him. Admires the thin layer of sweat on her perfect breasts. They kiss and laugh and enjoy just being there. The day is ahead of them, but it has started well.

There is no secret to their unlikely love, just together. Every day.