When it rains, it pours
I roll my eyes to the sky. You have got to be kidding me. I rise from my desk and grab my bag as I head to the loo. Quickly, I strip out of my trousers and pants and grab yet another pair of pants out of my bag. What did I expect? After a week full of play, my clit and cunt are still swollen and in a constant state of arousal. I am constantly soaking wet.
All day long I could feel it, my arousal slowly dripping out of my cunt. As another colleague goes past, I sincerely hope they can’t smell me, because I certainly can. How many hours until I can go home? Touch myself?
Finally, I walk in my front door and just drop my things on the floor. I head upstairs to strip out of my clothes. I slide on my running shorts and a comfy old hoodie. I tell myself, I won’t touch myself today. I need time for my body to recuperate.
I turn on the ice hockey, but as I watch, I hear it. Thrum. I push my attention back to the telly. Thrum. I clench my thighs together. I try to think about something else. Thrum. Who am I kidding. I can feel my cunt muscles clenching, my arousal growing, the telltale wetness running down my thigh.
Just a light touch I tell myself. I let my finger slide up the leg of my shorts, I dip my finger into the juices as it glides up and over my clit. My legs instantly open up. I feel my hips already pushing up from the chair. No! I’m not touching myself today. I’m recuperating. If that’s the case, why has my hand not pulled away? I close my eyes and let my head fall back.
Oh yes, Sir. You like it when my pussy is wet and throbbing. Ready for you to use as you like. I imagine your smile, well, more a smirk as I continue to stroke myself. You knew my resolve would crumble. I try so hard, I focus all my attention and with all the will I can muster, I pull my fingers away.
I look down at my fingers and take them in my mouth. Oh I taste good. I slide my fingers in and out of my mouth suck every drop of wetness off of them. Pussy. I haven’t eaten pussy in far too long. Could I do that for you, Sir. Grace maybe?
As I shift position, I feel my rock hard nipples rub against my hoodie. My breath catches. So sensitive. So ripe. I lean over and open the drawer on the coffee table and pull out two clothespegs. I lift up my hoodie and grab my nipple between my fingers. I pull and twist viciously. My hips fly out of my chair and a hiss escapes my mouth, ‘Yes, oh yes.’ The pain is perfect. I push down harder on the clamp of the clothespeg and pull and twist again. ‘More!’ I demand. Like my demands would ever get me anywhere. I hear your voice in my head. ‘Just for that whore, unclamp your nipple.’
‘No, please, I’ll be good. It feels so good. I promise. I‘m sorry, Sir, so so sorry’. My eyes plead. You raise your eyebrow at me. I sigh heavily and bring my hand down to release the clothespeg. It hasn’t been on there long enough to have that rush of pain and pleasure when blood flows back into the nipple. Instead, I only feel the absence of the peg. I wait. My breathing slows. I know better than to ask, this as much as the removal of the peg is my punishment. My body twitches in restraint.
’Well, whore, do you think you can remember who serves and who is being served?’ I nod my head. ‘Well?’
‘Yes, Sir, I am here to serve you, to please you,’ I try to let some of my indignation go. I can see your smile and with a jerk of your head, I grab for the clothespeg again. I pinch hard on my nipple and pull it and then with practiced skill, I twist viciously. As a shudder runs through my body and a ‘yes’ comes through my lips, I clamp the clothespeg back on my nipple. The pain just triggers my wetness again and my thoughts start to go hazy at the edges.
Without missing a beat, I lift my other breast to my mouth and suck the nipple into my mouth. I flick my tongue across it and feel the hardness solidifying. I bite down on my nipple and yelp as my teeth clench together. I gradually release the pressure and drop my breast from my mouth. I snatch at my nipple and squeeze it between my fingers. I pull it away from my body, stretching my breast out. Just when I don’t think it will pull any further, I twist and it gives a bit more. I snap the second clothespeg in place. I fall down on my knees. I adore the pain that pushes me further and further. I want it all.
I spread my legs apart and sit back on my heels. I stay like that for a moment, trying to slow my beating heart. I feel my arm start to move towards my pussy. I can’t not touch myself at this point. I know I need to cum. I need to push and push until I want to scream for anyone to hear. What do I care? As long as I get to cum, I couldn’t care less.
I squeeze my arms together so that my breasts are trapped between them. That way, every stroke, every thrust will cause my breasts to jiggle sending little shockwaves through my body. I slide my finger over my clit and let it stay there for a few moments, stroking gently, circling, as my pelvis lifts towards my finger, my breasts shake. So good .
I dip my finger into my cunt finally, warm, wet, enticing. I start slowly, sliding one finger in and out. Teasing at first, and then a bit harder, a bit faster. My head falls back. I slide a second finger in beside the first. Mmmmm. My hips thrust. I can hear the squelching of my wetness. I should be embarrassed, but I’m beyond caring. I slam my fingers in deeper. Harder. My breathing echoes in my ears. My nipples can feel the pull as the clothespegs bounce in time to the rhythm of my body. Now a third. You dirty, little whore. What a cunt. And you’re still not satisfied are you? You want more. The words scroll through my mind, as I reach down and shove my fourth finger in. A groan escapes me as I feel so full. My hips fly into the air, my head falls back, i can hear the sound of the clothespegs as they bump into one another. Harder whore, harder. I slam in as hard as I can and as fast as I can. I shake my head as I feel my orgasm mounting, pushing outward, I can feel my muscles tense and I scream as my orgasm hits, again and again. I can feel the water gushing out of me onto the floor. I fall forward and scream again as my nipples and clothespegs brush against the floor. I drag myself back upright. I shut my
eyes and bite down hard on my bottom lip. I raise my hands to each of my nipples. At the same time, I wrench both clothespegs from my nipples. As feeling returns another orgasm shoots through me. I let this one play out and slowly fade away. Every inch of my body feels like it’s throbbing. I lean forward my hands on the floor. I place my head on top of my hands. I whisper, ‘thank you, Sir.’ I hope you will be well pleased.
When the regular fantasies fail
I couldn’t help myself. I was so tired and couldn’t sleep. I’d been playing with myself for the better part of an hour but I just kept coming up to the edge. Having you tie me down for others to use, having people all around me, masturbating over me. None of it worked. I just couldn’t get myself there. I knew what the problem was. I was owned by you and without your permission, I wasn’t going to be able to come. But how? I knew you’d not been on.
The pleasure and the pain at having abused my clit for so long was wearing thin, and I wasn’t sure release would come even if you did. I went ahead and asked. How stupid was that? Once I’d asked, I knew I’d doomed myself. There was no way my body or my mind were going to let me come without your okay. I kicked, I bit through my lip stifling my groans, I was drenched in sweat. You weren’t there. I couldn’t go on but I likewise couldn’t pull my hand away from your clit.
I was aroused by thinking of you dominating me, owning me, and without that permission, I couldn’t. Or my body wouldn’t? Or my mind wouldn’t? I don’t know all I know was I just kept going up to the edge, and the thought of your displeasure would pull me back, no not your displeasure- more knowing that I was denying you the pleasure of having me come for you, being able to take me up to that edge and hold over me that control, that ownership. It’s your cunt, your clit. How dare I try to take that away from you. I couldn’t do that. I had to wait but each minute I became more and more incoherent. More desperate.
I wanted you to just say yes. Three little letters. I wanted to hear it. I wanted whatever I did to be yours. By your hand and of your will. Still the pleasure swelled as my clit got more sore. I can only beg for your mercy. As time creeps by and my body wants to betray you, I tell myself, if you’re not there by half past, then surely you won’t mind. You’d understand. You’d let me. I shake my head. I know better. Had I just done it. It would have been fine. But I asked. The minute I did that, it was in your hands and not mine. I was whimpering out my pleas. I so wanted to give my denial and my orgasm to you. To show how much I am your dirty little slut, how I was such a low little cunt that I couldn’t even come without your say so - and yet, I was so greedy, so hungry, I couldn’t take my fingers away.
I begged over and over again. I just wanted to be filled up, to have a big thick cock pumping into my pussy, taking it, using it, pumping in and out, deeper, harder and faster, until my thoughts just disappeared out of my head. To have that cock taken out as I scream for it to go back in. To have that cock shoved between my lips as another of your holes is filled, licking clean my own juices. I clamp down with my throat and lash around your cock with my tongue. Sucking in deeper. Wanting it deeper. Wanting it everywhere. Anywhere. I am yours to fill as you see fit. Just throwing me around. Filling one hole after another. I couldn’t tell you what you used or how long it went on. I just wanted you to use me.
I’m on the verge of giving in. It feels so good and I can feel my cunt clamping down on my fingers wanting more. I have to come. One more minute. I can’t take one more minute. Please. I am so desperate. I’m going to break apart when three little words appear on my screen. Come for me. The sweetest words. Wave after wave is torn out of mw, wrenched from your over stimulated cunt. Bucking off of the mattress. Gritting my teeth trying not to scream. Liquid pours out of me. My head is spinning and yet. And yet I’m a greedy little cunt and a hungry dirty whore and I want more.
I should be content. I know I should but I’m not. If I ask, either you’ll say yes and I will feel even more release as my body is given over to you. Or. You’ll say no and I will have to live with this torment. This need. A hunger burning with the constant throb of my clit at this point. I have to try as I still can’t seem to drag my fingers away. Again. Please. You respond. I know I’m such a hungry little cunt and often insatiable- always wanting more, but hopefully that serves you well. Maybe I can live up to all that you want me to take. Maybe I have the endurance. The ability to keep giving you what you want. I want to please you. I want to serve you. I want to see just what I can take. I grab a pillow and put it on top of my face as I can’t keep the sound from escaping as another orgasm comes ripping through me. Unbinding me and my whole body starts to shake. My head falls back. I just want to rest in that feeling. That bubble. I am nothing. I am Yours.
Have I pleased you?
I confess that now my cunt really is throbbing. I won’t be able to hold out much longer, I think, but if I have pleased you, then I hope I have earned that release.
I strip off my running shorts and lay back against the back of the chair. My feet go onto the footstool where I put my feet together and let my legs splay open. I can smell myself. I can feel the wetness inside of me and coating my cunt. For the third time this evening, I reach down and run my fingers around my clit. For the past hour or so, I’ve been ordered to edge, and I have done just that while I envisage the feel of your cock first pressing against me, gliding over my pussy, but more, it has to be more. I plant my knees down as my hips lift off the chair. Yes, yes I do remember, the thickness of you, the weight of your cock in my hand, the way it felt as it penetrates my cunt, or I should say your cunt.
I wish that you could see me here. Mouth parched, lips dry. For hours now I have built to this. I close my eyes and I feel the weight of you on top of me, sliding back and forth against me sliding your cock against your cunt. Teasing, edging me harder. My breathing starts to labour. I am yours. I know that to the core of my knowledge. I push up against your imagined cock. Touching my fingers to my clit and sliding them over the top, spreading the wetness more. I place my finger to my clit. I hear your voice inside my head. ‘Show me your cunt, whore’. I press my legs wider and my hips push higher in the air. ‘yes, sir, see your cunt, your good little cunt, see how much I like to touch myself.’ So greedy, so hungry. My hips start to pump uncontrollably against the air.
Oh sir, can you see your pussy. See what I give you, though it’s yours to take. We both know that’s the truth of the matter. It’s no more mine than the stars in the sky.
I hear again, ‘ You do like fucking yourself, don’t you?’ I can’t deny it. ‘Yes, yes sir,’ is merely a whisper as it passes my lips. I want to please you. I fuck the air, higher, harder and with each thrust, I picture you, but it’s more than that, I can feel your hardness, smell your scent, taste your lips against mine even though you’re not there.
The finger on your clit speeds up. I know it’s not mine, but yours. Yours to command, yours to use, yours to give away should you wish. I can feel the question forming in my mind, but can I chain the words together to ask? For the past few hours my pussy has been thrumming softly, distracting me just in the corner of my mind. The desire building but knowing I can’t let it go. Not yet. In my denial, I know I please you. The more I can give, the more you happily take and that only makes me want to push myself more, please you more, give more than you would ask. Not long now. I know it. Still hold off a bit more. A bit longer.
I shove a finger into my pussy, but have to remove it again. It isn’t satisfying enough after imagining your cock there. I close my eyes and visualise you again. Faster and faster. I can feel the tension building, I can’t hold it off much longer.
There, in my head, I hear it, the slap of your doubled up belt across my pussy. My whole body strains against itself. Wanting that sweetness again. I lick my lips. ‘Another please, sir.’ I push my legs fully open, straddling the chair, my lips open to all. This time I can hear it. The swish as it cuts through the air just before my body strains and I’m sure I’ve felt your belt again. All of this for you, Sir. ‘Please, Sir, May I? I am so very close. Please let me cum.’ I’ve tried so hard to please you. My hips fling themselves into the air, my finger flies over my clit. I’m panting now. ‘Please sir, May I come? Please? Please? For you?’
‘Cum for me, slut’ I hear you say. Come for me, and let me claim you forever. Come for me, and be my property always’. I hear your voice and my speed increases, my orgasm grows. No turning back now. I try to bite back the noises coming from my mouth, but I can’t trap all of it. A wave of pure pleasure shoots through me. My cunt muscles clench and I swear I feel your cock there. Again and again, the orgasms keep rocking through me. Until finally, I fall back against the cushions of the chair. My breathing slows, the tingling sensation buzzing through my body slowly recedes. I open my eyes. And though I’m alone in the room. I know you were there with me. Owning me. Using me. I lie back and smile. Yours.
Better to ask permission or beg forgiveness?
’Please, Sir, May I?’ Oh fuck! Where are you? I’ve been masturbating for an hour now and can’t seem to cum. Even when I listen to you in my head, it now only brings me to the edge. So I text you in hopes of help. However, it’s backfired. Now that I’ve asked, I’m not sure I can lay off, but my brain is screaming that I asked so I can’t until you say yes.
Aaaarrggh! My own stupidity! Yet, I can’t seem to stop touching myself. I’m covered in a sheen of sweat. I can taste the blood where I‘ve bitten through my lower lip. Do you know how hard it is to pull my fingers away from my cunt and my clit in order to type to you?
I so want! But I can’t. I want. Oh, I want. Please, be there, read this. Oh fuck! Fuck! How can I not? Please, my cunt wants to cum. My mind becomes scattered. Coherency dissolves.
You’d probably love to see my writhing and thrashing. Watching me lose control. Fighting myself. So desperate.
It flashes on my screen, the sweetest words I could hope for. ‘CUM FOR ME!’ I scream as my orgasm rips through me. Shredding all thought. ’Again, please?’
‘Why? That Cunt isn’t for your orgasm. It exists only to provide a place for my cock. I let you come just to remind you how empty your cunt is. A reminder of how complete my control of you is.’
‘Yes, Sir, but please? I‘ve held off for so long. But. Oh fuck!’ The countdown begins. The numbers slide across my screen. 5, 4, 3. There’s a long pause. Time stills. I can hear my body screaming in outrage. Now! I want it now! 2,1! A roar forces its way out of my mouth as the power of my long denied orgasm slams through my body again and again. My leg muscles tense, I can feel my cunt muscles, grasping and clenching on air. Hungry, devouring. Another wave crashes through me. ‘Oh thank you, thank you, thank you so much.’ If you were here right now, I’d fall before your feet and smother them in kisses of gratitude.
To serve
How shall I please you today, Sir? I think my tongue has decent reach. I think I could bury my face in your ass and lick you from your balls all the way back, sucking them gently into my mouth as I move along, pushing my face between your cheeks and dipping my tongue inside you. Licking and lapping, shooting my tongue in and out again, swirling it around inside you. Taking your balls in my hand, massaging, pulling, squeezing. Feeling your hips thrusting forward for a change instead of mine. Though, even now I can feel my hips swaying with want.
If you’d let me, I could reach around, careful of my balance and grasp your cock firmly in my hand, stroking along the underside, adding pressure as I slide all the way down and then back to the top, changing the pressure as I go. My tongue delves deeper as my hand increases. I love the feel of your muscles tensing under my ministrations. I pick up the pace. My tongue speeds up and I shove it deeper in and then pulling it back, licking from behind your balls all the way back.
I call for Grace to kneel in front of you. Your cock pointing right towards her face. She takes your balls in her hands and starts pulling and kneeling, I pull my tongue out and insert a finger instead as my pace increases. I shove in harder and faster. Your back passage is wet from my saliva and my finger slides in easily, I add another. Again increasing the speed. Jacking you hard. Going faster. I can hear the moans escaping your lips and your muscles start to tense. May I make you cum, Sir? Please. I hear it whispered first and then louder. Yes, slut, cunt, whore, you may. I add my tongue to your balls and drive into you my mouth increasing the suction, my hand flowing all around your cock. Your breathing is ragged, I can hear you nearing, no longer restraining yourself and with a last jerk, you shoot your cum all over Grace’s face, and I continue to drive you home until you slow. I take my fingers out and turn you around to face me. I take your cock in my mouth and lick you clean, leaving no trace. Then, I lean down to Grace. I kiss her face all over, with each kiss, gently cleaning up your cum from her face. Soon, you sit down. I kneel before you. Lower my mouth to your feet and lightly kiss them. Thank you, Sir, I whisper and I await your next wishes all the while feeling my cunt, throbbing, wanting. I hope you will be pleased and make use of your cunt again.
Officer Shaw watches me as I slowly get out of the van. I quickly close the door behind me, hoping he doesn't see the mess that's inside.
"Do you know how fast you were going?" he asks me.
I shake my head and try to give him my most charming smile. "Why, no, officer," I tell him, "but I'm sure I wasn't going nearly as fast as you were when you had to catch up to me."
He scoffs, a break in his formality, before returning to his stone-cold stare. "I wouldn't have had to chase after your vehicle if it wasn't already violating safety laws."
"Well, we both know that's not the whole truth, officer." I wait a moment before continuing, relishing the confusion written on his face. "You were following me since that gas station I stopped at a couple miles back. I suggest you fess up and drop the sheriff act."
"Do you know that you can do what you do?" he asks cryptically, taking a step closer. "How long have you known?"
"Known what?" I ask sweetly. "That you were following me for several miles?"
Shaw chuckles, taking a step closer until he's leaning down close enough to where I can feel his breath on my face. "That you are special, different. You're a Convincer, eh? One little sentence and everyone's doing your bidding?"
I try to back away from him, but his hand shoots out and grabs my wrist. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"You'll be a good addition to the others," he says, more to himself than me. He smiles at me. "Don't you know you want to kiss me?"
Before I can process what's happening, I'm leaning towards him and soon his mouth is on mine. He pulls away and then hops into the front seat of my van while I stare at him like an idiot.
Mindlessly, I get into the passenger's seat. "What was that?"
Shaw chuckles as he starts driving away. "That, darling, was the work of a good Convincer playing off your emotions. You'll learn more where we're going."
“Be Beautiful For Me” (light D/s; excerpt from “Give: Some explorations of submission”)
Today, be beautiful for me.
Don’t let this be too easy or too hard. If you already find yourself beautiful, today you must excel. If you do not believe yourself beautiful, take today as a journey, not an exercise in frustration.
Do you like the way you take care of your body? Take care of it today with pride, knowing my pleasure in it. Do you feel otherwise? Do a few things different, watch your eating and your habits and activities. Don’t try to be perfect, don’t try, within the scope of this exercise, to begin a new lifestyle. Pamper your body today, just today, for me.
Do you have clothing that brings you pleasure? Wear it today. Carry yourself well, not stiff and unnatural, but remembering that your motions today are for me. You may be graceful or not; on this day, it doesn’t matter. Walk with an inner strength, hold your head high, express your pride in being mine.
When you bathe, when you come your hair or when your hand brushes against your skin, whenever you touch your body, know that your body gives me pleasure. Know that your flesh is lovely in my sight, sweet to my touch and taste.
Be beautiful today.
My Exhibitionist Daughter
By Emmanuel Williams
April 17, 2024
*
1
Virginia is stirring. As the morning invades her bedroom with the sun through her open blinds, her arms, poking out of her comfy blankets, are the first to stretch themselves. A leg is exposed to the air, her eyes open and discover the light brown skin of her thick athletic thigh. It’s good to be 23.
As she pulls her leg under covers, she can feel air hit private places. An arm reaches down and her hand finds itself upon her mound. She feels past the bit of hair she always leaves before her clitoris, where she stops first. The first circle her fingers make drive her crazy. Already she’s dizzy.
Under Virginia’s covers, something is happening. Her feet have planted themselves and her knees have raised, giving her hand all the access it needs. All she has to do is keep going in circles. But her fingers have started to become moist. So she moves further down to the split between her labia, and strokes up and down, knowing she can penetrate at any time.
Knowing she isn’t finished with her clit, she returns to it, her fingers now sliding across it. She pulls the hood tissue away and exposes her pleasure button, rolling it around and rubbing softly, faster and faster.
She can’t take the anticipation much longer. Eventually she tests her hole with one finger. It goes in easily, so she puts in another. She’s two knuckles deep. Her hands a slow piston controlled by her palm at rest on her clitoris.
She treats herself shallow at first, then, hungry between her legs, she begins to shove the fingers in softly. Obeying the accumulation of moisture her pussy has given her.
Suddenly her legs begin to shake, and the convulsions are unavoidable.
Virginia is coming. Coming to the height of ecstasy and heat under her blanket. Her pelvic muscles seize intermittently, until her back arches and she grabs her outer labia in an attempt to relax the muscles, but with a sense of pride that she was able to get herself off like that.
There’s a knock at the door.
“Virginia, breakfast honey.”
Without further ado, he enters, carrying orange juice.
“The rest is in the kitsch-”
“Dad! I’ll be down in a minute. And I don’t like it when you burst in like that!”
Looking at the disheveled look of her blankets, her father doesn’t seem impressed.
“Are you sinning? Don’t let me catch you sinning again!”
He moves back and shuts the door, but he makes sure he’s loud when he says, “In my own house!”
2
Later in the afternoon, Virginia is back from her life away from home and finds herself in bed again. Her text conversation with a bestie ended rather abruptly so she pulls her jeans down and spends more time on what began this morning.
Her hand finds her pussy as soon as her panties are at her ankles. But another thought occurs to her while her phone sits next to her.
She opens it, searching for pornographic assistance. The website she always uses has an upload feature. She decides today’s the day.
With her phone on camera mode in one hand, she keeps it level and sideways while she becomes moist. And once her fingers are inside of her, the camera goes longways, and when she comes, she can hardly keep it aimed.
Who knows how many times she said, “you like that?”
…Because her dad must have over heard here. Bursting in again, her pants are at her waist as she sits up at the intrusion.
“I said no sin in my house,” he yells.
“And I said don’t just burst in here. Go away!”
She begins to shimmy her jeans up.
“You don’t have to live here, you know. The sooner you find work, the better.”
“College is work, dad. I’m swamped with it.”
“Apparently you’re not.”
The door slams.
Virginia falls back on the bed, a little embarrassed. Her hips are still naked.
“If he only knew,” she says. Swaying and twerking her pelvic bones.
3
Virginia is attending a concert at a local park. But when it ends, she wants to find her way home and lets her friends go on without her.
Nature happened to call and she found herself in a dirty park bathroom. And as she finished and wiped, the paper was oddly soft and she became warm.
Judging it difficult for anyone to walk in, she spread her legs on the toilet and put her hips forward on the seat. Her butt cheeks squeezed beneath her, she put two fingers on her clit through the fat of her outer labia. There she rubbed in circles slowly. Then quickly.
But someone did walk in. Another woman. Suddenly Virginia felt overheard.
The woman walked over to her stall and leaned against it.
Virginia is silent.
The woman’s panties come into view as they slide down to the floor, and the door begins to verge on opening.
Virginia can hear how wet the other woman is. The rubbing must be covering the whole vaginal area while she works herself to climax.
Virginia penetrates herself with her middle finger, her thumb on her mound, the other fingers resting on her still fat outer labia.
When the other woman climaxes, Virginia’s legs start to shake. But the stranger walks out, with a “thank you”, just as her wave crashes over.
Virginia is still clutching her breasts underneath her bra.
She loved it.
4
After a night out, Virginia fell asleep in an alley. Trashed.
Waking up, she hadn’t reached daylight yet, so she behaved with a little risk.
Pulling up her dress, she spanked her pussy and rubbed it after she felt the sting of the hit. And she kept rubbing. This time she rubbed the entire vulva like the stranger from the park stall had.
Virginia felt good.
A tap on a window above her called her attention. A man had pulled out his dick and was watching her, stroking himself.
When she decided to give him a show, she spotted two more men in their own windows to the left and right.
It turned Virginia on. And she penetrated herself.
Two fingers. Two knuckles deep.
She was becoming wetter than she had ever been. She began sloshing her fingers into herself as though her hand was swimming. With longer and faster strokes, she plunged into herself deeper with every dive.
Out from a door below the building a cross from her, to Virginia’s left, crawled a topless woman with short black hair wearing a black mini skirt that covered little of her white ass as she crawled toward the woman fingering herself in the alley.
Virginia wouldn’t stop. She looked the woman straight in the eye as she approached. Only to stop penetrating and to rub her clit in circles.
Finally, the woman was close. She bowed her head and kissed the hand between Virginia’s legs.
Virginia moved it.
She looked up and saw that the men were hard and spitting on themselves, clearly looking at the naked woman’s pussy as she began to lick Virginia like she was gelato.
Moans from Virginia lit up the night, and when her legs shook, the woman put the end of her two fingers in place of her tongue on Virginia’s clit, moving the hood upon it round and round, until Virginia bit her fist to keep from wailing.
Virginia was coming. Hard.
The woman backed away. She put a finger two her lips to say “hush” as she crawled backward the way she had come. Finally, she turned, and Virginia saw brown inner labia fading into her pink center, before the door shut behind her.
Virginia was breathing quickly.
“My father will never know.”
She left her panties where she was sitting, managed to get to her feet, and waved in the general direction of the men above her as she left the alley that gave her the best orgasm she ever had.
fin
When he fucked me, I saw God.
My mood is
indescribable.
A downspout of
misguided
rain freezing
overnight.
A complicated
mountain fold,
its peak
sheltered
by sensitivity
and fog.
Its hardened
crust evaporating
into
sadness.
My desolation
comforted
by his imagery
and love.
Pain is
romanticized
inside
my mind.
Literary connections
found
in pulsating
isolation.
Love me
back.
I am
disconnected
from the norm.
Relieving cuts
pour
blood onto
canvas.
Empty.
I offer
definition
unintelligibly through
matte abstraction.
I am
complexly
overwhelmed by
simple movement.
My mascara
smears like—
A whore.
My legs
spread
wide,
knees bent,
my aged hips
crack with
temporary
satiation.
Heavy
sighs are
my aphrodisiac
into
oblivion.
The warmth
of
the sun
on my face
is my
mother.
Nature
hugs me
with
its splintered
bark.
Gasping
with emotion,
the thought
of him
hurts.
Moved
to tears
when
Mozart's plays
tangible.
A grin
too wide and
too toothy
silently churns.
My stomach hurts
to the tone of
laughing
like a clown.
Names
spelled wrong
hang on
the air
make
me dizzy.
Contradicting
comfort found
in
metaphors
and equation
abandon me
ad infinitum.
Abhorrent
shock at
mass blindness
ruminates.
Raw.
Despair drops
into buckets
of mud
in my chest
when
I think
of you.
Despondency
covers
my shoulders,
my grandmother's
shawl,
when
the chill
of
loneliness comes.
Inner epiphanies
debate
over desire
and
reality.
I stand
still and
frozen in
my existential
existence.
I know
my bravery
exists
but I am
fucked
between
folded linen.
Stale.
And
the closet
is closed.
And my
heart
drops.
There is
no point
anymore.
I am sad
and
I am
grieving
indefinitely.
You are gone.
It is dark
Glance of a lifetime
I spent most of that summer sleeping on trains. I learned to sleep in any position and through screaming children with harried parents, drunk young people as well as loud conversations I mostly couldn't understand.
At that moment, however, there was none of that background noise. It was a night train and everyone was sleeping or at least quiet. It was a whispering voice that awakened me.
Tú.
I opened my eyes, startled. The seats that had been empty when I fell asleep, were no longer. A man shackled both hand and foot was in front of me. Next to him and me were men in blue uniforms with bulges clearly delineating weapons within easy reach.
They were both deeply asleep, chins buried in their chests. But his eyes, a beautiful brown with flecks of swirling green and gold, were wide open.
Tú.
His mouth never moved, but I heard him call to me.
A warmth spread through me as something inside me recognized him.
You.
For as long as I can remember, I have felt emptiness, a feeling that a piece of me was missing. When our eyes met, I felt peace.
Then I was sitting in a café in Salamanca, writing page after page of existential reflections woven through a critical analysis of works by Azorín.
Puedo sentarme aquí?
The café-bar was full to bursting with loud college students on their way to louder drunkenness. I had been sitting in my window seat for hours and was just reaching a key argument in my paper so I was inclined to just say, no, I'm sorry, without looking up.
But I looked up. Soft brown eyes with flecks of green and gold smiled down at me. I took my bag off the empty chair and stuffed my papers and books inside.
An hour later we were walking the streets, looking for someplace a little quieter. Found, we played a game of chess while drinking Rioja at a table under the stars. We played, we talked, we drank, we fell in love.
Around one in the morning, he took my hand as we walked by the river. We sat on a bench, listening to the water, to the silence, the sounds of our hearts pounding in our ears. We held hands in silence for hours, butterflies running rampant.
Mía.
Mine.
He walked me to my hotel and kissed my forehead.
Before a month had passed, he came to my room. We had spent another evening by the water holding hands. That night, we kissed. First, a soft feathery kiss, then he licked my lips and they parted, welcoming. I melted in his arms, liquid warmth pooling low. We kissed for hours, first standing against the door then laying on my bed, bodies entwined, pressed close. Wanting.
We were married by Christmas. He moved to New York with me and got a job teaching at Columbia. I finished my doctorate a few months before our first son was born. Within six years, we had moved to the suburbs and had three boys. They all had their daddy's eyes. It was a loud house and a happy home full of love and laughter.
Of course, time passes. They grew up as children do. The youngest married first, his high school sweetheart. The eldest was next, marrying a colleague from work. Our middle child took his time, but love found him, eventually. Our hearts were full as they all built their own joy- and love-filled homes.
We retired when I was 55 and he was 62. Over the next twenty years, we traveled the world, played with our grandchildren and spent hours weeding our flower beds. Indeed, he was in the garden when I felt something was wrong. I ran outside and found him lying in the freshly turned dirt.
I ran over.
Querida…
Darling…
He grabbed my hand, grip strong though he was dying. His eyes pierced mine and I heard him say
Te quiero, vida mía, cuánto te quiero.
I was still staring into his eyes, tears of grief pouring from mine, when the officers pulled him up to take him off the train.