Zane and I have been dating each other for 2 months. We met threw my best friend Sadie when she used to date him. We first met in June of 2001. He came over to pick up Sadie from my house and to meet me. Right when he said "hi" to me, I fell head over feet towards him. I had this feeling about him that I never had felt before I met him. Sadie and Zane broke up 5 months later because Sadie was cheating on him. I felt so bad for Zane because I knew this and he was a sweet guy. Bought her everything she wanted, tried to be there for her, basically what all I wanted in a man. I have came close to telling him that Sadie was cheating on him back when they were dating but I didn't want to get in the way. I didn't talk or see Zane until March of 2002.
I went to a website that allows you to have a web log for free and Zane had left me a note so he had a weblog on there so I went to his weblog and left a note asking him if he had liked me. He e-mailed me and said "I sure do like you...you're pretty darn cool." And things went off from there. We've been dating since April 17, 2002. We had a lot of foreplay when we were with each other, but never had sex. I was 18 and unsure if I wanted sex yet. I was still a virgin. I've been holding out for sex until I was married. But now, I think I am going to give my virginity to Zane.
Zane has only been with one girl but he's still not that experienced either so we will have a lot to learn with each other. I sometimes cannot sleep at night because I lay awake in bed wishing Zane would come over and sneak into my bedroom and just tear off my clothes and have passionate sex. Whenever I masturbated, it use to be to stories I've read on Literotica but now I masturbate just thinking of the love of my life. Zane had the best fingers in the world whenever he fingered me. He also had the greatest kisses in the world. Whenever he kissed my body it would send shivers down my spine. Zane and I have often talked about having sex with each other and trying so many different positions for our first times that we end up just doing a lot of foreplay.
Whenever he's busy working (he works as a security guard) and since he goes to college and he's 20, he calls me or e-mails me and we end up talking for about 2 hours almost. We had cyber sex like only once. He has a really good imagination. I love hearing his fantasies about me. I love sharing my fantasies with him. One of his many fantasies was seeing me with another woman, which will never happen unless I got super super drunk. I'm only like 5% curious on having sex with another woman, but it doesn't really turn me on.
My name is Starla and I'm 5'5, blondish brown hair, blue eyes, and around 150lbs. and I'm a 44B. Zane is about 5'10-5'11-6 foot somewhere around there, blondish brown hair, hazel blue eyes, and 290 (all muscle). He has the prettiest eyes and I'd love to look into them as he took my virginity. I can picture us on a bed with silk purple sheets and Zane is on top of me and we're just smiling and both moaning as he fucks my brains out for my very first time. I climax on his cock about 10 times and he eats me out. He sticks his tongue deep inside my pussy licking it back and forth and side to side and then he goes up and licks and sucks on my clit. Mmm...that sounds so good right now. Another fantasy I have is him fucking my ass and eating me out from behind.
I am going to tell you the story of my first time having sex with Zane.
It all started one Saturday night. His dad went on a date, his sister Heather went to her and Zane's mom's house, and Zane was all alone. I received a phone call around 4:30 and Zane had asked me if I wanted to come over for a couple of hours. At first, I was hesitant but I wanted to see my baby since it was a week since I saw him, so I said what the hey, I'll come over. Zane came over and picked me up at 6:30. I was wearing my KoRn T-shirt, a pair of blue jeans, a black silk bra, and a black thong. Zane had on a T-shirt with Weird Al Yankovich and some blue jeans and a pair of boxers. Zane looked really good since he had just got his hair cut. My dad really likes Zane so he said I didn't have to be home until 11 so that gave Zane and me plenty of time to spend some quality time together. As soon as we got to his house, we got out of the car and Zane picked me up and kissed me and carried me to the living room. He sat me down on the love seat while he closed the curtains. He then sat next to me kissing me deeply and kissing my neck and feeling my breasts through my shirt.
"I think we should do something else, Zane." I said.
"Yeah, maybe you're right." Zane agreed.
So Zane and I went on his computer and he showed me his website and his favorite website to go to. He then dug out his porn movies he had downloaded off the computer and we watched them. I sat on his lap. I could feel his hard on brushing up against my ass. It got me horny a little feeling his cock becoming hard because of me. Zane thinks (and still thinks to this day) that the porn is what turned me on. The porn didn't really turn me on. It was Zane himself. I love him so much, that I would do anything to make him mine.
Zane then started kissing my neck and my cheek. I turned around and we frenched kissed. As Johnny Depp said in the movie Cry-Baby, "A french kiss feels REALLY SEXY!". Zane did it perfectly. It made me shiver. Zane then lifted up my shirt and started to play with my bra.
"What are you doing?" I said with a smirk on my face playing dumb.
"Nothing..."Zane said with an innocent voice.
"Sure you're not..." I said.
"Ok, I'm just unhooking your bra. May I do that?" Zane asked.
I said sure. So Zane unhooked my bra and threw it on the floor and took my shirt off and threw it on the floor. He started to rub my breasts.
"Mmm...I love these." Zane said.
Zane then started kissing my back.
"Do you wanna go into your room and do more?" I said with a smile.
"Do more? Hmmm...I think so..." Zane said.
So I got off of Zane's lap and got my shirt and bra and we went to his bedroom. Zane then closed his door and got on top of me and started to kiss me all over. Zane then took off his pants and shirt and took off his boxers. Zane then took his tongue all the way down to my panties and removed my panties with his teeth. He then kissed my trimmed pussy and came up and frenched kissed me again.
"Oh, Zane you feel just so good," I said, "I love you baby."
"I love you too, Starla. Wanna try the chocolate syrup deal?"
The chocolate syrup deal was another one of his fantasies. He likes to put chocolate syrup all over the girls pussy and lick it. I went for it and said sure. Zane went to the fridge to get the chocolate syrup. He then put it all over my slit. It was cold. I thought I was going to pee! But when Zane put his tongue where I wanted to pee I didn't have to pee anymore, his tongue warmed me up. He licked my pussy like a dog drinking water. It felt really good. I wanted to cum right there but he told me not to cum yet.
Zane continued to eat my pussy and I was in ecstasy. I was so happy he was doing this to me and I was glad I saved the eating out part for someone special. Then the number 69 popped in my head. I tapped Zane on his shoulder and Zane looked up. He had Chocolate syrup all over his mouth. I got off the bed and stood up and Zane stood up and I kissed him as my tongue explored outside of his mouth. I was licking up the chocolate syrup that was all over his mouth.
"I think we should try 69 babe." I said
"Oooh..glad you thought of that. I would have never thought of that myself. Your pussy is just so delicious." Zane said with a grin.
Zane then laid on the bed and I sat on his face. He then stuck his tongue back inside of me and I went to reach his dick. I played with it a little to make it hard and then I took it in my mouth. I sucked it nice and slow at first. Zane was giggling his mmm's (that's how he moans). So I knew I was doing a good job. So I speeded it up a little more and did it harder. I almost bit his dick but luckily I didn't. My free hand went down to his balls where I squeezed it and batted it around like a kitten playing with a dead mouse. The more Zane moaned, the faster I sucked it. I kept licking the tip of it, licking up his pre cum.
"Oh God Star, I'm gonna cum" Zane moaned as he was about to climax.
"Cum baby, cum!" I moaned.
"Where do you want it?" He asked.
"On my tits." I said.
Zane then shot his hot load all over my tits. Luckily, I'm kinda flexible with my tits and I can lick them so I licked off some of his cum. I then kissed him and laid on his bed. Zane ended up getting a towel for the left over cum that was left on my tits. He then got on top of me and kissed me. He then stuck 2 fingers deep inside my pussy. I watched as they started going in and out of me.
"Ohh God Zane!! Zane!! Zane!!!" I was moaning.
Zane then added another finger inside. I was really wet but still very tight.
"Mmmm...I wish I could fuck ya"
"Oh will you fuck me Zane? Will you?" I was moaning as Zane kept pounding my pussy with his fingers.
"Yes...."
Zane took out his 6 1/2 inch cock and stuck it inside me, nice and slow. I started to have tears in my eyes. They were tears of joy and I was happy and I was in love. Zane then took his cock out and put it back inside my pussy. He kept doing that until my pussy was ready for him to bang me hard. He then shoved his cock in me really hard.
"OOH GOD ZANE!! YESS!! UHHHHHH FUCK ME HARDER!! YESSSS!!"
"Oh God Starla, you're so hot and sexy, and beautiful, I wanna fuck you all night long baby."
Zane's cock was going in and out of me at the speed of light it seemed. It felt so good even though it hurt. Zane was breathing so heavy that I thought he was going to pass out. I came about 10 times while he fucked my brains out. Zane was about ready to cum again.
"Baby I'm gonna cum...I'm gonna cum...get ready baby..."
"Oh God Zane, cum all over my face please."
Zane took his cock out of my soar, wet, pussy and jacked it off and his cum splurged out all over my face. I had my tongue out catching the cum that was dripping from his cock. This load was more than the first load. I swallowed all of the cum he splurged out. It was warm and salty and it was the best cum I have ever tasted.
That night, Zane and I fucked until 3:00 in the morning. I was late coming home, but I explained to my parents that I was at the carnival that was happening at the time with Zane and we were having so much fun we didn't realize what time it was. They bought it. And I didn't get grounded. No one but Zane and me know that I'm not a virgin anymore...and well maybe a few close friends...but he is one experience I will never ever forget.
Friday, September 12, 2008
Zero at Midnight
Trust me.
The light of the movie theater's projector highlights the subtle features of your erotically delicate feet which rest gently on a yellow bar of a wall in front of our first row. You've taken your sandals off and you're sitting back so comfortably, as we enjoy the show that plays out before us.
But the movie is only somewhat interesting to me as I've just become so enraptured by the naked skin of your smooth, small feet. And your legs, the smooth skin and the light that dances off of it, in varying degrees of brightness, and I sigh as your skin disappears under the silky cloth of that casual summer dress you've decided to wear today.
And my mind wanders in the wonder of you. I smile slightly and look at the picture but then, I can't help it, so I glance again at your feet once again and I can't help but think of all the guys you've told me about before, the Mark's and the Chris's, all those wonderfully attractive young men who've been lucky enough to experience the pleasure of the smooth, soft skin of your legs gently rubbing against theirs as they held you close in such passion, want and such lust - in such sensual passion!
And you curl your toes gently in the darkened theater's limelight, as you adjust your legs slightly to allow yourself to remain comfortable, and I shudder ever so slightly. How those toes that rest and breathe freely above that yellow bar, so small and so tender, how they must have curled before for those other men as you came with infinite pleasure.
So many others, but so few, it seems, ever really appreciated the subtle beauty of your feet that carry you through life, towards and away from them and the things in life that make it cruel and beautiful all at the same time.
And how the arch of your foot sits there, with each little toe - ahhhhh, to suck those toes, if only just once, if only in my mind, and to slide up inside you - so hard and god to feel you wrapped around me, so wet and so pleasurable. So amazingly moist and perfect. And how lucky they were to have you, like God's gift and how I've long to feel you wrapped around me, slowly moving and caressing, feeling, even if only just once, so hot and so wet - got to feel me inside you, moving so erotically, and those legs running along beside mine, and those toes curling for me as we came out of our pure, carnal lust, rain pouring down around us. And perhaps, nothing more.
But the smooth gentle caress and touch of your hands along my skin. For trustful caring or some casual sex, but god I'd appreciate it, respect it, trust it, if only for me and you, between me and you.
You're so beautiful, so enchanting and ever so amazing. Your body, it makes you at one with the world around you, as if you could float freely and smoothly from one end of your life to the other. Your very being oozing with your sense of humor, and infecting everything you touch with your sense of touch and fair play, that sense of wonder about the lives all around you.
The curiosity that makes you sexually informed and complete. The curiosity that gives you strength and allows us to explore every inch, uninhibited. The caress of your hand along my back, and down over my chest and across my penis. The gentle, sweet touch of your kiss, lips pressed against mine, gently, so gently and rough at the same time. So many people, ideas and things pass through your life, and careful thoughts, carefree glances, nods and many smiles.
We kiss deeply and the flecking-flash of the movie continues and we break from our lips and my arm wraps around you as you stretch again and we continue to watch the film.
Your never-ending smile and joy for life. Your ability to pursue and capture dreams with fishnet.
And how, to rub your feet, in gentle massage for but a few minutes, after a long day at work, you on the couch, laid back resting. And me, watching TV with you, and a simple abundance of peaceful quiet and a trust that expands out and fills the air.
And yet, my mind filters back to those other guys. A lost hopefulness settles onto my soul, leaving me in an eternal constant craving, a deepened lust. And how, so few have been so lucky, to run their tongue along that smooth skin of your legs, and how some may even have been so lucky to taste and lose themselves in that simple pleasure that bleeds between your legs, and where their fingers could roam so delicately and so precisely, just giving you pleasure as they suck, kiss, lick, taste, blow and just enjoy you gently, their hands running along your skin and flesh – and the parts of which were made just for your own personal pleasure – such an immense enjoyment. Come spilling out and a healing begins.
And to feel your hands running through their hair, down along their skin, ever so passionately.
God - those images are just so real to me. So vivid and pure, oh god - how it hurts inside. These thoughts and wants and needs are such a strange mixture of real caring, desire, lust and greed. Unlike the images on the screen, you are internal placed deeply and forever in my heart and mind.
Trust me. Like unforgettable and simply erotic.
The light of the movie theater's projector highlights the subtle features of your erotically delicate feet which rest gently on a yellow bar of a wall in front of our first row. You've taken your sandals off and you're sitting back so comfortably, as we enjoy the show that plays out before us.
But the movie is only somewhat interesting to me as I've just become so enraptured by the naked skin of your smooth, small feet. And your legs, the smooth skin and the light that dances off of it, in varying degrees of brightness, and I sigh as your skin disappears under the silky cloth of that casual summer dress you've decided to wear today.
And my mind wanders in the wonder of you. I smile slightly and look at the picture but then, I can't help it, so I glance again at your feet once again and I can't help but think of all the guys you've told me about before, the Mark's and the Chris's, all those wonderfully attractive young men who've been lucky enough to experience the pleasure of the smooth, soft skin of your legs gently rubbing against theirs as they held you close in such passion, want and such lust - in such sensual passion!
And you curl your toes gently in the darkened theater's limelight, as you adjust your legs slightly to allow yourself to remain comfortable, and I shudder ever so slightly. How those toes that rest and breathe freely above that yellow bar, so small and so tender, how they must have curled before for those other men as you came with infinite pleasure.
So many others, but so few, it seems, ever really appreciated the subtle beauty of your feet that carry you through life, towards and away from them and the things in life that make it cruel and beautiful all at the same time.
And how the arch of your foot sits there, with each little toe - ahhhhh, to suck those toes, if only just once, if only in my mind, and to slide up inside you - so hard and god to feel you wrapped around me, so wet and so pleasurable. So amazingly moist and perfect. And how lucky they were to have you, like God's gift and how I've long to feel you wrapped around me, slowly moving and caressing, feeling, even if only just once, so hot and so wet - got to feel me inside you, moving so erotically, and those legs running along beside mine, and those toes curling for me as we came out of our pure, carnal lust, rain pouring down around us. And perhaps, nothing more.
But the smooth gentle caress and touch of your hands along my skin. For trustful caring or some casual sex, but god I'd appreciate it, respect it, trust it, if only for me and you, between me and you.
You're so beautiful, so enchanting and ever so amazing. Your body, it makes you at one with the world around you, as if you could float freely and smoothly from one end of your life to the other. Your very being oozing with your sense of humor, and infecting everything you touch with your sense of touch and fair play, that sense of wonder about the lives all around you.
The curiosity that makes you sexually informed and complete. The curiosity that gives you strength and allows us to explore every inch, uninhibited. The caress of your hand along my back, and down over my chest and across my penis. The gentle, sweet touch of your kiss, lips pressed against mine, gently, so gently and rough at the same time. So many people, ideas and things pass through your life, and careful thoughts, carefree glances, nods and many smiles.
We kiss deeply and the flecking-flash of the movie continues and we break from our lips and my arm wraps around you as you stretch again and we continue to watch the film.
Your never-ending smile and joy for life. Your ability to pursue and capture dreams with fishnet.
And how, to rub your feet, in gentle massage for but a few minutes, after a long day at work, you on the couch, laid back resting. And me, watching TV with you, and a simple abundance of peaceful quiet and a trust that expands out and fills the air.
And yet, my mind filters back to those other guys. A lost hopefulness settles onto my soul, leaving me in an eternal constant craving, a deepened lust. And how, so few have been so lucky, to run their tongue along that smooth skin of your legs, and how some may even have been so lucky to taste and lose themselves in that simple pleasure that bleeds between your legs, and where their fingers could roam so delicately and so precisely, just giving you pleasure as they suck, kiss, lick, taste, blow and just enjoy you gently, their hands running along your skin and flesh – and the parts of which were made just for your own personal pleasure – such an immense enjoyment. Come spilling out and a healing begins.
And to feel your hands running through their hair, down along their skin, ever so passionately.
God - those images are just so real to me. So vivid and pure, oh god - how it hurts inside. These thoughts and wants and needs are such a strange mixture of real caring, desire, lust and greed. Unlike the images on the screen, you are internal placed deeply and forever in my heart and mind.
Trust me. Like unforgettable and simply erotic.
Your Own Special Brand of Magic
In those early days, I had you, the whole kit and caboodle of you. Now, I have nothing but memories of our short fused life, a life shattered too soon. In my youth, I expected a future filled with you and you and you, found much to my chagrin it was not destined to be. Since then, I have loved just as well I hope and pray, but never with the longing, the passion. You branded me with your magic and then went away.
The magic, your breathtaking beauty, your sexiness, your natural and forthright self, and for too short a span of time, it kept me fixed in your orbit. I never tired of your charms, your eager intensity. Ash-blonde hair shifting about your face, falling down your back, kept pulled back and tied in a ponytail, made me sigh, wonder how I deserved such good fortune. In my eyes, your rosy round face was a work of art; your expressions ranging from bemusement to wanton, pole axed me from the first moment we met at the VFW dance on Coronado.
At night in the comfort of our connubial bed, we played; we paused to laugh, to drink in each other's needs with an intimacy licensed to newly married lovers and no others. Our youth and yearning for each other was all we truly owned. Oh, and lots of bills. Sometimes when you had your period you could be such an irredeemable bitch. Me, I had that way of never picking up anything, letting the dirty dishes pile up until you were mad as the March Hare, loony as a crazed bed bug.
We spent as fast as we took it in. You complained about my books. Books I bought in dusty warrens on the square. I criticized you for having your nails done at Nails Aglow on the Strand, spending too much having your hair done. For our first Christmas, I bought you a delicate gold cross hanging on a too fragile chain. You got me Phillip Roth's Portnoy's Complaint and A Small Town in Germany by John LeCarre. I still remember the crisp smell of those new books as I opened the gold foil Christmas wrapping next to the tiny plastic Christmas tree planted in a margarine tub sitting in the center of the coffee table.
Newlyweds with not a centavo, a farthing in the bank, a 1962 Rambler purchased for six hundred dollars sitting in the parking lot out front, a hideous flesh-toned vehicle noticeable by its scruffiness, its leaky oil, a black Rorschach on the pavement, its constant maintenance woes.
How many times did you drive me mad with desire? You'd be barefoot, wearing those ratty, thread bare jeans, and the tight white t shirt. For some reason seeing you bare foot, your ankles dressed in dangling threads, I could not keep my hands off you.
In that one apartment we shared; we'd sit close on that little black divan made of glossy vinyl, watch Walter Cronkite on the black and white portable, reciting the latest body count from Vietnam. It was compressed, honed down furniture perfect for a camper shell or a single-wide domicile for trailer trash. One easy chair also black, a scratched coffee table, two mismatched end tables, two lamps we found in the thrift shop for a dollar a piece. Most of the time the apartment was dark and even at noon it remained dim. The bedroom and living room windows half below ground, corrugated tin cupped around them to keep the ground from coming in, allow a bit of light to filter in. Through the living room window we could see the parking lot, car tires, legs, and the passing parade.
One night in mid November, in the middling room, we slept under the bedroom window in our full-sized bed. It was coming down like proverbial cats and dogs. Big drops of rain smacked hard against the window, ran down the pane, soaked into the ground. Then Niagara Falls time--a torrent of muddy water, a virtual cataract, and a veritable flood tide poured through the window, ran down the stucco walls, and soaked us through and through. As if that was not enough, it drenched the bureau in which we kept our meager number of clothes. All this stormy water turned the carpet into a fetid swamp with only the alligators and boas missing from the foul mix.
At first when I said, "abandon ship, take to the life boats" you wanted to kill me. You cried looking at the mess, then seeing me smiling, you started laughing and so did I, and we fell back on the bed and made love, ignoring the river scent, the odor of the earth come from deep down and the mud painting everything.
We had such freedom of movement in that apartment with its two tiny rooms, the stink of a nearby Chinese restaurant always there with us. Remember the kitchenette no bigger then a closet in which you had to cook. We had the silver Sunbeam toaster my parents bought in 1948, the silverware purchased for a mere pittance. How I'd come up behind you while you stirred spaghetti sauce or sautéed onions in that beat up skillet. I'd feel you up like a newlywed husband is supposed to do to his bride. My hands cradling your breasts, my tongue biting an earlobe, you'd push me away as you fixed dinner, but not too rigorously, as you stood at that crummy stove with several eyes on the range top never working one hundred percent and the damned oven getting about as hot as an easy bake oven.
You were learning to cook. You may not have known exactly what spices I liked, how much salt and pepper to dab in the green beans or even how to boil water. Your coffee sucked and between the crappy oven and your witless ways as a baker, if I wanted cookies, I either bought them off the shelf at the commissary or Mrs. Shepherd, the kind old lady living upstairs tossed some my way. I especially liked her peanut butter cookies.
As my lover you already knew how to make me happy. I could care whether you could cook, whether you had the wherewithal to fry chicken. I sat back in that squatting easy chair; looked at you in the kitchen wearing red high heels and nothing else. Maybe some faux pearls dangling about your neck, your ash-blonde hair down, sometimes looking limp and lifeless, yet you looked so scrumptious, so hot. I scrambled into that efficiency kitchen; we made love leaning on the stove. Then I carried you back to the bedroom not caring in the least if something burned on that pathetic excuse for a stove.
I was a seaman in the Navy, a run of the mill hospital corpsman assigned to bedpan duty and changing linen, doing lots of things your standard white smocked orderly in a civilian hospital never does. What did I earn at that time? Not nearly enough. I had to moonlight at a pizza joint. I'd come home one of two ways: with blood stains all over my starched white uniform or reeking of flour and mozzarella.
In our tiny kitchen, we'd have dinner, you'd tell me of your day, the part-time job you held at the city directory. Then you lucked into that job working from seven to three, forming plastic catheters. What fun we had telling each other of our days away from one another.
My work schedule bounced all over the place. Long nights working coronary care, taking blood pressures, looking at little streaks of light burst on an oscilloscope's black screen, then die in their tracks as they monitored a patient's hurting heart. These constantly beeping machines made it difficult to stay awake and I drank oceans of black coffee. Patients died, patients were transferred, but patients never went home from CCU.
I worked evenings, readied patients for their nights sleeping under our watchful gaze. The ward quieted down after the busy day watch of lab rats carrying needles, tubes and rubber tourniquets for drawing blood, x-ray technicians huffing and puffing pushing portable x-ray machines into the CCU. Doctors made rounds, whispered at the end of a patient's bed, LCDR Grace, the head nurse or one of the other finely trained Navy nurses, trailed behind the assortment of docs, took precise notes, deciphered written orders scratched on a standardized form.
Wives, husbands, parents looking gray and tuckered out stayed close by in the nearby waiting room watching the wall clock scarcely move. They all maintained brave faces and stoic dispositions, but their agony and anxiety always seeped through their waxen faces.
I faced a tour in Vietnam, humping the bush with black Marines, country boy Marines, inner city Marines. Toting my medical gear in a green satchel, a 45 hanging on my hip, dealing with what passed for routine injuries, the traumatic amputations, I see all too often, the heat stroke, headaches, the puncture wounds from punji stakes and Gyrenes getting way too many Dear John letters from back in the world. 13 months trying not to get killed. Nick Malone, my buddy in hospital corps in Great Lakes got himself killed five days after he stepped on the ground. Five days. He was blown right out of his combat boots.
Most of all I worried about losing my family jewels in a rice paddy. Getting my dick and its equipage blown into nothing but a bloody mist, the idea of being blinded, I feared more then death itself.
I could not come back to my sexy, young wife in such a depleted state. No way.
That was all in the future and now we were together. Your father, a ferocious, crusty, hard drinking retired Master Chief looked in on us on occasion; we had Sunday dinner with him and your mother, my mother-in-law, an Italian from Naples who spoke in a thick Neapolitan accent and cooked some phenomenal spaghetti and perfectly baked lasagna.
At night in the privacy of our place, I sat on the bed, watched you shave your legs, we yammered about having two or three kids in quick succession. Of course our finances had to be in a better state, but the Navy would pay the freight for your maternity check ups and the delivery. Everything was so good, so perfect.
Then you started getting those headaches, the pain in the side of your head not going away. We turned off the lights, I padded around the apartment in my socks, trying to make no sound, took over cooking dinner.
One morning you screamed and in starting out of bed, you fell back and could not lift yourself up. Five months 23 days following that hellish morning, you were gone. It was as though a crocodile lurking in a calm flat pool of water had noisily leaped out, snapped you in its death dealing jaws and returned to its bailiwick with nary a motion, a ruffling of the air.
I commanded the morticians to bury you in your cornflower yellow sundress, the white brocaded sweater, yellow high heels, the delicate cross, I gave you for Christmas. Finally, the two books you recently wrapped with your hands.
"Dad, dad, dad to earth, come in Dad."
"Dad, you were zoning out, someplace else.
I turned to my left. Much older, gray hair painted in my temples, too many wrinkles on my face. Emily, my eldest daughter from my second marriage, stood next to me in a Parisian bookstore off the rue d'l'Odean. Emily, my Sorbonne educated progeny, the wife of a Parisian physician who thought Paris was the center of the universe.
"Mom wants to meet for coffee next door soon as you're done. Have you read it?"
"Read what, honey?"
"The book you are holding in your hand Dad." Emily studied me, trying to decide if my body had been occupied by an alien life form.
I looked down; I was holding Portnoy's Complaint in my scared hands. My left hand was missing several middle fingers. Digits I had left in Vietnam.
"I think you were in the Twilight Zone."
"Why don't you buy the book? I read it college. Good book."
"No, I don't think I could read it, someday, but not now. Let's go find your mother and have coffee."
The magic, your breathtaking beauty, your sexiness, your natural and forthright self, and for too short a span of time, it kept me fixed in your orbit. I never tired of your charms, your eager intensity. Ash-blonde hair shifting about your face, falling down your back, kept pulled back and tied in a ponytail, made me sigh, wonder how I deserved such good fortune. In my eyes, your rosy round face was a work of art; your expressions ranging from bemusement to wanton, pole axed me from the first moment we met at the VFW dance on Coronado.
At night in the comfort of our connubial bed, we played; we paused to laugh, to drink in each other's needs with an intimacy licensed to newly married lovers and no others. Our youth and yearning for each other was all we truly owned. Oh, and lots of bills. Sometimes when you had your period you could be such an irredeemable bitch. Me, I had that way of never picking up anything, letting the dirty dishes pile up until you were mad as the March Hare, loony as a crazed bed bug.
We spent as fast as we took it in. You complained about my books. Books I bought in dusty warrens on the square. I criticized you for having your nails done at Nails Aglow on the Strand, spending too much having your hair done. For our first Christmas, I bought you a delicate gold cross hanging on a too fragile chain. You got me Phillip Roth's Portnoy's Complaint and A Small Town in Germany by John LeCarre. I still remember the crisp smell of those new books as I opened the gold foil Christmas wrapping next to the tiny plastic Christmas tree planted in a margarine tub sitting in the center of the coffee table.
Newlyweds with not a centavo, a farthing in the bank, a 1962 Rambler purchased for six hundred dollars sitting in the parking lot out front, a hideous flesh-toned vehicle noticeable by its scruffiness, its leaky oil, a black Rorschach on the pavement, its constant maintenance woes.
How many times did you drive me mad with desire? You'd be barefoot, wearing those ratty, thread bare jeans, and the tight white t shirt. For some reason seeing you bare foot, your ankles dressed in dangling threads, I could not keep my hands off you.
In that one apartment we shared; we'd sit close on that little black divan made of glossy vinyl, watch Walter Cronkite on the black and white portable, reciting the latest body count from Vietnam. It was compressed, honed down furniture perfect for a camper shell or a single-wide domicile for trailer trash. One easy chair also black, a scratched coffee table, two mismatched end tables, two lamps we found in the thrift shop for a dollar a piece. Most of the time the apartment was dark and even at noon it remained dim. The bedroom and living room windows half below ground, corrugated tin cupped around them to keep the ground from coming in, allow a bit of light to filter in. Through the living room window we could see the parking lot, car tires, legs, and the passing parade.
One night in mid November, in the middling room, we slept under the bedroom window in our full-sized bed. It was coming down like proverbial cats and dogs. Big drops of rain smacked hard against the window, ran down the pane, soaked into the ground. Then Niagara Falls time--a torrent of muddy water, a virtual cataract, and a veritable flood tide poured through the window, ran down the stucco walls, and soaked us through and through. As if that was not enough, it drenched the bureau in which we kept our meager number of clothes. All this stormy water turned the carpet into a fetid swamp with only the alligators and boas missing from the foul mix.
At first when I said, "abandon ship, take to the life boats" you wanted to kill me. You cried looking at the mess, then seeing me smiling, you started laughing and so did I, and we fell back on the bed and made love, ignoring the river scent, the odor of the earth come from deep down and the mud painting everything.
We had such freedom of movement in that apartment with its two tiny rooms, the stink of a nearby Chinese restaurant always there with us. Remember the kitchenette no bigger then a closet in which you had to cook. We had the silver Sunbeam toaster my parents bought in 1948, the silverware purchased for a mere pittance. How I'd come up behind you while you stirred spaghetti sauce or sautéed onions in that beat up skillet. I'd feel you up like a newlywed husband is supposed to do to his bride. My hands cradling your breasts, my tongue biting an earlobe, you'd push me away as you fixed dinner, but not too rigorously, as you stood at that crummy stove with several eyes on the range top never working one hundred percent and the damned oven getting about as hot as an easy bake oven.
You were learning to cook. You may not have known exactly what spices I liked, how much salt and pepper to dab in the green beans or even how to boil water. Your coffee sucked and between the crappy oven and your witless ways as a baker, if I wanted cookies, I either bought them off the shelf at the commissary or Mrs. Shepherd, the kind old lady living upstairs tossed some my way. I especially liked her peanut butter cookies.
As my lover you already knew how to make me happy. I could care whether you could cook, whether you had the wherewithal to fry chicken. I sat back in that squatting easy chair; looked at you in the kitchen wearing red high heels and nothing else. Maybe some faux pearls dangling about your neck, your ash-blonde hair down, sometimes looking limp and lifeless, yet you looked so scrumptious, so hot. I scrambled into that efficiency kitchen; we made love leaning on the stove. Then I carried you back to the bedroom not caring in the least if something burned on that pathetic excuse for a stove.
I was a seaman in the Navy, a run of the mill hospital corpsman assigned to bedpan duty and changing linen, doing lots of things your standard white smocked orderly in a civilian hospital never does. What did I earn at that time? Not nearly enough. I had to moonlight at a pizza joint. I'd come home one of two ways: with blood stains all over my starched white uniform or reeking of flour and mozzarella.
In our tiny kitchen, we'd have dinner, you'd tell me of your day, the part-time job you held at the city directory. Then you lucked into that job working from seven to three, forming plastic catheters. What fun we had telling each other of our days away from one another.
My work schedule bounced all over the place. Long nights working coronary care, taking blood pressures, looking at little streaks of light burst on an oscilloscope's black screen, then die in their tracks as they monitored a patient's hurting heart. These constantly beeping machines made it difficult to stay awake and I drank oceans of black coffee. Patients died, patients were transferred, but patients never went home from CCU.
I worked evenings, readied patients for their nights sleeping under our watchful gaze. The ward quieted down after the busy day watch of lab rats carrying needles, tubes and rubber tourniquets for drawing blood, x-ray technicians huffing and puffing pushing portable x-ray machines into the CCU. Doctors made rounds, whispered at the end of a patient's bed, LCDR Grace, the head nurse or one of the other finely trained Navy nurses, trailed behind the assortment of docs, took precise notes, deciphered written orders scratched on a standardized form.
Wives, husbands, parents looking gray and tuckered out stayed close by in the nearby waiting room watching the wall clock scarcely move. They all maintained brave faces and stoic dispositions, but their agony and anxiety always seeped through their waxen faces.
I faced a tour in Vietnam, humping the bush with black Marines, country boy Marines, inner city Marines. Toting my medical gear in a green satchel, a 45 hanging on my hip, dealing with what passed for routine injuries, the traumatic amputations, I see all too often, the heat stroke, headaches, the puncture wounds from punji stakes and Gyrenes getting way too many Dear John letters from back in the world. 13 months trying not to get killed. Nick Malone, my buddy in hospital corps in Great Lakes got himself killed five days after he stepped on the ground. Five days. He was blown right out of his combat boots.
Most of all I worried about losing my family jewels in a rice paddy. Getting my dick and its equipage blown into nothing but a bloody mist, the idea of being blinded, I feared more then death itself.
I could not come back to my sexy, young wife in such a depleted state. No way.
That was all in the future and now we were together. Your father, a ferocious, crusty, hard drinking retired Master Chief looked in on us on occasion; we had Sunday dinner with him and your mother, my mother-in-law, an Italian from Naples who spoke in a thick Neapolitan accent and cooked some phenomenal spaghetti and perfectly baked lasagna.
At night in the privacy of our place, I sat on the bed, watched you shave your legs, we yammered about having two or three kids in quick succession. Of course our finances had to be in a better state, but the Navy would pay the freight for your maternity check ups and the delivery. Everything was so good, so perfect.
Then you started getting those headaches, the pain in the side of your head not going away. We turned off the lights, I padded around the apartment in my socks, trying to make no sound, took over cooking dinner.
One morning you screamed and in starting out of bed, you fell back and could not lift yourself up. Five months 23 days following that hellish morning, you were gone. It was as though a crocodile lurking in a calm flat pool of water had noisily leaped out, snapped you in its death dealing jaws and returned to its bailiwick with nary a motion, a ruffling of the air.
I commanded the morticians to bury you in your cornflower yellow sundress, the white brocaded sweater, yellow high heels, the delicate cross, I gave you for Christmas. Finally, the two books you recently wrapped with your hands.
"Dad, dad, dad to earth, come in Dad."
"Dad, you were zoning out, someplace else.
I turned to my left. Much older, gray hair painted in my temples, too many wrinkles on my face. Emily, my eldest daughter from my second marriage, stood next to me in a Parisian bookstore off the rue d'l'Odean. Emily, my Sorbonne educated progeny, the wife of a Parisian physician who thought Paris was the center of the universe.
"Mom wants to meet for coffee next door soon as you're done. Have you read it?"
"Read what, honey?"
"The book you are holding in your hand Dad." Emily studied me, trying to decide if my body had been occupied by an alien life form.
I looked down; I was holding Portnoy's Complaint in my scared hands. My left hand was missing several middle fingers. Digits I had left in Vietnam.
"I think you were in the Twilight Zone."
"Why don't you buy the book? I read it college. Good book."
"No, I don't think I could read it, someday, but not now. Let's go find your mother and have coffee."
Your Prom
The warm lavender bath water surrounds your body relaxing and exciting you at the same time. Letting the scents fill your nose your hands move over your body slowly as you tingle from head to toe. Your soft skin is electric to your own touch as you shift in the tub thinking of the night ahead. Sensing that you will run late if you continue to linger in the tub you slowly stand and grab your oversized white cotton robe. The warm material envelops you like a giant hug.
You walk barefoot into your bedroom and sit near your mirror as you dry your hair. It's a time consuming process but you know how great it will look when it's finally done and how I will enjoy seeing your hair "done up". Spending a decent amount of time you finally get your hair in the up style you wanted. Even the aggravating task of doing your hair like this hasn't dulled the tingling sensation from the bath. Leaning forward you begin putting on your make up. Trying to concentrate is not easy as you can feel yourself getting slightly wet at thoughts of what is to come later. With everything in place you sit back and take a couple last looks before you get dressed. The soft make up tones are just enough to look elegant without taking away from your natural beauty. After rubbing some lotion on your legs and arms you stand up and get ready to dress.
Walking across the room you let the robe slip off and expose your body to the warm afternoon air. Even with the warm air your nipples are semi hard with excitement. Reaching into your top drawer you remove a pale pink thong with small rhinestones adorning it. The satin material is soft and smooth running up your freshly shaved legs. Pulling it up over your hips the cool material covers your completely shaved mound, its feel sending a slight chill up your spine. As you tug the thong into place you run your hands over the satin material in the front and then over your bare bottom in the back. Smiling to yourself you reach back into the drawer.
Pulling out the matching pale pink satin strapless bra you slowly put it on. The cool material of the cups lifts and holds your breasts firmly. With it clasped you run your hands over the material and cup your breasts lifting and adjusting them slightly. For a moment you close your eyes and imagine that your hands are my hands lifting and slowly squeezing your breasts. Opening your eyes again you select a perfume from the dresser top, something sexy to fit your mood, and place a small amount between your breasts, neck and below your navel just above your thong.
Looking over your shoulder you see your dress hanging by the door, a pink satin strapless gown with a modest slit up one leg and a neckline just low enough to not show everything but daring enough to show a bit of cleavage. You slowly slip into the dress and tingle as the satin encompasses your body. Pulling it into place you zip up the back and adjust it accordingly. Placing a medium length string of pearls around your neck and some matching earrings you then slip your feet into a pair of matching shoes before walking over to the full length mirror.
Your hands tremble at your sides as you adjust the last details of your gown and questions swirl around in your head wondering if I will like you in it and how I will look in a tux. The ringing doorbell wakes you from your daydream. Grabbing the pink gloves that go with your dress you hurry downstairs to answer the door.
As you answer the door you are greeted by a large bouquet of long stem red roses. Moving the roses aside I lean forward and kiss you softly on your lips and whisper in your ear how beautiful you look. You invite me into the house after looking at me in my black tux and quickly set the roses in water as I tell you of the evening's events; a nice dinner for two and then off to the prom. When you return to the room I present you with a nice wrist corsage with three pink roses which match the pink rose boutonnière I have on.
You quickly slip on your long pink gloves before I slide the corsage over your satin covered hand. Taking you by the arm I lead you outside to the waiting limousine which will take us to dinner. The driver opens the door letting us in and uncorks a bottle of champagne, serving us each a glass, before closing the door and getting behind the wheel. With the divider up between the driver and us we have all the privacy in the world; we sit close holding hands and sipping our champagne nervously wondering what the night will bring.
The car slows as we enter the parking lot to the restaurant. Pulling up to the front door the driver quickly exits the car and comes to open our door. I get out first and turning around I take you by the hand to help you out. We walk arm in arm into the restaurant and in a matter of a few minutes are seated at a secluded table. Our conversation over dinner is relaxed as we settle down from our "big date" jitters and begin to truly enjoy each other's company. During dinner you remove your gloves as not to soil them and place them in a small purse you have brought. You flush with embarrassment as I tell you how beautiful you look and how I enjoy what you have done with your hair. The red blotches of embarrassment on your chest are a stark contrast to the white of the pearls and you giggle nervously as I comment on them as well.
After our meal we leave the restaurant and are back in the limo on our way to the prom. This time we are less timid and our true passions are exposed as we kiss deeply. A deep soulful kiss is exchanged; tongues melting together, bodies embraced sending warm waves of emotion and desire over us. Our kiss is only broken by the stopped limo. We quickly adjust ourselves before the driver opens the door. Walking up the steps of the building we hold hands tightly and smile at old friends.
Our first stop is the photographer where we are positioned with you in front of me, my arms wrapping around your waist pulling you tightly to me. The feeling of our bodies only being separated by several thin layers of fabric excites us both. After a couple of quick pictures we are inside where we dance and enjoy each other throughout the night, embracing tightly on slow songs which only fuels our desire more. My hands run over the bare skin on your back as yours hold me tightly under my jacket. Deep kisses are exchanged as my hands move over your silk covered body.
As the night moves on you feel my cock stiffening against you as we dance, your nipples harden in your bra and your thong begins to get wet with more anticipation of what is to come next. As the lights come up we work our way out the door and back to the limo. No sooner than the door closes behind us the kissing and touching begins even more passionate than before. Our hands begin to move over each other's bodies as the limo pulls away. We rub each other's most sensitive areas through our clothes as I tell you the limo ride will be too short to do much else.
Five minutes after leaving the limo stops again. We slowly separate as we hear the driver walk around the car and open the trunk. Clenching hands tightly we wait patiently until he opens the door. I step out of the limo and grab a back pack from the driver before turning and helping you out of the car. The unseasonably warm air flows through your hair and dress as you approach the large sand dunes separating the beach from the parking lot. A moment later I walk up behind you and wrap my arms around yours pulling you tight. The large harvest moon reflects off the ocean waves lighting our way onto the beach. We both slip out of our shoes and stuff them into the large backpack I am carrying before taking each other's hand and walking onto the beach. We walk near the surf and listen to the crashing waves of the ocean as we saunter down the beach. Walking in silence we soak in the surroundings and connect through our growing desire until finally I stop you and pull you close to me. Dropping the bag from my hands I pull your mouth close to mine and kiss you deeply. Your body melts from my touch as you know deep down you have never wanted to give yourself to me more than you do right now.
Taking you by the hand I lead you up a small dune that overlooks the beach. Much to your amazement there is a canopy there with an oversized beach chair big enough for two people, a stack of drift wood and a small fire pit. I escort you to the beach chair before dropping the bag next to you and moving to the fire pit which is already stocked with paper and wood. In a minute a small fire is burning not really for warmth on this night, but more for light and creating a romantic mood. Your legs tingle at the idea of making love on this beach paradise.
Crawling over to you I kiss you again deeply, my hands holding your head firmly to mine, our passion growing sending chills up and down your back. I tell you that I want to give you a night you will never forget, you smile and say that I already have. Your hands move over my chest and slowly push my tux jacket off my shoulders. Releasing your head I lower my arms and let the jacket slide off. Tenderly you unbutton my shirt. Slowly working each button free with your trembling fingers we both watch your hands slowly working down to my cumber bund. I release the clasp for the cumber bund from the side as you untuck my shirt gently pulling it free of my pants. Your hands are warm on my chest as you push the shirt off my shoulders. Your lips kiss my chest as I undo my cuffs and toss my shirt aside.
I pull you to your feet as the fire's intensity grows and pull you into my bare chest. Your arms wrap around my back as you hold onto me tightly. We pull away only long enough to kiss as my hands roam over your back. Finding the zipper of your dress I slowly lower it. The warm night air blows over your lower back causing your fingers to clench on my flesh. I work my hands inside your dress and for the first time touch your soft skin. Pulling my head down you kiss me deeply as your dress slowly slides down your body, the soft silk tingling against you.
My hands now roam your soft skin from waist to back as your dress crumples around your feet; you pull me tightly to your body, not from being cold but from desire. The moistness between your legs grows as your nipples harden inside your bra. With one quick flick of my fingers the back clasp of your bra is open leaving the back hanging at your sides. Pulling away from me just enough the bra falls silently to the ground while you press your chest into mine. Feeling your warm flesh against my chest I kiss you deeply moaning quietly into your mouth.
Your hands travel slowly down my back and over my waist and to the front of my pants. Skillfully the clasp and zipper are undone by your fast moving fingers and soon my pants join your dress at our feet. Left in only our bottoms our bodies practically fuse together as we embrace. My hands slide up and down your back and over your bare bottom. Clutching you firmly in my hands I lift you off the ground in a giant bear hug and feel you wrap your legs around my body. Carefully stepping out of my pants I carry you, still in the full body hug, back down the dune. You ask where we are going and I tell you for a swim. In a few moments I am knee deep in water and slowly lower your feet to the wet sand. The water is warm against us and we hear the waves crashing off in the distance.
Walking hand in hand we slowly move into the water, taking tentative steps, which is the hallmark of our night. Finally in waist deep water we pause and embrace again the low waves passing around our tightly held bodies. We lower ourselves slowly so that you are positioned back in my lap, my legs supporting you underwater as your legs wrap around me. You reach up with both hands and let your long hair fall about your bare shoulders and float in the water. I lean back soaking my head allowing the warm water to wash over me. Soon after you do the same, your wet hair pulled back by the water.
The two of us float in the water intertwined kissing and touching each other pressing our bodies together becoming one in the warm surf. The heat of our bodies radiate to each other, me feeling yours as you feel mine. Finally we decide we need to move back to our beach camp. Walking out of the water still wrapped in each other's arms our bodies chill in the night air. As we near our small campsite we turn to each other and begin kissing again. My hands move down your body and I hook my thumbs inside your small pale pink thong, slowly gliding the wet material over your hips and down to your thighs. Leaning forward I kiss your bare shoulders and neck as I push your thong further down your legs.
Once again my arms wrap around you as I walk you backwards over to the oversized beach chair. On the beach chair are two large sleeping bags laid out on top of each other like oversized blankets. I have you sit on the edge of the chair while I put a couple more pieces of drift wood on the dying fire. Not wanting to leave you for long I quickly move back feeling your arms wrap around my waist and your head press against my abdomen. Your hands move inside the waistband of my boxers and slowly pull them downward. They easily fall to my feet before I move onto the beach chair next to you.
Our kissing and touching is soft and sweet like two virginal lovers learning each other's bodies for the first time. Slowly our legs intertwine as our mouths and hands move over each other's torso. My fingers glide over your breasts barely touching your sensitive skin. Your back arches as my mouth finds your breast. The touching becomes more intense as the fire slowly grows only feet away from our naked bodies. Feeling our needs are calling out for more you pull me between your legs and whisper in my ear. We kiss deeply as the head of my cock presses between your wetness.
You inhale deeply as my body fills yours; our lust growing with each long stroke. Wrapping your legs around my back I moan as your pussy clenches against me. Finally our kiss breaks as we are both breathing too quickly to continue. I bury my mouth in your neck licking and sucking your fragrant skin. Your legs move down my body but stay wrapped around me as your orgasm builds. I quicken my pace with my hips trusting my cock deep inside you, the feeling of every bump and vein more apparent with each stroke. All of your nerve endings seem even more sensitive than ever before as every touch is like a small shock to your body. My cock swells inside you as I press my body against yours gripping you tightly. As I cum the warm fluid fills you with warmth and desire as your body succumbs to your own orgasm.
Laying there, the two of us panting and satisfied, we kiss softly as we watch the fire slowly die. I move over next to you and pull one of the sleeping bags over our bodies as you move to put your head on my chest. Listening to my heart beating in your ear you drift off to sleep as I run my fingers through your still wet hair.
In a few hours you slowly wake from your comfortable sleep your head still on my chest our legs still wrapped together. Lifting your head slightly you see that I am also awake. Without a word we slowly move off the beach chair and head back to the water. Hand in hand, naked in the light of the low setting moon we enter the warm ocean up to our ankles. Pulling you too me I kiss you softly on the lips. As we kiss more you feel my cock growing against your abdomen and your nipples harden against my chest.
Slowly we lower ourselves into the surf kissing and touching until we lay next to each other completely wrapped into each other's bodies. The incoming waves wash over our bodies as we kiss in the surf. Ending up on top of you I feel you spreading your legs below me. Your hand moves down between our bodies as you guide me inside you one more time. The warmth of my cock is in stark contrast to the water that washes over us as I press deep inside you.
We kiss and grind into each other in the deepening surf; the water washing over our bodies as the tide slowly comes in. Our hips move toward each other in a slowly increasing pace. I feel your breasts moving against my chest with each thrust of my hips and hear your moans growing louder and louder. Rolling onto my back you straddle my hips and grind your body into mine. With each passing wave your intensity grows as the cooler water stimulates your clit. My hands move up to your bouncing breasts and start to fondle your nipples. As your hands dig into my chest your orgasm explodes against my cock which swells at your movements. Not able to hold back any longer spurts of hot cum fill your body as you arch your back against the ocean. Your body, highlighted in the soft moonlight, glistens with ocean surf. Finally you collapse onto my chest, slowly straightening your legs against mine.
After catching our breath for a few minutes we head out into slightly deeper water to wash the sand off our bodies. Eventually we end up playing in the surf like school children before retiring to our campsite. Handing you one of the sleeping bags your wrap it around your body as I relight the fire. With a couple more pieces of driftwood burning brightly I pull your body to mine. You open the sleeping bag with your arms and pull my body into your warmth. We kiss softly before sitting near the fire still wrapped together in the sleeping bag.
As the sun slowly rises on the horizon we look at our scattered clothing. Moving out of our huddled position against the dune I reach for the backpack. Opening it slowly I produce a bathing suit and coverall for you and a pair of swim trunks and a shirt for myself. I quickly stash our clothes from the pervious night back into the bag before returning to you in the sleeping bag. With our clothes for the day laying near us on the dune we spend the rest of the morning wrapped up naked together in our own private paradise.
You walk barefoot into your bedroom and sit near your mirror as you dry your hair. It's a time consuming process but you know how great it will look when it's finally done and how I will enjoy seeing your hair "done up". Spending a decent amount of time you finally get your hair in the up style you wanted. Even the aggravating task of doing your hair like this hasn't dulled the tingling sensation from the bath. Leaning forward you begin putting on your make up. Trying to concentrate is not easy as you can feel yourself getting slightly wet at thoughts of what is to come later. With everything in place you sit back and take a couple last looks before you get dressed. The soft make up tones are just enough to look elegant without taking away from your natural beauty. After rubbing some lotion on your legs and arms you stand up and get ready to dress.
Walking across the room you let the robe slip off and expose your body to the warm afternoon air. Even with the warm air your nipples are semi hard with excitement. Reaching into your top drawer you remove a pale pink thong with small rhinestones adorning it. The satin material is soft and smooth running up your freshly shaved legs. Pulling it up over your hips the cool material covers your completely shaved mound, its feel sending a slight chill up your spine. As you tug the thong into place you run your hands over the satin material in the front and then over your bare bottom in the back. Smiling to yourself you reach back into the drawer.
Pulling out the matching pale pink satin strapless bra you slowly put it on. The cool material of the cups lifts and holds your breasts firmly. With it clasped you run your hands over the material and cup your breasts lifting and adjusting them slightly. For a moment you close your eyes and imagine that your hands are my hands lifting and slowly squeezing your breasts. Opening your eyes again you select a perfume from the dresser top, something sexy to fit your mood, and place a small amount between your breasts, neck and below your navel just above your thong.
Looking over your shoulder you see your dress hanging by the door, a pink satin strapless gown with a modest slit up one leg and a neckline just low enough to not show everything but daring enough to show a bit of cleavage. You slowly slip into the dress and tingle as the satin encompasses your body. Pulling it into place you zip up the back and adjust it accordingly. Placing a medium length string of pearls around your neck and some matching earrings you then slip your feet into a pair of matching shoes before walking over to the full length mirror.
Your hands tremble at your sides as you adjust the last details of your gown and questions swirl around in your head wondering if I will like you in it and how I will look in a tux. The ringing doorbell wakes you from your daydream. Grabbing the pink gloves that go with your dress you hurry downstairs to answer the door.
As you answer the door you are greeted by a large bouquet of long stem red roses. Moving the roses aside I lean forward and kiss you softly on your lips and whisper in your ear how beautiful you look. You invite me into the house after looking at me in my black tux and quickly set the roses in water as I tell you of the evening's events; a nice dinner for two and then off to the prom. When you return to the room I present you with a nice wrist corsage with three pink roses which match the pink rose boutonnière I have on.
You quickly slip on your long pink gloves before I slide the corsage over your satin covered hand. Taking you by the arm I lead you outside to the waiting limousine which will take us to dinner. The driver opens the door letting us in and uncorks a bottle of champagne, serving us each a glass, before closing the door and getting behind the wheel. With the divider up between the driver and us we have all the privacy in the world; we sit close holding hands and sipping our champagne nervously wondering what the night will bring.
The car slows as we enter the parking lot to the restaurant. Pulling up to the front door the driver quickly exits the car and comes to open our door. I get out first and turning around I take you by the hand to help you out. We walk arm in arm into the restaurant and in a matter of a few minutes are seated at a secluded table. Our conversation over dinner is relaxed as we settle down from our "big date" jitters and begin to truly enjoy each other's company. During dinner you remove your gloves as not to soil them and place them in a small purse you have brought. You flush with embarrassment as I tell you how beautiful you look and how I enjoy what you have done with your hair. The red blotches of embarrassment on your chest are a stark contrast to the white of the pearls and you giggle nervously as I comment on them as well.
After our meal we leave the restaurant and are back in the limo on our way to the prom. This time we are less timid and our true passions are exposed as we kiss deeply. A deep soulful kiss is exchanged; tongues melting together, bodies embraced sending warm waves of emotion and desire over us. Our kiss is only broken by the stopped limo. We quickly adjust ourselves before the driver opens the door. Walking up the steps of the building we hold hands tightly and smile at old friends.
Our first stop is the photographer where we are positioned with you in front of me, my arms wrapping around your waist pulling you tightly to me. The feeling of our bodies only being separated by several thin layers of fabric excites us both. After a couple of quick pictures we are inside where we dance and enjoy each other throughout the night, embracing tightly on slow songs which only fuels our desire more. My hands run over the bare skin on your back as yours hold me tightly under my jacket. Deep kisses are exchanged as my hands move over your silk covered body.
As the night moves on you feel my cock stiffening against you as we dance, your nipples harden in your bra and your thong begins to get wet with more anticipation of what is to come next. As the lights come up we work our way out the door and back to the limo. No sooner than the door closes behind us the kissing and touching begins even more passionate than before. Our hands begin to move over each other's bodies as the limo pulls away. We rub each other's most sensitive areas through our clothes as I tell you the limo ride will be too short to do much else.
Five minutes after leaving the limo stops again. We slowly separate as we hear the driver walk around the car and open the trunk. Clenching hands tightly we wait patiently until he opens the door. I step out of the limo and grab a back pack from the driver before turning and helping you out of the car. The unseasonably warm air flows through your hair and dress as you approach the large sand dunes separating the beach from the parking lot. A moment later I walk up behind you and wrap my arms around yours pulling you tight. The large harvest moon reflects off the ocean waves lighting our way onto the beach. We both slip out of our shoes and stuff them into the large backpack I am carrying before taking each other's hand and walking onto the beach. We walk near the surf and listen to the crashing waves of the ocean as we saunter down the beach. Walking in silence we soak in the surroundings and connect through our growing desire until finally I stop you and pull you close to me. Dropping the bag from my hands I pull your mouth close to mine and kiss you deeply. Your body melts from my touch as you know deep down you have never wanted to give yourself to me more than you do right now.
Taking you by the hand I lead you up a small dune that overlooks the beach. Much to your amazement there is a canopy there with an oversized beach chair big enough for two people, a stack of drift wood and a small fire pit. I escort you to the beach chair before dropping the bag next to you and moving to the fire pit which is already stocked with paper and wood. In a minute a small fire is burning not really for warmth on this night, but more for light and creating a romantic mood. Your legs tingle at the idea of making love on this beach paradise.
Crawling over to you I kiss you again deeply, my hands holding your head firmly to mine, our passion growing sending chills up and down your back. I tell you that I want to give you a night you will never forget, you smile and say that I already have. Your hands move over my chest and slowly push my tux jacket off my shoulders. Releasing your head I lower my arms and let the jacket slide off. Tenderly you unbutton my shirt. Slowly working each button free with your trembling fingers we both watch your hands slowly working down to my cumber bund. I release the clasp for the cumber bund from the side as you untuck my shirt gently pulling it free of my pants. Your hands are warm on my chest as you push the shirt off my shoulders. Your lips kiss my chest as I undo my cuffs and toss my shirt aside.
I pull you to your feet as the fire's intensity grows and pull you into my bare chest. Your arms wrap around my back as you hold onto me tightly. We pull away only long enough to kiss as my hands roam over your back. Finding the zipper of your dress I slowly lower it. The warm night air blows over your lower back causing your fingers to clench on my flesh. I work my hands inside your dress and for the first time touch your soft skin. Pulling my head down you kiss me deeply as your dress slowly slides down your body, the soft silk tingling against you.
My hands now roam your soft skin from waist to back as your dress crumples around your feet; you pull me tightly to your body, not from being cold but from desire. The moistness between your legs grows as your nipples harden inside your bra. With one quick flick of my fingers the back clasp of your bra is open leaving the back hanging at your sides. Pulling away from me just enough the bra falls silently to the ground while you press your chest into mine. Feeling your warm flesh against my chest I kiss you deeply moaning quietly into your mouth.
Your hands travel slowly down my back and over my waist and to the front of my pants. Skillfully the clasp and zipper are undone by your fast moving fingers and soon my pants join your dress at our feet. Left in only our bottoms our bodies practically fuse together as we embrace. My hands slide up and down your back and over your bare bottom. Clutching you firmly in my hands I lift you off the ground in a giant bear hug and feel you wrap your legs around my body. Carefully stepping out of my pants I carry you, still in the full body hug, back down the dune. You ask where we are going and I tell you for a swim. In a few moments I am knee deep in water and slowly lower your feet to the wet sand. The water is warm against us and we hear the waves crashing off in the distance.
Walking hand in hand we slowly move into the water, taking tentative steps, which is the hallmark of our night. Finally in waist deep water we pause and embrace again the low waves passing around our tightly held bodies. We lower ourselves slowly so that you are positioned back in my lap, my legs supporting you underwater as your legs wrap around me. You reach up with both hands and let your long hair fall about your bare shoulders and float in the water. I lean back soaking my head allowing the warm water to wash over me. Soon after you do the same, your wet hair pulled back by the water.
The two of us float in the water intertwined kissing and touching each other pressing our bodies together becoming one in the warm surf. The heat of our bodies radiate to each other, me feeling yours as you feel mine. Finally we decide we need to move back to our beach camp. Walking out of the water still wrapped in each other's arms our bodies chill in the night air. As we near our small campsite we turn to each other and begin kissing again. My hands move down your body and I hook my thumbs inside your small pale pink thong, slowly gliding the wet material over your hips and down to your thighs. Leaning forward I kiss your bare shoulders and neck as I push your thong further down your legs.
Once again my arms wrap around you as I walk you backwards over to the oversized beach chair. On the beach chair are two large sleeping bags laid out on top of each other like oversized blankets. I have you sit on the edge of the chair while I put a couple more pieces of drift wood on the dying fire. Not wanting to leave you for long I quickly move back feeling your arms wrap around my waist and your head press against my abdomen. Your hands move inside the waistband of my boxers and slowly pull them downward. They easily fall to my feet before I move onto the beach chair next to you.
Our kissing and touching is soft and sweet like two virginal lovers learning each other's bodies for the first time. Slowly our legs intertwine as our mouths and hands move over each other's torso. My fingers glide over your breasts barely touching your sensitive skin. Your back arches as my mouth finds your breast. The touching becomes more intense as the fire slowly grows only feet away from our naked bodies. Feeling our needs are calling out for more you pull me between your legs and whisper in my ear. We kiss deeply as the head of my cock presses between your wetness.
You inhale deeply as my body fills yours; our lust growing with each long stroke. Wrapping your legs around my back I moan as your pussy clenches against me. Finally our kiss breaks as we are both breathing too quickly to continue. I bury my mouth in your neck licking and sucking your fragrant skin. Your legs move down my body but stay wrapped around me as your orgasm builds. I quicken my pace with my hips trusting my cock deep inside you, the feeling of every bump and vein more apparent with each stroke. All of your nerve endings seem even more sensitive than ever before as every touch is like a small shock to your body. My cock swells inside you as I press my body against yours gripping you tightly. As I cum the warm fluid fills you with warmth and desire as your body succumbs to your own orgasm.
Laying there, the two of us panting and satisfied, we kiss softly as we watch the fire slowly die. I move over next to you and pull one of the sleeping bags over our bodies as you move to put your head on my chest. Listening to my heart beating in your ear you drift off to sleep as I run my fingers through your still wet hair.
In a few hours you slowly wake from your comfortable sleep your head still on my chest our legs still wrapped together. Lifting your head slightly you see that I am also awake. Without a word we slowly move off the beach chair and head back to the water. Hand in hand, naked in the light of the low setting moon we enter the warm ocean up to our ankles. Pulling you too me I kiss you softly on the lips. As we kiss more you feel my cock growing against your abdomen and your nipples harden against my chest.
Slowly we lower ourselves into the surf kissing and touching until we lay next to each other completely wrapped into each other's bodies. The incoming waves wash over our bodies as we kiss in the surf. Ending up on top of you I feel you spreading your legs below me. Your hand moves down between our bodies as you guide me inside you one more time. The warmth of my cock is in stark contrast to the water that washes over us as I press deep inside you.
We kiss and grind into each other in the deepening surf; the water washing over our bodies as the tide slowly comes in. Our hips move toward each other in a slowly increasing pace. I feel your breasts moving against my chest with each thrust of my hips and hear your moans growing louder and louder. Rolling onto my back you straddle my hips and grind your body into mine. With each passing wave your intensity grows as the cooler water stimulates your clit. My hands move up to your bouncing breasts and start to fondle your nipples. As your hands dig into my chest your orgasm explodes against my cock which swells at your movements. Not able to hold back any longer spurts of hot cum fill your body as you arch your back against the ocean. Your body, highlighted in the soft moonlight, glistens with ocean surf. Finally you collapse onto my chest, slowly straightening your legs against mine.
After catching our breath for a few minutes we head out into slightly deeper water to wash the sand off our bodies. Eventually we end up playing in the surf like school children before retiring to our campsite. Handing you one of the sleeping bags your wrap it around your body as I relight the fire. With a couple more pieces of driftwood burning brightly I pull your body to mine. You open the sleeping bag with your arms and pull my body into your warmth. We kiss softly before sitting near the fire still wrapped together in the sleeping bag.
As the sun slowly rises on the horizon we look at our scattered clothing. Moving out of our huddled position against the dune I reach for the backpack. Opening it slowly I produce a bathing suit and coverall for you and a pair of swim trunks and a shirt for myself. I quickly stash our clothes from the pervious night back into the bag before returning to you in the sleeping bag. With our clothes for the day laying near us on the dune we spend the rest of the morning wrapped up naked together in our own private paradise.
Your Turn
I woke up alone. We'd only been together for a few months, but I found I could miss him rather quickly in the cold dark of night. He was becoming a writer, possessing a kind of violent brilliant that stunned me every time I read one of his pieces. Seeing him put such astonishing thoughts on paper seemed incredible, like some sort of magic. He worked at night, when the mood or the inspiration struck him, and he slipped from my bed to answer the urge to create magnificent things about dragons and sorcerers and elves. I usually lay in bed while he worked, listening to the quiet clicking of the keys as he wrote. Then I would welcome him back into my bed when the words had gone dry and he fell exhausted against the pillow.
But tonight I was restless, full of dark and brooding energy. I stepped from the bed and went to the window, looked out over the snarling city toward the smug, fattened moon. I folded my arms across my chest, enjoying the smooth satin of my short nightgown as it shifted against my cool skin, shivering a little as the lace at the edges of the low cut neck nipped at my arms and pressed against my breasts.
Tonight I missed him badly. We'd both been busy at our day jobs, hadn't really spent all that much time together in almost a week. I watched the traffic in the street under the window, wanting him badly, the channel between my thighs aching for him. I slid my hand slowly over the slick, creamy satin and cupped myself, pressed my palm against my vulva until I could feel the solidity of my pubic bone behind the soft flesh, feet the heat of my need burning me through the cloth. I cupped and squeezed my left breast with my other hand, pinched the hardened, tingling nipple and tugged at it as he liked to do. I bit my lip, beginning to breath hard, almost desperate for him now. To hell with his work, I wanted him, and badly.
I padded barefoot down the hall, and then paused for a moment inside the doorway to his office. He was a breathtaking sight, six feet of lean man hunched determinedly over a keyboard, his dark hair tousled and wearing only dark blue boxers and thin, silver rimmed glasses. I grinned to myself; seeing him in his glasses makes my mouth water, and he only wears them very seldom. I felt a quicksilver flash of mischief, a sudden urge to break his control and concentration, distract the hell out of him.
I stepped silently across the carpet at his back, but I needn't have bothered to be quiet. He never notices anything when he's working, even me. I approached his chair, a really oversized wooden one with a hard back, and then slipped into it behind him, pressing myself against his back. He jumped, turned his head to the side.
"What—" he started.
I covered his mouth with my hand and leaned forward, bringing my mouth to his ear. "Don't mind me, baby, just go ahead with what you were doing."
He frowned, and then grasped my wrist, pulled my hand down gently. "I'll be done in a few minutes," he said, and smiled at me. "Then I'll come to bed."
I returned his smile, wrapping my arms around his chest. "I'll wait."
He nodded absently, already thinking about his book again. I smiled, watching him turn back to the screen and begin to type. I waited a moment, pressed against his back, breathing slowly and deeply, feeling his own chest expand and contract inside my embrace. I tucked my chin over his shoulder, watching his fingers on the keys. Then I slowly slid my hands down to the waistband of his boxers.
His breath caught, then returned to normal, either suspecting nothing, or too preoccupied to care. I ran the tip of my tongue up the center of the back of his neck, and smiled as I felt him shiver slightly. I slipped my hands into the fold of his shorts, and idly stroked his rapidly hardening cock with my thumbs. I heard his fingers stop on the keys for just a moment before the soft clicking began again. I wrapped a single finger around him, just under the head, squeezed slightly, moving the circle slightly up and down, ever so slowly. He shuddered against me. I grinned to myself, and remained still again until I heard him begin to type once more.
I brought my hands together and trapped his quietly throbbing cock between the palms, then ran my hands slowly down his hard flesh…pulling back until my wrists were against his lean lower belly…then pushing forward, sliding the length of my hands along the smooth skin…dragging back again, cupping my hands around him and speeding up with every slide.
His head dropped back against my shoulder with a quiet moan. I laughed softly and kissed the side of his throat, then looked over his shoulder again to watch his body react to me. I tightened my hands and pushed forward, stretching his cock before dragging them back hard, flexing and rippling my fingers against his throbbing heat, speeding up and stroking him hard.
I rubbed my palms hard against him, swirling my fingers over and around the head, smearing the sweet bead of pre-come over his length, easing the friction of my hands as I cupped them tightly around him again. I began to stroke roughly, thrusting forward and back, pulling against him and lightly scoring his head with my nails every time I came to the end. I tightened my grip even further, increasing my strokes, pumping him hard and fast now, dragging and moving his smooth skin over the bone hard core, massaging his length violently, squeezing and pressing in waves with my strong fingers.
I dropped one hand to press and massage his tightened balls, letting my other hand wrap like a fist around his burning cock. I began to flick my wrist hard, pulling and shoving against him, whipping my hand along his throbbing wand.
He moaned loudly, his fingers curling over the keyboard as his hips bucked involuntarily forward, his cock twitching in my palm. I ran my tongue idly along the edge of his throat as he came, slowing the pace of my stroking hand with every slide down his cock, milking him dry, squeezing my fingers around him with every burst, massaging the hot fluid into his burning skin, pressing down against him. I slid my nails along the underside, teasing him in his pleasure, pressing sharply as I dragged the strength of my hand down his wand. I brought up my other hand then, as his shots began to lessen in force and he trembled against me, panting. I pressed them together again, slowing my pace considerably, mildly stroking him forward, massaging his cock tenderly now, and feeling his final twitches between my palms.
I relaxed my hands, just holding him now, my face pressed against his shoulder, listening to him breathe. After a few moments, I released him and moved from the chair, leaving him looking up at me with dark eyes behind his thin glasses. I smiled and turned, then made my way back down the hall to our bedroom. I went back to the window, waiting with my arms folded.
The slightest moment later, I felt his arms come around me, his mouth moving purposefully up the side of my throat. His hands slid firmly up my thighs, dragging the short gown with them. He nibbled the edge of my ear lightly, then murmured, sending a shiver down my spine.
But tonight I was restless, full of dark and brooding energy. I stepped from the bed and went to the window, looked out over the snarling city toward the smug, fattened moon. I folded my arms across my chest, enjoying the smooth satin of my short nightgown as it shifted against my cool skin, shivering a little as the lace at the edges of the low cut neck nipped at my arms and pressed against my breasts.
Tonight I missed him badly. We'd both been busy at our day jobs, hadn't really spent all that much time together in almost a week. I watched the traffic in the street under the window, wanting him badly, the channel between my thighs aching for him. I slid my hand slowly over the slick, creamy satin and cupped myself, pressed my palm against my vulva until I could feel the solidity of my pubic bone behind the soft flesh, feet the heat of my need burning me through the cloth. I cupped and squeezed my left breast with my other hand, pinched the hardened, tingling nipple and tugged at it as he liked to do. I bit my lip, beginning to breath hard, almost desperate for him now. To hell with his work, I wanted him, and badly.
I padded barefoot down the hall, and then paused for a moment inside the doorway to his office. He was a breathtaking sight, six feet of lean man hunched determinedly over a keyboard, his dark hair tousled and wearing only dark blue boxers and thin, silver rimmed glasses. I grinned to myself; seeing him in his glasses makes my mouth water, and he only wears them very seldom. I felt a quicksilver flash of mischief, a sudden urge to break his control and concentration, distract the hell out of him.
I stepped silently across the carpet at his back, but I needn't have bothered to be quiet. He never notices anything when he's working, even me. I approached his chair, a really oversized wooden one with a hard back, and then slipped into it behind him, pressing myself against his back. He jumped, turned his head to the side.
"What—" he started.
I covered his mouth with my hand and leaned forward, bringing my mouth to his ear. "Don't mind me, baby, just go ahead with what you were doing."
He frowned, and then grasped my wrist, pulled my hand down gently. "I'll be done in a few minutes," he said, and smiled at me. "Then I'll come to bed."
I returned his smile, wrapping my arms around his chest. "I'll wait."
He nodded absently, already thinking about his book again. I smiled, watching him turn back to the screen and begin to type. I waited a moment, pressed against his back, breathing slowly and deeply, feeling his own chest expand and contract inside my embrace. I tucked my chin over his shoulder, watching his fingers on the keys. Then I slowly slid my hands down to the waistband of his boxers.
His breath caught, then returned to normal, either suspecting nothing, or too preoccupied to care. I ran the tip of my tongue up the center of the back of his neck, and smiled as I felt him shiver slightly. I slipped my hands into the fold of his shorts, and idly stroked his rapidly hardening cock with my thumbs. I heard his fingers stop on the keys for just a moment before the soft clicking began again. I wrapped a single finger around him, just under the head, squeezed slightly, moving the circle slightly up and down, ever so slowly. He shuddered against me. I grinned to myself, and remained still again until I heard him begin to type once more.
I brought my hands together and trapped his quietly throbbing cock between the palms, then ran my hands slowly down his hard flesh…pulling back until my wrists were against his lean lower belly…then pushing forward, sliding the length of my hands along the smooth skin…dragging back again, cupping my hands around him and speeding up with every slide.
His head dropped back against my shoulder with a quiet moan. I laughed softly and kissed the side of his throat, then looked over his shoulder again to watch his body react to me. I tightened my hands and pushed forward, stretching his cock before dragging them back hard, flexing and rippling my fingers against his throbbing heat, speeding up and stroking him hard.
I rubbed my palms hard against him, swirling my fingers over and around the head, smearing the sweet bead of pre-come over his length, easing the friction of my hands as I cupped them tightly around him again. I began to stroke roughly, thrusting forward and back, pulling against him and lightly scoring his head with my nails every time I came to the end. I tightened my grip even further, increasing my strokes, pumping him hard and fast now, dragging and moving his smooth skin over the bone hard core, massaging his length violently, squeezing and pressing in waves with my strong fingers.
I dropped one hand to press and massage his tightened balls, letting my other hand wrap like a fist around his burning cock. I began to flick my wrist hard, pulling and shoving against him, whipping my hand along his throbbing wand.
He moaned loudly, his fingers curling over the keyboard as his hips bucked involuntarily forward, his cock twitching in my palm. I ran my tongue idly along the edge of his throat as he came, slowing the pace of my stroking hand with every slide down his cock, milking him dry, squeezing my fingers around him with every burst, massaging the hot fluid into his burning skin, pressing down against him. I slid my nails along the underside, teasing him in his pleasure, pressing sharply as I dragged the strength of my hand down his wand. I brought up my other hand then, as his shots began to lessen in force and he trembled against me, panting. I pressed them together again, slowing my pace considerably, mildly stroking him forward, massaging his cock tenderly now, and feeling his final twitches between my palms.
I relaxed my hands, just holding him now, my face pressed against his shoulder, listening to him breathe. After a few moments, I released him and moved from the chair, leaving him looking up at me with dark eyes behind his thin glasses. I smiled and turned, then made my way back down the hall to our bedroom. I went back to the window, waiting with my arms folded.
The slightest moment later, I felt his arms come around me, his mouth moving purposefully up the side of my throat. His hands slid firmly up my thighs, dragging the short gown with them. He nibbled the edge of my ear lightly, then murmured, sending a shiver down my spine.
Yuletide Possession
Ellyn loved Christmas time; it was her favorite time of the year. She loved the colorful lights adorning the department store windows, the yuletide decorations, the dangling tinsel hanging from the ceilings, and the carol music, which continuously resounded throughout every store she entered as she shopped for that perfect gift for each of her loved ones.
Although she was now eighteen years of age, Ellyn was still very much a child at heart. She would stand for ages, watching with fascination and delight the animated pantomime dolls in the windows portraying different Christmas adventures.
She especially loved watching the McCallum's Department Store's new Santa. He was not the jolly fat Santa that was the traditional Santa of days gone by. This Santa was of medium build with sapphire blue eyes and a wily smile, which hinted certain naughtiness in the man. The town's children constantly surrounded him as he sat in his large chair despite his nonconformity with other traditional Santa's.
Ellen was successful at landing a job within the McCallum Department store as one of Santa's little helpers. She was small in stature, standing only 5 foot 3 inches and was slim with firm full breasts, which bounced ever so slightly whenever she walked. She also had fair skin and long dark hair with ringlets that fell down her back, making her appear like an oversized 18th Century china doll.
Her sex appeal was not lost on the other males working within the store either, and the short red velveteen skirts with tight fitting blouses made her and the other nymphs' fair game. Ellen noticed the overt licentious looks and heard the lewd remarks made from time to time by the men who sought her attention, but she just took them in stride.
One of the first men to noticed Ellyn was Aden. At 30, Aden had amassed a small fortune creating software for online businesses. He was also the grandson of David McCallum, the owner of the store that employed Ellyn. Having a bit of time on his hands and thinking he might have a chance to bed this delectable creature, he took the job of Santa. She reminded him of a life-size doll. In his estimation, she was just the right height and size for the position.
Ellyn was acutely aware of his masculine qualities whenever she worked alongside him. She was also acutely aware that she was not the only nymph to find him attractive.
She observed Angelica frequently planting her tight little arse on his lap and cuddling into his chest. He would either laugh at her playfulness and tickle her or if not in the mood, tell her "to get off me... we have work to do."
Ellyn would inwardly sigh, desperately wanting the attention from him that Angelica received, but at the same time, she did not want the name, which automatically came with such behavior.
Ellyn would unknowingly drive Aden wild by her untapped sensuality and femininity.
Her short skirt would drive him to distraction as her legs were long and shapely, and the occasional glimpse of her bare thighs would stir his blood to a near boiling point.
He took what Angelina offered him but his desire was for Ellyn alone.
Christmas Eve came round quickly and as McCallum's doors closed at six pm; Aden felt a touch of sadness, even regret that tomorrow was Christmas Day.
He watched Ellyn, the only nymph still on duty with him, packing up the last of the complimentary toys Santa had handed out to the visiting children and place them the large cardboard box in front of her.
She stood and turned to face him. "All finished," she stated quietly.
The look on her face as she gazed at him told him what her lips could not. In her eyes, he saw the need, the desire... even a touch of love. She turned away from him as raw emotion overtook her.
Aden walked up behind her and slipped his arms around her waist pulling her back against the hardness of his body. Ellyn knew she should move away but she remained where she was. She could feel the ridge of his engorged rod pressing insistently against the small of her back offering her unmistakable evidence of his attraction to her.
Ellyn gasped as his broad hands cupped her bountiful breasts, his squeezing of her soft, pliable nipples through her crisp white cotton blouse was making her moan.
Her stomach fluttered at the contact and she felt a strange, alien ache begin to build between her legs, making her instinctively clamp her knees together in an attempt to halt it. The intervention was unsuccessful.
She twisted in his arms fighting the impulses, which threatened to override her senses.
"Stay still," he beseeched her in a voice dripping with barely-bridled masculine passion and authority.
Ellyn was not sure she could remain motionless but she tried, as she did not really want to break their contact.
She desperately wanted to turn around to be face-to-face with him so that her bosom would be touching his.
She wanted to feel his mouth on hers; experience a kiss like those she had seen on TV. A kiss that would be sweet and tender but also deliver a rush of pure unadulterated lust from him: hot, hard, and demanding.
The ache between her legs was now becoming unbearable. She felt like there was a live current going from her nipples to her clit making her body ache in rhythmic throbs.
The pleasure she was experiencing as he twisted and pulled her nipples was electrifying. Some ancient female instinct within her told her to press her body backwards against his erection and rub her backbone back and forth.
Ellyn heard his quick intake of breath and felt the sudden thrust of his hips.
Aden instantly rewarded her by brushing his lips softly along the side of her neck. Her reaction was swift and immediate. She felt goose bumps crawl all over her breasts, neck, and upper arms. Aden felt her shivering and it turned him on in a way he had not expected. He continued to rub her nipples between his thumb and forefinger.
The sensation of feeling her tiny buds hardening beneath his thumbs made him desirous of a more animalistic, oral contact with her. He pulled on the edges of her blouse and rent hard, causing the tiny white buttons to fly off in all directions.
Ellyn looked from her torn blouse to the white buttons now at her feet and in a state of semi-shock, she watched as his hands undid her bra pulling apart the wispy purple lace and exposing her upper body to the caresses of the cold night air.
He finally turned her to face him. He bent his head and agonizingly kissed her right cheek and neck just below her ear, using a feathery touch: his hot breath teasing the side of her face in equal proportion to the snail-like travel of his kiss.
She felt her knees weaken and heard herself gasp with pure pleasure.
Aden pulled the purple lace from her body, slid his hand beneath her right breast, and bent his head taking the salty flavored peak into his mouth.
Her body bowed slightly into his reveling at the sensual contact between them. She could feel his unyielding cock pressing against her lower belly.
He flicked his tongue over the invitingly rigid nipple and felt her upper body wreath against him while quivering as her knees finally gave way beneath her.
Ellyn had no choice but to grab hold of his shoulders for support, but this action only drew his mouth closer. "Oh God," she moaned as she felt Aden draw hard and bite down pulling on her engorged nipple. Her pussy was in agony. She needed him to touch her center-of-being to end the overwhelming throbbing that was deep within her feminine parts; that he had created.
Aden, sensing her need, ran his hand beneath the back of her short, red-velvet skirt and onto her panty-clad arse. He then dipped his hand beneath the elastic and felt the smooth bare skin of her right buttock. Encouraged by her solicitous moaning and the forward thrusting of her hips, his hand began to trail down her crack to her perineum, stroking that section of skin only millimeters from her tiny puckered hole. Even from that angle, he could feel her arousal: the slipperiness of her juices, which coated his enquiring fingers. She was more than ready for him.
Ellyn continued to cling to him tightly, her breathing now coming out of her lungs in rapid gasps. Her mind was crying out "Fuck me...Oh God...do it now...please."
Aden, acutely aware of her need for deliverance, knelt before her, slid one hand around to the front of her body, and with his other hand raised the hem of her skirt and pulling her red virginal-style cotton briefs to her feet. He stared at Ellyn standing there before him. He drank in the sight of her: her eyes closed, her large breasts and well-sucked and slightly reddened nipples tear dropping from her upper torso, her breath rapid and uneven, and the legs well apart with her briefs around her ankles.
His cock jumped in anticipation as his hand slid between her gel-lined, moist, inner thighs. He slid two fingers the length of her slit and back again several times reveling in seeing her face contort with undeniable ecstasy.
He could tell her ability to stand was waning fast so he backed her into the Santa's Chair and she fell back with her soft interior thighs apart and her skirt around her waist.
He dropped to his knees and inhaled her strong sweet aroma, then flicked his protruding tongue to taste the juices oozing from her pussy.
Aden flicked her tense little clit with his tongue repeatedly and drove Ellyn to lift up her hips and clench his hair so that he could not pull away.
She placed her own hands on her lower lips and pulled them apart in an effort to tell him using body language what her brain could no longer relay via her mouth.
The message held no mystery for Aden. He yanked her to her feet and rapidly turned her so she was facing the back of the chair. He pushed her forward and spread her legs widely, then plunged into her snug sheath from behind; burying himself in her until he felt his balls literally hit her arse.
Ellyn gloried at the feel of him within her. He filled her so completely and absolutely. Each thrust of his cock brought her closer to the edge and she reveled in his length, strength, and purpose.
He continued to move within her and the feel of her tightening sheath against the sensitivity of his cock was driving him crazy. Aden gritted his teeth as he felt the familiar burning sensation of his hot throbbing penis ready to explode. The more he pumped into her hot pulsating love tunnel, the more intense the sensation became. He placed a hand on one of her now dangling breasts and squeezed the plump spongy flesh. He began to pull at her nipple roughly and this tipped her over the edge.
Her orgasm exploded within her. "Oh god... harder... don't stop... please... god... pull on me... that's it... ah..."
Some part of him heard her words, as he pulled hard on that nipple. In that final second before orgasm, he felt her love-vise milk his penis with rhythmic speed as he pulled at her. The sensation drove him to pull her nipples harder; this in turn made her pussy grasp his cock with a stronger force. Aden felt the shockwaves of her orgasm tidal-wave ripples of pleasure over his staff, making him tense and thrust forward one last time before releasing his load into her.
Totally spent, both Ellyn and Aden lay across the back of Santa's big chair. Aden still held his hands tightly to Ellyn's hips just below her raised skirt and his head rested sleepily on her shoulder blades.
Ellen suddenly began to back away from the chair making Aden step back lest he lose his balance. Ellen pushed her skirt down and gave Aden a shy smile. Aden grinned at her, reached for her bra and blouse, and handed them to her.
As she dressed, Aden looked out the window and witnessing the falling snowflakes, called her over to the window. He put his arm around her and affectionately whispered, "Merry Christmas, Ellyn."
Ellyn placed her head on his shoulder and sighed.
"Yes. This Christmas," she thought to herself, "would indeed be a merry one."
Although she was now eighteen years of age, Ellyn was still very much a child at heart. She would stand for ages, watching with fascination and delight the animated pantomime dolls in the windows portraying different Christmas adventures.
She especially loved watching the McCallum's Department Store's new Santa. He was not the jolly fat Santa that was the traditional Santa of days gone by. This Santa was of medium build with sapphire blue eyes and a wily smile, which hinted certain naughtiness in the man. The town's children constantly surrounded him as he sat in his large chair despite his nonconformity with other traditional Santa's.
Ellen was successful at landing a job within the McCallum Department store as one of Santa's little helpers. She was small in stature, standing only 5 foot 3 inches and was slim with firm full breasts, which bounced ever so slightly whenever she walked. She also had fair skin and long dark hair with ringlets that fell down her back, making her appear like an oversized 18th Century china doll.
Her sex appeal was not lost on the other males working within the store either, and the short red velveteen skirts with tight fitting blouses made her and the other nymphs' fair game. Ellen noticed the overt licentious looks and heard the lewd remarks made from time to time by the men who sought her attention, but she just took them in stride.
One of the first men to noticed Ellyn was Aden. At 30, Aden had amassed a small fortune creating software for online businesses. He was also the grandson of David McCallum, the owner of the store that employed Ellyn. Having a bit of time on his hands and thinking he might have a chance to bed this delectable creature, he took the job of Santa. She reminded him of a life-size doll. In his estimation, she was just the right height and size for the position.
Ellyn was acutely aware of his masculine qualities whenever she worked alongside him. She was also acutely aware that she was not the only nymph to find him attractive.
She observed Angelica frequently planting her tight little arse on his lap and cuddling into his chest. He would either laugh at her playfulness and tickle her or if not in the mood, tell her "to get off me... we have work to do."
Ellyn would inwardly sigh, desperately wanting the attention from him that Angelica received, but at the same time, she did not want the name, which automatically came with such behavior.
Ellyn would unknowingly drive Aden wild by her untapped sensuality and femininity.
Her short skirt would drive him to distraction as her legs were long and shapely, and the occasional glimpse of her bare thighs would stir his blood to a near boiling point.
He took what Angelina offered him but his desire was for Ellyn alone.
Christmas Eve came round quickly and as McCallum's doors closed at six pm; Aden felt a touch of sadness, even regret that tomorrow was Christmas Day.
He watched Ellyn, the only nymph still on duty with him, packing up the last of the complimentary toys Santa had handed out to the visiting children and place them the large cardboard box in front of her.
She stood and turned to face him. "All finished," she stated quietly.
The look on her face as she gazed at him told him what her lips could not. In her eyes, he saw the need, the desire... even a touch of love. She turned away from him as raw emotion overtook her.
Aden walked up behind her and slipped his arms around her waist pulling her back against the hardness of his body. Ellyn knew she should move away but she remained where she was. She could feel the ridge of his engorged rod pressing insistently against the small of her back offering her unmistakable evidence of his attraction to her.
Ellyn gasped as his broad hands cupped her bountiful breasts, his squeezing of her soft, pliable nipples through her crisp white cotton blouse was making her moan.
Her stomach fluttered at the contact and she felt a strange, alien ache begin to build between her legs, making her instinctively clamp her knees together in an attempt to halt it. The intervention was unsuccessful.
She twisted in his arms fighting the impulses, which threatened to override her senses.
"Stay still," he beseeched her in a voice dripping with barely-bridled masculine passion and authority.
Ellyn was not sure she could remain motionless but she tried, as she did not really want to break their contact.
She desperately wanted to turn around to be face-to-face with him so that her bosom would be touching his.
She wanted to feel his mouth on hers; experience a kiss like those she had seen on TV. A kiss that would be sweet and tender but also deliver a rush of pure unadulterated lust from him: hot, hard, and demanding.
The ache between her legs was now becoming unbearable. She felt like there was a live current going from her nipples to her clit making her body ache in rhythmic throbs.
The pleasure she was experiencing as he twisted and pulled her nipples was electrifying. Some ancient female instinct within her told her to press her body backwards against his erection and rub her backbone back and forth.
Ellyn heard his quick intake of breath and felt the sudden thrust of his hips.
Aden instantly rewarded her by brushing his lips softly along the side of her neck. Her reaction was swift and immediate. She felt goose bumps crawl all over her breasts, neck, and upper arms. Aden felt her shivering and it turned him on in a way he had not expected. He continued to rub her nipples between his thumb and forefinger.
The sensation of feeling her tiny buds hardening beneath his thumbs made him desirous of a more animalistic, oral contact with her. He pulled on the edges of her blouse and rent hard, causing the tiny white buttons to fly off in all directions.
Ellyn looked from her torn blouse to the white buttons now at her feet and in a state of semi-shock, she watched as his hands undid her bra pulling apart the wispy purple lace and exposing her upper body to the caresses of the cold night air.
He finally turned her to face him. He bent his head and agonizingly kissed her right cheek and neck just below her ear, using a feathery touch: his hot breath teasing the side of her face in equal proportion to the snail-like travel of his kiss.
She felt her knees weaken and heard herself gasp with pure pleasure.
Aden pulled the purple lace from her body, slid his hand beneath her right breast, and bent his head taking the salty flavored peak into his mouth.
Her body bowed slightly into his reveling at the sensual contact between them. She could feel his unyielding cock pressing against her lower belly.
He flicked his tongue over the invitingly rigid nipple and felt her upper body wreath against him while quivering as her knees finally gave way beneath her.
Ellyn had no choice but to grab hold of his shoulders for support, but this action only drew his mouth closer. "Oh God," she moaned as she felt Aden draw hard and bite down pulling on her engorged nipple. Her pussy was in agony. She needed him to touch her center-of-being to end the overwhelming throbbing that was deep within her feminine parts; that he had created.
Aden, sensing her need, ran his hand beneath the back of her short, red-velvet skirt and onto her panty-clad arse. He then dipped his hand beneath the elastic and felt the smooth bare skin of her right buttock. Encouraged by her solicitous moaning and the forward thrusting of her hips, his hand began to trail down her crack to her perineum, stroking that section of skin only millimeters from her tiny puckered hole. Even from that angle, he could feel her arousal: the slipperiness of her juices, which coated his enquiring fingers. She was more than ready for him.
Ellyn continued to cling to him tightly, her breathing now coming out of her lungs in rapid gasps. Her mind was crying out "Fuck me...Oh God...do it now...please."
Aden, acutely aware of her need for deliverance, knelt before her, slid one hand around to the front of her body, and with his other hand raised the hem of her skirt and pulling her red virginal-style cotton briefs to her feet. He stared at Ellyn standing there before him. He drank in the sight of her: her eyes closed, her large breasts and well-sucked and slightly reddened nipples tear dropping from her upper torso, her breath rapid and uneven, and the legs well apart with her briefs around her ankles.
His cock jumped in anticipation as his hand slid between her gel-lined, moist, inner thighs. He slid two fingers the length of her slit and back again several times reveling in seeing her face contort with undeniable ecstasy.
He could tell her ability to stand was waning fast so he backed her into the Santa's Chair and she fell back with her soft interior thighs apart and her skirt around her waist.
He dropped to his knees and inhaled her strong sweet aroma, then flicked his protruding tongue to taste the juices oozing from her pussy.
Aden flicked her tense little clit with his tongue repeatedly and drove Ellyn to lift up her hips and clench his hair so that he could not pull away.
She placed her own hands on her lower lips and pulled them apart in an effort to tell him using body language what her brain could no longer relay via her mouth.
The message held no mystery for Aden. He yanked her to her feet and rapidly turned her so she was facing the back of the chair. He pushed her forward and spread her legs widely, then plunged into her snug sheath from behind; burying himself in her until he felt his balls literally hit her arse.
Ellyn gloried at the feel of him within her. He filled her so completely and absolutely. Each thrust of his cock brought her closer to the edge and she reveled in his length, strength, and purpose.
He continued to move within her and the feel of her tightening sheath against the sensitivity of his cock was driving him crazy. Aden gritted his teeth as he felt the familiar burning sensation of his hot throbbing penis ready to explode. The more he pumped into her hot pulsating love tunnel, the more intense the sensation became. He placed a hand on one of her now dangling breasts and squeezed the plump spongy flesh. He began to pull at her nipple roughly and this tipped her over the edge.
Her orgasm exploded within her. "Oh god... harder... don't stop... please... god... pull on me... that's it... ah..."
Some part of him heard her words, as he pulled hard on that nipple. In that final second before orgasm, he felt her love-vise milk his penis with rhythmic speed as he pulled at her. The sensation drove him to pull her nipples harder; this in turn made her pussy grasp his cock with a stronger force. Aden felt the shockwaves of her orgasm tidal-wave ripples of pleasure over his staff, making him tense and thrust forward one last time before releasing his load into her.
Totally spent, both Ellyn and Aden lay across the back of Santa's big chair. Aden still held his hands tightly to Ellyn's hips just below her raised skirt and his head rested sleepily on her shoulder blades.
Ellen suddenly began to back away from the chair making Aden step back lest he lose his balance. Ellen pushed her skirt down and gave Aden a shy smile. Aden grinned at her, reached for her bra and blouse, and handed them to her.
As she dressed, Aden looked out the window and witnessing the falling snowflakes, called her over to the window. He put his arm around her and affectionately whispered, "Merry Christmas, Ellyn."
Ellyn placed her head on his shoulder and sighed.
"Yes. This Christmas," she thought to herself, "would indeed be a merry one."
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
