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Written by fantastical in portal Romance & Erotica

Remaining Embers

"So, how have you been?"

Beth's query to me was barely heard over the pounding of my heart. After all of this time living very separate lives, engaging in separate loves, she has me stirred up as if things never ended poorly. It was as if she swooped back into my life, blew on the remaining embers left of us, and set me aflame once more. I hated feeling this way. I loved feeling this way. She looked almost the same, she smelled the same, sans that she gave up smoking somewhere along the way. 

"Life has been a whirlwind of ups and downs, honestly. Ginny's cancer and death the lowest point. How about you? How have things been for you?"

"Same as you I suppose, a few loves, one marriage. All lost. But, not all of it bad," She smiled at that, the same soft warm smile that hooked me way back when. It had a bit more wisdom behind it now, replacing the bit of carefree whimsy of yesteryear. It was beautiful, all the same.

"So, honestly, why..."

"...contact you, after all of this time? Do I have to answer honestly?" Beth laughed, her honey rich laugh. It actually sounded a bit cleaner than back when when she was still smoking, "Because, beyond everything else, I never fully stopped missing you. I never fully escaped how the memory of you haunted me. I never...stopped comparing others to you on all things..."

She left the rest unsaid. She didn't have to answer. A small part of me wanted to ask why she ended it before, but it seemed a pointless question now. I ended up loving after Beth. Getting married to the love of my live, Ginny. We were content and happy and passionate. I did love hard again after Beth. The only thing that ended it was a battle with cancer. It devastated me. If Beth reached out to me a year sooner, I would have probably ignored the call. She always had an amazing insight into me though, when to give me space and when to break down the door, even without knowing directly what was going on in life.

"And Danny, I know it is long overdue, but I am sorry for hurting you. I am sorry for leaving. I do not regret much of that decision, but I always regretted the hurt it was to cause."

"It is so far removed, it doesn't matter anymore. I had many wonderful moments since, that would have never happened. So perhaps I should thank you for letting me go."

She smiled at that, reached over to caress my cheek as she use to a thousand times before. I got the same jolt I always had from her. I hated that it came back so easily, but I loved it as well. "Oh, my sage, I see your old soul is still getting older."

I smiled at that. She always made me feel warm when she referred to me in such a way. 

She looked at me a bit more seriously and then asked, "Can we get out of here, and take a walk?"

"Sure."

~~~

Beth broke protocol and pretense and took my hand in hers five minutes into out walk, as if the last fifteen years of life never happened. It was both a reflex and a need for the comfort.

"Danny, this has been nice, but. Well, I want a chance to start over. I have been wanting to call you forever, but it never felt like the right time. Now, I don't want any more time to slip away, or at least, without giving us a chance again."

She was fumbling at her words. All of the normal confidence she displayed in the bistro was now gone. She was vulnerable and unsure. It made my heart lurch.

"Of course we can start over. We never completely stopped being friends, so it would be more like continuing, but I know what you mean. We can take it slow, give us time to get reacquainted."

She smiled her honeyed smile and I watched a tear begin to form. Without thinking, I reached up and wiped it away. It was a reflex and a need to comfort her.

~~~

I woke with a start, as if from a wonderful dream, yet Beth was curled up into me, both of us as naked as the first time we made love. So much for taking it slow. The walk built up the tension between us. All of the resistances slowly melted away to leave us with the needs we use to always have.

The love-making was a desperate thing. It was new, yet we were already familiar with each other and how we danced. The passion was the same but the experience was deeper. We loved, we fucked, and we did damn near everything in between.

I watched her sleep on my chest. I studied how effortlessly her form pressed into mine. I hoped this was not a fleeting thing but truly a restart into our lives.

For now, I was content and perhaps was the first time since losing Ginny that I tasted happiness unblemished again.

I could hear her ghost whisper to me, when we were newly engaged, "You know, she was a fool to let you go. I almost feel I need to thank her."

I thought to myself, "But, I would have never had the chance to love you, and I was meant to understand what that love was to be."

I am surprised I didn't feel any guilt. The moment just was. A new chapter of life reintroducing old characters, with no harm toward those we've left behind.

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Write a poem or short story about a reunited couple.
Written by fantastical in portal Romance & Erotica
Remaining Embers
"So, how have you been?"

Beth's query to me was barely heard over the pounding of my heart. After all of this time living very separate lives, engaging in separate loves, she has me stirred up as if things never ended poorly. It was as if she swooped back into my life, blew on the remaining embers left of us, and set me aflame once more. I hated feeling this way. I loved feeling this way. She looked almost the same, she smelled the same, sans that she gave up smoking somewhere along the way. 

"Life has been a whirlwind of ups and downs, honestly. Ginny's cancer and death the lowest point. How about you? How have things been for you?"

"Same as you I suppose, a few loves, one marriage. All lost. But, not all of it bad," She smiled at that, the same soft warm smile that hooked me way back when. It had a bit more wisdom behind it now, replacing the bit of carefree whimsy of yesteryear. It was beautiful, all the same.

"So, honestly, why..."

"...contact you, after all of this time? Do I have to answer honestly?" Beth laughed, her honey rich laugh. It actually sounded a bit cleaner than back when when she was still smoking, "Because, beyond everything else, I never fully stopped missing you. I never fully escaped how the memory of you haunted me. I never...stopped comparing others to you on all things..."

She left the rest unsaid. She didn't have to answer. A small part of me wanted to ask why she ended it before, but it seemed a pointless question now. I ended up loving after Beth. Getting married to the love of my live, Ginny. We were content and happy and passionate. I did love hard again after Beth. The only thing that ended it was a battle with cancer. It devastated me. If Beth reached out to me a year sooner, I would have probably ignored the call. She always had an amazing insight into me though, when to give me space and when to break down the door, even without knowing directly what was going on in life.

"And Danny, I know it is long overdue, but I am sorry for hurting you. I am sorry for leaving. I do not regret much of that decision, but I always regretted the hurt it was to cause."

"It is so far removed, it doesn't matter anymore. I had many wonderful moments since, that would have never happened. So perhaps I should thank you for letting me go."

She smiled at that, reached over to caress my cheek as she use to a thousand times before. I got the same jolt I always had from her. I hated that it came back so easily, but I loved it as well. "Oh, my sage, I see your old soul is still getting older."

I smiled at that. She always made me feel warm when she referred to me in such a way. 

She looked at me a bit more seriously and then asked, "Can we get out of here, and take a walk?"

"Sure."

~~~

Beth broke protocol and pretense and took my hand in hers five minutes into out walk, as if the last fifteen years of life never happened. It was both a reflex and a need for the comfort.

"Danny, this has been nice, but. Well, I want a chance to start over. I have been wanting to call you forever, but it never felt like the right time. Now, I don't want any more time to slip away, or at least, without giving us a chance again."

She was fumbling at her words. All of the normal confidence she displayed in the bistro was now gone. She was vulnerable and unsure. It made my heart lurch.

"Of course we can start over. We never completely stopped being friends, so it would be more like continuing, but I know what you mean. We can take it slow, give us time to get reacquainted."

She smiled her honeyed smile and I watched a tear begin to form. Without thinking, I reached up and wiped it away. It was a reflex and a need to comfort her.

~~~

I woke with a start, as if from a wonderful dream, yet Beth was curled up into me, both of us as naked as the first time we made love. So much for taking it slow. The walk built up the tension between us. All of the resistances slowly melted away to leave us with the needs we use to always have.

The love-making was a desperate thing. It was new, yet we were already familiar with each other and how we danced. The passion was the same but the experience was deeper. We loved, we fucked, and we did damn near everything in between.

I watched her sleep on my chest. I studied how effortlessly her form pressed into mine. I hoped this was not a fleeting thing but truly a restart into our lives.

For now, I was content and perhaps was the first time since losing Ginny that I tasted happiness unblemished again.

I could hear her ghost whisper to me, when we were newly engaged, "You know, she was a fool to let you go. I almost feel I need to thank her."

I thought to myself, "But, I would have never had the chance to love you, and I was meant to understand what that love was to be."

I am surprised I didn't feel any guilt. The moment just was. A new chapter of life reintroducing old characters, with no harm toward those we've left behind.

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Seduce me - I want a seduction, be it by poem or prose or both. Tease me with your writing - I want the screen to melt from your words!
Written by fantastical in portal Romance & Erotica

Delicate Hum

There was a hum that is distracting me from falling asleep. On a red-eye flight to New York that was going to last at least five hours and my utter exhausting from a week of conferences, the hum was literally killing me.

It wasn’t the low rumble of the turbines on the wings a few rows ahead of me. It wasn’t from the few computers that people still had on. It was as if I could almost feel it as well as hear it. It haunted me that much.

I go through all of the possible sources and eliminate them. Eliminate them until I am left to my general area. I’ve filtered out all of the other white noise sources, but the hum. It was so faint, that almost in any other mental state, I could filter it out too. But, in its own way, it was like a gong in my head now, it countered all of the other white noise to stand out like a song.

I look toward the lady sitting next to me, sleeping soundly. The hum wasn’t bothering her. I look toward the one person sitting one row ahead of me on the other side of the aisle, snoring miserably. I could filter out that train wreck of noise, but not the hum.

The lady next to me lets out the softest of sighs, so I turn to look at her again. Sleeping and nearly still, one of those too-small-to-be-effective airplane blankets draped over her lap. I nearly turn my head to hunt for the hum when the lady gave the slightest of shivers. Her breath was controlled, but not quite relaxed. She was almost still, but not still in a restful way. It was easy to overlook when not really looking. Now that I was looking, however, she had enough tells that she was only appearing to be sleeping that it was impossible not to see it now. Just like it was impossible not to hear the hum.

I couldn’t escape the hum because it was coming from her. I couldn’t escape it because perhaps I could feel it in the most minute of ways. The slight arousal that was building as I realized what the hum was,made it even more impossible to try to forget about, not less.

I took my eyes off of her, yet her restful face seemed burned in my vision. She was pretty, if not beautiful. Soft lips, glowing skin, face framed in a raven black bob. But, it was a face of a woman currently trying to pleasure herself while believing the few around her were unaware.

Now that I was aware, my mind ran away with the thought. What wonderland did her mind take her while her vibrator buzzed away? Did it excite her more or less that someone was sitting right next to her while she was getting away with getting off in public? Did she dream about getting caught or just getting away with it?

My mind played out scenarios faster than I could process them. My blood was pumping hard and burning quick as it rushed faster in my body. My arousal was more intense than was comfortable, knowing I had few possibilities to relieve it.

I closed my eyes and tried to block it out. Instead, my mind weaved a fantasy of the lady being less discreet about how she pleasured herself. Blanket gone, skirt hiked up, fingers dancing. She was wearing a smile watching me watch her.

The more I tried to not think about her, the more explicit she became, the louder the hum seemed to become. As if drawing me deeper into becoming an active partner to the illicit behavior.

With my resolve slowly disintegrating, I allowed myself a moment of utter foolishness, and let me hand fall so it rested between my leg and hers, the top of my hand barely resting against her pathetic blanket. I could feel the hum against her leg.

I heard a slight gasp, but forced my breathing to be a slow, restful rhythm, my eyes softly closed. I wait for her to shift her leg away, but she never does. Did she catch me in my subterfuge? Did she believe me asleep but having the contact, slight as it was, added to the danger? I played out both scenarios and everyone in between in my head, more aroused than I have been for a long time, ensnared because of a haunting hum.

I feel the blanket move my hand, and suddenly feel my hand make direct contact with her warm thigh. In the process of adjusting her blanket, she makes sure my hand is now underneath its warmth, hidden. The jolt of it all was almost too much. My brain racing. Again. Am I caught, or is she adding more danger to increase her own thrill.

My fingers itched to be on the other side of her thigh. My cock quivered in the confines of my pants, currently the worst torture device ever devised.

I think about pulling away and ending the game, but I find I cannot. I think about opening my eyes to see, only to feel her rest her hand against mine. My breath caught and my eyes opened in reflex.

I caught her staring at me, with the softest of smiles. A gentleman, innocent of his crime, would have pulled his hand away, apologetically. She let out a gasp, I felt the smallest of quakes from her. She either caught me or deemed I wasn’t quite the gentleman. She lifted my hand to rest on top of her thigh, and pretended sleep once more. The invitation as clear and the delicate hum.

I closed my eyes as well and let my fingers slowly melt toward the source of the hum. It felt like it took forever to get there, the journey was the most blissful journey ever taken though.

The warmth increased, as did the humidity. The pulse of the hum felt stronger, countered to the pulse of her pulse. My fingers finally reached the hot wetness of her core, and I was struck with so much pent up lust my fingers caused her to hiss through her teeth.

I opened my eyes and saw wanton hunger staring back at me. The lady could have been the ugliest on the planet, and in that moment, she would have been the most gorgeous wearing that hunger.

My fingers fought the vibrator for surface area, the lady didn’t seem to mind. I was slowly forgetting where we were, so was she. The pleasure was giving way to a deeper need of intimate connection. And the power in that the only pleasure that could be directly tapped was hers, mine forced to hover in a strange limbo.

As if reading my mind, she rested her hand on my crotch and squeezed. I grunted and she beamed. In response, I dove my fingers as far down her as our positions allowed. She squirmed and got lost in them. I pressed my palm againsts the small vibrator and it pressed against her clit and then I fucked her just like that, beyond sane, just driven by lustful need.

I felt the warm wash flow over my fingers and she bit into her pathetically small pillow and trembled. I let her ride my hand and let myself enjoy the moment, even in my tortured limbo. It felt like forever, yet it was over way too soon.

Our little world smelled like her. It was intoxicating and maddening. She smiled, the most wicked of smiles. I tried to return it. The speakers suddenly cut into our private moment, “I am sorry passengers, but we are being diverted to Denver because of the weather. The airline is making arrangements for getting you all rooms for the duration.”

The lady smiled as if she won the biggest prize in the world, “It seems like we will be getting rooms for the night?”

“Or, perhaps we could save the airline some money by sharing one?”

“Perhaps…” Her eyes twinkled with all of the promises of a lover desiring to pay back in full.

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Seduce me - I want a seduction, be it by poem or prose or both. Tease me with your writing - I want the screen to melt from your words!
Written by fantastical in portal Romance & Erotica
Delicate Hum
There was a hum that is distracting me from falling asleep. On a red-eye flight to New York that was going to last at least five hours and my utter exhausting from a week of conferences, the hum was literally killing me.

It wasn’t the low rumble of the turbines on the wings a few rows ahead of me. It wasn’t from the few computers that people still had on. It was as if I could almost feel it as well as hear it. It haunted me that much.

I go through all of the possible sources and eliminate them. Eliminate them until I am left to my general area. I’ve filtered out all of the other white noise sources, but the hum. It was so faint, that almost in any other mental state, I could filter it out too. But, in its own way, it was like a gong in my head now, it countered all of the other white noise to stand out like a song.

I look toward the lady sitting next to me, sleeping soundly. The hum wasn’t bothering her. I look toward the one person sitting one row ahead of me on the other side of the aisle, snoring miserably. I could filter out that train wreck of noise, but not the hum.

The lady next to me lets out the softest of sighs, so I turn to look at her again. Sleeping and nearly still, one of those too-small-to-be-effective airplane blankets draped over her lap. I nearly turn my head to hunt for the hum when the lady gave the slightest of shivers. Her breath was controlled, but not quite relaxed. She was almost still, but not still in a restful way. It was easy to overlook when not really looking. Now that I was looking, however, she had enough tells that she was only appearing to be sleeping that it was impossible not to see it now. Just like it was impossible not to hear the hum.

I couldn’t escape the hum because it was coming from her. I couldn’t escape it because perhaps I could feel it in the most minute of ways. The slight arousal that was building as I realized what the hum was,made it even more impossible to try to forget about, not less.

I took my eyes off of her, yet her restful face seemed burned in my vision. She was pretty, if not beautiful. Soft lips, glowing skin, face framed in a raven black bob. But, it was a face of a woman currently trying to pleasure herself while believing the few around her were unaware.

Now that I was aware, my mind ran away with the thought. What wonderland did her mind take her while her vibrator buzzed away? Did it excite her more or less that someone was sitting right next to her while she was getting away with getting off in public? Did she dream about getting caught or just getting away with it?

My mind played out scenarios faster than I could process them. My blood was pumping hard and burning quick as it rushed faster in my body. My arousal was more intense than was comfortable, knowing I had few possibilities to relieve it.

I closed my eyes and tried to block it out. Instead, my mind weaved a fantasy of the lady being less discreet about how she pleasured herself. Blanket gone, skirt hiked up, fingers dancing. She was wearing a smile watching me watch her.

The more I tried to not think about her, the more explicit she became, the louder the hum seemed to become. As if drawing me deeper into becoming an active partner to the illicit behavior.

With my resolve slowly disintegrating, I allowed myself a moment of utter foolishness, and let me hand fall so it rested between my leg and hers, the top of my hand barely resting against her pathetic blanket. I could feel the hum against her leg.

I heard a slight gasp, but forced my breathing to be a slow, restful rhythm, my eyes softly closed. I wait for her to shift her leg away, but she never does. Did she catch me in my subterfuge? Did she believe me asleep but having the contact, slight as it was, added to the danger? I played out both scenarios and everyone in between in my head, more aroused than I have been for a long time, ensnared because of a haunting hum.

I feel the blanket move my hand, and suddenly feel my hand make direct contact with her warm thigh. In the process of adjusting her blanket, she makes sure my hand is now underneath its warmth, hidden. The jolt of it all was almost too much. My brain racing. Again. Am I caught, or is she adding more danger to increase her own thrill.

My fingers itched to be on the other side of her thigh. My cock quivered in the confines of my pants, currently the worst torture device ever devised.

I think about pulling away and ending the game, but I find I cannot. I think about opening my eyes to see, only to feel her rest her hand against mine. My breath caught and my eyes opened in reflex.

I caught her staring at me, with the softest of smiles. A gentleman, innocent of his crime, would have pulled his hand away, apologetically. She let out a gasp, I felt the smallest of quakes from her. She either caught me or deemed I wasn’t quite the gentleman. She lifted my hand to rest on top of her thigh, and pretended sleep once more. The invitation as clear and the delicate hum.

I closed my eyes as well and let my fingers slowly melt toward the source of the hum. It felt like it took forever to get there, the journey was the most blissful journey ever taken though.

The warmth increased, as did the humidity. The pulse of the hum felt stronger, countered to the pulse of her pulse. My fingers finally reached the hot wetness of her core, and I was struck with so much pent up lust my fingers caused her to hiss through her teeth.

I opened my eyes and saw wanton hunger staring back at me. The lady could have been the ugliest on the planet, and in that moment, she would have been the most gorgeous wearing that hunger.

My fingers fought the vibrator for surface area, the lady didn’t seem to mind. I was slowly forgetting where we were, so was she. The pleasure was giving way to a deeper need of intimate connection. And the power in that the only pleasure that could be directly tapped was hers, mine forced to hover in a strange limbo.

As if reading my mind, she rested her hand on my crotch and squeezed. I grunted and she beamed. In response, I dove my fingers as far down her as our positions allowed. She squirmed and got lost in them. I pressed my palm againsts the small vibrator and it pressed against her clit and then I fucked her just like that, beyond sane, just driven by lustful need.

I felt the warm wash flow over my fingers and she bit into her pathetically small pillow and trembled. I let her ride my hand and let myself enjoy the moment, even in my tortured limbo. It felt like forever, yet it was over way too soon.

Our little world smelled like her. It was intoxicating and maddening. She smiled, the most wicked of smiles. I tried to return it. The speakers suddenly cut into our private moment, “I am sorry passengers, but we are being diverted to Denver because of the weather. The airline is making arrangements for getting you all rooms for the duration.”

The lady smiled as if she won the biggest prize in the world, “It seems like we will be getting rooms for the night?”

“Or, perhaps we could save the airline some money by sharing one?”

“Perhaps…” Her eyes twinkled with all of the promises of a lover desiring to pay back in full.

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Written by fantastical in portal Romance & Erotica

Shattered Glass (Raw Draft)

The glass tumbler whisked by my right cheek, leaving a stream of gin behind on my face. As I heard the tumbler shatter behind me, I felt our relationship finally shatter as well, the last of the stress fractures finally giving in. I watched Penny continue her manic tirade toward me, not really hearing her words any more as much as just feeling her general malevolence toward me. I felt suddenly hollow and the full exhaustion of trying to keep our mercurial relationship afloat. I smelled like spent gin. I hated gin, and not just because it was her poison of choice.

I was aware of Penny screaming at me, but it was some of her family members that came to mind to distract me from it. Her sister Nichol, both warning me early on on how her sister could be, and grateful that she finally met a guy that might have the fortitude to withstand her turbulent mood swings. I thought of her mother giving me a fierce hug every time we visited, as if I did her the greatest of favors for standing by her little Penny. I felt like I was failing them, even as I could hear them almost say, “You gave it a better go than most, we know how she can be.”

“...Do you even care?” I heard Penny scream at me, bringing me back to the moment.

“I will always care about you Penny,” the words came out of me weakly. Deep down I know they were true, but right now I wanted this moment to be over. I wanted to be gone. I wanted to not reek of gin, it made me think too much of her and of all of the things of her that kept me wanting to try to make us work.

“Incredible! Did you even hear what I just said?”

It was hard to put the pieces of the disjointed tirade together; when everything and nothing were my fault. When her loathing shifted to me and back to herself too quickly to keep up. She said something about Kyle. I initially took it as a jab, but perhaps it was more.

“Kyle…”

“Yeah, blowing Kyle. Do you not even care that I did?”

My focus snapped toward her, even as I replayed the tumbler shattering behind me. “I care, Kyle is a jackass. He is not worth your time, even if you feel I am not anymore either.”

“Dammit David, I just sucked his dick, it didn’t mean anything…”

She wanted me to care a moment ago, and now wanted me to believe it didn’t mean anything. I thought of all of the times she went down on me, those times meant something to me, those times were never simply just the act itself. I needed to go. I needed to be away from this...everything.

“I need to go Penny.”

“We are not done!”

“That is where you are mistaken. We are. I am. I am too tired for doing this over and over again.”

“You are leaving me, because of Kyle? You are such a bastard!” She wanted it to sound strong, but she suddenly sounded scared, as if she suddenly realized just how far I have slipped away over the last few months.

I turned my head and looked at the wall behind me. I could feel her eyes follow where mine went. I cringed to see that the tumbler hit the painting I bought her on our first month-iversary. It was torn and ruined. It shocked me that the sound of the shattering was so loud hitting the painting. It made me sad. She loved that painting more than almost anything else, when her episode subsided, she would feel it’s lost. I looked at it for the last time, a bright angel pulling a woman from a dark abyss. A promise now broken, by both of us. A failure I would feel later, right now I just needed to be gone.

“No Penny, not because of Kyle,” I left the rest unsaid.

I walked out the door with just the clothes on my back. At some point we would have to work out who would stay in the apartment. As I closed the door, I heard her rage try to cut me a final time. I ran out of room for anymore scars from her. I felt just a deep loss, a deeper failure, and I reeked of spattered gin. God, how I hated gin!

~~~

My phone rang, it was Penny. It was the first time she had tried to call since the breakup, since watching her and Nichol leave the apartment with the last of her belongings. I remember Nichol’s apologetic eyes, the weeping mess that Penny was, and the guilt of just wanting them gone. The harsh need to bury the broken relationship and the slow trial of needing to move on.

I almost didn’t answer it. The safer path was not to answer it. Alas, that was also the coward’s path and while I lost a lot of myself with her, I still wanted to believe I was brave enough to try to have a civil conversation with her. I answered it. As soon as I heard her voice, I realized the depth of my folly.

“Hi David, how are you?”

The words were velvet and sincere, projected with her one, sweet voice. My body reacted instinctively to that particular timbre of hers. In that moment I realized that perhaps for the rest of my life, if she used that tone toward me, I would always react to it. Too much history, too many of the good times were mixed with that certain tone. To say it was seductive, would to not understand it, or her, at all. All of my ex-girlfriends had a seductive tone, this was something else entirely. This was one of the ways Penny was more of a force of nature than merely a woman.

“David, are you there?”

There was mirth behind the words; deep, erotic mirth. It was a rhetorical question. She knew I was there, and regardless of all that we lost, that she still had some sway over me in this way, she knew that her voice in that tone soaked into all of my pores until my flesh burned, my blood boiled, and my desire unraveled.

“Yes, Penny. I am here. Just surprised you called. What’s up?”

She laughed. In a near forgotten time, I would have tore at her clothes because of the sweetness of that laugh alone, if she happened to be wearing any in the moment. I had a deep feeling, she currently wasn’t wearing a thing. That particular voice unraveled her just as much. She was a brewing storm now that was just an inevitability that would eventually be unleashed.

“I was just thinking about you. How you were doing? WHAT you were doing?”

I could almost see her hands wander her naked body, trying to entice me, in the rare event her voice didn’t already. So many memories, good memories with her.

Not that it was just the sex. Sex with Penny was an experience all its own. But, it was the aftermaths that I enjoyed just as much, if not more. Every time after, she would curl into me like a lost n’ found cat, and just need that closeness after and she seemed so happy to have it. She seemed to find balance to her mania in those calm moments. The way we would walk hand in hand the day after and just how her fingers interlaced with mine would remind me of how we connected the night before, and how we would again once we got back home. How her smile would be equal parts sweet, loving, and lusting in those moments. Penny was the one that truly taught my heart how to translate love into all of its forms.

“I am doing I suppose. How are you, Penny?”

“I miss you. Can’t you tell?” She laughed and she moaned softly. I could almost see how she touched herself to stir such a sound.

“Penny. We can’t do this…”

“You are wrong, we can. But, for tonight, I got what I wanted. I know you still want me. For tonight, that is enough. Sweet dreams David.”

She didn’t hang up. I heard her breath get more ragged. I felt my heart pound out of my chest. I just wanted to hold her again, if only once more to seal the good memory of her, of us. To save this final ember of us. Then I thought of the tumbler.

“Good night, Penny.”

I hung up before I finished losing my mind. No matter how hard I tried to get the conversation out of my head, her hooks were into me, my body was a traitor to her cause. For a while I tried dreaming of anyone else, but she always bled back into my thoughts. Her contours, her smiles, her scents and how she could completely unnerve me just with a certain tone of voice.

~~~

Lightning blinded my vision and the thunder followed immediately after. The storm outside was brutal, so it was not to my surprise that my phone started to ring a moment after that. Penny. Penny the pluviophile. God, but how she loved the rain and a good thunderstorm. I was on my second glass of bourbon. I found that I always needed to drink now with a storm like this, storms being just one more thing I could not experience without thinking of Penny as well.

“Good evening, David. Wonderful storm we are having, isn’t it?” She was speaking in the voice. It made me think of an earlier time, a better time, hearing her whisper, “I am the lightning and you are the thunder...that comes after.” My cock got aroused by just hearing her voice in that sweet tone. My lust stirred from all of the memories fucking her during storms such as this one, especially the first time out on the balcony, the rain pounding on us in sheets and the first time she whispered, “I am the lightning and you are the thunder...that comes after.”

“It is definitely something,” my pathetic reply. I take another hard sip, too tired to will my arousal down. She caught onto something in my voice. A crack in the armor perhaps. Or perhaps she was not in the mood to making a game out of it, instead needing to cut to the chase just as much.

“I think I am going to come over to visit you, David. I am just wearing my raincoat and not much else. I want to feel the storm in my hair and feel your eyes soaking me in.”

The part of me that wanted to soak her in barely lost to the part of me that was already starting to get ready to not be here when she showed up. I didn’t have the strength to fight her today, I had even less to resist her.

“I won’t be here when you arrive.”

She laughed, her damned alluring laugh, “That is ok David, I want to walk in the rain regardless. Perhaps our paths with cross. I miss you so much, especially on evenings like this. Hope to see you soon.”

She hung up. I was out the door a moment later. Not even caring that I fled like a coward. My life was too much like that shattered tumbler since Penny and I parted ways. Moving forward was proving to be much more difficult than I could have ever imagined.

By the time I got to a bar I never would have dared visited when I was with Penny, I was soaked to the bone, as were half of the broken souls that ventured into such a place. She would never seek me out here, this place always made her wary when we passed it, bad memories she said only once, and I never pressed further.

I took an open seat at the far end of the bar, part because it was near a heater so perhaps I might get a bit dry while I was there, but it also gave me view of the door so as to watch the other souls that drift in and out. I tossed my cell phone face down on the bar top and waited to catch the bartender’s attention.

It was a place where many bad decisions began. Any bad decisions I was to make sitting here though, would still be wiser than deciding to stay home and try to face Penny head on.

The bartender slid a glass of whiskey sans rocks, my way. I gave her a queried look since I didn’t even put in a request yet, she smiled warmly and replied, “You have the look of needing a stiff drink without anything to cut it. Your eyes burn like whiskey, so I took a guess that that was your poison of choice. It’s on the house if I am wrong.”

A rough looking sort a few stools down cut in, “But, she isn’t wrong, is she? Sweet Molly is never wrong about such things.”

“She is not wrong.”

Molly gave me a slight bow and smile and went to banter with the other patrons, knowing I was currently there for the stiff drink and not for random chitchat. Molly possessed a wisdom beyond her years.

I was halfway into the drink when a woman wetter than me took up the stool next to me. She was a storm that came from another storm, thankfully though, she was not Penny. Half her head was shaved, the other half dyed purple. Half-cut leather jacket, barely covering a very wet, vintage Ms. Pac-man t-shirt underneath. Ms. Pac-man’s strategic placement on the shirt would have made it provocative enough, the fact that it was soaked only enhanced its purpose. The jacket was the only thing that kept every warm blooded male and lesbian from locking onto what Ms. Pac-man was about to eat.

Oddly enough, as much of a rebel look this woman had, she also seemed like she couldn’t escape the girl-next-door vibe she gave off. Most of the lost souls at the bar seemed to brighten up at her presence.

“Hey sis, can you get me the usual and point me out to anything interesting that has wander through the door.”

Molly gave me an eye, and the woman followed it. “I would say possibly, him, but he is here to brood and drink alone, I am afraid sis.”

The woman smiled, as if just accepting a dare. “So what is your story, sailor? Why are you brooding and why the hell would you want to be alone in a place like this?”

I smiled in spite of myself, “Obfuscation.”

Her smile deepened. It was a warm, dangerous thing, that smile of hers, “You are lucky my mother taught me how to read big words. Are you the one that is obfuscating or are you perhaps obfuscating our conversation, to try to prove my dear sister, correct?”

“My ex informed me that she wanted to visit. I did not have the energy to deal with it so I disappeared here for a while.”

“Why here? I am fairly certain I have never seen you here before. I would have noticed if I did.” Her smile deepened, surrendering her dimples. She was impossible not to like. Surprisingly her eyes were more interesting to lock onto than her bloody wonderful t-shirt.

“She has an aversion to this place. Never learned why. Needed the space from her.”

As if summoning her, my cell started to buzz on the bar. I didn’t need to pick it up to know it was Penny needling me.

“Going to answer that?” the woman asked.

“No.”

She smiled with a feline’s playful malice, “Would you like ME to answer that?”

“No offense, but definitely not.”

Molly and her sister both laughed. Molly chided in, “Oh, Vicki could probably make your ex problems go away…”

Vicki cut off her sister to finish the thought, “...in more ways than one.”

Vicki turned out to be the tonic I needed. She was witty and sweet. Sharp and spicy. Her laugh was soft like her soul. Minus her outward appearance, she seemed completely out of place here.

We played off of each other too easily. What was to happen later was already a foregone conclusion, it was just a matter of terms to be made. I was a man looking to get lost, she was someone looking to get lost into.

“So, if we go to your place Dave, I might be able to solve your ex issue once and for all. Assuming she is hanging out there…”

We stumbled into Vicki’s place about fifteen minutes later. Her door was barely closed before half of our clothes were in a wet pile on the ground. The only thing wetter than the two of us were my fingers buried between her thighs and my tongue buried in her own whiskey-soaked mouth. I was already thanking God that Vicki’s usual wasn’t bloody gin.

~~~

I watched Angie fork her salad in the danty way she attacked everything she ate. All the while thinking of the conversation I had with Vicki earlier.

“...give her a chance Davy. I know she can’t be as wonderful as me, but she seems to fit you.”

The words haunted me. It has been six months since Vicki moved away, and thus put whatever we had on hold. She played us off as the very best of friends with the very best of benefits, which was true, yet she felt us taking a break was better than trying to do the long distant thing. Molly admitted to me Vicki was going to miss me, but felt the break would be good for both of them. Vicki was too quick to fall in love with wounded birds that ended up leaving her once they were healed.

“How is your steak, David?”

Angie was currently on a meatless diet, so it was hard to tell if the question was laced with something else. It was always so hard to tell with Angie.

“It is wonderful. How is salad?”

“I’ve had better.”

We both seemed somewhere else. That seemed to be the problem with us. We fit in all of the obvious ways, but we were somewhere else as much as we were ever together. Vicki always spoke her mind. Angie, always buried her message in propriety and manners.

Just when I thought the evening couldn’t become more awkward, I spied Penny and her sister Nichol walk into the restaurant. Penny spotted me instantly, as if I was still programmed into her radar. Nichol saw me a moment later and followed in Penny’s wake, an apology already forming on her pretty face.

“David! What a surprise to see you here, how have you been?”

The people at the tables near ours turn at the question. Penny made it all a spectacle without even trying to make it a spectacle. Penny eyed Angie in a way that measured everything about her. Angie’s look back was a cold thing, that made the ice in her water seem like it was floating on the surface of the sun.

“I am well, Penny. How are the two of you?”

Nichol tried to answer, Penny was faster, “I can’t speak for Nickel, but I am great! Are you going to introduce us, David? Or should I do it for you?”

I introduced Angie to Penny and Nichol. And gave as brief a summary of who they were as was safely possible. Angie could barely stand that I still had a relationship with Vicki, and already showed jealousy toward Penny’s ghost. Penny-in-the-flesh was already dooming any chance of savaging something pleasant out of the evening.

Nichol, bless her heart, was able to pry Penny away fairly quickly. Even so, Angie made it well known to me everytime Penny looked over at us from her table.

Angie became attentive and possessing. I yearned for that attention a half hour ago, now it seemed plastic and for all the wrong reasons. Angie was a perfect fit, except where she wasn’t.

I was already believing the relationship was doomed at the beginning of the night, now as she caressed my hand and smiled all of the ways she was going to devour me later, I knew it was.

~~~

I took another sip, staring at nothing in particular when I hear a familiar voice behind me ask, “Funny finding you here, do you mind if I join you?”

I turn to see a very sad Nichol standing there. I give her a slight smile and nod at the stool next to me. I noticed her wedding band was nowhere to be found.

“Why is it funny? Finding me here?”

She smiled bigger and giggled, “Because, one you are alone, and you never seem to be able to be alone for very long, and two, I always assume you mentally torch a place that Penny has seen you in, so surprised you are here.”

“She is not close behind you, is she?”

“No, I have enough on my mind without, dealing with Penny today. Although, to be fair to her, she has been seeing a doctor and getting herself...help. But, the road has been hard on her. It is like she has woken from a nightmare and now is forced to see the carnage she left in her wake.”

“Well, for her sake then, I am glad she doesn’t have to face me right now.”

“Yeah, facing you right now honestly might be a bit too much for her. She is completely different since the last time we saw you...here.”

“I see…” I really didn’t, because I could not imagine that type of Penny. If Nichol was to be believed, I think new Penny would almost be harder to deal with.

“So, how is your girlfriend, Angie, right?”

“Fine I suppose, and she is not my girlfriend.”

“Good, she seemed cold, not that Penny helped that night.”

“Angie could be cold, all on her own. We had a lot in common save genuine warmth. All her heat for me was something almost...”

“Synthetic?”

“Yeap, that is a perfect way to put it.”

Our eyes caught, and we shared a silent moment. I missed Nichol’s friendship. I didn’t try to hold onto it after the breakup. Sometimes you can, in this case, it would have just been an extra complication that would have died a miserable death because of it.

“So, you and Andy just split or…”

“We are very much done,” the pain in her voice was heartbreaking.

We sat and drank in silence for a time. Nichol broke the ice, “Want to know a secret?”

“Sure, what the hell, a secret sounds like as good of a thing as any to talk about.”

“My mom always wished you and I met before Andy and me or you and Penny did.”

“Really?”

“Yep. Almost a bit too much. She loved you to death and thought we would have fit together wonderfully.”

Another shared, silent moment. As both of us played the what-might-have-beens through our heads.

I imagined laugher and tenderness. Deep discussions and the most intimate of sex. I imagined it easily, without illusion. Nichol’s mom was nothing, if not a wise woman. Oddly enough, I never gave it a thought until now. Why ever dream about impossibilities?

“And what about you, Nichol? What do you think about that?”

She was quiet for a time, as if trying to find the proper words to string together, “I didn’t think much of it until after you were gone. I realized I missed you more than I would have thought. You brought something nice and kind to the family. Boy, I was furious with Penny, which hurt her. She felt she deserved sisterly loyalty. Perhaps some of that fury was misdirected.”

It was an answer and it wasn’t. I was fine with it, because it was probably all I was going to get. I was pretty certain I didn’t want to chase the answer down any further.

Nichol surprised me though by continuing, “Honestly, right now, I think in my life I would love nothing more to see if mom is right, but…”

I looked in this lovely woman’s eyes, seeing another sweet life pass us by, almost tasting the rightness of it, almost hearing Vicki’s enthusiastic approval of such a pairing, “...if only it wasn’t Penny’s heart in between.”

Neither of us would open up that door. It could be the sweetest life behind that door, but our love for Penny would never let us truly enjoy it.

“For what it is worth, Nickel, I always thought Andy was a douchebag, no offense.”

“For what it is worth, David, I always knew you did. Mom did too, and was perhaps the second biggest reason she loved you so. Too bad I couldn’t see it until it was already too late.”

We returned to our drinks, and our silence, and our share moments in another life that would have more easily allowed us to have been something more than friends.

~~~

I sat alone on my birthday, sipping a fine Scotch that my brother sent me. It was an earthy thing. A drink made to burn serious moments into one’s mind.

I just got off the phone with Vicki. She was having a hard time out in L.A. She was a woman that was always hard to hear so sad, because her normal approach against life was so damn happy, in spite of all the obstacles in the way.

The last time we spoke, she shot down the idea of me quitting my life here and moving out there. Tonight wasn’t the time to mention it again, and yet I could almost feel she wish I had. She would have shot it down again, but it would have given her something.

The doorbell rang. I answered it without even peeking to see who was there. I was a bit surprised to see Penny.

“Hi David, Happy Birthday! May I come in, if it is ok?”

I nodded, shocked at the transformation. The Penny of old would have waltzed in as if the invitation was already granted and would have already made herself at home. This one stepped in cautiously, as if trying to detect landmines placed. My heart wilted a bit at that. It wilted more catching her look at the place where her painting once hung.

“Do you miss it,” she asked absently.

“I miss a lot of things,” was my simple and honest reply.

We sat down at the table and she held out a small bag.

“A present and a peace offering, David. I can never fully apologize for all of the hurt I inflicted onto you, but I hope you can at least accept this in my attempt to.”

I took the bag, removed the tissue papers and took out a small, wrapped box. I looked at her and she nodded eagerly, her breath caught until I opened it.

I unwrapped it, and opened the box, pulling out a glass tumbler.

A glass tumbler pieced back together from thousands of pieces, if not millions.

“This...must have taken you…”

“...a long, fucking time to put back together. At least my mania was good for something. About three minutes after you left me that night I was frantic and finding all of the pieces. Obviously, a few are forever gone but…”

“...But!...”

She cut me off, “but, after finding most of them, I was just as frantic to putting it back together. I thought then, putting it back together could undo...andway, I did get that far. In talking to my doctor, she showed me the folly of my thought process, much as it was. However, she felt it might be good to at least offer it to you. So, here we are.”

I held the glass, as I never held it before. It was something sacred. I knew the mania that it took to try to recover it all, I battled it countless times. I knew the mania it took for her to want to put it back together. I smiled, somewhat surprised she didn’t try to melt it down and make it anew that way.

“Thank you, Penny. It is actually the best present I have received in quite some time.” It was.

“How are you otherwise, David? Are you well?” Her words were strangely sincere, it was comforting.

“I am, in my way.”

“Thank you. I never thanked you. I told you that I loved you often, but I never thanked you. And perhaps, you deserved that more. So, it is a bit late, but thank you.”

She squeezed my hand, as if to seal the sincerity of it. I smiled.

We shared a silent moment. A moment of what might have been, if things played out a bit differently.

We shared a silent moment, grateful for a moment of brief friendship, as the first shards of what was slowly glued back together.

We shared a silent moment, knowing there was not enough time in our lives to wait for those shards to resemble the glass in my hand, but there was something sweet in knowing that some impossibly broken things can still be repaired in a sense. Right then, that seemed better than the belief that some broken things are beyond repair.

We shared a silent, honest moment. I loved Penny. She still loved me. Yet, time has moved us both down different streams. I thought of her sister, I thought of Vicki. I even thought of Angie. Timing is everything. Perhaps Penny and I would get another chance. In that moment though, it was just nice to have a glimpse of my friend back. And a tumbler to remind us of our journey together.

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Written by fantastical in portal Romance & Erotica
Shattered Glass (Raw Draft)
The glass tumbler whisked by my right cheek, leaving a stream of gin behind on my face. As I heard the tumbler shatter behind me, I felt our relationship finally shatter as well, the last of the stress fractures finally giving in. I watched Penny continue her manic tirade toward me, not really hearing her words any more as much as just feeling her general malevolence toward me. I felt suddenly hollow and the full exhaustion of trying to keep our mercurial relationship afloat. I smelled like spent gin. I hated gin, and not just because it was her poison of choice.

I was aware of Penny screaming at me, but it was some of her family members that came to mind to distract me from it. Her sister Nichol, both warning me early on on how her sister could be, and grateful that she finally met a guy that might have the fortitude to withstand her turbulent mood swings. I thought of her mother giving me a fierce hug every time we visited, as if I did her the greatest of favors for standing by her little Penny. I felt like I was failing them, even as I could hear them almost say, “You gave it a better go than most, we know how she can be.”

“...Do you even care?” I heard Penny scream at me, bringing me back to the moment.

“I will always care about you Penny,” the words came out of me weakly. Deep down I know they were true, but right now I wanted this moment to be over. I wanted to be gone. I wanted to not reek of gin, it made me think too much of her and of all of the things of her that kept me wanting to try to make us work.

“Incredible! Did you even hear what I just said?”

It was hard to put the pieces of the disjointed tirade together; when everything and nothing were my fault. When her loathing shifted to me and back to herself too quickly to keep up. She said something about Kyle. I initially took it as a jab, but perhaps it was more.

“Kyle…”

“Yeah, blowing Kyle. Do you not even care that I did?”

My focus snapped toward her, even as I replayed the tumbler shattering behind me. “I care, Kyle is a jackass. He is not worth your time, even if you feel I am not anymore either.”

“Dammit David, I just sucked his dick, it didn’t mean anything…”

She wanted me to care a moment ago, and now wanted me to believe it didn’t mean anything. I thought of all of the times she went down on me, those times meant something to me, those times were never simply just the act itself. I needed to go. I needed to be away from this...everything.

“I need to go Penny.”

“We are not done!”

“That is where you are mistaken. We are. I am. I am too tired for doing this over and over again.”

“You are leaving me, because of Kyle? You are such a bastard!” She wanted it to sound strong, but she suddenly sounded scared, as if she suddenly realized just how far I have slipped away over the last few months.

I turned my head and looked at the wall behind me. I could feel her eyes follow where mine went. I cringed to see that the tumbler hit the painting I bought her on our first month-iversary. It was torn and ruined. It shocked me that the sound of the shattering was so loud hitting the painting. It made me sad. She loved that painting more than almost anything else, when her episode subsided, she would feel it’s lost. I looked at it for the last time, a bright angel pulling a woman from a dark abyss. A promise now broken, by both of us. A failure I would feel later, right now I just needed to be gone.

“No Penny, not because of Kyle,” I left the rest unsaid.

I walked out the door with just the clothes on my back. At some point we would have to work out who would stay in the apartment. As I closed the door, I heard her rage try to cut me a final time. I ran out of room for anymore scars from her. I felt just a deep loss, a deeper failure, and I reeked of spattered gin. God, how I hated gin!

~~~

My phone rang, it was Penny. It was the first time she had tried to call since the breakup, since watching her and Nichol leave the apartment with the last of her belongings. I remember Nichol’s apologetic eyes, the weeping mess that Penny was, and the guilt of just wanting them gone. The harsh need to bury the broken relationship and the slow trial of needing to move on.

I almost didn’t answer it. The safer path was not to answer it. Alas, that was also the coward’s path and while I lost a lot of myself with her, I still wanted to believe I was brave enough to try to have a civil conversation with her. I answered it. As soon as I heard her voice, I realized the depth of my folly.

“Hi David, how are you?”

The words were velvet and sincere, projected with her one, sweet voice. My body reacted instinctively to that particular timbre of hers. In that moment I realized that perhaps for the rest of my life, if she used that tone toward me, I would always react to it. Too much history, too many of the good times were mixed with that certain tone. To say it was seductive, would to not understand it, or her, at all. All of my ex-girlfriends had a seductive tone, this was something else entirely. This was one of the ways Penny was more of a force of nature than merely a woman.

“David, are you there?”

There was mirth behind the words; deep, erotic mirth. It was a rhetorical question. She knew I was there, and regardless of all that we lost, that she still had some sway over me in this way, she knew that her voice in that tone soaked into all of my pores until my flesh burned, my blood boiled, and my desire unraveled.

“Yes, Penny. I am here. Just surprised you called. What’s up?”

She laughed. In a near forgotten time, I would have tore at her clothes because of the sweetness of that laugh alone, if she happened to be wearing any in the moment. I had a deep feeling, she currently wasn’t wearing a thing. That particular voice unraveled her just as much. She was a brewing storm now that was just an inevitability that would eventually be unleashed.

“I was just thinking about you. How you were doing? WHAT you were doing?”

I could almost see her hands wander her naked body, trying to entice me, in the rare event her voice didn’t already. So many memories, good memories with her.

Not that it was just the sex. Sex with Penny was an experience all its own. But, it was the aftermaths that I enjoyed just as much, if not more. Every time after, she would curl into me like a lost n’ found cat, and just need that closeness after and she seemed so happy to have it. She seemed to find balance to her mania in those calm moments. The way we would walk hand in hand the day after and just how her fingers interlaced with mine would remind me of how we connected the night before, and how we would again once we got back home. How her smile would be equal parts sweet, loving, and lusting in those moments. Penny was the one that truly taught my heart how to translate love into all of its forms.

“I am doing I suppose. How are you, Penny?”

“I miss you. Can’t you tell?” She laughed and she moaned softly. I could almost see how she touched herself to stir such a sound.

“Penny. We can’t do this…”

“You are wrong, we can. But, for tonight, I got what I wanted. I know you still want me. For tonight, that is enough. Sweet dreams David.”

She didn’t hang up. I heard her breath get more ragged. I felt my heart pound out of my chest. I just wanted to hold her again, if only once more to seal the good memory of her, of us. To save this final ember of us. Then I thought of the tumbler.

“Good night, Penny.”

I hung up before I finished losing my mind. No matter how hard I tried to get the conversation out of my head, her hooks were into me, my body was a traitor to her cause. For a while I tried dreaming of anyone else, but she always bled back into my thoughts. Her contours, her smiles, her scents and how she could completely unnerve me just with a certain tone of voice.

~~~

Lightning blinded my vision and the thunder followed immediately after. The storm outside was brutal, so it was not to my surprise that my phone started to ring a moment after that. Penny. Penny the pluviophile. God, but how she loved the rain and a good thunderstorm. I was on my second glass of bourbon. I found that I always needed to drink now with a storm like this, storms being just one more thing I could not experience without thinking of Penny as well.

“Good evening, David. Wonderful storm we are having, isn’t it?” She was speaking in the voice. It made me think of an earlier time, a better time, hearing her whisper, “I am the lightning and you are the thunder...that comes after.” My cock got aroused by just hearing her voice in that sweet tone. My lust stirred from all of the memories fucking her during storms such as this one, especially the first time out on the balcony, the rain pounding on us in sheets and the first time she whispered, “I am the lightning and you are the thunder...that comes after.”

“It is definitely something,” my pathetic reply. I take another hard sip, too tired to will my arousal down. She caught onto something in my voice. A crack in the armor perhaps. Or perhaps she was not in the mood to making a game out of it, instead needing to cut to the chase just as much.

“I think I am going to come over to visit you, David. I am just wearing my raincoat and not much else. I want to feel the storm in my hair and feel your eyes soaking me in.”

The part of me that wanted to soak her in barely lost to the part of me that was already starting to get ready to not be here when she showed up. I didn’t have the strength to fight her today, I had even less to resist her.

“I won’t be here when you arrive.”

She laughed, her damned alluring laugh, “That is ok David, I want to walk in the rain regardless. Perhaps our paths with cross. I miss you so much, especially on evenings like this. Hope to see you soon.”
She hung up. I was out the door a moment later. Not even caring that I fled like a coward. My life was too much like that shattered tumbler since Penny and I parted ways. Moving forward was proving to be much more difficult than I could have ever imagined.

By the time I got to a bar I never would have dared visited when I was with Penny, I was soaked to the bone, as were half of the broken souls that ventured into such a place. She would never seek me out here, this place always made her wary when we passed it, bad memories she said only once, and I never pressed further.

I took an open seat at the far end of the bar, part because it was near a heater so perhaps I might get a bit dry while I was there, but it also gave me view of the door so as to watch the other souls that drift in and out. I tossed my cell phone face down on the bar top and waited to catch the bartender’s attention.

It was a place where many bad decisions began. Any bad decisions I was to make sitting here though, would still be wiser than deciding to stay home and try to face Penny head on.

The bartender slid a glass of whiskey sans rocks, my way. I gave her a queried look since I didn’t even put in a request yet, she smiled warmly and replied, “You have the look of needing a stiff drink without anything to cut it. Your eyes burn like whiskey, so I took a guess that that was your poison of choice. It’s on the house if I am wrong.”

A rough looking sort a few stools down cut in, “But, she isn’t wrong, is she? Sweet Molly is never wrong about such things.”

“She is not wrong.”

Molly gave me a slight bow and smile and went to banter with the other patrons, knowing I was currently there for the stiff drink and not for random chitchat. Molly possessed a wisdom beyond her years.

I was halfway into the drink when a woman wetter than me took up the stool next to me. She was a storm that came from another storm, thankfully though, she was not Penny. Half her head was shaved, the other half dyed purple. Half-cut leather jacket, barely covering a very wet, vintage Ms. Pac-man t-shirt underneath. Ms. Pac-man’s strategic placement on the shirt would have made it provocative enough, the fact that it was soaked only enhanced its purpose. The jacket was the only thing that kept every warm blooded male and lesbian from locking onto what Ms. Pac-man was about to eat.

Oddly enough, as much of a rebel look this woman had, she also seemed like she couldn’t escape the girl-next-door vibe she gave off. Most of the lost souls at the bar seemed to brighten up at her presence.

“Hey sis, can you get me the usual and point me out to anything interesting that has wander through the door.”

Molly gave me an eye, and the woman followed it. “I would say possibly, him, but he is here to brood and drink alone, I am afraid sis.”

The woman smiled, as if just accepting a dare. “So what is your story, sailor? Why are you brooding and why the hell would you want to be alone in a place like this?”

I smiled in spite of myself, “Obfuscation.”

Her smile deepened. It was a warm, dangerous thing, that smile of hers, “You are lucky my mother taught me how to read big words. Are you the one that is obfuscating or are you perhaps obfuscating our conversation, to try to prove my dear sister, correct?”

“My ex informed me that she wanted to visit. I did not have the energy to deal with it so I disappeared here for a while.”

“Why here? I am fairly certain I have never seen you here before. I would have noticed if I did.” Her smile deepened, surrendering her dimples. She was impossible not to like. Surprisingly her eyes were more interesting to lock onto than her bloody wonderful t-shirt.

“She has an aversion to this place. Never learned why. Needed the space from her.”

As if summoning her, my cell started to buzz on the bar. I didn’t need to pick it up to know it was Penny needling me.

“Going to answer that?” the woman asked.

“No.”

She smiled with a feline’s playful malice, “Would you like ME to answer that?”

“No offense, but definitely not.”

Molly and her sister both laughed. Molly chided in, “Oh, Vicki could probably make your ex problems go away…”

Vicki cut off her sister to finish the thought, “...in more ways than one.”

Vicki turned out to be the tonic I needed. She was witty and sweet. Sharp and spicy. Her laugh was soft like her soul. Minus her outward appearance, she seemed completely out of place here.
We played off of each other too easily. What was to happen later was already a foregone conclusion, it was just a matter of terms to be made. I was a man looking to get lost, she was someone looking to get lost into.

“So, if we go to your place Dave, I might be able to solve your ex issue once and for all. Assuming she is hanging out there…”

We stumbled into Vicki’s place about fifteen minutes later. Her door was barely closed before half of our clothes were in a wet pile on the ground. The only thing wetter than the two of us were my fingers buried between her thighs and my tongue buried in her own whiskey-soaked mouth. I was already thanking God that Vicki’s usual wasn’t bloody gin.

~~~

I watched Angie fork her salad in the danty way she attacked everything she ate. All the while thinking of the conversation I had with Vicki earlier.

“...give her a chance Davy. I know she can’t be as wonderful as me, but she seems to fit you.”

The words haunted me. It has been six months since Vicki moved away, and thus put whatever we had on hold. She played us off as the very best of friends with the very best of benefits, which was true, yet she felt us taking a break was better than trying to do the long distant thing. Molly admitted to me Vicki was going to miss me, but felt the break would be good for both of them. Vicki was too quick to fall in love with wounded birds that ended up leaving her once they were healed.

“How is your steak, David?”

Angie was currently on a meatless diet, so it was hard to tell if the question was laced with something else. It was always so hard to tell with Angie.

“It is wonderful. How is salad?”

“I’ve had better.”

We both seemed somewhere else. That seemed to be the problem with us. We fit in all of the obvious ways, but we were somewhere else as much as we were ever together. Vicki always spoke her mind. Angie, always buried her message in propriety and manners.

Just when I thought the evening couldn’t become more awkward, I spied Penny and her sister Nichol walk into the restaurant. Penny spotted me instantly, as if I was still programmed into her radar. Nichol saw me a moment later and followed in Penny’s wake, an apology already forming on her pretty face.
“David! What a surprise to see you here, how have you been?”

The people at the tables near ours turn at the question. Penny made it all a spectacle without even trying to make it a spectacle. Penny eyed Angie in a way that measured everything about her. Angie’s look back was a cold thing, that made the ice in her water seem like it was floating on the surface of the sun.

“I am well, Penny. How are the two of you?”

Nichol tried to answer, Penny was faster, “I can’t speak for Nickel, but I am great! Are you going to introduce us, David? Or should I do it for you?”

I introduced Angie to Penny and Nichol. And gave as brief a summary of who they were as was safely possible. Angie could barely stand that I still had a relationship with Vicki, and already showed jealousy toward Penny’s ghost. Penny-in-the-flesh was already dooming any chance of savaging something pleasant out of the evening.

Nichol, bless her heart, was able to pry Penny away fairly quickly. Even so, Angie made it well known to me everytime Penny looked over at us from her table.

Angie became attentive and possessing. I yearned for that attention a half hour ago, now it seemed plastic and for all the wrong reasons. Angie was a perfect fit, except where she wasn’t.

I was already believing the relationship was doomed at the beginning of the night, now as she caressed my hand and smiled all of the ways she was going to devour me later, I knew it was.

~~~

I took another sip, staring at nothing in particular when I hear a familiar voice behind me ask, “Funny finding you here, do you mind if I join you?”

I turn to see a very sad Nichol standing there. I give her a slight smile and nod at the stool next to me. I noticed her wedding band was nowhere to be found.

“Why is it funny? Finding me here?”

She smiled bigger and giggled, “Because, one you are alone, and you never seem to be able to be alone for very long, and two, I always assume you mentally torch a place that Penny has seen you in, so surprised you are here.”

“She is not close behind you, is she?”

“No, I have enough on my mind without, dealing with Penny today. Although, to be fair to her, she has been seeing a doctor and getting herself...help. But, the road has been hard on her. It is like she has woken from a nightmare and now is forced to see the carnage she left in her wake.”

“Well, for her sake then, I am glad she doesn’t have to face me right now.”

“Yeah, facing you right now honestly might be a bit too much for her. She is completely different since the last time we saw you...here.”

“I see…” I really didn’t, because I could not imagine that type of Penny. If Nichol was to be believed, I think new Penny would almost be harder to deal with.

“So, how is your girlfriend, Angie, right?”

“Fine I suppose, and she is not my girlfriend.”

“Good, she seemed cold, not that Penny helped that night.”

“Angie could be cold, all on her own. We had a lot in common save genuine warmth. All her heat for me was something almost...”

“Synthetic?”

“Yeap, that is a perfect way to put it.”

Our eyes caught, and we shared a silent moment. I missed Nichol’s friendship. I didn’t try to hold onto it after the breakup. Sometimes you can, in this case, it would have just been an extra complication that would have died a miserable death because of it.

“So, you and Andy just split or…”

“We are very much done,” the pain in her voice was heartbreaking.

We sat and drank in silence for a time. Nichol broke the ice, “Want to know a secret?”

“Sure, what the hell, a secret sounds like as good of a thing as any to talk about.”

“My mom always wished you and I met before Andy and me or you and Penny did.”

“Really?”

“Yep. Almost a bit too much. She loved you to death and thought we would have fit together wonderfully.”
Another shared, silent moment. As both of us played the what-might-have-beens through our heads.

I imagined laugher and tenderness. Deep discussions and the most intimate of sex. I imagined it easily, without illusion. Nichol’s mom was nothing, if not a wise woman. Oddly enough, I never gave it a thought until now. Why ever dream about impossibilities?

“And what about you, Nichol? What do you think about that?”

She was quiet for a time, as if trying to find the proper words to string together, “I didn’t think much of it until after you were gone. I realized I missed you more than I would have thought. You brought something nice and kind to the family. Boy, I was furious with Penny, which hurt her. She felt she deserved sisterly loyalty. Perhaps some of that fury was misdirected.”

It was an answer and it wasn’t. I was fine with it, because it was probably all I was going to get. I was pretty certain I didn’t want to chase the answer down any further.

Nichol surprised me though by continuing, “Honestly, right now, I think in my life I would love nothing more to see if mom is right, but…”

I looked in this lovely woman’s eyes, seeing another sweet life pass us by, almost tasting the rightness of it, almost hearing Vicki’s enthusiastic approval of such a pairing, “...if only it wasn’t Penny’s heart in between.”

Neither of us would open up that door. It could be the sweetest life behind that door, but our love for Penny would never let us truly enjoy it.

“For what it is worth, Nickel, I always thought Andy was a douchebag, no offense.”

“For what it is worth, David, I always knew you did. Mom did too, and was perhaps the second biggest reason she loved you so. Too bad I couldn’t see it until it was already too late.”

We returned to our drinks, and our silence, and our share moments in another life that would have more easily allowed us to have been something more than friends.

~~~

I sat alone on my birthday, sipping a fine Scotch that my brother sent me. It was an earthy thing. A drink made to burn serious moments into one’s mind.

I just got off the phone with Vicki. She was having a hard time out in L.A. She was a woman that was always hard to hear so sad, because her normal approach against life was so damn happy, in spite of all the obstacles in the way.
The last time we spoke, she shot down the idea of me quitting my life here and moving out there. Tonight wasn’t the time to mention it again, and yet I could almost feel she wish I had. She would have shot it down again, but it would have given her something.

The doorbell rang. I answered it without even peeking to see who was there. I was a bit surprised to see Penny.

“Hi David, Happy Birthday! May I come in, if it is ok?”

I nodded, shocked at the transformation. The Penny of old would have waltzed in as if the invitation was already granted and would have already made herself at home. This one stepped in cautiously, as if trying to detect landmines placed. My heart wilted a bit at that. It wilted more catching her look at the place where her painting once hung.

“Do you miss it,” she asked absently.

“I miss a lot of things,” was my simple and honest reply.

We sat down at the table and she held out a small bag.

“A present and a peace offering, David. I can never fully apologize for all of the hurt I inflicted onto you, but I hope you can at least accept this in my attempt to.”

I took the bag, removed the tissue papers and took out a small, wrapped box. I looked at her and she nodded eagerly, her breath caught until I opened it.

I unwrapped it, and opened the box, pulling out a glass tumbler.

A glass tumbler pieced back together from thousands of pieces, if not millions.

“This...must have taken you…”

“...a long, fucking time to put back together. At least my mania was good for something. About three minutes after you left me that night I was frantic and finding all of the pieces. Obviously, a few are forever gone but…”

“...But!...”

She cut me off, “but, after finding most of them, I was just as frantic to putting it back together. I thought then, putting it back together could undo...andway, I did get that far. In talking to my doctor, she showed me the folly of my thought process, much as it was. However, she felt it might be good to at least offer it to you. So, here we are.”

I held the glass, as I never held it before. It was something sacred. I knew the mania that it took to try to recover it all, I battled it countless times. I knew the mania it took for her to want to put it back together. I smiled, somewhat surprised she didn’t try to melt it down and make it anew that way.

“Thank you, Penny. It is actually the best present I have received in quite some time.” It was.

“How are you otherwise, David? Are you well?” Her words were strangely sincere, it was comforting.

“I am, in my way.”

“Thank you. I never thanked you. I told you that I loved you often, but I never thanked you. And perhaps, you deserved that more. So, it is a bit late, but thank you.”

She squeezed my hand, as if to seal the sincerity of it. I smiled.

We shared a silent moment. A moment of what might have been, if things played out a bit differently.

We shared a silent moment, grateful for a moment of brief friendship, as the first shards of what was slowly glued back together.

We shared a silent moment, knowing there was not enough time in our lives to wait for those shards to resemble the glass in my hand, but there was something sweet in knowing that some impossibly broken things can still be repaired in a sense. Right then, that seemed better than the belief that some broken things are beyond repair.

We shared a silent, honest moment. I loved Penny. She still loved me. Yet, time has moved us both down different streams. I thought of her sister, I thought of Vicki. I even thought of Angie. Timing is everything. Perhaps Penny and I would get another chance. In that moment though, it was just nice to have a glimpse of my friend back. And a tumbler to remind us of our journey together.


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Written by fantastical in portal Romance & Erotica

The View - A Continuation

This is a sequel of sorts to the following story: https://theprose.com/post/74256/the-view

It is more explicit than the first part, as a warning to those that do not like erotica.

~~~~

The room was clean again. The air was fresh, yet it could not fully rid itself of the scent that the room held in its history. The polished wood trapped that history like secrets trapped in amber. The room had a history. Patrons that have come and gone: businessmen, lovers, loners, perhaps even a family or two. The room had a history. The room held the history, almost like a silent film. That is, if you knew how to look at it.

A woman - the current patron of the room - sits in the chair and waits. Waits while she stares out of the leaded window. She is fully naked this night and fevered with illicit thoughts, her fingers already at play, teasing her own skin. She has no patience to wait for what she know is coming. She has extended her stay an extra week upon discovering the secret that the room kept. Just as long as one was sitting in this particular antique chair, at a particular time of evening, staring out the leaded glass window at just the right angle.

She watches as the sunsets paints the walls across the way in yellows, oranges, and reds. Watches again in deep anticipation as twilight sucks the colors dark while she slides her fingers along the wetness gathering on her inner thighs. She makes sure she has the angle to the window just right. The angle was critical. The angle was everything.

She watches until twilight gives way and the leaded glass catches the reflection of the room instead. Watches until she see the man again in the reflection of the window. God, how she has come to lust for the man. Watching how he devours and loves and fucks his lover. She wishes she was her. She had had lovers but none of them have touched her as the man touches his love.

She watches him sitting on the bed, naked, his body and his sex hard. She watches him wait for his love, like he has for the past few nights. Just like before, he doesn’t touch himself, although she wishes he would. Yet, she desires him even more because he waits. She thrills at the fact that the woman has so much power over him that he can be so aroused just by the thought of her. Yet, one more way she envies the woman on the other side of the reflection, for she is certain she has never stirred that level of lust into anyone like that herself.

She drinks him in and touches herself, having no qualms of having to wait. Her desire is so hot tonight that in this moment where it is just her and the man, she imagines walking over to him and climbing into his lap, sliding him into her depths, and riding him like she knows he loves to be ridden. She’s never fucked a man like that and now having watched him be fucked like that by the other woman, his real lover, she hungered for it.

There is a knock at her door, the sound of it pulls her attention away from the window in reflex.

“Shit!” she utters under her breath, her heart racing in sudden panic as she turns back to make sure she has not lost the right angle, and thus the spectacular view. The naked man shimmers back into focus. Her heart starts racing again in a different way, anxiety of what was almost lost being replaced with a lust as free as she has ever had it. She could enjoy it without judgement or shame.

Another knock at the door. Harder this time.

“Go away, I am trying to rest! Can you not read the ‘Do not Disturb’ sign on the door?”

A quiet voice whispers loud enough through the door to catch her ear, but not so loud to carry far, “I know why you do not wish to be disturbed, Kathreen. Please, I need to speak with you and we both know the timing is short.”

It bothers her that the voice on the other side of the door knows her name. It bothers her that out of all times to come knocking, it has to be now. “Just a minute.” She quickly tosses on her silken robe, sashing it closed as she marches angrily toward the door, not caring how close her stiffened nipples are to tearing the sheer fabric apart.

She opens the door, with the chain lock keeping it from opening it any further. There is a beautiful, although very haggard woman on the other side. The haggard woman asks, “I would like to buy the room from you, right now. I am even willing to pay for your entire stay. I am even willing…”

“Not interested, good-b…”

“Wait! I know why you don’t want to leave. I have seen her too. I need to see her again. Please! I had this room reserved. It was suppose to be mine. They had some mix up when you extended your stay, please.”

“I am sorry, that is not my fault. Now please leave, I really want to go back to resting.”

The haggard woman laughs, and she says in a slightly louder voice, “You mean you want to go back and start fingering yourself again.”

Kathleen starts to blush, “Shush! Someone might hear you.”

“Give me the room then. Or at least, let me share it for the next hour.”

“If you know the room, then you know there is only one chair and you can only see what is there to be seen if the angle is just right.”

The haggard lady smiles a wicked and wanton smile. A smile that held a secret, “If you truly knew the room, you would know there are more than just the one view, and some of them are much more...enticing than others. We are wasting precious time.”

The mere idea that there were other views in the room never dawned on Kathleen. The fact that some of them might be somehow better than the one she knew about excited her senses to a tipping point. “What is one of the other ways?”

“Let me in!”

“Tell me another way to see them.”

“We are wasting time.”

“I have this room for another six days, I am willing to sacrifice tonight, are you?”

The haggard woman has a manic and beaten look to her. “Fine. If you sit right on the edge of the pillow on the bed, looking out the window, you get...a much different experience. Please, just let me in. I need...I need to watch her again. Please?”

Kathleen sighs, she has no desire to share the room, she enjoys the freedom of being able to touch herself alone, without judgement. The last time she masturbated in the company of other women, were her college roommates, and they teased her endlessly for it. But, if what the woman said was true, it might be worth watching without touching.

Kathleen shuts the door enough to undo the chain lock, opens the door, “Can you at least give me your name before you join me?”

The haggard woman smiles a bright smile, “Joan, but my friends call me Joanie.”

Kathleen closes and locks the door as Joan flows into the room, shedding her attire with each frantically quick step, until she is completely naked on the antique chair. A hungry smile comes to her lips and she whispers, “Wow, look at him. I cannot wait to see what she does to this patron.”

Kathleen walks slowly to the bed, hoping that Joan has not made up a tale about other views at other angles, “Patron? He is there every night with his lover.”

Joan looks at her, “Really? I have never seen him before. For me, it always has started with a woman sitting on the bed waiting.”

Kathleen sits on the edge of the bed, against the pillow, “No, it is always him, followed by his lover. Every night since I’ve been here.” She adjusts and looks toward the window, she can see Joan in the reflection, but nothing else.

“Move a bit closer to the pillow, so your resting just barely against it and look more to the right in the window, so I am just in your periphery.”

Kathleen suddenly sees him again, the man of her dreams. The man that has taken over all of her lustful thoughts. He is a bit more faded from this angle. She feels cheated.

“You said…”

“I said some of the angles were more enticing. I didn’t say how. Close your eyes and listen. Close your eyes and smell.”

Kathleen did not want to lose the view, but does as she is told. She listens and she can suddenly hear the faint breath of a man waiting, waiting with a pent up lust. She takes a breath and she can smell a faint scent of a musky cologne. Her heart races.

Joan laughs and says, “The view is a bit more muted from that angle, but the other senses are enhanced.”

Kathleen suddenly hears a door open from far away in the past, followed by a whiff of floral purfume, followed by a sultry whisper of a woman’s voice, “You are still here.”

Joan whispers in a different timber, “She is here! Open your bloody eyes.”

Kathleen opens her eyes and sees the man’s lover, standing in front of him with her lovely smile, slinking out of her dress. Kathleen can see Joan finger herself at the sight of the woman. The lover is who she was eager to see. She knows the lover intimately by the way she takes her in.

The man whispers back to his lover, “Yes, I am. Seems I still cannot leave.”

The lover smiles, and replies, “Or perhaps you do not want to.” The lover then kneels and takes him into her mouth, keeping her hands to her sides. He moans and rocks back and forth. Kathleen can feel the slight motion of the bed. In the reflection in the glass, she can see herself sitting next to him, with his lover between his legs, sucking away on him, looking up with tenderness. Kathleen can see Joan both in the reflection and in the room proper, molesting herself without a care that Kathleen can see.

Kathleen is torn. She wants to join in. She is on fire with want. Her lust for this man. Her enjoyment of voyeuring him and his lover and their endless conquering of each other. She can hear the laughter of her roommates as she starts to come. The sound of it still haunts her, still shames her. She looks at Joan and sees a woman too lost in her own lust. Joan is panting and whimpering like a bitch in heat. She has no care that Kathleen is there watching her. Joan is sex-crazed. It was in her eyes when Kathleen first opened the door, and it was on full display now. Joan was addicted to what the room offered. She craved it like a drug.

Kathleen tries to block out the laughter from her past and lets her robe slip open. She starts to let her fingers try to calm the heat on her flesh, or perhaps try to stir it higher. Joan responds to her, or the lover, or the man by sitting on the edge of the chair, fingering herself deep and hard and fast. Joan’s pantings mix with the grunts of the man, and the moans of his lover sucking harder on his cock. Kathleen slides her hungry fingers along her slit, and almost weeps at the heat, the sheer wetness, and the pleasure of it all.

The room is suddenly amix with rivaling perfumes, and sweats, and bodily musks. The sounds of the four lovers are suddenly sharper, as if the room only gives the distant sounds to willing participants of pleasure. She can feel the bed rock and the man starts to lose his control and begins to thrust back into his lovers mouth, fingers locked in her hair. She watches her lover reach for him and stroke him over the edge while sucking away. Kathleen swears the lover is smiling around his cock. She dreams of doing the same. Her fingers dip eagerly inside herself.

Joanie screams and comes. Kathleen watches her in fascination as the woman sharing her room orgasms so violently. She jerks her own fingers in response. She swears that the lovers in the reflection somehow sense it too. The man comes harder than Kathleen has ever seen him, but his lover doesn’t stop. She never stops. This is one of their routines. One of her appetizers. Only when he is finished does she let his erection slip from her mouth, a pearled stream connecting her luscious, smiling lips to him.

Kathleen heart races. She loves the moment when the tables turn. She watches the lover stand and climb into his lap. Watches her still stroke him and watches him tremble at the overwhelming pleasure of it. Watches her impale herself on him. Watches her kiss him full on the mouth, hungrily. And ride him, hard, as if her life depended on it. As if there wasn’t enough time to wait.

But this time, she also heard every sound the two lovers made, could smell all of the scents of sex filling the room. Kathleen is so close to her edge, she can taste it. She can almost taste him on her own lips, she barely care what Joanie might think about how she is touching herself. The lust at watching the lovers play their game is so deep, she is barely aware Joanie is still there lost in her own, semi-private bliss watching the lovers, and herself.

“Holy fuck!” Joanie cries out as the lover pushes the man back on the bed, her hands braced on his chest as she rides him hard, screaming in bliss.

Kathleen cannot even register what sounds she is making herself, as she tries to match her fingering to the shaking she can feel in the bed, by lovers that were once there.

Kathleen comes and closes her eyes when the lover screams out and comes. She pulls her fingers from her cunt and attacks her clit, and she shudders as the pleasure hits her in waves. She shudders as she can almost imagine the man’s cock sliding in and out of her. She bounces on the bed to mimic how the lover is still riding the man. She squeezes her breasts as she knows the man is probably squeezing his lovers. Kathleen opens her eyes to see him doing exactly that as he comes again, deep inside of her. Kathleen can almost feel his warmth filling her too.

Kathleen suddenly jolts as Joan’s tongue licks her cunt. Kathleen looks down at Joan’s ravenous smile right before Joan licks her again. Kathleen gasps as the pleasure floods her. No one has ever licked her with more than just a curiosity touch, and never a woman. Joan’s tongue attacks in a knowing way, a lusting and lovely way. Kathleen melts into it, letting her fingers get lost in Joanie’s auburn hair. Her friend’s call her Joanie, right. What a silly thought to cling to in the moment.

Kathleen looks toward the window again and swears the man and his lover is watching her now. To see there lust-filled stares toward her is too much, she buckles and orgasms. Joanie slips her tongue deeper. The only thought Kathleen can hold is that Joanie better damn share this room with her, and every other secret this room contains.

~~~

I stroke Charlotte’s thigh as we both recover from our couplings, or at least recover enough to continue. She sighs and I let my fingers get closer to her sex. There is something magical about Charlotte. There was always something magical about her. Even when I was in the other time watching her through the reflection of the rooms window.

But, my lust never stays sated for long while I am with her, and perhaps she is right. It is not that I haven’t found a way to return to where or when I came from, but perhaps I do not desire to really leave.

My fingers tease her, as hers slowly brings my sore cock back to life. Just then, there is a shimmer in the window, and I swear I catch the blurry reflection of a naked woman sitting on the edge of the bed next to us, being devoured by her lover.

The image is blurred, as if it were raining, but no less erotic. I point it out to Charlotte, she turns to look, “Pity, I don’t see it.” Then she turns to me and gives me a hungry smile, she crawls over my body, sliding her breasts along my face, her belly, her sex. I lick her, tasting how sweet we taste together, but she doesn’t linger, she continues to crawl over me, until she is behind me.

I turn and climb onto the bed behind her.

“Fuck me,” she says softly. It is a perfect blend of a plea and a command.

I kneel behind her as she raises herself higher, I side in and moan as I have only moaned with her, I look at the reflection, and the lovers are still there, now crystal clear. Two women. And with every thrust into Charlotte, I can hear the one moan, counter to Charlotte’s.

“Fuck me, I think I can hear who you can see!”

Charlotte has an appetite for the erotic. All I know is she comes to this room to exercise it. All I know is that I have somehow become entangled into her life. I have this sense that if I do not leave soon, I might never be able too. Like Charlotte keeps telling me though, perhaps I don’t really want to.

“Tell me what they are doing, as you...Fuck me…”

I try to tell Charlotte that the women have switch positions. I try to describe their unique beauties. But, my words start to become grunts and moans.

“I wish...they were here...with us...ugh.”

I see the woman in the reflection shudder. I grip Charlotte’s hip harder, pounding harder…

“Yes! Fuck me. I hear her...coming...she sounds so sweet.”

I explode against all of the sensations. I fill my lover as I have now countless times before in the days I’ve been here. The feeling of Charlotte all around me. The scent of our sex in the air. The view of two women intertwined on this very bed on the other side of the reflection of the window, and the deep lust dripping from Charlotte’s wanton lips. She is a siren pulling me deeper into her keep, into her game. I wonder if she actually pulled me to this place. She denies it, but I still wonder.

We collapse as my orgasm ends and Charlotte’s begins. Her pleasure bleeds into me. I try to savor it all. I know she will eventually leave in the early morning. Leaving me to fumble in this foreign world alone for yet another day. Until tomorrow night, when we will repeat our tryst. Unless I figure out a way to return, assuming I even want to.

I stare at the reflection in the glass, and it is only me now staring back. I barely recognize myself. I’ve changed. Charlotte has shaped me to exist better in this place. But, that might not mean for the better.

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Written by fantastical in portal Romance & Erotica
The View - A Continuation
This is a sequel of sorts to the following story: https://theprose.com/post/74256/the-view
It is more explicit than the first part, as a warning to those that do not like erotica.

~~~~

The room was clean again. The air was fresh, yet it could not fully rid itself of the scent that the room held in its history. The polished wood trapped that history like secrets trapped in amber. The room had a history. Patrons that have come and gone: businessmen, lovers, loners, perhaps even a family or two. The room had a history. The room held the history, almost like a silent film. That is, if you knew how to look at it.

A woman - the current patron of the room - sits in the chair and waits. Waits while she stares out of the leaded window. She is fully naked this night and fevered with illicit thoughts, her fingers already at play, teasing her own skin. She has no patience to wait for what she know is coming. She has extended her stay an extra week upon discovering the secret that the room kept. Just as long as one was sitting in this particular antique chair, at a particular time of evening, staring out the leaded glass window at just the right angle.

She watches as the sunsets paints the walls across the way in yellows, oranges, and reds. Watches again in deep anticipation as twilight sucks the colors dark while she slides her fingers along the wetness gathering on her inner thighs. She makes sure she has the angle to the window just right. The angle was critical. The angle was everything.

She watches until twilight gives way and the leaded glass catches the reflection of the room instead. Watches until she see the man again in the reflection of the window. God, how she has come to lust for the man. Watching how he devours and loves and fucks his lover. She wishes she was her. She had had lovers but none of them have touched her as the man touches his love.

She watches him sitting on the bed, naked, his body and his sex hard. She watches him wait for his love, like he has for the past few nights. Just like before, he doesn’t touch himself, although she wishes he would. Yet, she desires him even more because he waits. She thrills at the fact that the woman has so much power over him that he can be so aroused just by the thought of her. Yet, one more way she envies the woman on the other side of the reflection, for she is certain she has never stirred that level of lust into anyone like that herself.

She drinks him in and touches herself, having no qualms of having to wait. Her desire is so hot tonight that in this moment where it is just her and the man, she imagines walking over to him and climbing into his lap, sliding him into her depths, and riding him like she knows he loves to be ridden. She’s never fucked a man like that and now having watched him be fucked like that by the other woman, his real lover, she hungered for it.

There is a knock at her door, the sound of it pulls her attention away from the window in reflex.

“Shit!” she utters under her breath, her heart racing in sudden panic as she turns back to make sure she has not lost the right angle, and thus the spectacular view. The naked man shimmers back into focus. Her heart starts racing again in a different way, anxiety of what was almost lost being replaced with a lust as free as she has ever had it. She could enjoy it without judgement or shame.

Another knock at the door. Harder this time.

“Go away, I am trying to rest! Can you not read the ‘Do not Disturb’ sign on the door?”

A quiet voice whispers loud enough through the door to catch her ear, but not so loud to carry far, “I know why you do not wish to be disturbed, Kathreen. Please, I need to speak with you and we both know the timing is short.”

It bothers her that the voice on the other side of the door knows her name. It bothers her that out of all times to come knocking, it has to be now. “Just a minute.” She quickly tosses on her silken robe, sashing it closed as she marches angrily toward the door, not caring how close her stiffened nipples are to tearing the sheer fabric apart.

She opens the door, with the chain lock keeping it from opening it any further. There is a beautiful, although very haggard woman on the other side. The haggard woman asks, “I would like to buy the room from you, right now. I am even willing to pay for your entire stay. I am even willing…”

“Not interested, good-b…”

“Wait! I know why you don’t want to leave. I have seen her too. I need to see her again. Please! I had this room reserved. It was suppose to be mine. They had some mix up when you extended your stay, please.”

“I am sorry, that is not my fault. Now please leave, I really want to go back to resting.”

The haggard woman laughs, and she says in a slightly louder voice, “You mean you want to go back and start fingering yourself again.”

Kathleen starts to blush, “Shush! Someone might hear you.”

“Give me the room then. Or at least, let me share it for the next hour.”

“If you know the room, then you know there is only one chair and you can only see what is there to be seen if the angle is just right.”

The haggard lady smiles a wicked and wanton smile. A smile that held a secret, “If you truly knew the room, you would know there are more than just the one view, and some of them are much more...enticing than others. We are wasting precious time.”

The mere idea that there were other views in the room never dawned on Kathleen. The fact that some of them might be somehow better than the one she knew about excited her senses to a tipping point. “What is one of the other ways?”

“Let me in!”

“Tell me another way to see them.”

“We are wasting time.”

“I have this room for another six days, I am willing to sacrifice tonight, are you?”

The haggard woman has a manic and beaten look to her. “Fine. If you sit right on the edge of the pillow on the bed, looking out the window, you get...a much different experience. Please, just let me in. I need...I need to watch her again. Please?”

Kathleen sighs, she has no desire to share the room, she enjoys the freedom of being able to touch herself alone, without judgement. The last time she masturbated in the company of other women, were her college roommates, and they teased her endlessly for it. But, if what the woman said was true, it might be worth watching without touching.

Kathleen shuts the door enough to undo the chain lock, opens the door, “Can you at least give me your name before you join me?”

The haggard woman smiles a bright smile, “Joan, but my friends call me Joanie.”

Kathleen closes and locks the door as Joan flows into the room, shedding her attire with each frantically quick step, until she is completely naked on the antique chair. A hungry smile comes to her lips and she whispers, “Wow, look at him. I cannot wait to see what she does to this patron.”

Kathleen walks slowly to the bed, hoping that Joan has not made up a tale about other views at other angles, “Patron? He is there every night with his lover.”

Joan looks at her, “Really? I have never seen him before. For me, it always has started with a woman sitting on the bed waiting.”

Kathleen sits on the edge of the bed, against the pillow, “No, it is always him, followed by his lover. Every night since I’ve been here.” She adjusts and looks toward the window, she can see Joan in the reflection, but nothing else.

“Move a bit closer to the pillow, so your resting just barely against it and look more to the right in the window, so I am just in your periphery.”
Kathleen suddenly sees him again, the man of her dreams. The man that has taken over all of her lustful thoughts. He is a bit more faded from this angle. She feels cheated.

“You said…”

“I said some of the angles were more enticing. I didn’t say how. Close your eyes and listen. Close your eyes and smell.”

Kathleen did not want to lose the view, but does as she is told. She listens and she can suddenly hear the faint breath of a man waiting, waiting with a pent up lust. She takes a breath and she can smell a faint scent of a musky cologne. Her heart races.

Joan laughs and says, “The view is a bit more muted from that angle, but the other senses are enhanced.”

Kathleen suddenly hears a door open from far away in the past, followed by a whiff of floral purfume, followed by a sultry whisper of a woman’s voice, “You are still here.”

Joan whispers in a different timber, “She is here! Open your bloody eyes.”

Kathleen opens her eyes and sees the man’s lover, standing in front of him with her lovely smile, slinking out of her dress. Kathleen can see Joan finger herself at the sight of the woman. The lover is who she was eager to see. She knows the lover intimately by the way she takes her in.

The man whispers back to his lover, “Yes, I am. Seems I still cannot leave.”

The lover smiles, and replies, “Or perhaps you do not want to.” The lover then kneels and takes him into her mouth, keeping her hands to her sides. He moans and rocks back and forth. Kathleen can feel the slight motion of the bed. In the reflection in the glass, she can see herself sitting next to him, with his lover between his legs, sucking away on him, looking up with tenderness. Kathleen can see Joan both in the reflection and in the room proper, molesting herself without a care that Kathleen can see.

Kathleen is torn. She wants to join in. She is on fire with want. Her lust for this man. Her enjoyment of voyeuring him and his lover and their endless conquering of each other. She can hear the laughter of her roommates as she starts to come. The sound of it still haunts her, still shames her. She looks at Joan and sees a woman too lost in her own lust. Joan is panting and whimpering like a bitch in heat. She has no care that Kathleen is there watching her. Joan is sex-crazed. It was in her eyes when Kathleen first opened the door, and it was on full display now. Joan was addicted to what the room offered. She craved it like a drug.

Kathleen tries to block out the laughter from her past and lets her robe slip open. She starts to let her fingers try to calm the heat on her flesh, or perhaps try to stir it higher. Joan responds to her, or the lover, or the man by sitting on the edge of the chair, fingering herself deep and hard and fast. Joan’s pantings mix with the grunts of the man, and the moans of his lover sucking harder on his cock. Kathleen slides her hungry fingers along her slit, and almost weeps at the heat, the sheer wetness, and the pleasure of it all.

The room is suddenly amix with rivaling perfumes, and sweats, and bodily musks. The sounds of the four lovers are suddenly sharper, as if the room only gives the distant sounds to willing participants of pleasure. She can feel the bed rock and the man starts to lose his control and begins to thrust back into his lovers mouth, fingers locked in her hair. She watches her lover reach for him and stroke him over the edge while sucking away. Kathleen swears the lover is smiling around his cock. She dreams of doing the same. Her fingers dip eagerly inside herself.

Joanie screams and comes. Kathleen watches her in fascination as the woman sharing her room orgasms so violently. She jerks her own fingers in response. She swears that the lovers in the reflection somehow sense it too. The man comes harder than Kathleen has ever seen him, but his lover doesn’t stop. She never stops. This is one of their routines. One of her appetizers. Only when he is finished does she let his erection slip from her mouth, a pearled stream connecting her luscious, smiling lips to him.

Kathleen heart races. She loves the moment when the tables turn. She watches the lover stand and climb into his lap. Watches her still stroke him and watches him tremble at the overwhelming pleasure of it. Watches her impale herself on him. Watches her kiss him full on the mouth, hungrily. And ride him, hard, as if her life depended on it. As if there wasn’t enough time to wait.

But this time, she also heard every sound the two lovers made, could smell all of the scents of sex filling the room. Kathleen is so close to her edge, she can taste it. She can almost taste him on her own lips, she barely care what Joanie might think about how she is touching herself. The lust at watching the lovers play their game is so deep, she is barely aware Joanie is still there lost in her own, semi-private bliss watching the lovers, and herself.

“Holy fuck!” Joanie cries out as the lover pushes the man back on the bed, her hands braced on his chest as she rides him hard, screaming in bliss.

Kathleen cannot even register what sounds she is making herself, as she tries to match her fingering to the shaking she can feel in the bed, by lovers that were once there.

Kathleen comes and closes her eyes when the lover screams out and comes. She pulls her fingers from her cunt and attacks her clit, and she shudders as the pleasure hits her in waves. She shudders as she can almost imagine the man’s cock sliding in and out of her. She bounces on the bed to mimic how the lover is still riding the man. She squeezes her breasts as she knows the man is probably squeezing his lovers. Kathleen opens her eyes to see him doing exactly that as he comes again, deep inside of her. Kathleen can almost feel his warmth filling her too.

Kathleen suddenly jolts as Joan’s tongue licks her cunt. Kathleen looks down at Joan’s ravenous smile right before Joan licks her again. Kathleen gasps as the pleasure floods her. No one has ever licked her with more than just a curiosity touch, and never a woman. Joan’s tongue attacks in a knowing way, a lusting and lovely way. Kathleen melts into it, letting her fingers get lost in Joanie’s auburn hair. Her friend’s call her Joanie, right. What a silly thought to cling to in the moment.

Kathleen looks toward the window again and swears the man and his lover is watching her now. To see there lust-filled stares toward her is too much, she buckles and orgasms. Joanie slips her tongue deeper. The only thought Kathleen can hold is that Joanie better damn share this room with her, and every other secret this room contains.

~~~

I stroke Charlotte’s thigh as we both recover from our couplings, or at least recover enough to continue. She sighs and I let my fingers get closer to her sex. There is something magical about Charlotte. There was always something magical about her. Even when I was in the other time watching her through the reflection of the rooms window.

But, my lust never stays sated for long while I am with her, and perhaps she is right. It is not that I haven’t found a way to return to where or when I came from, but perhaps I do not desire to really leave.

My fingers tease her, as hers slowly brings my sore cock back to life. Just then, there is a shimmer in the window, and I swear I catch the blurry reflection of a naked woman sitting on the edge of the bed next to us, being devoured by her lover.

The image is blurred, as if it were raining, but no less erotic. I point it out to Charlotte, she turns to look, “Pity, I don’t see it.” Then she turns to me and gives me a hungry smile, she crawls over my body, sliding her breasts along my face, her belly, her sex. I lick her, tasting how sweet we taste together, but she doesn’t linger, she continues to crawl over me, until she is behind me.

I turn and climb onto the bed behind her.

“Fuck me,” she says softly. It is a perfect blend of a plea and a command.

I kneel behind her as she raises herself higher, I side in and moan as I have only moaned with her, I look at the reflection, and the lovers are still there, now crystal clear. Two women. And with every thrust into Charlotte, I can hear the one moan, counter to Charlotte’s.

“Fuck me, I think I can hear who you can see!”

Charlotte has an appetite for the erotic. All I know is she comes to this room to exercise it. All I know is that I have somehow become entangled into her life. I have this sense that if I do not leave soon, I might never be able too. Like Charlotte keeps telling me though, perhaps I don’t really want to.

“Tell me what they are doing, as you...Fuck me…”

I try to tell Charlotte that the women have switch positions. I try to describe their unique beauties. But, my words start to become grunts and moans.

“I wish...they were here...with us...ugh.”

I see the woman in the reflection shudder. I grip Charlotte’s hip harder, pounding harder…

“Yes! Fuck me. I hear her...coming...she sounds so sweet.”

I explode against all of the sensations. I fill my lover as I have now countless times before in the days I’ve been here. The feeling of Charlotte all around me. The scent of our sex in the air. The view of two women intertwined on this very bed on the other side of the reflection of the window, and the deep lust dripping from Charlotte’s wanton lips. She is a siren pulling me deeper into her keep, into her game. I wonder if she actually pulled me to this place. She denies it, but I still wonder.

We collapse as my orgasm ends and Charlotte’s begins. Her pleasure bleeds into me. I try to savor it all. I know she will eventually leave in the early morning. Leaving me to fumble in this foreign world alone for yet another day. Until tomorrow night, when we will repeat our tryst. Unless I figure out a way to return, assuming I even want to.

I stare at the reflection in the glass, and it is only me now staring back. I barely recognize myself. I’ve changed. Charlotte has shaped me to exist better in this place. But, that might not mean for the better.

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Seduce me - I want a seduction, be it by poem or prose or both. Tease me with your writing - I want the screen to melt from your words!
Written by CharlieRogers in portal Romance & Erotica

You Are Mine

Your dark eyes caught mine as I walked down the street. Your hood pulled up over your ears, the strong wind swiped at it exposing your soft hair to the wind as it was swept back. I stopped, leaning against the wall to watch you. My prey.  I would soon have you all to myself.  

You entered the bar and I followed not short behind. As I entered the room I lowered my own hood.  Pulling my own hair free from the jacket. I unraveled it and let it fall to my waist, as it gleamed gold in the dim light. 

You had taken a seat at the bar, your thick muscled arms resting against the surface as the bartender brought you your drink.  I perched myself on the bar stool two to the left of you and ordered a whiskey on the rocks.  I watched as the woman behind the bar poured the thick fluid over the ice. She set it down before me and I watched the condensation form on the cool glass. The water droplets forming I ran my finger along the glass as the water pooled and trickled down. 

I tilted my head to the right and caught you watching me, but I held your gaze as you started to look away.  Your lips parted as you smiled and your cheeks flushed with the embarrassment of getting caught starring.  To your surprise I too smiled because this was exactly what I wanted.  I was going to have you tonight.  

I slid off my stool and took the few short steps to the one closest to you. Taking a seat I turned my head and gave you a sly smile.  You broke the silence with your husky voice as your dark eyes gleamed back at me in the dim light.  I held your attention as I ran my fingers down your arm, I felt the goose bumps that rose on your skin under my touch.  I laid some money down on the counter and interlaced your fingers with mine, pulling you with me. You followed me out the door and along the dark pathway into the car waiting under the streetlamp. 

After a short drive we pulled up to the apartment building.  I passed the driver the money and pushed open the door.  As you followed me through the revolving doors and to the elevator I pushed the silver button and the heavy metal door slid open.  As the elevator rose the pull of gravity grounded me to the slick floor.  As we reached the fifth floor the doors slid open and you followed me out the doors and around the bend to the apartment. I slid the key into the keyhole and turned it as I pushed the door open smoothly.  

You slid in behind me, and latched the door. I reached for the lock and you heard it click as my hand traced your face. My fingers following the curve of your jaw, I pulled you into me as I entangled your hair in my fingers.  I pulled back, skimming your lower lip with my teeth as I lured you into the bedroom.  As the back of your legs hit the edge of the bed I gave you a push and you fell back onto the bed as I got on top of you.  I pushed hard down on you, stroking.  You pulled me down to you as you watched the mischief in my eyes. 

I ran my tongue along the ridges of your ear, grazing your earlobe with my teeth. I felt you tremble beneath me and your pants get tight under me. I reached down and ran my hands along your inner thighs, and then with one slick motion pulled my shirt up over my head and reached for yours, doing the same.  As I ran my fingers along your body I traced your pant line.  I reached for the button and undid the zipper, I slid them from your body as I stood up and let my own fall to the ground.  I slipped my bra strap off and undid the latch as you watched me.  I saw you lick your lips as you saw me expose my pale flesh to you, I dropped my panties and proceeded to pull yours off.  I crawled back on top of you as I felt it move beneath me and I pushed into it as I rode you. 

As I heard you groan and I pushed you deeper into me.  Your breathing laboured. I watched your face contort as I had my way with you.

I leaned forward and whispered in your ear. 

"You are mine"

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Seduce me - I want a seduction, be it by poem or prose or both. Tease me with your writing - I want the screen to melt from your words!
Written by CharlieRogers in portal Romance & Erotica
You Are Mine
Your dark eyes caught mine as I walked down the street. Your hood pulled up over your ears, the strong wind swiped at it exposing your soft hair to the wind as it was swept back. I stopped, leaning against the wall to watch you. My prey.  I would soon have you all to myself.  

You entered the bar and I followed not short behind. As I entered the room I lowered my own hood.  Pulling my own hair free from the jacket. I unraveled it and let it fall to my waist, as it gleamed gold in the dim light. 

You had taken a seat at the bar, your thick muscled arms resting against the surface as the bartender brought you your drink.  I perched myself on the bar stool two to the left of you and ordered a whiskey on the rocks.  I watched as the woman behind the bar poured the thick fluid over the ice. She set it down before me and I watched the condensation form on the cool glass. The water droplets forming I ran my finger along the glass as the water pooled and trickled down. 

I tilted my head to the right and caught you watching me, but I held your gaze as you started to look away.  Your lips parted as you smiled and your cheeks flushed with the embarrassment of getting caught starring.  To your surprise I too smiled because this was exactly what I wanted.  I was going to have you tonight.  

I slid off my stool and took the few short steps to the one closest to you. Taking a seat I turned my head and gave you a sly smile.  You broke the silence with your husky voice as your dark eyes gleamed back at me in the dim light.  I held your attention as I ran my fingers down your arm, I felt the goose bumps that rose on your skin under my touch.  I laid some money down on the counter and interlaced your fingers with mine, pulling you with me. You followed me out the door and along the dark pathway into the car waiting under the streetlamp. 

After a short drive we pulled up to the apartment building.  I passed the driver the money and pushed open the door.  As you followed me through the revolving doors and to the elevator I pushed the silver button and the heavy metal door slid open.  As the elevator rose the pull of gravity grounded me to the slick floor.  As we reached the fifth floor the doors slid open and you followed me out the doors and around the bend to the apartment. I slid the key into the keyhole and turned it as I pushed the door open smoothly.  

You slid in behind me, and latched the door. I reached for the lock and you heard it click as my hand traced your face. My fingers following the curve of your jaw, I pulled you into me as I entangled your hair in my fingers.  I pulled back, skimming your lower lip with my teeth as I lured you into the bedroom.  As the back of your legs hit the edge of the bed I gave you a push and you fell back onto the bed as I got on top of you.  I pushed hard down on you, stroking.  You pulled me down to you as you watched the mischief in my eyes. 

I ran my tongue along the ridges of your ear, grazing your earlobe with my teeth. I felt you tremble beneath me and your pants get tight under me. I reached down and ran my hands along your inner thighs, and then with one slick motion pulled my shirt up over my head and reached for yours, doing the same.  As I ran my fingers along your body I traced your pant line.  I reached for the button and undid the zipper, I slid them from your body as I stood up and let my own fall to the ground.  I slipped my bra strap off and undid the latch as you watched me.  I saw you lick your lips as you saw me expose my pale flesh to you, I dropped my panties and proceeded to pull yours off.  I crawled back on top of you as I felt it move beneath me and I pushed into it as I rode you. 

As I heard you groan and I pushed you deeper into me.  Your breathing laboured. I watched your face contort as I had my way with you.
I leaned forward and whispered in your ear. 
"You are mine"

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Write something that invokes the feeling of love in your heart
Written by MsH in portal Romance & Erotica

Love/Life

Compassion compresses my heart in ways I cannot comprehend—not self directed, such merely causes inadvertent bewilderment! Others reaching out to others in Empathy somehow reaches me directly.  It's the electrostatic contact of Being to Being that sends shock waves through me—a pulsing reminder of our shared capacity for Humanity.

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Write something that invokes the feeling of love in your heart
Written by MsH in portal Romance & Erotica
Love/Life
Compassion compresses my heart in ways I cannot comprehend—not self directed, such merely causes inadvertent bewilderment! Others reaching out to others in Empathy somehow reaches me directly.  It's the electrostatic contact of Being to Being that sends shock waves through me—a pulsing reminder of our shared capacity for Humanity.
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Written by fantastical in portal Romance & Erotica

Deliciously Awkward

Her eyes have always haunted me. There is a power within her gaze that was unique to her, or at the very least, I felt unique under her scrutiny. I haven’t felt the feeling of it for ages, it has since only haunted me in my long memories of her. Yet, for the first time in what seems like an eternity, I feel that gaze again, her gaze again, and it is like a punch to the gut; my body and soul feel the same, deliciously awkward feeling under the weight of her devouring eyes. That feeling of being stripped bare, visually enjoyed, caressed without permission, and fucked senselessly while the passing crowd goes by unaware.

Anyone that knows her, if you were to ask them, would tell you that her eyes were brown. A few might even go so far to say they were a luscious brown. Either description would be understating it, by quite a lot. From someone that suffered under their scrutiny for days on end, someone that came to know every mote of her irises intimately, I can tell you they are not brown, not even a luscious brown. No, the color of her eyes are a soft amber to get permanently trapped in. Trapped along the shards of fiery agate that line her golden irises. There is only the slightest shape of almonds with her eyes. She rarely decorated them with any eyeliner, and never to my knowledge did she encumbered with mascara, for her lashes were long and thick all on their own.

I am certain i can feel them on me now. Feel them try to unnerve me as they did once upon a time. I can feel them try to get me to frantically look for their source. I keep my emotions deeply in check, occasionally looking here and there as anyone suffering a layover at the airport does but I make sure I don’t express too much desire to find her, if she is indeed here, and not just my broken imagination. I keep it cool, but I cannot help to reflect…

I recall the first time her eyes rested upon me. My skin had the lightest buzz pass over it then it rippled in an ever lightening echo. It was a lovely feeling actually, almost unique, until my instincts perked up a moment later and my intuition told me that I was being watched. I looked up and it was when I turned my head, that my eyes found her staring. At the time, I took her in as a lovely stranger, until I noticed her smile.

It wasn’t a gentle smile. It wasn’t filled with chagrin at being caught staring perhaps a bit impolitely. It wasn’t quite a hungry smile. At that time, there was only a hit of hunger. It wasn’t quite an amused smile either, although mirth did outline the edges of it. More than anything, the most shocking thing about that particular smile is that it held annoyance; annoyance that I disrupted her current view of me by returning her gaze. It left me perplexed and a bit annoyed as well. It was at that moment, when she read my expression, she laughed and walked away. I went back to what I was focused on and left it at that. A strange moment of happenstance.

The next time I felt her eyes upon me, the contact was a whisper stronger. There was a hunger laced in it. Like when you first sit down at a fine restaurant and a dessert tray passes you by. You take in the entire tray at first, then you let your eyes peruse each option, perhaps revisiting your top few desires more than once. I felt her eyes all about me as gentle as a summer breeze, with just a hint of heat to the gaze. Then, I felt them hone in on the parts of me, the heat a bit warmer with a weight to the pressure, as if each part separated was a different dessert to judge and perhaps indulge in. I knew the gaze was hers before my eyes met hers again. The smile she had on her face when I found her finally, was a smile I recognized even if I had never seen it. This one hinted at a happiness. A happiness that I could be that aware of her gaze. She left me with nothing else that day. That night however, I had a difficult time removing that smile from my thoughts. A difficulty finding the indifference to her beauty that I easily found after our first encounter. A difficulty not allowing my body to enjoy the memory of how her gaze enjoyed my various parts unabashedly.

The third time, I was now easily an appetizer. I felt the hunger fully. I felt it test me out as if I were just a morsel to tide one over. I felt awkward and self-conscious. I tried to work through the gaze, ignoring it and not returning it. I felt it pull at my lips, in a way that a lover never kissed. I felt the hunger toy with me as if asking a question. Not quite permission, not quite gauging. I can still recall how my heart slowly began to betray me as it started to race. How my skin warmed as much from the touch of those amber eyes as my own biology having reactions a mere gaze shouldn’t cause. As disconcerting as I felt, a part of me didn’t want the gaze to leave me. As much as I wanted to stare her down, I didn’t want her to leave yet and the previous times she always left after I faced her. I had moments of passion in my life. I had moments where I was able to stir desire within my former lovers. But, I never felt someone hunger just at the sight of me. It tickled the small part of me that craved the need to be desired in such a way. As if it were a nearly dead, forgotten thing that finally woken from a near-dormant sleep on life support. I tried to savor the delicious awkwardness as long as possible. I did until I finally had to look at her and into those eyes. I found her right away. I found her glowing with a blush of being in heat. Her smile this time was brief, but it spoke in volume, of unmitigated enjoyment, even if at my expense. My imagination ran away with her as she left, for I swore I could taste the perfume she was wearing, even from the vast distance.

The fourth time, I was a main course. Her gaze gorged upon me. It made no attempts at subtlety any longer. It devoured with no biases. It was maddening. I lost my mind, nearly lost control of my rebelling body, and nearly came just from the experience. I looked upon her right as I was approaching my point of no return. There was no smile there waiting for me this time, only a look of dripping lust. She trembled away, never looking back. My hours that night at home were consumed with thoughts of her. Thoughts that were as wanton as I have ever had.

The next day, I hunted her down. It took a while, but I eventually found her getting a cup of coffee from a gourmet vending machine. She looked mildly surprised when I greeted her. I didn’t even know her name.

“Hello…”, she cut me off.

“Hello, I’m Danielle, and no I am not interested in getting coffee, having dinner, or skipping the details and just going back to my place,” she punctuated it with a devilishly inviting smile.

“May I ask why not, considering…”

“Why I won’t invite you to my place?”

“No, that is not what I…”

She laughed, my cock stirred in response to it, “It isn’t? That is a shame to know you feel that way. But, to answer the question, I am involved for one thing. For the other, I already like the view as it is quite a bit. I don’t feel the need to want anything more.” With that, she briefly caressed my cheek, and most likely purposefully brushed against the bulge in my pants with her body as she walked passed me. Never looking back to see if I was watching her walk away, because she most likely knew. Up until that moment I was never one to want someone that I couldn’t have, I would usually embrace such rejection and ride the deflation to the next opportunity. Yet, my being ached for her gaze, and the rest of her even deeper.

Each time after, her gaze was progressively worse upon my form, as she finally got to the dessert portion of the evening and finally allowed to indulge in me however she wanted. All pretenses of this turning into anything else were gone. She indulged just on me being, and I both savored the gaze for the lustful drug it stirred and hated it, for not seeming to have any resistance toward it.

By the sixth encounter my body’s arousal didn’t dissipate after she left. By the eighth, it didn’t simmer down by the time I got home. By the tenth, I fled to the bathroom to try to masturbate the deep arousal out of me, because I had no chance of waiting until I got home. By the eleventh encounter, I knew it was futile to repeat the trip to the bathroom. My body and fracturing mind were reaching states of arousal that didn’t end at the climax, they amplified instead. Like itching a scratch. The more you itched the worse it got. Willing through the arousal was the only recourse and there wasn’t much recourse in that. Every episode after, I refused to meet her gaze. The only act of defiance I had left. Yet, I knew each time she came. And each time, I shamefully craved her more.

I do not recall how many gazes occurred on the day she stood directly outside of my glass-walled office. I recall feeling those eyes on me. Almost as soft as the first time I noticed them. Her face was a pondering mask. She finally decided on something and knocked on my glass door. I waved her in.

“Question?...”

“Answer, “ I replied foolishly, replying in an instinctive way as I did with a former love, because around Danielle all I could hope for is reacting instinctively. Her light perfume washed my senses. I could taste it on my tongue, as much from an impossible memory as from her slowly closing proximity.

She smiled, sweetly innocent, even as my soul knew there was little that was innocent about her, “I am having a get-together with some close friends and acquaintances. I’m curious if you would like to join us.”

“Sure,” left my lips even as every fiber of my remaining sense said no.

“Wonderful, I cannot wait to see you there.” The way she said “see” was as if she slipped her lips around me, seeking a nourishment, only a deep lust can fulfill.

I didn’t feel her gaze for the remainder of that week. I felt lost and in a withdrawal that borderlined on painful. I missed her gaze as much as I would have missed water in the desert.

~~~

The first thing about the so-called get-together was that I was just slightly underdressed on average. There didn’t seem to be a code to it, yet most of the women were wearing dresses that could be considered second skins, and most of the men were in suits that were sharp with wealth. I thought about retrieving my suitcoat and tie from the car, but figured at this point it was already a lost cause, the initial judgment already occurred.

Danielle greeted me briefly, as if we were fast friends. Introduced me around, knowing more details about me then I would have imagined. Then, left me to my own affairs as she greeted other newcomers. I didn’t know another soul. None of these people as far as I could tell were from the building we both worked at.

My better sense told me to flee. I hated gatherings like this. They made me standoffish from the start. The only person I knew was floating from conversation to conversation. I didn’t know what I was expecting. My lust lured me here like a lost puppy. Even in an environment that I would normally avoid, I needed to feel that gaze again. Just a hit of it, then I could flee.

I felt it a bit, as I stood as a wallflower, taking in the party. I felt it a bit more as I tried to socialize. My body reacting as if it had never been touched before. I felt awkward trying to hide an erection I couldn’t control. The more uncomfortable I got, the deeper the gaze became. The feedback loop was unbearable. Yet, the part of me that craved this level of desire, never wanted it to end. I didn’t want the gaze, I needed it. Even if that was all I could ever have of her.

I found a sofa to sit on, a temporary solace from the awkwardness both of my traitorous body and my uncomfort of the event. A lovely woman approached. In any other place, I would have thought beautiful. But, Danielle was consuming my thoughts, in ways best to have when one is alone with them.

“May I join you?” the lady asked, waiting politely, in case the rest of the sofa was being reserved.

“By all means…” she sat down, tugging at her short dress to try to cover her thighs a bit more. From most, it would have been a feigned act of modesty. From her, it almost seemed genuine.

He name was Suzi, and her personality reflected it over Suzan or Suzanna or whatever her proper name was. She was a calm in a storm. She was sweet and light. Quick with a smile and sincere with her laughter. She was more than lovely. I would have died to have met a woman like her anywhere else. Yet, as we talked, I felt Danielle’s gaze slip under my clothes. I got drunk on the touch. Suzi mistakenly got the feeling I was getting drunk on her. She edged closer. She kept nervously playing with a strand of her near platinum hair. My unchecked lust let my eyes take her in a bit more hungrily, even as my thoughts were still filled with another woman entirely. Danielle’s gaze burned with a heat. I could almost smell that dampness between her thighs from across the room. Or perhaps it was Suzi’s thighs. Suzi seemed to respond positively to my mood. I got the feeling she rarely had men take her too seriously, and I did hang on her every word. Not because I was playing her, but rather because the cadence of her voice did help distract me from the other set of eyes devouring me, even if just a bit. I felt strange and torn. Her hand rested casually on my thigh. Danielle’s gaze burned at my neck. Suzi adjusted the way she was sitting and her eyes gave my attentive ones permission to look everywhere else. I let them drop down to feast in her breasts and just how high her dress rode back up her thighs. She smiled as if she ensnared me. Danielle’s gaze seemed to be all around my cock now. Teasing me to just enough madness that I would do something, anything to the woman I was sitting with.

I found my will. I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction. Suzi was obviously at the point that she was waiting for me to suggest that we leave. There was a level of desire in her hungry eyes as well. A part of me screamed that I was a fool for not taking up the silent offer. For freeing myself from the trap I was in with Danielle. Yet, whatever sense of man was still left in me, I could not leave with Suzi, I could not go to back to her place and fuck her while my mind was fantasizing about someone else. Even as low as I have spiraled, I still at least had that much character left. Suzi and I exchanged numbers, but she seemed perplex that she was leaving alone. The last part of my sanity was screaming that I was a bloody fool for letting her slip away. As she walked out the door, Danielle’s gaze seemed to weaken upon my flesh. I felt doubly empty at that.

I hovered for the next hour, drifting in and out of conversations half-heartedly. Trying to balance the feeling that the old part of me that I recognized wished I would have left and this new part that insanely craved the mere gaze of Danielle. I hovered waiting as people slowly left. I hovered until I was one of four remaining. I hovered closer to Danielle and the couple she was conversing with. They initially seemed ready to go, but then seemed to stay because they didn’t have a good gauge of me. A few shared glances and assurances from Danielle and they finally left as well.

It was just the two of us now. It was the first time we were ever truly alone. Her eyes were naked and assaulted me with an open rapture. The rest of her was as casually aloof as always.

“So it seemed like you and Suzi really hit it off. I was surprised you didn’t leave with her,” the words flowed from her lips, her eyes fucking me in very inappropriate ways.

“She was very nice. We exchanged numbers, I might…”

Danielle laughed, a delightful, sinister laugh, “Suzi is a lot of things. Most guys would not say she is nice, at least in the way you are saying it. She probably would have loved you all the more because you think so. And because of it, she would have tried that much harder to convince you otherwise…”

I let that play in my mind just as I twitched to slide my hand up Danielle’s thigh to see if she was as soaked as I imagined her to be. How she could inflict that much lust through a gaze and not be seemed impossible. She mistook my silence.

“So, why did you stay?”

“You know why I stayed…”

“Do I?” she smiled. Her teeth looked sharp.

I weighed the words. There were so many ways to respond.

“Close your eyes,” I whispered.

“Why?” she countered, it was not inflected with a no however.

“If you want to know why I stayed, you will close your eyes.”

She smiled, and let them close, softly.

I stared at her, and imagined ripping off her dress. I either saw her shudder or I imagined it. It didn’t matter.

I imagined what she looked like beneath, and she took a sharp intake of breath.

I imagined slipping my hand up her soaked, naked thigh. And her eyes snapped open. She tried to smile, but she couldn’t.

“Fuck! Close your eyes,” she uttered, for the first time seeming a bit out of sorts.

“No.”

“Please!” there was a crack in her voice. A turning of the tides. A different phase of the moon.

I closed my eyes. I could feel her step closer to me. I trembled with it. My cock throbbed, reaching toward her gravity.

She whispered in my ear.

“Think about how you need to take me right now. Imagine it. Not how you should or how you want to. I want you to think about how you need to. All I want is your need.”

I do not recall how our clothes got peeled from our bodies. I only recall how I needed her more than anything else in that moment. And taking her the way I needed to. And the way she screamed for more and giving her all I had to give, until we fumbled toward softer cravings and famished feastings.

~~~

After all of this time. After all of these years, I feel her gaze upon me again. I savor the gentle caresses. I indulge on the wicked needs. I feel deliciously awkward, as people get caught in the storm, of the gaze and my reaction, like collateral damage.

After too much, I finally seek her out. My eyes lock onto hers. And she smiles, before she closes her eyes, standing in the middle of the terminal, deliciously awkward, trembling and moaning and not caring who sees or hears, as I subject my needs upon her, with my hungry gaze and wonder at how our lives are suddenly bound in the same direction again, while having no idea now where I am heading to.

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Written by fantastical in portal Romance & Erotica
Deliciously Awkward
Her eyes have always haunted me. There is a power within her gaze that was unique to her, or at the very least, I felt unique under her scrutiny. I haven’t felt the feeling of it for ages, it has since only haunted me in my long memories of her. Yet, for the first time in what seems like an eternity, I feel that gaze again, her gaze again, and it is like a punch to the gut; my body and soul feel the same, deliciously awkward feeling under the weight of her devouring eyes. That feeling of being stripped bare, visually enjoyed, caressed without permission, and fucked senselessly while the passing crowd goes by unaware.

Anyone that knows her, if you were to ask them, would tell you that her eyes were brown. A few might even go so far to say they were a luscious brown. Either description would be understating it, by quite a lot. From someone that suffered under their scrutiny for days on end, someone that came to know every mote of her irises intimately, I can tell you they are not brown, not even a luscious brown. No, the color of her eyes are a soft amber to get permanently trapped in. Trapped along the shards of fiery agate that line her golden irises. There is only the slightest shape of almonds with her eyes. She rarely decorated them with any eyeliner, and never to my knowledge did she encumbered with mascara, for her lashes were long and thick all on their own.

I am certain i can feel them on me now. Feel them try to unnerve me as they did once upon a time. I can feel them try to get me to frantically look for their source. I keep my emotions deeply in check, occasionally looking here and there as anyone suffering a layover at the airport does but I make sure I don’t express too much desire to find her, if she is indeed here, and not just my broken imagination. I keep it cool, but I cannot help to reflect…


I recall the first time her eyes rested upon me. My skin had the lightest buzz pass over it then it rippled in an ever lightening echo. It was a lovely feeling actually, almost unique, until my instincts perked up a moment later and my intuition told me that I was being watched. I looked up and it was when I turned my head, that my eyes found her staring. At the time, I took her in as a lovely stranger, until I noticed her smile.

It wasn’t a gentle smile. It wasn’t filled with chagrin at being caught staring perhaps a bit impolitely. It wasn’t quite a hungry smile. At that time, there was only a hit of hunger. It wasn’t quite an amused smile either, although mirth did outline the edges of it. More than anything, the most shocking thing about that particular smile is that it held annoyance; annoyance that I disrupted her current view of me by returning her gaze. It left me perplexed and a bit annoyed as well. It was at that moment, when she read my expression, she laughed and walked away. I went back to what I was focused on and left it at that. A strange moment of happenstance.

The next time I felt her eyes upon me, the contact was a whisper stronger. There was a hunger laced in it. Like when you first sit down at a fine restaurant and a dessert tray passes you by. You take in the entire tray at first, then you let your eyes peruse each option, perhaps revisiting your top few desires more than once. I felt her eyes all about me as gentle as a summer breeze, with just a hint of heat to the gaze. Then, I felt them hone in on the parts of me, the heat a bit warmer with a weight to the pressure, as if each part separated was a different dessert to judge and perhaps indulge in. I knew the gaze was hers before my eyes met hers again. The smile she had on her face when I found her finally, was a smile I recognized even if I had never seen it. This one hinted at a happiness. A happiness that I could be that aware of her gaze. She left me with nothing else that day. That night however, I had a difficult time removing that smile from my thoughts. A difficulty finding the indifference to her beauty that I easily found after our first encounter. A difficulty not allowing my body to enjoy the memory of how her gaze enjoyed my various parts unabashedly.

The third time, I was now easily an appetizer. I felt the hunger fully. I felt it test me out as if I were just a morsel to tide one over. I felt awkward and self-conscious. I tried to work through the gaze, ignoring it and not returning it. I felt it pull at my lips, in a way that a lover never kissed. I felt the hunger toy with me as if asking a question. Not quite permission, not quite gauging. I can still recall how my heart slowly began to betray me as it started to race. How my skin warmed as much from the touch of those amber eyes as my own biology having reactions a mere gaze shouldn’t cause. As disconcerting as I felt, a part of me didn’t want the gaze to leave me. As much as I wanted to stare her down, I didn’t want her to leave yet and the previous times she always left after I faced her. I had moments of passion in my life. I had moments where I was able to stir desire within my former lovers. But, I never felt someone hunger just at the sight of me. It tickled the small part of me that craved the need to be desired in such a way. As if it were a nearly dead, forgotten thing that finally woken from a near-dormant sleep on life support. I tried to savor the delicious awkwardness as long as possible. I did until I finally had to look at her and into those eyes. I found her right away. I found her glowing with a blush of being in heat. Her smile this time was brief, but it spoke in volume, of unmitigated enjoyment, even if at my expense. My imagination ran away with her as she left, for I swore I could taste the perfume she was wearing, even from the vast distance.

The fourth time, I was a main course. Her gaze gorged upon me. It made no attempts at subtlety any longer. It devoured with no biases. It was maddening. I lost my mind, nearly lost control of my rebelling body, and nearly came just from the experience. I looked upon her right as I was approaching my point of no return. There was no smile there waiting for me this time, only a look of dripping lust. She trembled away, never looking back. My hours that night at home were consumed with thoughts of her. Thoughts that were as wanton as I have ever had.

The next day, I hunted her down. It took a while, but I eventually found her getting a cup of coffee from a gourmet vending machine. She looked mildly surprised when I greeted her. I didn’t even know her name.

“Hello…”, she cut me off.

“Hello, I’m Danielle, and no I am not interested in getting coffee, having dinner, or skipping the details and just going back to my place,” she punctuated it with a devilishly inviting smile.

“May I ask why not, considering…”

“Why I won’t invite you to my place?”

“No, that is not what I…”

She laughed, my cock stirred in response to it, “It isn’t? That is a shame to know you feel that way. But, to answer the question, I am involved for one thing. For the other, I already like the view as it is quite a bit. I don’t feel the need to want anything more.” With that, she briefly caressed my cheek, and most likely purposefully brushed against the bulge in my pants with her body as she walked passed me. Never looking back to see if I was watching her walk away, because she most likely knew. Up until that moment I was never one to want someone that I couldn’t have, I would usually embrace such rejection and ride the deflation to the next opportunity. Yet, my being ached for her gaze, and the rest of her even deeper.

Each time after, her gaze was progressively worse upon my form, as she finally got to the dessert portion of the evening and finally allowed to indulge in me however she wanted. All pretenses of this turning into anything else were gone. She indulged just on me being, and I both savored the gaze for the lustful drug it stirred and hated it, for not seeming to have any resistance toward it.

By the sixth encounter my body’s arousal didn’t dissipate after she left. By the eighth, it didn’t simmer down by the time I got home. By the tenth, I fled to the bathroom to try to masturbate the deep arousal out of me, because I had no chance of waiting until I got home. By the eleventh encounter, I knew it was futile to repeat the trip to the bathroom. My body and fracturing mind were reaching states of arousal that didn’t end at the climax, they amplified instead. Like itching a scratch. The more you itched the worse it got. Willing through the arousal was the only recourse and there wasn’t much recourse in that. Every episode after, I refused to meet her gaze. The only act of defiance I had left. Yet, I knew each time she came. And each time, I shamefully craved her more.

I do not recall how many gazes occurred on the day she stood directly outside of my glass-walled office. I recall feeling those eyes on me. Almost as soft as the first time I noticed them. Her face was a pondering mask. She finally decided on something and knocked on my glass door. I waved her in.

“Question?...”

“Answer, “ I replied foolishly, replying in an instinctive way as I did with a former love, because around Danielle all I could hope for is reacting instinctively. Her light perfume washed my senses. I could taste it on my tongue, as much from an impossible memory as from her slowly closing proximity.

She smiled, sweetly innocent, even as my soul knew there was little that was innocent about her, “I am having a get-together with some close friends and acquaintances. I’m curious if you would like to join us.”
“Sure,” left my lips even as every fiber of my remaining sense said no.

“Wonderful, I cannot wait to see you there.” The way she said “see” was as if she slipped her lips around me, seeking a nourishment, only a deep lust can fulfill.

I didn’t feel her gaze for the remainder of that week. I felt lost and in a withdrawal that borderlined on painful. I missed her gaze as much as I would have missed water in the desert.

~~~

The first thing about the so-called get-together was that I was just slightly underdressed on average. There didn’t seem to be a code to it, yet most of the women were wearing dresses that could be considered second skins, and most of the men were in suits that were sharp with wealth. I thought about retrieving my suitcoat and tie from the car, but figured at this point it was already a lost cause, the initial judgment already occurred.

Danielle greeted me briefly, as if we were fast friends. Introduced me around, knowing more details about me then I would have imagined. Then, left me to my own affairs as she greeted other newcomers. I didn’t know another soul. None of these people as far as I could tell were from the building we both worked at.

My better sense told me to flee. I hated gatherings like this. They made me standoffish from the start. The only person I knew was floating from conversation to conversation. I didn’t know what I was expecting. My lust lured me here like a lost puppy. Even in an environment that I would normally avoid, I needed to feel that gaze again. Just a hit of it, then I could flee.

I felt it a bit, as I stood as a wallflower, taking in the party. I felt it a bit more as I tried to socialize. My body reacting as if it had never been touched before. I felt awkward trying to hide an erection I couldn’t control. The more uncomfortable I got, the deeper the gaze became. The feedback loop was unbearable. Yet, the part of me that craved this level of desire, never wanted it to end. I didn’t want the gaze, I needed it. Even if that was all I could ever have of her.

I found a sofa to sit on, a temporary solace from the awkwardness both of my traitorous body and my uncomfort of the event. A lovely woman approached. In any other place, I would have thought beautiful. But, Danielle was consuming my thoughts, in ways best to have when one is alone with them.

“May I join you?” the lady asked, waiting politely, in case the rest of the sofa was being reserved.

“By all means…” she sat down, tugging at her short dress to try to cover her thighs a bit more. From most, it would have been a feigned act of modesty. From her, it almost seemed genuine.

He name was Suzi, and her personality reflected it over Suzan or Suzanna or whatever her proper name was. She was a calm in a storm. She was sweet and light. Quick with a smile and sincere with her laughter. She was more than lovely. I would have died to have met a woman like her anywhere else. Yet, as we talked, I felt Danielle’s gaze slip under my clothes. I got drunk on the touch. Suzi mistakenly got the feeling I was getting drunk on her. She edged closer. She kept nervously playing with a strand of her near platinum hair. My unchecked lust let my eyes take her in a bit more hungrily, even as my thoughts were still filled with another woman entirely. Danielle’s gaze burned with a heat. I could almost smell that dampness between her thighs from across the room. Or perhaps it was Suzi’s thighs. Suzi seemed to respond positively to my mood. I got the feeling she rarely had men take her too seriously, and I did hang on her every word. Not because I was playing her, but rather because the cadence of her voice did help distract me from the other set of eyes devouring me, even if just a bit. I felt strange and torn. Her hand rested casually on my thigh. Danielle’s gaze burned at my neck. Suzi adjusted the way she was sitting and her eyes gave my attentive ones permission to look everywhere else. I let them drop down to feast in her breasts and just how high her dress rode back up her thighs. She smiled as if she ensnared me. Danielle’s gaze seemed to be all around my cock now. Teasing me to just enough madness that I would do something, anything to the woman I was sitting with.

I found my will. I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction. Suzi was obviously at the point that she was waiting for me to suggest that we leave. There was a level of desire in her hungry eyes as well. A part of me screamed that I was a fool for not taking up the silent offer. For freeing myself from the trap I was in with Danielle. Yet, whatever sense of man was still left in me, I could not leave with Suzi, I could not go to back to her place and fuck her while my mind was fantasizing about someone else. Even as low as I have spiraled, I still at least had that much character left. Suzi and I exchanged numbers, but she seemed perplex that she was leaving alone. The last part of my sanity was screaming that I was a bloody fool for letting her slip away. As she walked out the door, Danielle’s gaze seemed to weaken upon my flesh. I felt doubly empty at that.

I hovered for the next hour, drifting in and out of conversations half-heartedly. Trying to balance the feeling that the old part of me that I recognized wished I would have left and this new part that insanely craved the mere gaze of Danielle. I hovered waiting as people slowly left. I hovered until I was one of four remaining. I hovered closer to Danielle and the couple she was conversing with. They initially seemed ready to go, but then seemed to stay because they didn’t have a good gauge of me. A few shared glances and assurances from Danielle and they finally left as well.

It was just the two of us now. It was the first time we were ever truly alone. Her eyes were naked and assaulted me with an open rapture. The rest of her was as casually aloof as always.

“So it seemed like you and Suzi really hit it off. I was surprised you didn’t leave with her,” the words flowed from her lips, her eyes fucking me in very inappropriate ways.

“She was very nice. We exchanged numbers, I might…”

Danielle laughed, a delightful, sinister laugh, “Suzi is a lot of things. Most guys would not say she is nice, at least in the way you are saying it. She probably would have loved you all the more because you think so. And because of it, she would have tried that much harder to convince you otherwise…”

I let that play in my mind just as I twitched to slide my hand up Danielle’s thigh to see if she was as soaked as I imagined her to be. How she could inflict that much lust through a gaze and not be seemed impossible. She mistook my silence.

“So, why did you stay?”

“You know why I stayed…”

“Do I?” she smiled. Her teeth looked sharp.

I weighed the words. There were so many ways to respond.

“Close your eyes,” I whispered.

“Why?” she countered, it was not inflected with a no however.

“If you want to know why I stayed, you will close your eyes.”

She smiled, and let them close, softly.

I stared at her, and imagined ripping off her dress. I either saw her shudder or I imagined it. It didn’t matter.

I imagined what she looked like beneath, and she took a sharp intake of breath.

I imagined slipping my hand up her soaked, naked thigh. And her eyes snapped open. She tried to smile, but she couldn’t.

“Fuck! Close your eyes,” she uttered, for the first time seeming a bit out of sorts.

“No.”

“Please!” there was a crack in her voice. A turning of the tides. A different phase of the moon.

I closed my eyes. I could feel her step closer to me. I trembled with it. My cock throbbed, reaching toward her gravity.

She whispered in my ear.
“Think about how you need to take me right now. Imagine it. Not how you should or how you want to. I want you to think about how you need to. All I want is your need.”

I do not recall how our clothes got peeled from our bodies. I only recall how I needed her more than anything else in that moment. And taking her the way I needed to. And the way she screamed for more and giving her all I had to give, until we fumbled toward softer cravings and famished feastings.

~~~

After all of this time. After all of these years, I feel her gaze upon me again. I savor the gentle caresses. I indulge on the wicked needs. I feel deliciously awkward, as people get caught in the storm, of the gaze and my reaction, like collateral damage.

After too much, I finally seek her out. My eyes lock onto hers. And she smiles, before she closes her eyes, standing in the middle of the terminal, deliciously awkward, trembling and moaning and not caring who sees or hears, as I subject my needs upon her, with my hungry gaze and wonder at how our lives are suddenly bound in the same direction again, while having no idea now where I am heading to.
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Seduce me - I want a seduction, be it by poem or prose or both. Tease me with your writing - I want the screen to melt from your words!
Written by IcySkye in portal Romance & Erotica

The Queen of disaster has a maiden name

‘Where’s my food?’ he shouted, slurring almost enough to be inaudible.

‘Shit!’ I woke up, panicked. I had only meant to lie down and rest my back for 15 minutes, not the 4 hours I had slept. I scurried to the kitchen to try to pacify Ntate Modiri. No hollering, had he passed out? I walked into the sitting room. I knew one way or the other, I had to face him. That was odd, he was eating.

‘Dumela ntate.’ I greeted pensively.

‘A ngwanaka, today your cooking is not up to par. But there is ample meat so I will overlook that.’ He reached into his pockets. ‘How much was the meat?’ he asked looking at my straight in the eyes with bloodshot eyes.

He was strange like that when drunk. He could be overly generous if one played their cards right, say for instance one served him ample meat when he knew he had left two pieces when he had left. I had to find the little rascal responsible for this, scold them for stealing whatever money they stole to make this happen and kiss their little cheek. Whoever it was couldn’t have stolen it from me. I had had just P1.30 left from the toiletry shopping I had done on Friday. Anyway, now the important question was how much could I afford to ask Modiri for.

‘P15.75 ntate.’ No matter how rare his generosity was, Faye had to learnt to always have a rough estimate of the money I needed to keep the rugrats afloat for a week. I couldn’t afford to ask for more than a week’s supplies worth. See, ntate Modiri got a weekly paycheck and lived mostly at his girlfriend’s house, the same girlfriend that helped him so excellently impress the social workers that checked up on the children, but that’s another story on its own. Now here’s the catch, Modiri got merry at the local waterhole about 5 days of the week, not necessarily work days. If he ran out before Saturday, his payday, he would be very angry and take it out on anyone. He had had to be bailed out twice already and if he appeared in court one more time, the younger children could be taken to live in the SOS Children’s Village in Tlokweng. Faye knew that the constant change of caretakers there could leave young ones with deep abandonment scars. I also knew that as some of them were going through teenagehood already, they’d probably spend less time with their siblings, without knowing the permanent rift this would cause in their relationship. I’d seen it happen when I had been there before my father had come to get me.

Oats, some milk, maize meal, spinach, flour, yeast, sugar, roibos, salt, oil, meat, rice, sauce and a single can of beef for the children’s weekly protein intake.

I heard someone whistle and looked up. ‘Hey. I was in the neighbourhood. Thought I’d say hi.’

I wiped a couple of sweat drops from my brow. ‘Ugh, now. Really, now, when I look like shit.’ I decided I would suck it up and turned to him, ‘Hey baby boy.’ I squinted my eyes at him, ‘exactly where in the neighbourhood were you?’

‘Uh.. over there.’ He pointed, towards the only pink house in their neighbourhood. ‘Oh really, what do you and Reba’s father have to talk about?’

‘Stuff. So, what time are you free today?’

I wanted to say the words, but how? I’d wanted to call so many times and say them but couldn’t. I had even called once but when he had answered, I had said absolutely nothing. ‘Man up, get this over with so you can stop making up scenarios.’ ‘Uh.. Okay.. Here goes. I see you every week for 3 months, then you go all MIA on me cause you’re busy, which I get cause you’ve got shit going on, and you’re trying to make shit happen but what about me?’ ‘Look, Faye, I’ ‘Don’t interrupt, this is humiliating, let me get it over with. See thing is, I screwed up and I wound up with a whole lotta feelings. You’re effing amazing so how could i not. Shit!’

Why had I thought I would enjoy the time alone? Doing nothing proved to be more physically painful than doing winter laundry. Who knew? It was 2pm and I had already smoked 3 cigarettes. My grumbling stomach finally made me notice that I was hungry I walked into the kitchen. Shit, not a slice of bread in sight.

These moments where I felt like I was losing touch with reality felt all too familiar for comfort. I looked through my diary entry from the first month after form five.

Those were the days when I hadn’t two 50 thebes to rub together. One cigarette had to last me an entire day. I chuckled when I thought about how I used to try my best not to let any of the fumes go to waste. I would inhale so much at once, so that I could leave my cigarette at half length. Then I would wait for the nausea and light headedness to pass then start studying. My thoughts would in that next 10 minutes be calm and all revolve around what I was studying at the maent. Once that happened, lift off was achieved and it didn’t matter what I had thought of next, or if the rush of thoughts tried to reinvade my mindscape, I had already been encapsulated completely in what I was reading. All I needed was the 10 minute focus period to spark up the fascination.

I did remember though that sometimes I had overdone it and ended up feeling like shit. One time in particular had been in boarding school in form four. I had been in the corridor of one of the classroom blocks. The place had been perfect because on one hand the guards would think it was some of the school’s tough guys whom they always ignored when they did minor things lest they become overly hostile when they were being put in line for some of the more shitty things they did. What the guards did not know was that these boys hardly ever came to this block.

When anyone asks why smoke, my response was always, ‘ Every great person I know of has taken drugs. Da Vinci, Eminem, you name em. Do you know how many medical school students are alcoholics that take weed on the daily?’ Truth is, I was highly neurotic in nature and could only count on Stuveysant to keep my calm.

‘See, here is why I’m obsessed with self diagnosis and attaching a label to my inner psychological workings. I’ve always wanted a doctor to just diagnose me with a psychiatric disorder that’d just make everything I’ve done make sense. I want plausible deniability for my actions and my thoughts because all this darkness, I’m scared to admit that that’s the real me.’

He looked at me with a somewhat blank expression but behind this, I could see he was desperately tring to understand me.

‘Okay, so if a psychologist said you had issues, then you’d know for sure? I’m pretty sure you already do, dude an if you don’t, I’ll tell you myself, you’re twisted.’

I smiled at him. He was forever trying to be the one solution to my problems.

If ever there was a real man left, it was him. His immense pride that rendered him incapable of asking for or receiving help, his intense need to achieve everything he wanted and not slack off.

‘No, dumbass, a psychiatrist.’

His expression changed to a quizzical one. ‘What’s the difference?’

‘If a psychologist diagnoses me, it’d mean I have issues I may have caused or let build up but if a psychiatrist diagnoses me, it means I have something not working right in my brain, or my frontal lobe is bigger than normal or whatever. See that’s why psychologists use talking through stuff but psychiatrists give people medication.’

‘Hmm.. Okay. Wow, you know a shitload about this stuff.’

Aw, you said shitload.’

‘Yeah well, I still think it’s a stupid word but I guess you’re rubbing off on me, I guess. And don’t aw me.’

I leaned over and kissed him. The kiss probably lasted less than a minute but it was something I knew I wanted to experience for years. it wasn’t my first kiss but it was absolutely the butterflies in tummy one I had thought existed only in Danielle Steel novels.

‘Shit.’ he muttered.

‘Sorry.’ I muttered back.

‘No, it’s totally cool. I mean I was totally not expecting that, like at all.’

‘Sorry, I’ve just been wanting to do that for a while now.’

‘Really?’

‘You didn’t notice?’

‘No. I didn’t think you saw me in that way, at all.’

‘Hmm. Okay, well. I’m sorry I ambuId you.’

‘No, don’t be. It was uh.. incredible.’

‘Can I do it again?’

‘Anytime.’

I leaned in again. We walked round the block until around 4 am, stopping only at 1am at the house so I could go in and put blankets over my siblings who had kicked the blankets off of themselves.

‘Where are you sleeping tonight?’

‘My aunt’s. My uncle’s making my cousin and I go to the cattlepost tomorrow.’

I felt my heart sink a little. ‘When do I get to see you?’

‘I really don’t know. Maybe I’ll be back in three weeks, but it’s really not my decision.’

They pressed their foreheads against each other.

‘Okay.’

A goodbye kiss and he was gone.

I fell asleep after two hours even though I felt physically tired. I was in a state of emotional confusion, excited, with butterflies in my tummy and at the same time cruId. Why had I chosen today of all days to finally man up. Maybe if I’d done so a month ago, I’d be sick of him by now, or sated from maing out with him.

‘Yeah riht.’ I muttered into the darkness around me. I knew he wasn’t like the random distractions.

No, not ‘the one’ dumbass, just one of the very rare I want in my life forever. You know, a you.

I typed in as a reply to Mamli’s text. I then played my favorite Jeff Buckley track, put on my earphones and dozed off.

‘You have got to be effing kidding me.’

I tried again for the fifth time, still in disbelief.

I handed me 4 pula over to Kago. ‘Go buy a loaf and roibos.’

Now that the 4 pula was gone, I’d have to walk to Mamli’s this week for my dose of sanity. I always walked of course so this was like spit on the face from the universe.

‘Who the eff do I think I am huh? Who am I to think just once, everything would be alright for one effing day huh?’ I said, accusing no one in particular.

Just then I got a text message.

Going to be about an hour late.

It was from Ace. I sighed, wiped my tears and went to go bath. Since the sun had gone down, the cold water was extra pnishing on my skin. I couldn’t help crying again.

‘You’d think I’d be over crying about stuff by now right? I really should be but because I’m a big effing baby I still effing cry.’

Oh yeah, here was one of the weird things about Faye. While other girls sang in the shower, I talked to myself in the shower.

I had actually stopped expecting him to show up when he finally did. After getting ready, I spent about 30 minutes half trying to be less nervous about seeing him and the other half trying not to keep my hopes up about him actually showing up. Sitting around doing nothing did not help at all, I decided, so I gathered up the kids’ socks and washed them, a chore which could have waited until tomorrow.

I had long reached the conclusion that due to my impulsive and emotional nature, distractions needed to be readily available at all times.

‘Oh, I thought you weren’t busy at the maent.’

‘Oh um.. no. this? Just needed something to distract me?’

‘From what?’

‘Dude, I like your watch.’

‘Really? It doesn’t even work anymore. I’m just wearing it cause my brother bought it for me and that’s a pretty rare occasion so.. yeah.’

‘I really like digital watches on guys. Instant turn on.’

‘Even if it’s not working.’

‘Especially if it’s not working. Shows that you absolutely get the point of the watch. It’s a masculine aesthetic commodity before anything else.’

‘Um.. Okay.. Thanks’

‘Really Faye? Aesthetic commodity? Great now he thinks you’re an uppidity bitch.’ I thought.

‘Shall we get going before your father shows up?’

‘Yeah sure.’

‘I know it’s pretty far, but can we go to Mamli’s? It’s near the mall.’

‘Sure.’

The banter was flowing as usual. He brought out something in me I absolutely adored. With him, I was animated, alive and funny, definitely a far cry from the sleep deprived, mopey face the rest of the world got to see.

‘Hey dude. I know it’s late but I have a super good reason for being here. It’s hilarious actually. You’re going to love it.’

‘Um okay. Hey Ace.’ she couldn’t have kept her knowing smile hidden even if she had wanted to. He waved back. He had waited for Faye outside Mamli’s yard, much to Faye’s annoyance, in case her sister was the one who answered the door. ‘Common courtesy and all’ he had pointed out.

As they walked up to him, I reiterated the day’s events. ‘So anyway, long story short, I finally had shit together, worked a couple of piece jobs for money, got groceries and what do I get home to discover? The stove has decided to stop working. And how much is a stove? A whole 80 pula. And when will I have 80 pula? In three weeks. And what will I be feeding the little rugrats until then? IDK man.’

I burst out laughing and Mamli joined. The laughter turned to guffaw as I saw Ace’s reaction for the first time. I wasn’t sure if he was reacting to the story or to our reaction because I hadn’t told him the story.

Mamli however, was oblivious to him at the maent. ‘Dude, you’re screwed.’

I turned to me, ‘Shit dude, I know. Told you it was hilarious.’

‘I just… Wow man, genadin man. It’s like a constant ‘Fuckk you’ all year round, with no day off.’

‘No matter how hard you try dude.’

‘Wait, why are you guys laughing?’

‘Cause my life is shitty.’

‘And that’s funny.’

‘It’s freaking hilarious.’ answered Faye.

‘I don’t get it.’

‘It’s how we handle shitty circumstances. We laugh.’

‘Uh.. okay.’

For the next thirty minutes they stood there at Mamli’s gate and made ‘it could have been worse scenarios’.

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Seduce me - I want a seduction, be it by poem or prose or both. Tease me with your writing - I want the screen to melt from your words!
Written by IcySkye in portal Romance & Erotica
The Queen of disaster has a maiden name

‘Where’s my food?’ he shouted, slurring almost enough to be inaudible.
‘Shit!’ I woke up, panicked. I had only meant to lie down and rest my back for 15 minutes, not the 4 hours I had slept. I scurried to the kitchen to try to pacify Ntate Modiri. No hollering, had he passed out? I walked into the sitting room. I knew one way or the other, I had to face him. That was odd, he was eating.
‘Dumela ntate.’ I greeted pensively.
‘A ngwanaka, today your cooking is not up to par. But there is ample meat so I will overlook that.’ He reached into his pockets. ‘How much was the meat?’ he asked looking at my straight in the eyes with bloodshot eyes.
He was strange like that when drunk. He could be overly generous if one played their cards right, say for instance one served him ample meat when he knew he had left two pieces when he had left. I had to find the little rascal responsible for this, scold them for stealing whatever money they stole to make this happen and kiss their little cheek. Whoever it was couldn’t have stolen it from me. I had had just P1.30 left from the toiletry shopping I had done on Friday. Anyway, now the important question was how much could I afford to ask Modiri for.
‘P15.75 ntate.’ No matter how rare his generosity was, Faye had to learnt to always have a rough estimate of the money I needed to keep the rugrats afloat for a week. I couldn’t afford to ask for more than a week’s supplies worth. See, ntate Modiri got a weekly paycheck and lived mostly at his girlfriend’s house, the same girlfriend that helped him so excellently impress the social workers that checked up on the children, but that’s another story on its own. Now here’s the catch, Modiri got merry at the local waterhole about 5 days of the week, not necessarily work days. If he ran out before Saturday, his payday, he would be very angry and take it out on anyone. He had had to be bailed out twice already and if he appeared in court one more time, the younger children could be taken to live in the SOS Children’s Village in Tlokweng. Faye knew that the constant change of caretakers there could leave young ones with deep abandonment scars. I also knew that as some of them were going through teenagehood already, they’d probably spend less time with their siblings, without knowing the permanent rift this would cause in their relationship. I’d seen it happen when I had been there before my father had come to get me.
Oats, some milk, maize meal, spinach, flour, yeast, sugar, roibos, salt, oil, meat, rice, sauce and a single can of beef for the children’s weekly protein intake.

I heard someone whistle and looked up. ‘Hey. I was in the neighbourhood. Thought I’d say hi.’
I wiped a couple of sweat drops from my brow. ‘Ugh, now. Really, now, when I look like shit.’ I decided I would suck it up and turned to him, ‘Hey baby boy.’ I squinted my eyes at him, ‘exactly where in the neighbourhood were you?’
‘Uh.. over there.’ He pointed, towards the only pink house in their neighbourhood. ‘Oh really, what do you and Reba’s father have to talk about?’
‘Stuff. So, what time are you free today?’
I wanted to say the words, but how? I’d wanted to call so many times and say them but couldn’t. I had even called once but when he had answered, I had said absolutely nothing. ‘Man up, get this over with so you can stop making up scenarios.’ ‘Uh.. Okay.. Here goes. I see you every week for 3 months, then you go all MIA on me cause you’re busy, which I get cause you’ve got shit going on, and you’re trying to make shit happen but what about me?’ ‘Look, Faye, I’ ‘Don’t interrupt, this is humiliating, let me get it over with. See thing is, I screwed up and I wound up with a whole lotta feelings. You’re effing amazing so how could i not. Shit!’

Why had I thought I would enjoy the time alone? Doing nothing proved to be more physically painful than doing winter laundry. Who knew? It was 2pm and I had already smoked 3 cigarettes. My grumbling stomach finally made me notice that I was hungry I walked into the kitchen. Shit, not a slice of bread in sight.
These moments where I felt like I was losing touch with reality felt all too familiar for comfort. I looked through my diary entry from the first month after form five.
Those were the days when I hadn’t two 50 thebes to rub together. One cigarette had to last me an entire day. I chuckled when I thought about how I used to try my best not to let any of the fumes go to waste. I would inhale so much at once, so that I could leave my cigarette at half length. Then I would wait for the nausea and light headedness to pass then start studying. My thoughts would in that next 10 minutes be calm and all revolve around what I was studying at the maent. Once that happened, lift off was achieved and it didn’t matter what I had thought of next, or if the rush of thoughts tried to reinvade my mindscape, I had already been encapsulated completely in what I was reading. All I needed was the 10 minute focus period to spark up the fascination.
I did remember though that sometimes I had overdone it and ended up feeling like shit. One time in particular had been in boarding school in form four. I had been in the corridor of one of the classroom blocks. The place had been perfect because on one hand the guards would think it was some of the school’s tough guys whom they always ignored when they did minor things lest they become overly hostile when they were being put in line for some of the more shitty things they did. What the guards did not know was that these boys hardly ever came to this block.

When anyone asks why smoke, my response was always, ‘ Every great person I know of has taken drugs. Da Vinci, Eminem, you name em. Do you know how many medical school students are alcoholics that take weed on the daily?’ Truth is, I was highly neurotic in nature and could only count on Stuveysant to keep my calm.
‘See, here is why I’m obsessed with self diagnosis and attaching a label to my inner psychological workings. I’ve always wanted a doctor to just diagnose me with a psychiatric disorder that’d just make everything I’ve done make sense. I want plausible deniability for my actions and my thoughts because all this darkness, I’m scared to admit that that’s the real me.’
He looked at me with a somewhat blank expression but behind this, I could see he was desperately tring to understand me.
‘Okay, so if a psychologist said you had issues, then you’d know for sure? I’m pretty sure you already do, dude an if you don’t, I’ll tell you myself, you’re twisted.’
I smiled at him. He was forever trying to be the one solution to my problems.
If ever there was a real man left, it was him. His immense pride that rendered him incapable of asking for or receiving help, his intense need to achieve everything he wanted and not slack off.
‘No, dumbass, a psychiatrist.’
His expression changed to a quizzical one. ‘What’s the difference?’
‘If a psychologist diagnoses me, it’d mean I have issues I may have caused or let build up but if a psychiatrist diagnoses me, it means I have something not working right in my brain, or my frontal lobe is bigger than normal or whatever. See that’s why psychologists use talking through stuff but psychiatrists give people medication.’
‘Hmm.. Okay. Wow, you know a shitload about this stuff.’
Aw, you said shitload.’
‘Yeah well, I still think it’s a stupid word but I guess you’re rubbing off on me, I guess. And don’t aw me.’
I leaned over and kissed him. The kiss probably lasted less than a minute but it was something I knew I wanted to experience for years. it wasn’t my first kiss but it was absolutely the butterflies in tummy one I had thought existed only in Danielle Steel novels.
‘Shit.’ he muttered.
‘Sorry.’ I muttered back.
‘No, it’s totally cool. I mean I was totally not expecting that, like at all.’
‘Sorry, I’ve just been wanting to do that for a while now.’
‘Really?’
‘You didn’t notice?’
‘No. I didn’t think you saw me in that way, at all.’
‘Hmm. Okay, well. I’m sorry I ambuId you.’
‘No, don’t be. It was uh.. incredible.’
‘Can I do it again?’
‘Anytime.’
I leaned in again. We walked round the block until around 4 am, stopping only at 1am at the house so I could go in and put blankets over my siblings who had kicked the blankets off of themselves.
‘Where are you sleeping tonight?’
‘My aunt’s. My uncle’s making my cousin and I go to the cattlepost tomorrow.’
I felt my heart sink a little. ‘When do I get to see you?’
‘I really don’t know. Maybe I’ll be back in three weeks, but it’s really not my decision.’
They pressed their foreheads against each other.
‘Okay.’
A goodbye kiss and he was gone.
I fell asleep after two hours even though I felt physically tired. I was in a state of emotional confusion, excited, with butterflies in my tummy and at the same time cruId. Why had I chosen today of all days to finally man up. Maybe if I’d done so a month ago, I’d be sick of him by now, or sated from maing out with him.
‘Yeah riht.’ I muttered into the darkness around me. I knew he wasn’t like the random distractions.
No, not ‘the one’ dumbass, just one of the very rare I want in my life forever. You know, a you.
I typed in as a reply to Mamli’s text. I then played my favorite Jeff Buckley track, put on my earphones and dozed off.
‘You have got to be effing kidding me.’
I tried again for the fifth time, still in disbelief.
I handed me 4 pula over to Kago. ‘Go buy a loaf and roibos.’
Now that the 4 pula was gone, I’d have to walk to Mamli’s this week for my dose of sanity. I always walked of course so this was like spit on the face from the universe.
‘Who the eff do I think I am huh? Who am I to think just once, everything would be alright for one effing day huh?’ I said, accusing no one in particular.
Just then I got a text message.
Going to be about an hour late.
It was from Ace. I sighed, wiped my tears and went to go bath. Since the sun had gone down, the cold water was extra pnishing on my skin. I couldn’t help crying again.
‘You’d think I’d be over crying about stuff by now right? I really should be but because I’m a big effing baby I still effing cry.’
Oh yeah, here was one of the weird things about Faye. While other girls sang in the shower, I talked to myself in the shower.
I had actually stopped expecting him to show up when he finally did. After getting ready, I spent about 30 minutes half trying to be less nervous about seeing him and the other half trying not to keep my hopes up about him actually showing up. Sitting around doing nothing did not help at all, I decided, so I gathered up the kids’ socks and washed them, a chore which could have waited until tomorrow.
I had long reached the conclusion that due to my impulsive and emotional nature, distractions needed to be readily available at all times.
‘Oh, I thought you weren’t busy at the maent.’
‘Oh um.. no. this? Just needed something to distract me?’
‘From what?’
‘Dude, I like your watch.’
‘Really? It doesn’t even work anymore. I’m just wearing it cause my brother bought it for me and that’s a pretty rare occasion so.. yeah.’
‘I really like digital watches on guys. Instant turn on.’
‘Even if it’s not working.’
‘Especially if it’s not working. Shows that you absolutely get the point of the watch. It’s a masculine aesthetic commodity before anything else.’
‘Um.. Okay.. Thanks’
‘Really Faye? Aesthetic commodity? Great now he thinks you’re an uppidity bitch.’ I thought.
‘Shall we get going before your father shows up?’
‘Yeah sure.’
‘I know it’s pretty far, but can we go to Mamli’s? It’s near the mall.’
‘Sure.’
The banter was flowing as usual. He brought out something in me I absolutely adored. With him, I was animated, alive and funny, definitely a far cry from the sleep deprived, mopey face the rest of the world got to see.
‘Hey dude. I know it’s late but I have a super good reason for being here. It’s hilarious actually. You’re going to love it.’
‘Um okay. Hey Ace.’ she couldn’t have kept her knowing smile hidden even if she had wanted to. He waved back. He had waited for Faye outside Mamli’s yard, much to Faye’s annoyance, in case her sister was the one who answered the door. ‘Common courtesy and all’ he had pointed out.
As they walked up to him, I reiterated the day’s events. ‘So anyway, long story short, I finally had shit together, worked a couple of piece jobs for money, got groceries and what do I get home to discover? The stove has decided to stop working. And how much is a stove? A whole 80 pula. And when will I have 80 pula? In three weeks. And what will I be feeding the little rugrats until then? IDK man.’
I burst out laughing and Mamli joined. The laughter turned to guffaw as I saw Ace’s reaction for the first time. I wasn’t sure if he was reacting to the story or to our reaction because I hadn’t told him the story.
Mamli however, was oblivious to him at the maent. ‘Dude, you’re screwed.’
I turned to me, ‘Shit dude, I know. Told you it was hilarious.’
‘I just… Wow man, genadin man. It’s like a constant ‘Fuckk you’ all year round, with no day off.’
‘No matter how hard you try dude.’
‘Wait, why are you guys laughing?’
‘Cause my life is shitty.’
‘And that’s funny.’
‘It’s freaking hilarious.’ answered Faye.
‘I don’t get it.’
‘It’s how we handle shitty circumstances. We laugh.’
‘Uh.. okay.’
For the next thirty minutes they stood there at Mamli’s gate and made ‘it could have been worse scenarios’.

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Written by GwendolynAdler in portal Romance & Erotica

Oh James!

Imagine encountering a man of skills and patience, a man of singular nature to delineate my wants from my needs, a man who could provide both and push me to extremes of desires and expectations.  I spent a night with such a man.  His name is James.

He arrived at my work and escorted me to his car.  He messaged me for weeks prior to meeting and dictated my submissive role during our time together.  I assured him of my compliance during every aspect of our nocturnal activities.  I saw his wedding band, confirming his infidelity, but I didn't care.  James was going to have me any way he wanted.  That was what I agreed upon.

In preparation, I ordered my cuckold to dress me in my tightest satin corset, stockings, and fuck-me-shoes.  Only the flimsiest of thongs stood between James and his pleasure. My dress was a silk wrap-around for easy removal.  My makeup was past office approved, past demure.  I look like a gift-wrapped whore waiting to be presented to a man who declared his intentions to "use me up, leaving nothing".  For fun, I attired my cuckold in a similar corset and lingerie.  His orders were to await my return on Saturday, and he always follows my orders.

James took me straight to his hotel suit.  He rested his hand on my rear while walking the stairs.  To the casual observer, I was bought and paid for.  That one thought made me intensely moist, intensely ambitious.  If James had wanted me outside, in the lobby, I would have acquiesced.

Once we entered and the door closed, James told me to call him "Daddy".  Alleviating any fears I might have harbored, he whispered he was not evil, but he was going to be "most thorough".  I would leave this room, if I could, under my own power, with not a shred of dignity or decency remaining.  I gave his crotch a firm grasp to seal the last of the negotiations for the evening.

Within minutes, James lowered me to begin sucking him.  His penis was exactly as he described; full, 8.5 inches in length, and uncircumcised.  He rested his hands on my ears and began forcing his length down my throat.  I maintained a steady vacuum and breathed (sporadically) through my nose to keep pace.  Daddy wanted my to swallow when he told me to.  I was ready from the start.  When he did ejaculate, he moaned and effortlessly shoved his entire length into me.  I swallowed and swallowed and swallowed. His first cum was thick, rich, and exceedingly salty.  As long as he maintained control over my actions, I kept working my best fellatio technique.  However, I felt in control for he needed me to take his load and I was more than willing to accept it all.  

Eventually, he removed his cock and slapped my face and re-entered for a brief cleaning. I saved a bit of his cum for display purposes as I allowed it to drip out of my mouth and down my chin.  Not wanting to waste a single drop, I ran my hands over the discharge then back to my mouth to lick my fingers.  Daddy smiled when I gave him the schoolgirl look as I cleaned him with my tongue.

James told me to stand up and remove my dress, then my thong.  The rest of my lingerie, he wanted to remove later.  Soon, I paraded for him with my fingers rubbing my slit.  My lips pouted for him to take me before I came.  Daddy told me he would fuck me til I bled if I came without permission.  The smack of his hand across my ass only reinforced his resolve in maintaining his authority.

Daddy lifted me and carried me to the bed.  On my back, he raised my legs above my head and proceeded to rub his cock across my clit until I had to cum.  I begged him to stop.  I begged him to cum.  Now I just kept begging him to continue.

During my first orgasm, he never entered me.  I kept eye contact with Daddy throughout. He did the same.  In the corset, in this position, it became difficult to breathe.  Daddy didn't care.  In fact, he delighted in my difficulties.  When he finally began to enter me, he told me to struggle, to act as if I was being forced.  His hand drifted to my neck and began closing off my windpipe.  Each thrust became deeper, each moan became more difficult.  I was light headed and he continued his fucking.  I soon began to blackout.  I felt his weight and his breath, but little else.  His hand closed tighter until I, I ........

I awoke with Daddy still on top of me, still fucking my raw cunt.  The clock read I was unconscious for twenty minutes.  His hands forced my legs against the constrictions of the corset.  I was awash with sweat and Daddy kept fucking me.  If he had cum, I was not aware.  If he was to cum, it had better be soon for I could not endure another minute in this position.  Fortunately, his face became contorted and I felt the first wave of semen flow deeply into me.  His cock throbbed prior to each discharge and I gloried in experiencing each one.  When James finished, he rolled off of me and (without being told), I began sucking him dry.

His cock was beautiful with the saliva-semen sheen and so warm to the touch.  He should have been sensitive (my pussy certainly was) to even the slightest contact.  However, Daddy was made of sterner stuff than the average man.  Daddy was made to fuck and fuck me he was going to do.

We rested for a few minutes and I opened a bottle of champagne and poured a glass for each of us.  He sipped his as he told me to gulp mine.  I refilled mine and he urged me to gulp the contents again.  When I arose to move the glasses, I felt wobbly and did not see the lube he wanted to use on me next.

Do not misunderstand, I wanted to be ass fucked by James.  He bragged in his messages that he would fuck me like no other.  Even after he came, he would stay in to begin anew. To James, a lilly white whore ass was more than a thing of beauty, it was religious, almost divine.  He saw and commented on my post with my dildo inserted and wondered if that was really true.

Time to put up or shut up Daddy.

I took the lube and prepped my rear for his attack.  I used as much as he would permit (he initially wanted no lube, he wanted to make me bleed for him).  The rest I used stroking his magnificent cock to full attention.

On my knees and elbows, with a raw pussy in full view, James guided his cockhead into my ass.  I feigned a small quantity of resistance, but his persistence always prevailed.  I found myself yielding to a determination unlike any previously encountered.  When necessary, his thrusts became punitive.  When necessary, his hand spanked my ass red. Before our encounter ended, he repeated his assault on my ass with the use of restraining devices, vibrators, and ball gags.  When I could, I yelled for him to cease, but Daddy wouldn't have any of that.  He negotiated the terms of my surrender then wouldn't accept those same terms until he stretched my ass apart to his liking.  

When he found me recalcitrant, he redoubled his efforts and plunged ahead.  If I did not moan when I should have moaned, he spread my cheeks apart, pulled out, and drove back in with a single stroke.  His cock did not yield to my ass, my ass yielded to his cock. During this type of penetration, James was indeed the King.  His experience prove more than my level of comfort, more than my ability to bear.  He pounded my ass until I did bleed for him.  Then, in triumph, he pounded again and again.

James, my "Daddy" stayed in my ass for hours, proving his reign was beyond reproach. 

At least, that is what I remembered as I awoke, alone, Saturday morning, with the maid knocking on the door.  It was past checkout time and James was gone.  I looked like a whore, smelled like a whore, and ached like a whore.  However, when I gathered my belongings and hastily dressed (James kept my thong for posterity), I took the walk of shame home as a woman who received EXACTLY what she wanted; the no-strings-attached fuck of her life and a lingerie dressed cuckold awaiting my arrival to continue my hot sloppy descent into a lust driven memory I would never forget.

By the time, I wrote this, I found three new messages to answer.  I till have a few hours to recover before I answer each.

GA.

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Written by GwendolynAdler in portal Romance & Erotica
Oh James!
Imagine encountering a man of skills and patience, a man of singular nature to delineate my wants from my needs, a man who could provide both and push me to extremes of desires and expectations.  I spent a night with such a man.  His name is James.

He arrived at my work and escorted me to his car.  He messaged me for weeks prior to meeting and dictated my submissive role during our time together.  I assured him of my compliance during every aspect of our nocturnal activities.  I saw his wedding band, confirming his infidelity, but I didn't care.  James was going to have me any way he wanted.  That was what I agreed upon.

In preparation, I ordered my cuckold to dress me in my tightest satin corset, stockings, and fuck-me-shoes.  Only the flimsiest of thongs stood between James and his pleasure. My dress was a silk wrap-around for easy removal.  My makeup was past office approved, past demure.  I look like a gift-wrapped whore waiting to be presented to a man who declared his intentions to "use me up, leaving nothing".  For fun, I attired my cuckold in a similar corset and lingerie.  His orders were to await my return on Saturday, and he always follows my orders.

James took me straight to his hotel suit.  He rested his hand on my rear while walking the stairs.  To the casual observer, I was bought and paid for.  That one thought made me intensely moist, intensely ambitious.  If James had wanted me outside, in the lobby, I would have acquiesced.

Once we entered and the door closed, James told me to call him "Daddy".  Alleviating any fears I might have harbored, he whispered he was not evil, but he was going to be "most thorough".  I would leave this room, if I could, under my own power, with not a shred of dignity or decency remaining.  I gave his crotch a firm grasp to seal the last of the negotiations for the evening.

Within minutes, James lowered me to begin sucking him.  His penis was exactly as he described; full, 8.5 inches in length, and uncircumcised.  He rested his hands on my ears and began forcing his length down my throat.  I maintained a steady vacuum and breathed (sporadically) through my nose to keep pace.  Daddy wanted my to swallow when he told me to.  I was ready from the start.  When he did ejaculate, he moaned and effortlessly shoved his entire length into me.  I swallowed and swallowed and swallowed. His first cum was thick, rich, and exceedingly salty.  As long as he maintained control over my actions, I kept working my best fellatio technique.  However, I felt in control for he needed me to take his load and I was more than willing to accept it all.  

Eventually, he removed his cock and slapped my face and re-entered for a brief cleaning. I saved a bit of his cum for display purposes as I allowed it to drip out of my mouth and down my chin.  Not wanting to waste a single drop, I ran my hands over the discharge then back to my mouth to lick my fingers.  Daddy smiled when I gave him the schoolgirl look as I cleaned him with my tongue.

James told me to stand up and remove my dress, then my thong.  The rest of my lingerie, he wanted to remove later.  Soon, I paraded for him with my fingers rubbing my slit.  My lips pouted for him to take me before I came.  Daddy told me he would fuck me til I bled if I came without permission.  The smack of his hand across my ass only reinforced his resolve in maintaining his authority.

Daddy lifted me and carried me to the bed.  On my back, he raised my legs above my head and proceeded to rub his cock across my clit until I had to cum.  I begged him to stop.  I begged him to cum.  Now I just kept begging him to continue.

During my first orgasm, he never entered me.  I kept eye contact with Daddy throughout. He did the same.  In the corset, in this position, it became difficult to breathe.  Daddy didn't care.  In fact, he delighted in my difficulties.  When he finally began to enter me, he told me to struggle, to act as if I was being forced.  His hand drifted to my neck and began closing off my windpipe.  Each thrust became deeper, each moan became more difficult.  I was light headed and he continued his fucking.  I soon began to blackout.  I felt his weight and his breath, but little else.  His hand closed tighter until I, I ........

I awoke with Daddy still on top of me, still fucking my raw cunt.  The clock read I was unconscious for twenty minutes.  His hands forced my legs against the constrictions of the corset.  I was awash with sweat and Daddy kept fucking me.  If he had cum, I was not aware.  If he was to cum, it had better be soon for I could not endure another minute in this position.  Fortunately, his face became contorted and I felt the first wave of semen flow deeply into me.  His cock throbbed prior to each discharge and I gloried in experiencing each one.  When James finished, he rolled off of me and (without being told), I began sucking him dry.

His cock was beautiful with the saliva-semen sheen and so warm to the touch.  He should have been sensitive (my pussy certainly was) to even the slightest contact.  However, Daddy was made of sterner stuff than the average man.  Daddy was made to fuck and fuck me he was going to do.

We rested for a few minutes and I opened a bottle of champagne and poured a glass for each of us.  He sipped his as he told me to gulp mine.  I refilled mine and he urged me to gulp the contents again.  When I arose to move the glasses, I felt wobbly and did not see the lube he wanted to use on me next.

Do not misunderstand, I wanted to be ass fucked by James.  He bragged in his messages that he would fuck me like no other.  Even after he came, he would stay in to begin anew. To James, a lilly white whore ass was more than a thing of beauty, it was religious, almost divine.  He saw and commented on my post with my dildo inserted and wondered if that was really true.

Time to put up or shut up Daddy.

I took the lube and prepped my rear for his attack.  I used as much as he would permit (he initially wanted no lube, he wanted to make me bleed for him).  The rest I used stroking his magnificent cock to full attention.

On my knees and elbows, with a raw pussy in full view, James guided his cockhead into my ass.  I feigned a small quantity of resistance, but his persistence always prevailed.  I found myself yielding to a determination unlike any previously encountered.  When necessary, his thrusts became punitive.  When necessary, his hand spanked my ass red. Before our encounter ended, he repeated his assault on my ass with the use of restraining devices, vibrators, and ball gags.  When I could, I yelled for him to cease, but Daddy wouldn't have any of that.  He negotiated the terms of my surrender then wouldn't accept those same terms until he stretched my ass apart to his liking.  

When he found me recalcitrant, he redoubled his efforts and plunged ahead.  If I did not moan when I should have moaned, he spread my cheeks apart, pulled out, and drove back in with a single stroke.  His cock did not yield to my ass, my ass yielded to his cock. During this type of penetration, James was indeed the King.  His experience prove more than my level of comfort, more than my ability to bear.  He pounded my ass until I did bleed for him.  Then, in triumph, he pounded again and again.

James, my "Daddy" stayed in my ass for hours, proving his reign was beyond reproach. 

At least, that is what I remembered as I awoke, alone, Saturday morning, with the maid knocking on the door.  It was past checkout time and James was gone.  I looked like a whore, smelled like a whore, and ached like a whore.  However, when I gathered my belongings and hastily dressed (James kept my thong for posterity), I took the walk of shame home as a woman who received EXACTLY what she wanted; the no-strings-attached fuck of her life and a lingerie dressed cuckold awaiting my arrival to continue my hot sloppy descent into a lust driven memory I would never forget.

By the time, I wrote this, I found three new messages to answer.  I till have a few hours to recover before I answer each.

GA.
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Written by crazybunny23 in portal Romance & Erotica

Sherlocks Interrogation

I've never heard of a detective interrogating a perp like this. Hurt or scare the bitch until she gives up the information, sure. But pleasing her over and over again?  I ain't telling him shit.

Still sat on his blue and gold patterned cushion in the corner of the room, he continued to direct his companion Daz.

"Now that she's completely naked, spread her legs wider until her ankles reach the hooks. Use the ties to secure them."

Daz accomplished this quickly, backing away to leave me completely naked, wet and my limbs tied to the four hooks protruding from the ground.

Holmes then crawls forward. Kneels between my legs and raises two fingers in front of his face as if examining them.

"Last chance Crystal." he murmurs. "Anything to tell me?"

Ha, as if I'd give some decent orgasms up. "I promise you.  I know nothing Mr."

With that statement,  he quickly inserts his fingers into his mouth and sucks. That alone has me clenching. Before I can get too impatient,  he removes his fingers and pushes them into my hot dripping core.

He finger fucks me roughly and quickly. Bringing me to orgasm quickly.

Still recovering from his skilled fingers, the pounding inside of me is replaced by something larger.

I raise my head as much as possible to see Daz now thrusting a large purple dildo inside of me. Bringing nearly the whole length out to slam it straight back in. He's fucking me with no mercy. I come again. And again.

Holmes approaches again, and slips a small silver item from his pocket.

He shows it me before slipping it onto my sensitive clit. It vibrates. It's so strong, I orgasm within seconds of it touching me. He smirks, but doesn't remove it. He watches me.

After another 4 orgasms, I beg. My words slurred I try to tell him the information he wants to hear.

Holmes puts his mouth to my ear while his companion continues to pound my aching pussy with the silicone cock.

"Too late Crystal. I told you it was your last chance."

"He then gently slips my lacy thong into my open moaning mouth. Pushing the whole peice of fabric in so that it serves as a gag.

I watch in pure sexual torment as he goes back to the blue and gold patterned cushion to enjoy the rest of the show...

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Written by crazybunny23 in portal Romance & Erotica
Sherlocks Interrogation
I've never heard of a detective interrogating a perp like this. Hurt or scare the bitch until she gives up the information, sure. But pleasing her over and over again?  I ain't telling him shit.

Still sat on his blue and gold patterned cushion in the corner of the room, he continued to direct his companion Daz.

"Now that she's completely naked, spread her legs wider until her ankles reach the hooks. Use the ties to secure them."

Daz accomplished this quickly, backing away to leave me completely naked, wet and my limbs tied to the four hooks protruding from the ground.

Holmes then crawls forward. Kneels between my legs and raises two fingers in front of his face as if examining them.

"Last chance Crystal." he murmurs. "Anything to tell me?"

Ha, as if I'd give some decent orgasms up. "I promise you.  I know nothing Mr."

With that statement,  he quickly inserts his fingers into his mouth and sucks. That alone has me clenching. Before I can get too impatient,  he removes his fingers and pushes them into my hot dripping core.

He finger fucks me roughly and quickly. Bringing me to orgasm quickly.
Still recovering from his skilled fingers, the pounding inside of me is replaced by something larger.

I raise my head as much as possible to see Daz now thrusting a large purple dildo inside of me. Bringing nearly the whole length out to slam it straight back in. He's fucking me with no mercy. I come again. And again.

Holmes approaches again, and slips a small silver item from his pocket.

He shows it me before slipping it onto my sensitive clit. It vibrates. It's so strong, I orgasm within seconds of it touching me. He smirks, but doesn't remove it. He watches me.

After another 4 orgasms, I beg. My words slurred I try to tell him the information he wants to hear.

Holmes puts his mouth to my ear while his companion continues to pound my aching pussy with the silicone cock.

"Too late Crystal. I told you it was your last chance."

"He then gently slips my lacy thong into my open moaning mouth. Pushing the whole peice of fabric in so that it serves as a gag.

I watch in pure sexual torment as he goes back to the blue and gold patterned cushion to enjoy the rest of the show...


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