SamanthaFowler
I have two loves; Amberlight and Stephen, and am a verbally promiscuous flirt
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Written by SamanthaFowler in portal Romance & Erotica

The Making of Making

I will be making Stephen,

     remember he married a sultry woman

     drool at the sight of me with a foxtail and a smile

     wonder how sweaty I get while cleaning

     never forget how much sweatier I become while dirty

Stephen will be making

     love to me until I scream stop or he has a heart attack (whichever comes first)

     reservations for dinner later (for he has already seen my sizzle)

     amends for even thinking about leaving me alone on a Saturday 

     suggestions for after Sunday's tango lesson

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Written by SamanthaFowler in portal Romance & Erotica
The Making of Making
I will be making Stephen,
     remember he married a sultry woman
     drool at the sight of me with a foxtail and a smile
     wonder how sweaty I get while cleaning
     never forget how much sweatier I become while dirty
Stephen will be making
     love to me until I scream stop or he has a heart attack (whichever comes first)
     reservations for dinner later (for he has already seen my sizzle)
     amends for even thinking about leaving me alone on a Saturday 
     suggestions for after Sunday's tango lesson
5
0
5
Juice
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Written by SamanthaFowler in portal Sci-Fi

It all began on August 21, 2017 @ 1307 EST

1300 EST

"WTF?"

It was all I could say when I saw the live feed.  I do not believe in coincidences, nor frauds.  I know what I saw and I know what this means.  Unfortunately, none of the news channels are reporting what I know.  All of my attempts to transmit are blocked by forces unknown.  We don't have the capability to respond this quickly.  I take that back.  A few of my friends can, but not without prior notice.  If this means what I think this means . . 

1302 EST

I ran with everything of importance I could carry before the police arrived.  The last tweet I received showed my picture as one of the domestic terrorists responsible for a series of bombings killing dozens of innocent people.  I managed to jump my fence and hide between a few parked cars before they sealed my block.  I hit my distress beacon to warn my friends.  Hopefully, they made it out alive.

1304 EST

From two blocks away, I saw the helicopter fire on my house and destroy the building and contents.  I packed my bug-out bag in preparation for such an event.  I carry three of those old Trac-Phones (each to be used a single time).  I sent a text to my research adviser with the code word, "PURPLE".  He will know what to do.

1305 EST 

I walked past a woman and asked what was going on.  She didn't even look up from her cell phone to inform me that someone just blew up the UN Headquarters in NYC and the Kremlin in Moscow.  CNN reports the President gave the military the order to go to DEFCON1.  I use my second phone to text my contact that my ETA is 15 minutes.  I must make it before then.

1306 EST

I have never seen an ICBM launch from a silo.  I just witnessed four.  It is game over.

1307 EST

I use my last phone to send the video of the NASA satellite feed of the dark side of the Moon during today's solar eclipse.  They must have known all along.  It shows the entire alien civilization and their associated bases constructed on (what we always believed to be) an uninhabited place.  The glow over the facilities must have been some type of electromagnetic shield.  Our sensors might not have been able to penetrate it for analysis, but the Sun lighting up the Moon made it easy to see everything this race was up to.

Everything that included the waves of fighters, missiles, and the laser weapon that destroyed the satellite I hack into.  

They now know that we now know that they are there.  

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Written by SamanthaFowler in portal Sci-Fi
It all began on August 21, 2017 @ 1307 EST
1300 EST
"WTF?"
It was all I could say when I saw the live feed.  I do not believe in coincidences, nor frauds.  I know what I saw and I know what this means.  Unfortunately, none of the news channels are reporting what I know.  All of my attempts to transmit are blocked by forces unknown.  We don't have the capability to respond this quickly.  I take that back.  A few of my friends can, but not without prior notice.  If this means what I think this means . . 

1302 EST
I ran with everything of importance I could carry before the police arrived.  The last tweet I received showed my picture as one of the domestic terrorists responsible for a series of bombings killing dozens of innocent people.  I managed to jump my fence and hide between a few parked cars before they sealed my block.  I hit my distress beacon to warn my friends.  Hopefully, they made it out alive.

1304 EST
From two blocks away, I saw the helicopter fire on my house and destroy the building and contents.  I packed my bug-out bag in preparation for such an event.  I carry three of those old Trac-Phones (each to be used a single time).  I sent a text to my research adviser with the code word, "PURPLE".  He will know what to do.

1305 EST 
I walked past a woman and asked what was going on.  She didn't even look up from her cell phone to inform me that someone just blew up the UN Headquarters in NYC and the Kremlin in Moscow.  CNN reports the President gave the military the order to go to DEFCON1.  I use my second phone to text my contact that my ETA is 15 minutes.  I must make it before then.

1306 EST
I have never seen an ICBM launch from a silo.  I just witnessed four.  It is game over.

1307 EST
I use my last phone to send the video of the NASA satellite feed of the dark side of the Moon during today's solar eclipse.  They must have known all along.  It shows the entire alien civilization and their associated bases constructed on (what we always believed to be) an uninhabited place.  The glow over the facilities must have been some type of electromagnetic shield.  Our sensors might not have been able to penetrate it for analysis, but the Sun lighting up the Moon made it easy to see everything this race was up to.

Everything that included the waves of fighters, missiles, and the laser weapon that destroyed the satellite I hack into.  

They now know that we now know that they are there.  
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Written by SamanthaFowler in portal Romance & Erotica

For Amberlight

Here is the new icon me!  My sister thought an update was in order.  I have to agree with her impeccable logic.  I hope you find my new appearance appealing.

Love . . . Samantha.

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Written by SamanthaFowler in portal Romance & Erotica
For Amberlight
Here is the new icon me!  My sister thought an update was in order.  I have to agree with her impeccable logic.  I hope you find my new appearance appealing.
Love . . . Samantha.
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Let your words loose. Write freely. Let the world of prose see your true talent.
Written by SamanthaFowler

I Collect Pennys

Their copper tone was more than I ever expected to witness in my lifetime.

Both had a perfect roundness so desirable to those in my field.

Their dates were clear, no guessing required.

Both were uncirculated.

Both had never been used or spent.

Not one fingerprint had ever marred either surface.

I was in a financial position to acquire either if I so chose.

When I finally chose, I chose both.

Satisfaction of proximity was just as important as my permanent ownership.

Then, their father instructed me to finally make up my mind.

I could date either Gretchen or Victoria Penny.

Not both.

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Let your words loose. Write freely. Let the world of prose see your true talent.
Written by SamanthaFowler
I Collect Pennys
Their copper tone was more than I ever expected to witness in my lifetime.
Both had a perfect roundness so desirable to those in my field.
Their dates were clear, no guessing required.
Both were uncirculated.
Both had never been used or spent.
Not one fingerprint had ever marred either surface.
I was in a financial position to acquire either if I so chose.
When I finally chose, I chose both.
Satisfaction of proximity was just as important as my permanent ownership.
Then, their father instructed me to finally make up my mind.
I could date either Gretchen or Victoria Penny.
Not both.

9
1
10
Juice
69 reads
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Juice
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Written by SamanthaFowler in portal Sci-Fi

The Carlton Theater

I watched my mother suffer, from the gunshots, and finally die.  She was Mrs. Samantha Fowler, the woman who suffered at the hands of the rape gangs, the woman who nobody even believed was ever married, and the woman who shielded me from the worst the world had to offer.

Since the war, and the virus, few people remained to form any type of government.  Thus, chaos ruled.  The law became a form of street justice enforced at the barrel of a shotgun.  Children, such as I, never attended school and everyday became a fight for survival.  My world was a series of Us vs Thems each attempting to see another sunrise.  My world was a dying world.  And yet, it didn't have to be my world.

My mother told stories about her world and her husband, Stephen.  She said her world looked exactly like mine absent of the wars, famines, and plagues.  She told me of how she entered my world (at the time, I did not believe a single word she spoke) from the Carlton Theater, via the projectionist's room.  On the anniversary of her arrival, my mother trek through a maze of increasing dangers to arrive at that very theater and attempt to recreate the transfer across worlds.

Like most things I have seen in my life, people speak of great epic stories and struggles, but never provide a shred of evidence to prove such claims.  Today, witnessing my mother's final act of kindness, I now know differently.  Mrs. Samantha Fowler, age 37, brown hair, green eyes, pining for a man she would never see again, gave me proof.

In her hand was a scrap of paper, more of a map, detailing the her belongings from "over there" and the plan to use them to return.  Since she could not make another attempt, I was to do so.  My mother always gave me the wherewithal to survive every crisis.  She told me of her childhood inoculations that protected both her an me from the disfiguring phage of two years ago.  She showed me how to reload and shoot a rifle.  Even gardening techniques she displayed I remembered during the lean years.  Samantha never wavered in her determination to safeguard me from the horrors of today.  With this map, I had my one chance to escape.

I had nothing left to lose.

That is, if I could make it to the Carlton Theater, if the theater still stood, and if (big if) her stash of supplies still remained intact.  My odds approached zero, not zero, but close to zero.  I took those odds.

First things first, since I look identical to my mother, I took her ID card to help pass through friendly controlled areas near the theater.  I also grabbed her gun, ammo belt, and boots.  I had my own so I could trade hers for safe passage.  Finally, I dragged my mother's body to a makeshift grave in the basement of the warehouse I would never again call "home".  She deserved a proper burial, but I had to move.  I left a grenade without the pin underneath her just in case the mouthers "street roaming cannibals" find her before the bugs and rats do.  It was the most fitting tribute I could offer to the woman who gave everything to me.

Wiping away the tears, I moved.

In three hours, I made it to the Carlton Theater before dark.  You do not want to know what happens after dark.  I hunkered down, took a drink from my canteen, and began to look around.  To remain silent, I used two Bowie knives (still do not know why my mother called them Bowie knives) and holstered the firearms.  If I find a mouther, he finds a quick death.  If he finds me first, he will not take me alive.

Another two hours to find the projectionist's room in this dump.  I tap the walls and do find a movable panel.  Instead of pulling objects out, I crawl in.  Samantha must have expected this move.  She pre-planned for every contingency thus far.

I took out a small light and scanned the room for unfriendlies.  None.  I sealed the panel and began a more than cursory examination.  What I found was beyond imagination.  In here was old army MREs, medicine, water, ammo, a nice semiautomatic rifle labelled "for the impending Zombie apocalypse - what an inconvenience", and a blue box.  I open the box to find a letter, written by my mother, and a blue dress, blue lingerie, heels, makeup, and an overcoat.  The letter describes the day she entered the portal and what she wore.  It also details every bit of knowledge about her life on the "other side".  Should I find the passage back, that she never did, I had to find Stephen and explain everything to him.  The letter also stated that an exact copy of my mother made it through from my side to her side when mom came from her side to my side.

I needed more than minute to understand what this confusing letter entailed.

If I was to understand my mother correctly, I may find her husband and the woman who took her place.  Now, while my mother did not explicitly state so, I do believe the amount of firepower had only one purpose; to kill that doppelganger.

I had killed before, mouthers and rapists, but never an innocent.  How could my mother wish this on another?

I found another letter in the bottom of the box explaining the encounter of my mother and her twin.  She details (hopefully for my eyes only) the sexual liaison of the two identicals prior to passing through the portal.  The letter states I should wear her clothing, pass through (even if it means doing what she did), and leave my world forever.  If successful, I should have the Carlton Theater torn down ASAP before another could mimic my success.  Finding Stephen was a primary goal in her life.  Finding Stephen would prove helpful, but not essential in mine.  Her entire theory was predicated on my passage through the portal would coincide with her double's.

Thus, time was never a factor, in terms of portal passage, only access.

I wanted to think about this forever, but darkness meant mouthers and they can smell fresh meat a mile away.

Quickly, I stripped, washed, perfumed with something pleasant called, "vanilla", dressed in clothing to unusual for description, took a deep breath, and walked out of the projectionist's room in a small daze that soon passes.

When I recover, the Carlton Theater is perfect.  I have never experienced such luxury.  It is clean and well lit.  I see myself in the mirrors and am amazed.  I spill on my heels over the red velvet, deep pile carpet throughout.  I would have remained in a perpetual haze if not for her.

She looks like me and is a bewildered as I.  I remember the letter and take the lead in explaining, to her, as if I already understood the events as they unfolded.  I acted well enough to convince her of my story.

Unfortunately, I had a flaw from the start.  She, my twin, had her wedding band on.  I did not.  In a mere second, while maintaining the world's best poker face, I learned the most important thing in my life.  

I was standing in front of my mother.  She was Mrs. Samantha Fowler.  The real Mrs. Samantha Fowler.  Thus, I was the daughter of my twin, playing the role of the unmarried Miss Samantha Lombard.  I had no choice but to inform this 18 year old most of what I knew.

In doing so, my mother's letter detailed two important facts that would occur.  First, Mrs. Fowler would listen to everything Miss Lombard told her.

Second, Mrs. Fowler was far more curious about sex than my mother ever let on in her letter.  Mrs. Fowler had those eyes of passion for who she believed to be herself, Miss Lombard, but instead was her daughter, yet to be born, on a parallel world 18 or 19 years hence.

I had a choice to make, but either choice meant someone dies.

If I make love to my younger mother, I can cross over and find her Stephen and live happily-ever-after.  But, my mother becomes condemned to my world and I may cycle through this day forever.

If I do not have sex with Mrs. Fowler, then each of us goes back to our respected worlds and I most likely die from the associated horrors of today and those yet to come.

I have the choice.

Mrs. Fowler is leaning in to kiss me.

Part of me cannot fathom the guilt of the first choice.

Part of me doesn't care.

In the end, I am the daughter of Samantha, the only person who ever cared for me.  

I make my choice.

Later in the day, Mrs. Oliver asks Samantha her recommendation concerning the destruction or renovation of the Carlton Theater.  Mrs. Samantha Fowler insists that it is beyond repair and must be torn down.

Later in the night, I hold on for as long as I can with my ammo and last grenade.  If those mouthers want a bite, they are going to have to do it without teeth, or a jaw, or a head, or a body.

Either way, in the ensuing explosion, the Carlton Theater comes down with its last thunderous clap.

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Written by SamanthaFowler in portal Sci-Fi
The Carlton Theater
I watched my mother suffer, from the gunshots, and finally die.  She was Mrs. Samantha Fowler, the woman who suffered at the hands of the rape gangs, the woman who nobody even believed was ever married, and the woman who shielded me from the worst the world had to offer.

Since the war, and the virus, few people remained to form any type of government.  Thus, chaos ruled.  The law became a form of street justice enforced at the barrel of a shotgun.  Children, such as I, never attended school and everyday became a fight for survival.  My world was a series of Us vs Thems each attempting to see another sunrise.  My world was a dying world.  And yet, it didn't have to be my world.

My mother told stories about her world and her husband, Stephen.  She said her world looked exactly like mine absent of the wars, famines, and plagues.  She told me of how she entered my world (at the time, I did not believe a single word she spoke) from the Carlton Theater, via the projectionist's room.  On the anniversary of her arrival, my mother trek through a maze of increasing dangers to arrive at that very theater and attempt to recreate the transfer across worlds.

Like most things I have seen in my life, people speak of great epic stories and struggles, but never provide a shred of evidence to prove such claims.  Today, witnessing my mother's final act of kindness, I now know differently.  Mrs. Samantha Fowler, age 37, brown hair, green eyes, pining for a man she would never see again, gave me proof.

In her hand was a scrap of paper, more of a map, detailing the her belongings from "over there" and the plan to use them to return.  Since she could not make another attempt, I was to do so.  My mother always gave me the wherewithal to survive every crisis.  She told me of her childhood inoculations that protected both her an me from the disfiguring phage of two years ago.  She showed me how to reload and shoot a rifle.  Even gardening techniques she displayed I remembered during the lean years.  Samantha never wavered in her determination to safeguard me from the horrors of today.  With this map, I had my one chance to escape.

I had nothing left to lose.

That is, if I could make it to the Carlton Theater, if the theater still stood, and if (big if) her stash of supplies still remained intact.  My odds approached zero, not zero, but close to zero.  I took those odds.

First things first, since I look identical to my mother, I took her ID card to help pass through friendly controlled areas near the theater.  I also grabbed her gun, ammo belt, and boots.  I had my own so I could trade hers for safe passage.  Finally, I dragged my mother's body to a makeshift grave in the basement of the warehouse I would never again call "home".  She deserved a proper burial, but I had to move.  I left a grenade without the pin underneath her just in case the mouthers "street roaming cannibals" find her before the bugs and rats do.  It was the most fitting tribute I could offer to the woman who gave everything to me.

Wiping away the tears, I moved.

In three hours, I made it to the Carlton Theater before dark.  You do not want to know what happens after dark.  I hunkered down, took a drink from my canteen, and began to look around.  To remain silent, I used two Bowie knives (still do not know why my mother called them Bowie knives) and holstered the firearms.  If I find a mouther, he finds a quick death.  If he finds me first, he will not take me alive.

Another two hours to find the projectionist's room in this dump.  I tap the walls and do find a movable panel.  Instead of pulling objects out, I crawl in.  Samantha must have expected this move.  She pre-planned for every contingency thus far.

I took out a small light and scanned the room for unfriendlies.  None.  I sealed the panel and began a more than cursory examination.  What I found was beyond imagination.  In here was old army MREs, medicine, water, ammo, a nice semiautomatic rifle labelled "for the impending Zombie apocalypse - what an inconvenience", and a blue box.  I open the box to find a letter, written by my mother, and a blue dress, blue lingerie, heels, makeup, and an overcoat.  The letter describes the day she entered the portal and what she wore.  It also details every bit of knowledge about her life on the "other side".  Should I find the passage back, that she never did, I had to find Stephen and explain everything to him.  The letter also stated that an exact copy of my mother made it through from my side to her side when mom came from her side to my side.

I needed more than minute to understand what this confusing letter entailed.

If I was to understand my mother correctly, I may find her husband and the woman who took her place.  Now, while my mother did not explicitly state so, I do believe the amount of firepower had only one purpose; to kill that doppelganger.

I had killed before, mouthers and rapists, but never an innocent.  How could my mother wish this on another?

I found another letter in the bottom of the box explaining the encounter of my mother and her twin.  She details (hopefully for my eyes only) the sexual liaison of the two identicals prior to passing through the portal.  The letter states I should wear her clothing, pass through (even if it means doing what she did), and leave my world forever.  If successful, I should have the Carlton Theater torn down ASAP before another could mimic my success.  Finding Stephen was a primary goal in her life.  Finding Stephen would prove helpful, but not essential in mine.  Her entire theory was predicated on my passage through the portal would coincide with her double's.

Thus, time was never a factor, in terms of portal passage, only access.

I wanted to think about this forever, but darkness meant mouthers and they can smell fresh meat a mile away.

Quickly, I stripped, washed, perfumed with something pleasant called, "vanilla", dressed in clothing to unusual for description, took a deep breath, and walked out of the projectionist's room in a small daze that soon passes.

When I recover, the Carlton Theater is perfect.  I have never experienced such luxury.  It is clean and well lit.  I see myself in the mirrors and am amazed.  I spill on my heels over the red velvet, deep pile carpet throughout.  I would have remained in a perpetual haze if not for her.

She looks like me and is a bewildered as I.  I remember the letter and take the lead in explaining, to her, as if I already understood the events as they unfolded.  I acted well enough to convince her of my story.

Unfortunately, I had a flaw from the start.  She, my twin, had her wedding band on.  I did not.  In a mere second, while maintaining the world's best poker face, I learned the most important thing in my life.  

I was standing in front of my mother.  She was Mrs. Samantha Fowler.  The real Mrs. Samantha Fowler.  Thus, I was the daughter of my twin, playing the role of the unmarried Miss Samantha Lombard.  I had no choice but to inform this 18 year old most of what I knew.

In doing so, my mother's letter detailed two important facts that would occur.  First, Mrs. Fowler would listen to everything Miss Lombard told her.

Second, Mrs. Fowler was far more curious about sex than my mother ever let on in her letter.  Mrs. Fowler had those eyes of passion for who she believed to be herself, Miss Lombard, but instead was her daughter, yet to be born, on a parallel world 18 or 19 years hence.

I had a choice to make, but either choice meant someone dies.

If I make love to my younger mother, I can cross over and find her Stephen and live happily-ever-after.  But, my mother becomes condemned to my world and I may cycle through this day forever.

If I do not have sex with Mrs. Fowler, then each of us goes back to our respected worlds and I most likely die from the associated horrors of today and those yet to come.

I have the choice.

Mrs. Fowler is leaning in to kiss me.

Part of me cannot fathom the guilt of the first choice.

Part of me doesn't care.

In the end, I am the daughter of Samantha, the only person who ever cared for me.  

I make my choice.

Later in the day, Mrs. Oliver asks Samantha her recommendation concerning the destruction or renovation of the Carlton Theater.  Mrs. Samantha Fowler insists that it is beyond repair and must be torn down.

Later in the night, I hold on for as long as I can with my ammo and last grenade.  If those mouthers want a bite, they are going to have to do it without teeth, or a jaw, or a head, or a body.

Either way, in the ensuing explosion, the Carlton Theater comes down with its last thunderous clap.
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Written by SamanthaFowler in portal Romance & Erotica

It takes two to tango

I get time with the husband, the dress, the stockings, the heels, and the pearl necklace.

He gets time with the stunning wife, the sultry wife, the sexy wife, and the alluring wife. 

We both get a new Sunday afternoon hobby.

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Written by SamanthaFowler in portal Romance & Erotica
It takes two to tango
I get time with the husband, the dress, the stockings, the heels, and the pearl necklace.
He gets time with the stunning wife, the sultry wife, the sexy wife, and the alluring wife. 
We both get a new Sunday afternoon hobby.
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Written by SamanthaFowler in portal Romance & Erotica

Trifecta

For the third day this week, Stephen asked me to lunch at the lake.

I donned another floppy hat for the adventure.

We tried to walk the entire perimeter, but with my high heels on, that was impossible.

We tried to have a few moments alone, but on such a beautiful day, that was impossible.

We tried to find a bit of shade, but with an uncooperative sun, that too was impossible.

So we held hands.

I offered a soft series of coos and he began pitching woo (I simply adore that term!).

He  found every reason to spin me across the makeshift dance floor of concrete and asphalt to retrieve me facing away with his arms wrapped around my waist.

This wasn't by accident.

I could feel his racing heart through my chest.

I felt his hot breath on my bare neck.

I permitted the fingers of his strategically placed hands to wander.

And wander they did.

When I finally turned to face him, Stephen dipped me to kiss me.

I could not escape his clutches (as if I wanted to)

Our spectacle rivaled the beauty of the lake itself.

He could see his reflection in the nearby water.

I could see my reflection in those dreamy eyes of his.

The lake lost this one-on-one competition today.

The vote was unanimous!

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Written by SamanthaFowler in portal Romance & Erotica
Trifecta
For the third day this week, Stephen asked me to lunch at the lake.
I donned another floppy hat for the adventure.
We tried to walk the entire perimeter, but with my high heels on, that was impossible.
We tried to have a few moments alone, but on such a beautiful day, that was impossible.
We tried to find a bit of shade, but with an uncooperative sun, that too was impossible.
So we held hands.
I offered a soft series of coos and he began pitching woo (I simply adore that term!).
He  found every reason to spin me across the makeshift dance floor of concrete and asphalt to retrieve me facing away with his arms wrapped around my waist.
This wasn't by accident.
I could feel his racing heart through my chest.
I felt his hot breath on my bare neck.
I permitted the fingers of his strategically placed hands to wander.
And wander they did.
When I finally turned to face him, Stephen dipped me to kiss me.
I could not escape his clutches (as if I wanted to)
Our spectacle rivaled the beauty of the lake itself.
He could see his reflection in the nearby water.
I could see my reflection in those dreamy eyes of his.
The lake lost this one-on-one competition today.
The vote was unanimous!
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Written by SamanthaFowler in portal Romance & Erotica

My Romance

Stephen and I returned to the lake for lunch today.  He wanted me in a sundress and a floppy hat.  I accommodated his desires.  We rented a small canoe and got in.  I always wanted to be paddled around, with my right foot over the side (dangling in the water) and my left hand gingerly gesturing which way to turn.

The sun was high, but the humidity was low.

I should have perspired from the sun alone.

I didn't.

It was a series of events that made me glisten.

Stephen can sing when he wants to.  And when he wants to, he usually sings Frank Sinatra songs.  Today, I enjoyed, "Witchcraft" and "Fly Me to the Moon".

Apparently, so did a number of other revelers in our extended lunch time festivities.

I led the applause when Stephen finished crooning for me.

His reward?

I kissed him as he carried me from the canoe back to the car.

Needless to say, we both were a few minutes late in returning to work.

This lake is becoming more and more popular with couples this summer than I have ever noticed previously.  I wonder why?

Samantha.

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Written by SamanthaFowler in portal Romance & Erotica
My Romance
Stephen and I returned to the lake for lunch today.  He wanted me in a sundress and a floppy hat.  I accommodated his desires.  We rented a small canoe and got in.  I always wanted to be paddled around, with my right foot over the side (dangling in the water) and my left hand gingerly gesturing which way to turn.
The sun was high, but the humidity was low.
I should have perspired from the sun alone.
I didn't.
It was a series of events that made me glisten.
Stephen can sing when he wants to.  And when he wants to, he usually sings Frank Sinatra songs.  Today, I enjoyed, "Witchcraft" and "Fly Me to the Moon".
Apparently, so did a number of other revelers in our extended lunch time festivities.
I led the applause when Stephen finished crooning for me.
His reward?
I kissed him as he carried me from the canoe back to the car.
Needless to say, we both were a few minutes late in returning to work.
This lake is becoming more and more popular with couples this summer than I have ever noticed previously.  I wonder why?
Samantha.
16
5
21
Juice
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Written by SamanthaFowler in portal Romance & Erotica

You can always keep falling in love

Stephen picked me up early from work today.

He took me to the lake to walk.

He took me to the lake to talk.

Then we went to the park.

We sat and watched people go through their day as if we were invisible.

Until a small child watched us watch her.

Then another small child.

Then another.

I asked the little girl why she found the two of us interesting.

She replied we were the only two people holding hands.

I smiled and Stephen purchased a small bouquet of flowers for me.

I placed one in the little girl's hair.

Stephen placed one in mine.

The Sun will set soon on this day together.

But it will never set on that memory.

We still held hands all the way back home.

14
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13
Juice
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Written by SamanthaFowler in portal Romance & Erotica
You can always keep falling in love
Stephen picked me up early from work today.
He took me to the lake to walk.
He took me to the lake to talk.
Then we went to the park.
We sat and watched people go through their day as if we were invisible.
Until a small child watched us watch her.
Then another small child.
Then another.
I asked the little girl why she found the two of us interesting.
She replied we were the only two people holding hands.
I smiled and Stephen purchased a small bouquet of flowers for me.
I placed one in the little girl's hair.
Stephen placed one in mine.
The Sun will set soon on this day together.
But it will never set on that memory.
We still held hands all the way back home.

14
4
13
Juice
62 reads
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Written by SamanthaFowler in portal Romance & Erotica

Issues Unresolved

Stephen desired a bit of spring sun

Lucy, as always, wanted room to run

I viewed the day as a day viewed for fun

Three chose a picnic and all to have won

So we packed to lunch and we packed to dine

We’d nibble, we’d munch, we’d toast with red wine

We fancied this hunch, we conversed opine

We’d consume a brunch, we’d rest supine

The pasture we chose with gaggles of life

Butterflies to bees defined the word, rife

Lavender and mint, dispatching all strife

One happy wren viewed by one happy wife

With our blanket spread taunt to my touch

Sequestered solo with clothing too much

Relieved to discard, casting of the crutch

Nude, naked, nubile, observed as such

The wolfhound, Lucy, with speed on demand

Designed to canter, designed to withstand

The indigenous flora, now at hand

And pursue the fauna on my command

The husband, my Stephen, with abs outlined

Muscular contours skillfully refined

Frequently bruised from shoulders to behind

Frequently turgid, a one-of-a-kind

Leaving Samantha, moniker, the flirt

Who so easily dons and doffs her own skirt

So saucy, so forward, so very pert

Bi-tertium-quid is something to blurt

Was the picnic a ruse for thoughts yet told?

A stratagem for ideas now so bold?

My pitch to Stephen had yet to be sold

The surest way was his manhood to hold

With a bludgeoned caress, I spoke my peace

I wanted my hall pass for rent or lease

With a blunderbuss probe, he found my crease

A sure sign he wanted my words to cease

If you must have her, then schedule a week

Lick her, kiss her, fuck her until she shrieks

Lap her, touch her, milk her until she squeaks

I understand, it is very much chic

As he spoke, my legs and lips he did spread

Whatever you do, go full steam ahead

He entered me with a thrust as he said

Remember Julie, the gymnast redhead?

When you are in yours, I will be in her

She will slur, she will shirr, and she will purr

She will move orgasm seizure to blur

I will liqueur and then I will lick her

I came as he came, this time more than twice

The thought of my own her, was more than nice

But the thought of his own her, he could splice

Was worth another thought, not once but twice

Would Julie do this? (as I licked him clean)

Or this? (as I sucked my cummed fingers tween)

Or this? (as I dipped again for more sheen)

Or this? (as I fingered my clit and screamed)

Soon, Stephen found a pad of warm butter

His perv thoughts made my heart all a-flutter

His perv cock would soon be in my gutter

If I could grease it over his putter

The next 10 minutes, I took his huge mass

The next 10 minutes, I gave him such sass

The next 10 minutes, I was his bitchy lass

For the next 10 minutes, he filled my ass

“Is this what you want? What is on your mind?”

“I want to lick slit with you from behind!”

“I want to suck your cum when so inclined”

“I want the favor returned, not declined.”

Stephen couldn’t think with the small head now

Stephen couldn’t of when milked as a cow

Stephen’s job was to plow and plow and plow

For he is my husband and I, his Frau

And when the sun set and Lucy returned

And I’ve been fucked from my stem to my stern

And ideas expressed are ideas to learn

Issues unresolved, we dressed and adjourned

11
5
14
Juice
99 reads
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Juice
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Written by SamanthaFowler in portal Romance & Erotica
Issues Unresolved
Stephen desired a bit of spring sun
Lucy, as always, wanted room to run
I viewed the day as a day viewed for fun
Three chose a picnic and all to have won

So we packed to lunch and we packed to dine
We’d nibble, we’d munch, we’d toast with red wine
We fancied this hunch, we conversed opine
We’d consume a brunch, we’d rest supine

The pasture we chose with gaggles of life
Butterflies to bees defined the word, rife
Lavender and mint, dispatching all strife
One happy wren viewed by one happy wife

With our blanket spread taunt to my touch
Sequestered solo with clothing too much
Relieved to discard, casting of the crutch
Nude, naked, nubile, observed as such

The wolfhound, Lucy, with speed on demand
Designed to canter, designed to withstand
The indigenous flora, now at hand
And pursue the fauna on my command

The husband, my Stephen, with abs outlined
Muscular contours skillfully refined
Frequently bruised from shoulders to behind
Frequently turgid, a one-of-a-kind

Leaving Samantha, moniker, the flirt
Who so easily dons and doffs her own skirt
So saucy, so forward, so very pert
Bi-tertium-quid is something to blurt

Was the picnic a ruse for thoughts yet told?
A stratagem for ideas now so bold?
My pitch to Stephen had yet to be sold
The surest way was his manhood to hold

With a bludgeoned caress, I spoke my peace
I wanted my hall pass for rent or lease
With a blunderbuss probe, he found my crease
A sure sign he wanted my words to cease

If you must have her, then schedule a week
Lick her, kiss her, fuck her until she shrieks
Lap her, touch her, milk her until she squeaks
I understand, it is very much chic

As he spoke, my legs and lips he did spread
Whatever you do, go full steam ahead
He entered me with a thrust as he said
Remember Julie, the gymnast redhead?

When you are in yours, I will be in her
She will slur, she will shirr, and she will purr
She will move orgasm seizure to blur
I will liqueur and then I will lick her

I came as he came, this time more than twice
The thought of my own her, was more than nice
But the thought of his own her, he could splice
Was worth another thought, not once but twice

Would Julie do this? (as I licked him clean)
Or this? (as I sucked my cummed fingers tween)
Or this? (as I dipped again for more sheen)
Or this? (as I fingered my clit and screamed)

Soon, Stephen found a pad of warm butter
His perv thoughts made my heart all a-flutter
His perv cock would soon be in my gutter
If I could grease it over his putter

The next 10 minutes, I took his huge mass
The next 10 minutes, I gave him such sass
The next 10 minutes, I was his bitchy lass
For the next 10 minutes, he filled my ass

“Is this what you want? What is on your mind?”
“I want to lick slit with you from behind!”
“I want to suck your cum when so inclined”
“I want the favor returned, not declined.”

Stephen couldn’t think with the small head now
Stephen couldn’t of when milked as a cow
Stephen’s job was to plow and plow and plow
For he is my husband and I, his Frau

And when the sun set and Lucy returned
And I’ve been fucked from my stem to my stern
And ideas expressed are ideas to learn
Issues unresolved, we dressed and adjourned

11
5
14
Juice
99 reads
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