Exhilarating, petrifying? Confusing, that is it, the word that describes the very muddled state in which I have found myself in recently. This week has been earth shattering, testing me on levels that I thought were forbidden and safe. Questioning events, time, my own identity, my wants in life and my needs. Finding myself thankful for the beauty in my life, for those that are my constant reminders of why I smile each day, and yet, finding myself daydreaming and unsure.

I turned thirty. That in itself was both reveling and heart wrenching. I never thought I would be thirty for some odd reason, I thought I would be in my twenties forever, that I would have an eternity to be young. Not that I am old, exactly, just feeling my youth, the naivety and trust that everything will always right itself, and everything will be okay slipping through my fingers, too much reality, too much pain, too much wisdom in years lived to hold on to notions so fleeting.

I was melancholy, trying to smile despite the fact I felt my mortality like the slow slice of the reapers blade on my cheek. But in my little pool of self pity, Everyone stepped up to remind me that I was still alive, full of energy and love, of passion. Reminding me of the simplest yet most precious blessings I have. My family, my friends. I celebrated Friday, Saturday and Sunday. With a desk decorated in over the hill and a flower bra and set of bright purple fairy wings that I had always wanted. I was taken out to lunch, made dinner, got roses and turtles and cards and kisses. Was reminded that I was blessed for my new friends and old, the ones I had reunited with and the family that treated me far better than I deserve.

Still I pondered over my life, what I wanted in the next ten years, and found much to my amusement I didn’t have the slightest idea. I am more just content to follow the current, yet sometimes I feel the keen need to make a map, to plot a destination for these meanderings. But you have to have an idea of where you want to go, and all I know is that survival and laughter are paramount, nothing else so much matters.

Monday it was back to routine, back to pretending that I wasn’t confused, or absolutely positive my life wasn’t where I wanted it to be. Back to wondering where my next distraction would come. Oddly enough, I found it in a text. Our encounter had been planned for weeks, and yet, it was not in the fore front of my mind as he was forbidden. He is long distance, and usually busy, so not even a top distraction. So of course I have kept him at arm’s length, only learning what I had to so that I might fulfill his fantasy.

He had mailed me off of my website asking me for something that I found both fascinating and odd. Honestly, I didn’t think it would ever work. I am so ridiculously submissive, feeding on someone else’s power, on the energy of pleasing them. Yet he needed dominance, he needed something more than my subtle seduction and allowance of desire could give. Despite my reservations , he is to be deployed again soon, and it was so simple, his fantasy, his desire. And as he explained, mail after mail, he was never crude, never derogatory or demanding; just sincere in his request.

I was to trample him. To stomp and crush and grind. To make him beg me to stop as I destroyed his will, his belongings, his unblemished skin. The thought filled me with fear. How could I do that to someone? How could I injure him, much less, what if I injured him too much? What if I broke something? He was excited at the prospect. I was terrified I was the next Dateline NBC story. When fetish goes too far, Kitzy Bombshell live from her cell tells how it was all just an accident….

But he was driving through, and this was a once in a life time thing. Why live life afraid of three squares a day and free cable? So I said yes. Honestly not even sure if I could get the angst together to even pretend to injure him, much less give him the beating he so craved. But I would do my best to fulfill his desire. My submissive need to please so strong that I knew I could dominate him, just not how far I could go.
His text was sweet, making sure I knew he was still coming, making sure I was still interested. Buttering me up with tales of how beautiful I was and how he couldn’t wait to be dominated by someone so lovely. Which was honestly, sweet, yet strange to me. Tuesday was the day we would meet. He would rent a motel, I would go play for an hour then leave, no sex, no money, but yes I could feel a thousand voices screaming whore in my ear. I didn’t rightly care. The good thing with age comes the realization that no one lives your life for you.

Nervousness filled me so bad I couldn’t concentrate at work, texting him off and on to see where he was. Maybe he would back out, maybe a force of nature would prevent this if it wasn’t meant to be. Yet time inched forward, and I looked up from one of my customers to see him walk through the door. He carried himself with an odd mixture of confidence and peace. There was no aggression in his stance or movements. He was tall, taller even than me, and not rail thin, but more, sinewy, built slender yet firm. His smile is devilish, handsome, mischievous, suggesting. He hypnotized me, would have been my plea. His voice low and calm, even as he sat with one leg nervously jumping as I spoke to him while finishing up a loan.

It is a miracle what small talk does to frazzled nerves. Ironically enough the day I can usually depend on to be slow had people pouring into my store. So eventually he just hugged me and said he would meet me at the hotel, giving me the information. The meeting had me more confused than before not helping my resolve to cause him pain. In fact, I was more than ever frightened that I would not be able to cause him any harm. He was so sweet. How was I going to crush him beneath me?

He told me we would begin playing by me crushing everything that he had brought for me. He had set out some cups to get me started. I felt, silly, reserved, and unsure. Nevertheless I crushed them as I approached the room, knocking on the door. When he opened the door, I kept thinking I wish he had been ugly. Looking at his full lips, salt and pepper hair and gentle warm eyes, I found myself wondering how the night would end.

As we stepped inside I felt the urge to play hopscotch from cup to cup to cup, and I did, smashing each one. I looked at him, for signs that it affected him. He asked me how I felt, how it made me feel to crush them, and he grabbed a beer from the fridge and we sat to talk to discuss his desires. I learned little things about him about the many times he had played before, about the way things worked. Then we spoke about just simple stuff, get to know you things that allow you settle down in a comfortable rhythm with the person beside you.

As I finished my drink, I laid it on the carpet and crushed it underneath my bare feet. He lay down and handed me his can and I did the same. I liked watching him, his face a mirror to the excitement he felt as the aluminum cans bent and flattened underneath me. I decided now would be the time that I went to change. Discovering the bathroom had even more cups and small metal cans. I stomped them loudly, loving the way they sounded, hoping he could hear them as I pulled off the simple business attire I wore.

Pulling on my short white skirt, and bright green panties and shirt, I pulled my hair down from its bun at the nape of my neck and took off my glasses, completing the transformation from my business life to Kitzy. I pranced in and he smiled saying I was beautiful. At that moment I thought of seducing him in the normal way I would a man, straddling his body as he sat on the couch, talking low and sweet as my breasts heaved in his face, and the weight of my body pressed into his groin. I knew that wouldn’t work though. That I should quit being so distracted and as he laid down on the floor belly touching the carpet, and placed a cup in front of him.

I stomped it as I casually walked by. Then another and another. As I walked by I watched him, his body tense with desire, and I grew more confident, more powerful. Each thing I crushed and grinded, sometimes getting his fingers, his hands, sometimes missing them on purpose. Growing more and more excited as I saw his hips grind into the floor, needing contact. I craved the sounds, and the looks of his pleasure, the POP or CRUNCH something would give as I destroyed it. I tore his favorite hat with my bare feet, his remote control, I shattered and as the pieces flew everywhere I knew it was time to step on him, to give him what he needed for release.

Straddling his body, looking at his face, feeling a hundred feet tall as I hovered over the top of him with my five foot eleven frame, I stomped. Hard. Fast. I watched, looking for signs of regret, signs of wanting to stop this, but he didn’t, his body screamed arousal, so I stomped again. Focusing on his chest, blow after blow, then his stomach, switching from side to side, stomping as hard as I could. Each painful strike making him red faced, curled trying to hide the sensitive region that I was assaulting yet unraveling for the next wave instinctually.

The groans coming from his body were both pleasure and pain. My heart beat quickened, my nipples hardened, and as I pushed him further and further I was so completely aroused I was stunned. It had to be the sounds he was making, the need he felt. I wanted to pull his hands from his pants, I had noticed him slowly rubbing the head as I punished him, and I did with my feet, pinning them underneath me, grinding them into the carpet. Then back again to stomping him, red faced and moaning. Panting from exersion I stopped when he had come. I felt, powerful, in a way that I couldn’t begin to understand or control. I felt need, I wanted more.

We stopped, letting him catch his breath, letting me cool down, trying to control all the runaway thoughts in my head. This was crazy! I looked at the mess on the floor, look at him. I was torturing him. Causing him so much pain. I was insane! Why did I like it so much? I mean, not once did it cross my mind that there was something wrong with Noah for liking this, but I felt like I was a monster, some sort of deviant for liking his discomfort. I could feel the throbbing between my legs louder than my own heart beat, so desperate, to be filled now, to have release. But that is not what I was here for, and my denial somehow my only salvation as we casually talked as if I wasn’t thinking of pushing him onto the bed and simply taking what I wanted, his release nothing to me now.
Again such casual conversation, as if that blink was a day dream or nightmare, and this was reality, we had never moved from this couch, from this languid flow of conversation. My body slowly calmed down, my heart returning to normal. We sat and I heard of his life back home, and I spoke casually of my family and friends, yet vaguely as I often do.

Then we decided to go again. It was even more intense. Starting out the same, with cups and smaller things then as I smashed his ipod into the tile of the jaccuzi, breaking the tile in the process I felt a rush, stomping harder and harder, grinding it, demanding it to break underneath me as he watched, his hips softly gyrating. Then a cassette case that was in shards within moments, even a few shards sliding into the tender skin of my feet.

Then it was just time for him again, and began to rain blow after blow onto his shoulders and chest and stomach. I stood on him, all of my weight baring down, I could see him looking under my skirt, and I pulled it a little higher, moving one foot to his erection and moved my foot along it, stepping on it and his hands, then back to blows on his stomach and chest. Punishing him.

I wanted to moan as he did, so aroused with each passionate groan of misery and desire he felt. Then turning, staring at his hands trying to pleasure himself through his clothes, I let both feet nestle into his stomache. No ribs for safety, nothing to stop the constant pressure of my weight on him. His moans a mixture of pleasure and pain, and all I could think is that I wished I could see his orgasm, feel his seed warm on my feet as pleasure overtook him. He tapped my foot, and for a moment I thought I would be vindictive and stay. But I got off and turned around to look at him, still straddling his body, squatting just above his body, and staring at him. I smiled triumphantly, feeding on the power of his release to keep me from rubbing my clit against his diminishing hardness for satisfaction.

I extended a hand to pick him up. And he collapsed on the couch. I sat beside him, ribbing him a little and making sure he knew the satisfaction I felt from making him tap out, even if it was just because he had orgasmed. And the power in making him come and never touching his cock with my hands or mouth or body, it was intense, drugging. He wasn’t a complete submissive, and I wasn’t dominant enough to just say, by the way, in compensation I expect you to bring me to orgasm now. So again we sat, watching you tube on his computer and laughing about being on a boat. I was comfortable in his company, laughing and talking and being fascinated at the life he had lived and the things he had seen.

I began to yawn, and decided to get ready to go, not wanting to over extend my welcome. I changed, pulling my hair back up, putting my glasses back on, and felt myself reverting back into the very proper lady that I was supposed to be. I tried helping him clean up, much to his dismay, telling me that I didn’t have to do so. It was relaxing to me, to help him do something so ordinary. To feel, normal. He walked me to my car, and we hugged by again. As I got in, I drove away more confused and uncertain, yet feeling, confident, powerful, and more in control than I had in ages.

I feel odd now though, even writing this. Wishing I would have fucked him and it would have been horrible so I wouldn’t crave another encounter. Yet, I doubt it would have been, it would have been amazing, it would have been powerful and consuming. I would still be sitting here wondering when the next time I could see him again, and if there ever would be. And this is where the confusion sets in.

I want to talk to him, to ask questions, to do it again. In my foolish head I feel a bond, a connection, that sex would never fill. This isn’t my first rodeo, I never get attached to one night stands, I never crave them, never think about them in the middle of the day and shiver. I don’t know why. I just don’t instantly need. I am more level headed than that. More reserved. More simple in my division of love and lust.

I don’t understand why it felt so good to me, or I want to talk to him so much. I have turned down three people this week until I could figure this out. I don’t crave sex, I am not even sure I crave another chance to feel someone moaning under my feet. I am so terribly confused. I don’t know why I want to put down an entire box of individual chips and just jump and crush and stomp until they give me the satisfying POP of defeat. I don’t know why I expect that if I talked to him about it he would understand. And I don’t know why I would even want this stranger, no matter how handsome.

It isn’t even so much that I want a relationship, or a forever after, just a connection, just an acknowledgement that what I felt is normal and that I want to do this again. Why when I have so many people around me constantly vying for my attention. Why do I want to give it to the impossible every single time?

The Three D's

Sometimes writing semi-autobiographically presents certain challenges. I always enjoy writing exciting moments, moments that are real but in the end leave yours truly looking triumphant. Yet, it is much harder to write about the darker side of me, the side that isn’t pure and good and sweet. The side that is moody and selfish, the side that is insecure and broken, the side that is foolish and weak. But into the madness we must go, to share only part of me would be both an injustice to you and to me as this is my therapy, and you, my dear reader, are not here to judge but to experience these things with me, to touch upon my madness and taste the sweetness of my sorrow.
I have been single since May 27th. Yes I know the day, and of little importance the hour in which I left him. He was the one shot at happily ever after, he was the most beautiful thing that had ever possessed my heart, but the distance, the time, the others that shared my affection, it all grew to be too much. That day I gambled and lost. I hoped that when faced with losing me, he would love me more, and not less, but his pride is as great as mine, and I should have known that he would never ask me to stay.
Amid the pain, and constant crying, I spent two days unable to do much more than sniffle, the ugly truth of it was my heart had never broke so hard. And still as I write this my eyes water, that familiar ache fills me and I wonder if I will ever talk about him without that bittersweet pain that reminds me of just how strong my love for him was.
I can’t stay that way forever though, but healing is a long and grueling process of forgiving him, and forgiving me, and quite frankly I am bored of such introspection. So my heart in its million little pieces is hidden away, to be mended later. My eyes and body crave the three Ds. Denial, Distraction, and Desire. Which in combination is better than cocaine, but no less addicting.
Denial, it is simple, no my heart has never broken, I don’t crave happily ever after, I don’t believe In crystal fortresses or true love, and I never want to feel that way again.
Distraction, this is where it gets tricky. It is kind of like juggling, which is the way I date. Call me a whore if you will, but men employee this technique often and with much success. You want at minimum three main distractions, never less. Less distraction means that perhaps you will focus too much attention on one and risk losing site of objective denial. Too many, and there is no smoothness to the motions, to the show. So balance carefully. I like to have three main distractions and three lesser distractions. And no that doesn’t mean that I am fucking all of them. It simply means I allow them to be infatuated with the possibility of me, and I of them. If a ball drops away, there is always another to quickly take its place.
Desire, should be self explanatory; but there is more to it than passion, than lust. It is the combination of two spirits fulfilling the needs of one another without attachment. It doesn’t always have to be sexual, I have intense desire for conversation, for laughter, for constant white noise to drown out the sadness that sometimes overwhelms me. Desire is also feeling the need to please another, to make them happy, or content and know that I had an effect, a purpose for just that moment.
Yeah, yeah, save me your psychoanalysis. I never said that this was healthy, or right. But I am not writing about what is beautiful and imagined. I am writing of what is real to me, and how I handle my broken spirit is really of no concern to anyone but myself. Some people resort to alcohol, I result to drowning myself in the attentions of others.
So without further ado, let me take you into my past months transgressions. Or wait, perhaps just to the one that has me writing again, the one that stopped me and refused me what I wanted, but gave me something we both needed.
Morgan. How do I describe my soft spoken deputy? His tall, thick frame, his bright eyes and luscious smile. I met him by chance, fate’s cruel little joke.
He had pulled me over one morning in front of my store. I wish I could tell you what his suit looked like, but I was absolutely memorized by his smile. The confident way he walked, the way he held himself as he moved so gracefully to my side. I was nervous, but pulled my shirt down lower, fully prepared to use the girls to help me avoid whatever citation he had in mind.
I smiled half hazard at him as he ask for my license and registration and I began to dig for my wallet. Digging through the five gallon suit case I call a purse I paled, and shook my head bemoaning my fate. Looking up at him pleading for understanding I explained that I must have left my wallet at the register when I got my coffee this morning. Pleading I begged him to follow me back there and I would give him the information he needed.
His eyebrow cocked slightly and he looked at me suspiciously. “Ma’am, is this a stall? Do you have anything you need to tell me or any outstanding warrants I should be aware of? “ In his eyes I saw something confusing, but his face was set to stone.
Indigent that he would ask me something so trivial I narrowed my eyes but tried to remain calm. “No, this isn’t a stall, I don’t have any warrants and the longer we sit here the more chance of someone walking away with it. Please just follow me back there, and I will give you my id and you can check everything out.”
“I dunno, you might run. You seem kinda feisty.” He said unable to hide his amusement at my obvious discomfort.
I laughed so completely taken off guard. Eying him even more I wondered outloud.”What are you pulling me over for anyway?” His grin widened, and from behind his back he handed me my wallet.
“Thought you might need this incase some grouchy cop pulled you over and didn’t believe your story.”
“But how?” I asked confused as I took it smiling appreciatively.
“ I was two people behind you in line today, and you just rushed out without even smiling my way. Hurt my feelings it did. So I figured I might get one if I volunteered to return this.”
I remember the blush reaching my toes, as I beamed at him my most dazzling smile as he looked into my eyes. Electricity shot through me I felt stunned, slightly alarmed as I stuttered for a moment, then took a deep breath. I heard something on the radio he carried at his waist. He smiled at me ruefully then picked it up. “On my way.”
Innocently enough that is the way our tryst began.
The next morning he surprised me with coffee just the way I liked it, and one raspberry filled doughnut, he said to keep me sweet. We talked until I opened the store. We spoke of his life, his commitments, what had brought him to be deputy in a small town like this one and how it was we had never crossed paths. We shared laughter and moments, stories and memories. Each morning was the same, coffee, one raspberry doughnut and laughter
He never asked of my heartaches, I never asked about the gold band that made him forbidden. Yet, one day he came in, about a week later, his shoulders slumped his smile hidden. He took a deep breath and told me of her, of the children he cherished and the life he was trying so desperately to save. I listened, his hand in mine, I let him talk, let the frustrations fall out of him. When he was through, he looked, empty, vulnerable and expectant.
What was I expecting to hear I am unsure, as is what he was expecting me to say. I was calm. I smiled to try to reassure him, a million things running through my head. “So what do you want from me? Why did you tell me this?” I asked quietly.
“I told you because you deserve the truth, I told you because I need release. I told you because-“ The radio chose to go off and he smiled apologetically,
I stopped him, grabbing his wrist. “We will talk more tomorrow,” I made him promise with a nod. Then quietly I said “Thank you. For your honestly. Sometimes its painful, but I will never think less of you.”
That night I didn’t bother with any of my usual distractions. I instead focused on the next morning, what I would say, what I would do. There were three plausible options, one stop talking to him entirely, two remain his friend but distance the attraction we felt, or three fall head long into the disaster we had already began to create. I told you, this wasn’t pretty, nor am I painted in a beautiful light.
I wanted him, I knew his heart was at his home, with his family, and I knew it was only a temporary solution for him and for me. In my denial I rationalized it. If it wasn’t me it would be another, we wouldn’t be hurting anyone as long as it was purely physical lust. It was just masturbation with a warm body. Take your pick. I justified my crime as any junkie would.
The day dawned later than I had hoped, my eyes far too strained for the light that I had so desperately craved. I needed to give him the answer. I needed to show him the decision my sleepless night had brought. My silk purple shirt hung a bit lower than most, my white skirt, barely touching my knees. It was an invitation In my very appearance. I imagined it to be hard, fast, full of need and lust and quickly extinguished.
I stood at the door to let him in, his eyes watching me as he moved through the motions of setting down the coffee. I locked the door behind him. Looking at him, I smiled shyly, leading him to my office instead of the lobby where we usually set. His hand tightened around mine, and he pulled me to him the moment we got to the door. He stared only moments into my eyes, and then kissed me hard and fast. Whimpering I fell into his chest as I wrapped my arms around his neck. Savoring the play of his tongue and mine, the tender way he rubbed his hands up and down my back.
The strength of his arms pulled me closer, and backed me against the desk. Shimming my butt onto the desk, my legs wrapping around his waist, murmuring my need as he bent me back to taste my neck. Panting desperately as he stroked my need I breathlessly explored his broad shoulders and chest. I kept expecting him to just hike up my skirt and take me, to sate the need instantly. He just refused to hurry.
Pushing me back, his lips tasting any bits of exposed flesh, until finally burying his head between my thighs. My eyes rolled back into my head and my hands grasped at his hair and his shoulders. I could feel his tension, his growing need as his tongue tasted me further and pushed me into ecstasy.
He pulled up and kissed me again, the taste of me on his lips. I tugged at his pants, but he pulled back turning on the lights, and just taking off his shirt. He knew I opened in an hour, but he was so calm, demanding that he be allowed to relish me, I kissed his chest, speckled with hair, firm and broad. My nails raking up and down the expanse of him. His hands where in my hair, urging, gently as he moaned for me.
Pulling his pants off his movements finally began to feel eager. We fought, to taste each other, our mouths and bodies battling. First he would claim a nipple, then I would dip to taste the head of his shaft. He pulled me to him, disrobing me even of the nonoffending skirt, and just rested, his cock nestled teasing my lips. Hands running the length of my back, grasping my hips pulling me to him, our bare skin meshing until we were one. He nipped my neck once more before pulling me gently onto the floor, rolling up his shirt to put it behind me.
The moment he slid in he took my breath away. I could feel him shaking; his resolve to wait for me, but losing with each gentle stroke. I held him my hands pulling him closer as I kissed him tenderly; shaking as I found release, and he let go.
He moaned, shuddering as he came, then kissed my belly, gently pressing his head to me and holding me, quietly. I asked him if he was okay and he merely nodded. He blushed, mentioning it had been months since he had release. I just took in his scent, not wanting to let him go just yet.
What had I started? What in the hell had I just done? I had expected something so different. I had wanted lust and need and to be taken without regard. But what I had shared was more, the tenderness of two people needing to feel alive, to find comfort. No delusions that it had meant more than that, but somehow at peace with my transgressions as he bashfully took care of things, straightening backup and getting dressed.
In the bathroom I brushed my hair beside him as straightened his clothes, then I looked him once over, just to make sure no lipstick stains or scratches covered him. Oddly enough, we sat down to our coffee, and we spoke as friends again, as confidants, as if what we shared was a momentarily flash of lunacy that we had both shared. Unreal, fantastic, lust imagined. He left with a hug, a kiss on my cheek, and if it wasn’t for the scent of him surrounding me all day I would have never known it wasn’t all in my head.
I let the weekend pass, without a word, and when he showed again on Monday, I smiled, secretly relieved that he might share with me one last time the comfort I would deny myself, the distraction I craved and the desire that I could not be without.

Intervention

For the last three months, I haven’t wrote, barely talked on my favorite forums, in fact, just barely had time to squeak out a set or two of pictures. Between fighting a cold, taking care of my family, both extended and immediate, and running a mind boggling array of errands I have barely been able to rest for more than three or four hours at a time, much less actually do something I truly enjoy.

Tara moved at the beginning of October. We had a quiet dinner, punctuated with I –will- see- you- soon-s, and promises to write, but in the end, we both knew our moment had past. I was lucky to have held her in my arms, to have tasted her passion and spice, but it was time to let her go, to flit off as a free spirit does. I would never be the one who trapped her beauty.

Jackson and Wynn have both put up with me being insanely busy fairly well. Jackson being sick for most of September and Wynn being caught up in work and unable to visit, they both had time restraints of their own. We still talked, texting being a girl’s best friend, catching up while stuck in traffic or waiting in line at the deli, and at night Wynn’s voice would sooth me to sleep, sometimes at his amusement as I drifted off mid sentence.

He was always saying to me that I needed to slow down, I was running myself ragged, as well as my other friends that managed to get me to slow down long enough to say hello. For some reason I just couldn’t. I felt as if the world revolved around me completing each task every person had set out before me, that if I stopped, or told one person no, everything would come crashing down. So my calendar kept getting fuller, and my time shorter.

Emily Dickinson once wrote, “Because I could not stop for Death, He kindly stopped for me;”. It seems to me that this holds true for life as well. Sometimes life is going to stop you, even if you have to slam head long into a brick wall.


Two days ago I woke up in my bed frightened, groggy and disoriented. I could have sworn that someone was in my home. Not so much that I had heard a sound, but a feeling that the air had changed. I tried searching my mind, trying to recall if I had locked the door, but nothing made sense, and my time had long ago been skewed by days of mere napping. I fought to gain control of my fear then squeaked out , “Who’s there?”

Panic rose higher, I heard the wind pushing the oak against my window and I gulped, finding it hard to breath. I was still in my clothes. My shoes at a clump on the floor, the knee length black skirt rising around my thighs, and the white pen-stripe shirt wrinkled and twisted around my large torso. My back arched, ears straining, I listened for sounds, for anything, I reached over to my nightstand in the dark to pull out my taser.

My scream was quickly stifled by a large hand across my mouth as my hand found not my savior in the drawer, but the devil himself. Swinging with my other hand, while trying to bite my assailant I quickly began struggling. It was like hitting solid cement. Nothing seemed to affect him. I brought my leg up but it was quickly pinned under one of his, arching up I tried bucking him off but he had already pinned both arms under me and grabbed the one free leg as I tried to use my heal in the soft tissues of his lower back.

Fear rose up and still I struggled, then quickly went still. Slowly letting his hand from my mouth and relaxing. I sharply rose my head to try to break his nose with my forehead. My assailant quickly yanked his head back up and he laughed. It took a moment to sink in, that he was laughing at me. There was something oddly familiar, unmistakable, the laugh had no malice, only amusement yet still he held me tightly underneath him.

Only seconds later did it dawn on me who could know my defensive moves well enough to block every one of them, and could hold me down so effortlessly. Fear soon turned to red hot anger. “WYNN?” I spat out, more of a curse than a name.

His voice answered me in the darkness “My my Kit, you are a spitfire aren’t you.” Outraged I bucked harder against him.

“WYNN? What the hell are you thinking?” I struggled to wiggle from underneath him. “Having a key does NOT give you the right to scare the hell out of me! What is wrong with you! I could have hurt you!” He laughed at my fury.

“Yes, dear, I can see how much danger I am in. Now if you will –“

“Get off of me!” I yell, my fear and anger momentarily blinding me to the fact that I have him beside me, and my yearning for him will soon be fulfilled. He raised an eyebrow at me, and tightened his grip. I tried biting his hands and bucking him off, but his strength far surpassed mine.

My eyes began to adjust to the darkness and I could see him, watching me, his strong face lit softly by the moonlight that broke through the branches and the window. I impotently struggled against him, and the more I fought the more amused he became. Sitting like a statue, watching me with patience, stroking my ire further, his lips curving into a smile of what can only be described as amusement.

I sighed, defeated, my anger slowly dissolving under his scrutiny. My eyes stung with tears, and I tried desperately to hold on to something other than the fact I had missed him so. “This isn’t funny.” My voice almost a whisper, I tried keeping the tremor from my voice. He nodded in agreement.

Wynn’s free hand slowly went to my cheek, “no my love, it is not, and I never said it was. “

“Then let me up,” I pleaded with him. “You should have called, I have so much to do, but we will spend every free moment I have together. I promise. “

He shook his head. And I felt myself growing angry again. I took a deep breath, knowing that he never responded to anger, and tried again. “I have to try to rest, then I will get up and make you break-“ Again his head shook no, before I even had a chance to finish. He tsked at me impatiently and I growled in frustration.

“You, my busy bee, have been retired for the next three days. I have already made arrangements, and those that didn’t like it, well, they are dealing with it anyway. “

It was my turn to laugh. He was out of his mind. There was no way I could stop for one day much less three. “I will get so far behind.” He just stared at me blankly. “Wynn! This isn’t funny. Please, let me up. Please, there is so much to do.” His hand merely caressed my cheek, shaking his head, almost sadly. “No listen to me! I have to… I have to…” I couldn’t recall what day it was, so I couldn’t tell him what pile of things were awaiting me. Tears started silently streaming down my face, and I was unable to control them, exhausted, mentally, physically, emotionally, I still fought, not knowing what else to do.

He held me, positioning his body over top mine, his free hand cupping my head close to his, and I cried, large wracking sobs, he let my other hand free, and pulled me up to his chest. I wanted to hit him, I wanted to yell, knowing that without this energy, the momentum, I would never succeed. But I couldn’t. His soft voice soothed me as he ran his fingers through my hair and as I soaked his shirt with my tears, he let me know it was okay.

Wynn’s warmth crept through my body. His aura calming me as each thumb brushed my tears away. The anxiety falling aside, pushed away by his tenderness., I felt my swollen eyes grow heavier. My crying subsided and I sniffled as my hand curled into the small patch of hair on his chest, and listened to the sound of his heart. Soon darkness over came me.

I awoke, languid and warm. I felt like I had slept for days, then quickly panic quelled up inside of me. “I’m late!” I went to jerk up, but was quickly pulled back down. Moving from side to side, I quickly discovered my hands had been bound over my head to my head board, tied together with a piece of satin that I had draped over it for decoration, both hands snuggly secured together, then pulled upward, and secured at the post of my bed.

I was only momentarily confused. Then all of the memories from last night came flooding in, and my once cooled anger heated to an unimaginable point. “WYNNNNNNN!” I yelled at the top of my lungs, struggling to try to untie his knots with my teeth.

He walked through the door, dressed as if he were at home, and by that I mean not at all. His lithe body filled the door way and he flashed his teeth at me grinning like a Cheshire cat, as if for some reason I should merely be charmed at his behavior instead of furious. Desire shot through me hot and fast, yet I worked hard to deny my treacherous body. “Yes, sweetie?”

“Let me go!” I hissed. He narrowed his eyes at me, and I took a deep breath, swallowing my pride. “Let me go, PLEASE.” I tried uttering with a little less venom.

He smiled. “No, I don’t intend to, but that was much better, thank you.”

My eyes bugged out as he left again. “WYNN!” I heard him puttering around in the kitchen paying little attention to my pleas. “Please, my love, I am late.” I looked around the room for my clock, but saw he had removed it. Cursing I moved up to begin gnawing at the ropes.

He walked in, and his rich laughter filled the room as he brought a huge try of food. “Stop trying to eat your ropes dear, I have you some, well, can’t call it brunch, but we shall say late lunch early dinner. See there, I am not a complete tyrant.” My eyes shot wide in disbelieve.

“No, it is not that late! Oh god! Wynn, seriously, this has gone far enough. Let me up.” I begged him.

“Kit, calm down. I already told you that I had arranged for everything to be taken care of. “ His voice was one of patience and concern, but I could see the tired lines in his own face and wondered how long he had been orchestrating this fiasco.

I sat in silence, brooding, as he puttered around the room. Slowly, as my body awoke, I became painfully aware of a very embarrassing problem. I wiggled from side to side trying to ignore it, clamping my legs together, biting my lip, but all to no avail. “Wynn,” I began as a squeaky whisper, utterly humiliated. He looked at me and his eyes widened with understanding and he chuckled. He helped me up as he untied me, and he escorted me to the bathroom.

Inside I tried formulating a plan as I found relief. I knew if I could just get to a phone, I could make some calls, get a few things shifted around until later in the week, giving me tomorrow to catch up, giving that I found a way to reason with him. I glanced in the mirror as I washed my hands and was dismayed. There was no way I could distract him looking the way I did. My eyes were red and swollen, my face a ghastly shade of gray. The sleep had done me good, but there were still dark circles under my eyes. My lips were even a muted pink, and not their naturally dark plum.

I knew I had to make a run for it. I opened the door meekly, ready to flee, and met his chest. Looking up at him, I saw he knew exactly what I had been planning, and he tsked. I hung my head, actually a bit ashamed. He escorted me back to my bed, fluffed the pillows, and retied me, to where I was sitting up.

His eyes grew concerned. “How much weight have you lost Kit?” I shrugged.

“I don’t know if any, I just forget to eat sometimes.” He shook his head in dismay. Under the lid of the tray he reviled a buffet, that I was quiet sure would feed four starving people. The French toast was swimming in syrup, and he had bacon and sausage, frittata slices laced with spinach and mushrooms, biscuits and sausage gravy, fruit, and juice and milk. I stared at him in disbelieve.

“There is no way I can eat all of that!” He laughed.

“I plan on sharing some with you Kit. Not trying to put it all back on at once.” He cut a piece of the toast and placed it into my mouth. The cinnamon and orange wafted through my senses and my stomach growled. I blushed and took the first bite, I licked my lips, catching the stray bit of syrup and opened my mouth without question for another bite.

He kept feeding me, one decadent bite after another. In between chewing , I tried to reason with him. “Wynn, you know I am really glad to see you. I am sorry for being so moody, I have missed you.” I reached to kiss his hand lovingly. “I was just overwhelmed. It is okay now, really. I have just been busy. Please, just let me go, let me make a few calls and I promise tonight, I will make a good dinner, and we will-“the bite of bacon interrupting me, I chewed again licking my lips, and tried to continue, but quickly realized he was paying little attention to me.

He simply fed me, bite by luscious bite, even after I began to complain that I was full. “Eat, and I will explain.” He stopped only to softly suck some syrup off of my lip and chin, eliciting a moan from my lips. I arched up to him, aching for him profoundly. I wanted to fight, but submitting to him was so inviting, like a drug, strong and hypnotizing me. The gravy on the biscuits was mixed with sweet breakfast sausage, and peppery. I closed my eyes and softly enjoyed each sensation. Salty, sweet, savory, and a bit cayenne spice. The textures, chewy and melty.

Wynn began his explanation, “consider this an intervention –,”

I coughed, barely getting my bite of food down, then laughed.

“You know I am not on a damn thing!” He glared at me for my outburst and gave me a drink of juice and raised another crisp piece of bacon to my lips.

“Did I say that, Kit? Stop interrupting.” He paused again to kiss an errant bit of gravy from my lips and smiled as I closed my eyes and arched to him. His eyes softened. “Now, you are going to listen aren’t you?” I nodded as he held a strawberry to my lips to devour. “This is an intervention of a different sort. You are running yourself to death, and you aren’t doing yourself or anyone else any favors. You are always run down, and the small time you were putting away for Tara has now been overshadowed by yet someone else’s needs for you to do something you know damn well they can do themselves. Enough is enough honey. “

I stared at him defiantly, refusing the next bite, and stiffened my back. “I can handle it.” He got up quietly, placing the tray to the side. I was shocked to see I had eaten almost the entire platter. He was gone long enough to pull the huge mirror I had in the hallway down, and then propped it on the desk I had beside the bed.

I glanced at it quickly then back at him. “What?” I asked exasperated. I stared at him defiantly. I could see the muscle in his jaw twitch as I pushed his patience. He bent slowly down, and twined my hair in his hand. He forced me to take more of a glance in the mirror. He forced me to look, observe and take in the person before me. My mouth formed a little “o” as I began to truly see myself.

My skin, once peach and vibrant, was almost an odd shade of grey. I was a living watermark, colors muted and dull. Despite my full belly, it was obvious that I had been losing weight, my hips and belly looking remarkably smaller. My hair was severe and dry. The only parts of me that seemed alive, and real were my lips after consuming the mountain of food , and the round taunt belly it had bestowed upon me.

My eyes stung with unshed tears, and I tried looking away ashamed. This was not me, but it was in fact what I had become. Not Kit, just a simple robot, built on achieving as much as I could as quickly as I could, without spirit or warmth. I tried hiding my face in the folds of my arms, but his hand brought my chin up to look into his eyes. “You know Kit you will always be beautiful, but you are letting your spirit dwindle and die, and I cannot have that.” He softly positioned himself behind me, his naked body pressed closely to the thin fabric I wore.

I felt his heat and stifled a moan. His legs spread on either side of me, and he bent my neck, trailing his fingers down the side. “Open your eyes.” His command was gruff, thick with need. I obeyed unquestioningly. I watched him, staring into his eyes through the mirror, as he trailed both hands over my body.

It was if he was washing away the stress and grit of the hectic life I had been living. His hands left trails of color, of vibrant beauty, and I was mesmerized. I gasp as his large hands cupped my heavy breasts, squeezing and playing with them through my shirt and bra. Moaning I arched into his hands, needing more, awakening as the harlot I watched in the mirror responded to his touch.

With one quick tug he ripped open my shirt, my buttons flying across the room, exposing the simple black lace bra that I wore. He fondled and teased me, until I writhed against him, then stopped, and ran his hands over my stretched belly, massaging the soft mounds of fat, and running his fingers from the inside to my sides, then back again, until I arched against him, leaning to kiss and bite his neck softly.

Wynn murmured in my ear of my softness and beauty, of the spirit he loved so much. My skin flushed and began to glow as if by some ancient magic he had incited with his worship. He pinched my nipples again, almost painfully and I whimpered with pleasure. My thighs opened and I propped my legs open, over the top of his, allowing him to see my desire moistened panties.

His hands groped my fat thighs, dragging up and down the sensitive flesh, then let a finger tease me mercilessly through the satin underwear I had on. I pushed against him, feeling his arousal, writhing with need and begging for release. He silenced me with his tongue, firm and unyielding, exploring my mouth and lips.

His hands were tender, yet somehow angry as they awakened me. Forceful and demanding, almost pawing at my skin as he pushed and pulled each thick roll. His kiss still spoke of his love, it was tender, and full of passion, and as he slipped one hand inside my panties, softly parting my wet lips I cried out in joy. I felt his moan in my mouth and begged him to enter me. Yet still he refused.

His thumb and forefinger punished my clit, rubbing and pinching it as I bucked against him. I gasp, my eyes slowly closing to narrow slits as the passion over took me. The knuckle of his ring finger teased me, and as I watched the foreign woman in the mirror, now full of colors, red and gold and peach, I was unconcerned how wantonly she might appear, only knowing she must have release. He rewarded me with his ring finger sliding gently into me and I moaned as my hips jutted forward to meet him. Crying out with pleasure as his thick finger slide in and out of my tightness.

It was if he was stroking a fire deep inside me, fueling my very spirit, feeding me with energy and power and love. I arched whimpering, moaning, orgasm inevitable, and my thighs clinched down, he yanked my hair back to kiss me, commanding me to let go, to cum for him, and I did, with glorious rapture.

Panting, still looking at myself in the mirror I could see his need. I needed more. I needed him and needed his release. My body was alive now, flushed with color and beauty. He kissed me more gently now, and smiled down at me, pleased with my reaction. I kissed him tenderly.

Still bound, I twisted to face him. Staring into his eyes and kissing him, pulling his bottom lip into my mouth and sucking gently as I straddled him. Positioning myself over his erection I slowly eased onto it, stretching and accommodating his girth. Wynn moaned and gasp, thrusting his hips to meet mine, needing me obviously as much as I did him. His hands rested on my wide hips and he began to slowly set the pace as I rode up and down his length.

He looked at me hungrily, licking and flicking his tongue against my hardened nipples as they bounced and swayed in his face. I built his pleasure slowly, clinching as I would ride up his shaft, and releasing as I slid back down, sometimes moving my hips from side to side to tease him.

He moaned lower, and I could see him fighting his desire, his need to release, and hurried my pace. His fingers dug deeper into the mounds of soft fat on my hips, as he began to shake, moaning and releasing into me. He called out my name, his thunderous voice announcing my victory. Moaning with delight, I milked him, beaming with absolute joy.

Kissing him, I panted, winded and flushed. He smiled at me somewhat bashfully, and rocked his hips still into me, his member still stiff and ready. He cupped my face with one hand, and drew me to him, kissing me reverently. “Oh, my love, I see you returning to me.” I blushed and nuzzled him with my head, hearing the worry that had been disguised in his bravado, and my heart hurting for causing him concern.

He softly rolled me over, and I complained as his erection slipped out of me. He then pulled a chair to the edge of the bed, and sat, facing me, and the mirror. He pulled me down, releasing my bonds on the promise that I would be still, and kissing my slightly chafed wrists. He then turned me to face the mirror once more, I could see his face as he massaged and caressed my ass.

I knew that I would soon feel the sting of his hand, and I stretched my ass up to him, eager for his affections. As I felt the first stinging slap across me, I gasped, both pleasure and pain singing through my body. I took each slap, raining down on the plump mounds of my ass as he warmed me. I cried out softly, wiggling but never moving, wanting to show him my love, my devotion, giving him control as I allowed my stress and worry to slip away. I let each stinging swat push away all fear, each stressful moment, and soon, I was only full of the warmth and desire he gave me. My sit spot was a beautiful rosy hue as the tears I fought against fell from my eyes, cleansing me. He kissed my hips, my back, as he lavished me with affection, and I as shook with tears again, he held me close to him.

He pulled my legs down to straddle him and he softly rubbed lotion into my mottled skin, and I moaned again at his touch. I showed him my desire, softly spreading further and gently grinding up and down, teasing his erect shaft. My lips were hot, the heat of my ass spreading through my groin and I felt my heart quicken .

He speared me, pulling me down on top of him in one fluid movement and I was soon seated on his shaft. As I rode him I felt reborn, a phoenix, soaring, sparked and smoldering with fire. I watched myself as his hands guided my hips, my lips puckering to suck each juicy nipple. His hands tugged against my hair, and he spanked my already painfully red ass, and I rode him harder still. Moaning and whimpering as he claimed me and set me free in one remarkable moment.

We came together, hard and fast, and I lay limp against him, spent and weak. He moved me to the bed, and we laid side by side, his arm instinctively around me, as if even in sleep he would protect me from the world, and most importantly from myself.

Birthday Surprises

I have been so busy this week. It has only been since my birthday, eight days now, and I have posted five sets on my picture site. With all these new updates, getting to know the webmaster, meeting all the new people from the exciting places that I am learning to call home on the web, not to mention day to day things, I barely stop for more than a few minutes to just breath, much less post about the adventures I get to squeeze in from time to time.

Can you believe I didn’t even have time to get birthday lovings? At least not in person anyways. I did happen to share a very intimate, okay several intimate moments with Wynn. I swear that man is magic. First on the computer, then with a surprise phone call with my one wish fulfilled, to hear him cum. There is just something so addicting about his deep voice, the way he moans out my name, telling me of his wants to be deep inside me, describing each excruciating detail, that I forget it is my hands roaming across my body, and that I am alone on my bed, riding my dildo, letting soft moans escape me, as not to miss a single detail of his love making. I came four times for him. *blushes* Which is a personal alone time record, by the way.
Also that day, among the amazing birthday wishes, was a text that stood out. “Happy Birthday Beautiful”, while common enough, the man sending it I hadn’t heard from in months. Jacob, (*I don’t know why men that have names starting with J are drawn to me, but oddly enough, my most common lover names are all in this category. *) is extremely busy. We had been lovers, and friends, tried our hand at romance, and failed miserably, mostly in part due to my insecurities. We remained friends, and then faded into acquaintances some time ago, speaking to each other only on holidays or odd moments.
I replied with a beaming smile quickly photographed, with a note saying, you did this. A smiley back was my reply, then he was gone again. Yes that is his style. I used to think he was a spy, but now I am leading toward ninja, or perhaps guardian of my smile, because whenever it falters he swoops in all hero like and puts it back in place.
The next morning was another message. Gm beautiful. Two in a row?? Are you kidding me? I thought, then I laughed a bit and asked what he wanted very bluntly. He called, his voice warm and familiar. Laughing, he told me I was getting jaded in my old age, and I mentioned probably just wiser. We caught up, speaking of what had transpired in the last few months of our lives, and we shared laughter and the deeper connection we always shared sparked and relit. I sighed, speaking to him of my newest adventures, and then he told me he still wasn’t with anyone new. I picked at him, because he is one of the most incredibly wealthy and handsome men I know, yet sadly one of the loneliest. It got quiet, and he softly mentioned he got me something small, but wanted to know what I wanted most of all for my birthday.

I remembered the last year, and the fight we got into for the large sum of cash he just so casually deposited on my tv stand and said happy birthday. I just have hard times accepting money. I feel like he is used so much, and I refuse to be the next one to break his heart and his account because I batted my eyes and fed him false hoods. I said “hmmm” Rather playfully, and then I told him the first thing that came to mind.

“I just want to be ravaged, Jake. I want to be treated irresistibly, yet rough and passionate, and afterwards, I want to be treated like a fragile doll and cuddled for the remainder of the night.” I laughed, knowing the six hour drive that it took for him to see me was a well planned out thing, and out of his reach.

He laughed with me too. And the conversation moved into the early hours of morning. I yawned, the most embarrassing squeaky yawn I have when I am just exhausted, so we decided to end the call. He paused right before getting off of the phone, and said, “When can I give you your birthday gift?” I thought for a moment, and told him I was free on Wednesday. “Perfect! We will do dinner as well. See you at five.”

Then he was gone. I blinked. And blinked again. Curious as to what had just transpired. I didn’t even know details. But I giggled and knew he would work it out some way, and then flipped my pillow over, found the coldest spot, and fell deep asleep.

It wasn’t till Tuesday that I heard from him again, and I honestly thought it was to reschedule. He had to be in a town about an hour away for work for the next week anyways, and was hoping he could see me; my birthday present was the perfect excuse. My heart did a little flip flop, and I wanted to chicken out. Jake always scared me; he was the one I pushed away. The one that got to close, that made me feel too much, and I wasn’t ready then, certainly not now. But this was dinner, a nice wine, a little chit chat, maybe a kiss good night. No harm.

I lie to myself really good. Denial is all part of the game!

We decided to meet up at his hotel, so I could unwrap my gift there, and then we would decide where to go for dinner. I pulled up, reapplied my favorite dark red lipstick, and straightened the skirt over my wide hips and soft full belly. I made a dashing picture, all black, down to the heals, the only color, my lipstick and the bright red string of beads around my neck. My hair pulled up in a clip and my favorite silver hoops, I was dressed for myself as much as for him.

After a quick text to get the room number I hopped onto the elevator to find his suite. The closing doors and loud ping still had a way of making my nipples pucker, and I blushed as it opened and an elderly gentleman stepped in. I got out, and made my way down the nondescript hallway, taking a deep breath before knocking.

He opened the door and was standing behind it, “Come on in Kit” he greeted me in that same honey smooth voice. As I walked in the smile on my face died slowly and was replaced with awe.

He was completely naked. More so, he was incredibly aroused. His short dusty brown hair and bright blue eyes smiled at me as I surveyed his amazing body. He was four inches shorter than me because of my heals, but as he pushed me against the wall and kissed me, he felt like a giant. His strength and hardness was against me, kissing me, taking me. He slammed the door with a free hand and proceeded to pull me with him to the bed. My heels were left somewhere by the door, and as he pulled me, he ripped open the buttons to my top and began to kiss the soft mounds of flesh that rose above my bra, then cupped them in his hand to free them from their bondage.

I could only moan, only grab his shoulders, shaking with desire, nails digging into his bare shoulders. He kissed me again, then pushed me onto the bed roughly, then tore the rest of my shirt off, and pulled a knife from the side table. I froze, still panting with want, now paralyzed in fear, and shamefully, still excitement. He kissed my shoulder, running his hands down to pull up the body of my strapless bra. The cold metal touched my skin briefly, and as he cut me loses from the bindings his hips pumped over the top of me.
“Ohh, Jake,” I whimpered, “Please?” between pants, but he yanked my head back with a handful of hair, throwing my clip across the room and kissed me to silence my pleas. He reached around me and fondled my breasts, pinching each nipple and roughly pawing at my breasts. He bit my shoulder and roughly turned me over, then pinned my hands above me, ravaging my mouth, biting my lips and neck. Moaning I spread open for him and thrust my hips up in invitation. He would occasionally reward me with a few grinds from his engorged member but focused on tasting every inch of my massive body.

He thankful spared my favorite skirt, shimmying it over my belly and hips, kissing my stomach as he made it jiggle. He nipped my inner thigh and I reached for his chiseled frame. His bright eyes darkened, and he stopped to pin me again. Asserting his dominance over my body, kissing me fully as I moaned and writhed desperate for completion. He uttered a warning.
“Don’t move your hands again, or I will bind you my love.” I bit my lip and nodded complacently then he kissed me with a devilish grin. Twisting a nipple, almost painfully he watched me, kneeling over me hard, glistening with precum, and I moaned, licking my lips suggestively, but never moving my hands.

He came closer again, one hand touching my cheek softly, then intertwining in my hair, pulling me up. He fed me his cock with the other, wiping the precum all over my lips as my tongue darted out to lick it greedily. His head was so engorged it must have been painful at this point, and his low moan told me that I had not forgotten how to please him with my mouth. He pulled away panting, his hand yanking my head from its prize and I protested by darting my tongue out to lick it.

He laughed at me, pushing me back down and commanding me once again to be still, and then kissed his way down my belly to the black cherry panties I still possessed. He pulled the knife from the coverlet again and one by one, cut the laces that melded into the fat at my hips. His moan more a growl as he took the last lace away and yanked the useless material from my quivering body. His mouth kissed just above my aching wetness and my legs pushed up to greet him, whimpering and spreading open in unabashed need.

He bit the lip, then let his tongue slip inside the wet folds and I sobbed his name. Shaking as his powerful strokes centered on my clit. My arms physically hurt, I was holding onto the head board, my nails digging into the wood, trying desperately not to reach for him. He opened me up further, blowing softly on the sensitive lips and I moaned, wrapping my legs up around his shoulders.

One thick finger slid inside me, then another, making it almost uncomfortable with the tightness. Yet, slowly he moved in and out, licking and biting the outer lips as well, then found the rough patch just above my opening. Moaning, I began thrusting my hips into the soft rhythm he had created, and as he tapped I began to shake. My whole body quaking now, my legs threatening to close in of their own accord and suffocate him in the soft rolls of fat; suddenly I wanted to beg him to stop and in the same instant beg him for more. Then I came, hard and fast, without warning. His thumb pushed on my clit rubbing it concentrically trying to prolong me and I almost cried from the sheer force.

Before I could come off of the high, he yanked me to the end of the bed, and stood between my legs. He spanked my swollen lips with his cock head, teasing them and running up and down my lips wetting himself with my cum. Then he pulled my legs up to his shoulders and entered me, spearing me forcefully.

I moaned loudly and reached for him, unable to contain my desire any more. His body pressed down on my legs, pulling them up to my chest, and my hands intertwined with his as he rammed in and out of me. Sometimes he would stop, mid stroke, and slap me again with his cock, then pinching a nipple to keep it nice and hard, then he would continue pounding me, stroke after glorious stroke until I began moaning louder and louder, screaming and begging for more. “Harder,” I demanded and he complied.

“I, fuck, fuck, OH FUCK,” was the only thing I could say before my lips went to a little O and my body began thumping like an over bassed car. I shook violently, arching back, screaming his name. He with one final thrust pushed deep within me before moaning on single YES . I could physically feel his cock throbbing within me and I clinched around him, milking his amazing organ.

He pulled out, moaning softly, and then motioned for me to move to the head of the bed. The pillows were on the floor, the coverlet and sheet hanging on one side. He picked up a pillow and laid it down, then pulled the blanket up to cover me. He then bent, and kissed me tenderly before laying beside me in the bed. I just quietly cuddled in, and the last thing I remember before falling asleep was him whispering happy birthday as he kissed my forehead.

I woke up to find I was alone, and I bolted, wondering if he had gotten called in. “Jake?” I called out, and moments later he poked his head in from around the door and smiled. His glasses were perched on his nose. And I giggled, as that was all he had on.

I rose up out of bed and moved to his side, wrapping my arms around his shoulders giving him a sound kissing for surprising me so. He patted my ass, and asked me if I was ready to get something to eat. I felt the blood drain from my face.

“I can’t.” he just stared at me quizzically. “No, seriously, I don’t know how I am even going to get out of the hotel! Oh FUCK! Jake!!! My clothes!” He started laughing, so I punched him.

He just kissed me and walked to the table. “No, Jake, I am serious. I can’t wear my shirt like that. Do you have anything I can get home in? Are you even listening to me?”

“No.”

I stared at him for a moment, not sure exactly if I should strangle him, or just walk out with a sheet as dignified as I possibly could. He brought me a large bag, purple, with one teal bow and kissed me softly. I looked at him suspiciously. Then at the bag in my hands.

“Unless this is outfit in a bag, I am still kicking your ass.”

“Just open it already Kit.”

I sat cross legged on the couch in the main suite and peered inside. Like a child I quickly tossed the non essential tissue paper and pulled an elegant red shirt that made me gasp. I quickly checked the size, and then hugged it to me, beaming at him from across the room. He just smiled and motioned to keep going.

Next I found a pair of gray dress pants, followed by a matching set of peach under garments. I sat speechless, feeling like a little cartoon donkey would appear soon and start dancing around the room with my name on it. I jumped up and hugged him tightly. Then from around his back, he pulled one more thing.

I stared at him suspiciously, as he knew I didn’t like him going overboard, but before I could complain, he just put a finger to my lips. “ The clothes were last minute to take care of your birthday wish, this, is what I had originally picked up for you, and you will accept it and be gracious and keep that beautiful big mouth of yours shut.”

I bit my lip, but eyed him harshly as I opened the small package. On the inside of the paper was a plain white box, and inside a bit of tissue, as I lifted the tissue, I gasped loudly and brought my hand to my mouth. Breathless I slowly touched the sparkling glass then gently lifted it from its box.

“Ohh Jake, “ I muttered admiring the crystal in the light. It was a small turtle, barely an inch, the soft black eyes staring soulfully back and the crystal dancing in the light filtering from the fading sunset in a rainbow of beauty.

I smiled at him teary eyed, touched by his generosity and thoughtfulness, then hugged him tightly. “Thank you so much! I love this.”

He smiled. “I thought you might. Now, prissy, grab your shower and lets go I am famished.”

I nodded, not paying any mind to his ridiculous nickname for me, and gently placed Leo back into his box. Then kissed him once again beaming before running to shower.

That night we went to a local casino and dined on a buffet of delicacies they called around the world, and then he treated me to a random ride, just driving, his hand in mine getting lost. We didn’t speak of tomorrows, or what could be or might be, just enjoyed each other’s company. I laid in his arms that night, fighting sleep, knowing when I awoke the next morning he would be gone.

The note on the pillow simply said thank you, kisses to you and Leo, will call again soon.

Dreaming

The soft hum of the ceiling fan over the bed penetrates the veil of slumber that embraces me. I am disoriented. I still smell the jasmine candles that have been burning since last night. My nude body is covered by a soft sheet and a smile dreamily at the memories of his love making. I moan softly.

Am I dreaming of him? I feel his hands on me. One skilled hand teasing the soft hair between my legs, a finger moving up and down the thick lips teasing me, and then finally parting them softly to find the bud of my desire. The pad of his finger tip moving in tiny circles, pushing softly onto the swollen flesh. A whimper of pleasure escapes my mouth. I feel another hand slide along my soft belly, and further, to play with each breast, cup the expanse of it, feel the heavy weight of them then tweak my puckered nipples.

My eyes are still heavy with sleep. This dream is so lucid. I whisper his name, knowing it his him that has placed this spell over me. “Jackson.” I hear his soft chuckle. Then a tender kiss is placed on my lips, gently urging them to part with his tongue, then exploring my mouth languidly. There is no rush, only desire. I moan softly into his mouth, and reach up to wrap around him, Confused, my dream is so solid, real, I feel his warmth. The stubble of his chin under my palm, the softness of his hair. I can almost feel his blue eyed gaze on me.

Kisses, trailing down my body, I feel gentle insistence to spread my plump thighs and I do so willingly. I moan as the cold air hits the warm wetness of my ecstasy, but the breeze is quickly blocked. I feel the hair on his legs teasing my thighs, his solid thickness. His tongue flicking to taste the peach colored skin of my protruding belly, his hands rubbing and maneuvering the soft folds. I feel in this instant, treasured, as if each kiss a prayer, an offering of worship.

I shudder. I am not cold. It is the desire, the need welling up inside me, pooling at the apex of my legs. “Please” I whisper to the incubus ravaging my body. But only another kiss answers me. Lower, inch by inch. Like slow moving molasses, I want to scream in frustration. Take me! Kiss after kiss, licking, tasting, softly sucking each bit of flesh. Affectionately, the kiss on the mound above my lips, then thick tongue parting my moist lips. A moan pulled from me forcefully, arching up to meet him, my hips off of the bed, electricity brimming through me at his touch.

Thrumming further the desire, tasting me, his teeth softly tugging the engorged lips. One thick finger teasing my entry. And bucking upwards to entreat him, whimpering. The finger moves away. I sob escapes, made of frustration and need. Yet, it is quickly stifled with a low primordial moan of satisfaction as his tongue delves in to taste my desire. His tongue is unlike any other. Long and tapered, moving in and out, the tip bending upward in an effort to arouse every inch of me.

Thick thighs trying desperately not to close in and fold around his head. Moaning louder now, my hands clenching in his hair, eyes still closed, panting faster. Barely breathing, moving up and down in sync with each fluid movement of his tongue. The explosion almost eminent. Faster, faster, faster my heart beats. Calling out his name, “Ja, Jack, Jackson, JACKSON, J A C K S O N, OH GOD.” Screaming, almost sobbing as the orgasm over takes me. Shuddering around his skilled tongue, toes curled up and I remember to open my thighs, when I feel his stubble as I fall back down to earth.

I feel a tender kiss on my lips. It tastes of my release, sweet and tangy. My eyes flutter open, and I see him. His dimpled smile, eyes glazed with passion, flushed pink, and hair disheveled in such a roguish manner that my breath catches and I bite my lip just staring at him in wonder. He lowers to kiss me very softly on each eye and he whispers good morning as I feel the tip of his engorgement thick and eager at my entry.

I beam at him, a Cheshire grin that spreads across my face and I open up to him wrapping my legs around his waist and pulling him closer. Accepting my invitation, his thick girth slowly presses in me, and my tightness envelopes him. Like sheathing a sword, gliding into my wetness, surrounded in my silken warmth. I feel the soft throbbing of him inside me, and moan loudly as we are connected. “Mmmm good morning” I moan back in joy.

He kisses me, and begins to build a slow steady pace. My hands caress his back, his chest, as I kiss his neck and shoulders. My legs rest on his perfectly shaped ass as he moves in and out. His eyes stare into mine. The intensity is so great I am enraptured, the urge to look away is so strong, yet I can’t. I can’t break this connection, this feeling that he is inside me and around me, that he sees into the deepest part of my soul; his heat burning me, consuming me.

This man is maddeningly patient. He blinks, his head thrown back as a moan escapes him. Another , and then another moan escapes, as my nails press small moons into his shoulders. Sweat beading, breaths shallow, and still we press on. He stops, and I push him over, quickly uniting us yet again. Our hands intertwine and I slowly ride him, up and down in an intimate dance. I kiss each finger tip, one after the other, and then his palm.

His hands slide down my body, then rest at my hips, encouraging as they meld the layers of pillowy softness. I feel the finger tips dig in and his moans grow louder. I know he is close. Shuddering in delight I moan too, and bend to kiss him. I bite his neck tasting him and moaning, still moving up and down his magnificence. He moans breathlessly, “Cum for me, Kit.” and I whimper, quickening my hip’s undulating movements.

His lips find my nipples, and oooh I can’t think, moving a bit more feverishly now, the slow savoring pace forgotten in my need. I feel it building, capturing my breath, and as I explode I call out loudly, almost sobbing his name, shaking and shuddering around him. As I milk him, he lets go, almost growling as he cums forcefully, throbbing deep within me, his body tensing and releasing. “Kit, oh god baby, mmmm” he moans low and deep between panting from exertion.

I whimper softly as I let him slip out of me, and lay beside him, cradled in between his arm and chest. I look at him and smile, laughing softly. “Mmmm, better than coffee.”

He laughs and kisses my fore head. “Yes, but I want another cup.”

Looking down I see he is indeed ready for me again and I moan softly as my hand meets the beautiful evidence of his desire. “Oh, I see.” I look at the clock and groan, then roll over the top of him, kissing him passionately, biting his lip. “We don’t have time unless we shower together.”

He laughs. “Not a problem.” He mutters, kissing me again, spanking my large ass playfully. I roll off of him, and he hops up and pulls me by the hand, leading me toward yet another adventure.

Chaos

Life has been hectic this past week. A full schedule can be a blessing. For me it means being surrounded by family and friends, picnics and laughter, joy and chaos. My secret to escaping and not going crazy from it all is actually volunteering. While it sounds like more work and less down time, it is all about what you chose to do. My local library is amazing. It is huge full of texts old and new, dark and cold and quiet, except for the children’s books which constantly is flooded with sunshine and more laughter than one should expect in a sacred place of wisdom and learning. It is simply beautiful.

The library also happens to be my home away from home, the place I go to relax and run away from the outside world, where chaos becomes order, and things each have a proper place and number. It sooths my rare need for organization and allows me first peek at the latest books they have acquired. I volunteer once a week, usually for a few hours, but end up staying long after closing, as I am easily entranced.

I have my own key, as I have basically lived off and on in the library since I was twelve and have free run of the place. So whenever live gets too hectic, or I am in a pinch to get out of the drama that some people tend to pull around them, the library has an “emergency” and I go to shelf books and videos, pull articles and periodicals for research help, or sneak in and hide in the back office, reading from this text or that. I can’t tell you how many times I have wished for immortality for the opportunity to read and absorb it all.

This Wednesday was no different, after the last of my appointments I needed time to think, time to be away from stress and chaos and run away. I rushed home to quickly change, as my library time is often marked by shivering, so I pull up my long white stockings and smooth my flannel skirt that hits just above my knees. My favorite sweater, thread bare and tight fitting, the v-neck plunging low is pulled over my black lace bra. I switch to my thick black framed glasses and pull my hair up in my best librarian knot. My armor is on, I am ready to battle the thick dusty tomes and my red lipstick is ready to purse and shush all those that might distract from my calm.

I spent the afternoon shelving books in botany part of the library, each book, I glanced and read, marking in a separate book what I would enjoy looking up later. Mrs. March, the assistant librarian came to check on me once, and smiled when I jumped, her catching me kneeling on the floor, reading intently on fenugreek and pennyroyal.

“Kit, dear,” she began, as if she was ages older than me, not a mere ten years. “does your head ever come out of those books?” I simply blushed and nodded as she continued. “You have gotten a lot done. We are closing soon though, were you going to finish up your section or go home with the rest of us?” Her bright eyes were dancing and the smile on her thin lips told me she already knew the answer.

“I will stay, you know I never leave my books unshelved!” She laughed and nodded and then walked away, her round ass swaying in the tweed pants she wore. I knew she put on a show just for me, as she had caught me staring at her in the past, and after she caught me kissing Tara last week in the break room, I am pretty sure that she knew my I-think-you-have-something-on-your-sweater excuse was a bogus reason to touch the softness of her beautiful D cup breasts.

I shook myself from the naughty thoughts that kept running through my head and focused on putting up the remaining books. “K, you have a visitor!” I heard someone shout from the front.

“Let them in, and point ‘em my way!” I shouted while groaning inwardly at the thought of someone finding me in a puddle on the floor surrounded in books. Up I went, my ass bent over and my head toward the selection of books. Diligently putting them away. I knew it had to be my sister, probably needing a twenty to get her through the week, so when I heard the steps stop behind me, I motioned absently toward the table in the far corner. “Hun, my purse is over there, just get what you need and tell me how much. I should be done in another hour or two.”

When she didn’t respond I went to turn, but squealed as I felt hands wrap around my hips. The laughter I heard was unmistakable. The low sultry rumble sent shivers up my spin, and I twirled too fast and bumped into his hard chest. Looking up into Wynn’s eyes I gasp in delight. “How?? When??” I asked stuttering flabbergasted at his sudden appearance. My hands wrapped around his neck and he bent to kiss me, it was soft and passionate, yet I could feel his need radiating off of him in waves. Panting softly I looked into his eyes questioning.

“All of that later,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. “You said I could have what I need. I need you Kitz, now.” And with that he kissed me again, pulling my soft body against him, wrapping his arms around my cumbersome body and pressing my hips to his so I could know how real his need was. A moan was forced from deep within me, almost painful was the lightening that shot through me as I felt his arousal. My nails dug through the simple polo shirt he wore, trying to gain balance and my lips trailed to bite his neck in a silent agreement as to his wish.

He growled and quickly smacked my ass. I moaned and writhed into him as I felt the warmth on my behind. He pulled my skirt up as he kissed me, squeezing and fondling my ass, pushing me against him, my hips rubbing up and down on his jeaned erection. His hands splayed across my ass releasing a torrent of stinging slaps, and I moaned and jumped trying to escape, only moving closer to his hard body, his stance solid against my supple body. I bit him, trying not to call out, the slaps echoing in the quiet library. He then cupped my face in his hands, kissing me tenderly, my blushing cheeks almost as red as those on my ass.

He turned me around and slowly guided me to bend over one of the smaller shelves. His hands still cupped and squeezed my ass, and he bent over me, grinding into me. I whimpered and pushed against him, needing him inside me. He pulled my hair from the bun, and slowly let his fingers twine their way through, still grinding and teasing my pussy. The excitement was so much I was sure I could cum with just a few more grinds and I pushed eagerly against him, rubbing and moaning.

He moved away, my head coming up, as he tugged me gently. He bit my neck, my ear, making me shudder. His hands snaked around me, flicking my nipples into tight buds. “Please,” I began to beg of him. “Please Wynn, no more. I need you in me” I gasp between pants, and he moved his hands to rub my belly, then pulled them back and gave me a quick smack on my ass again.


He backed away and I whimpered, looking back at him through the disheveled mess he had made of my chestnut hair. But he was unzipping his pants, and then let his cock escape through his boxers. I moaned at the rigid length and turned bending further over, spreading, showing him I was ready for him. The black matching thong I had worn was soaked with my wetness, and he moved it aside, then let one finger slide in-between my folds. I moaned and pushed against him, his finger slipping deep inside of me. I tried to ride it, but he withdrew.

My protest was quieted as I felt his thick head move up and down my lips, wetting himself and spreading his pre-cum on my swollen lips. I heard him growl, as if his reserve broke, and he plunged into me hard and fast. I screamed out in delight, and then bit my lip, trying to control myself, but almost immediately shuttered and orgasmed around him. I gasp as I began to shake, my very core splitting into pieces of light and shattering across the heavens. I arched back and he held me as I clinched and moved around his cock, and he moaned appreciatively.

Yet he continued moving, his cock hard and velvety sliding in and out of my wetness with now slow and deliberate strokes. One hand tugging my hair, the other guiding my hips, he pushed me higher and higher. Wynn’s movements became quicker, and I could feel his moans like a tuning fork in my spine. I pushed harder against him, his hips harder against me. In and out, his balls hitting my clit, his massive cock, reaching and teasing every spot inside me.

I felt my own breath quicken, and as I drew close I began to clinch around him harder and harder, urging his cock to release within me. His moan was deafening, like I had ripped his soul from his body, and he shuddered and twitched on top of me. As I felt both hands guiding my hips pushing me, all of his energy pulsing through me, I rose to my own climax again, and called his name over and over again.

Spent and exhausted, I rested my sweaty brow against the cold wooden shelve and as he pulled out I shivered again. He replaced my thong, as if it might do some good to stop the cum that would surely leak out of me. I giggled at the thought, then began to giggle more uncontrollably. He turned me around after he pulled his pants up and clasped them, then kissed me fully, softly hugging me up into his embrace. I beamed at him, although bashful, and he kissed my forehead.

“Mmm, my sweet little Kit, I have missed you.” I giggled at him again, never fully understanding how someone of my girth could be small, yet enjoying his endearment too much to argue. He held me at arms length and tsked at me. “You are a mess.” He moved to pull down my tight shirt from its rumpled position and tucked one breast back into its harness. I moaned softly as he tweaked each nipple once more for good measure. Then he smoothed my skirt down over my hips and underwear and reached between my legs, trailing softly down with his hands on my inner thighs and pulling back up each stocking.

My face was flushed, and I tried putting my hair back, but it was of little use. The knot was at best bumpy and messy and one look at me and anyone could tell that I had exerted myself recently. He kissed me again. “It’s your fault.” I said pouting, and quickly put the last few books away. He laughed and offered to assist me.

“I know, that is what makes you so beautiful right now.” To this I just stared, shaking my head at this insane man by my side and pouted before giving in to kiss him softly.

“Your nuts.”

“You like it.”

Again I merely nodded, not even bothering to deny it.

“What are you doing here!” I exclaimed as I finally realized that this encounter was a bit odd considering he lived half a continent away from me.

Wynn just smiled at me, as if amused that it took me so long to get my wits about me. Infuriating man. “Work. I just happened to have a layover at the airport, until tomorrow morning. I thought I might sneak up on you.”

I beamed. “I love surprises!” I said as I wrapped my arms around him and kissed him again. We locked up the library and headed home, where he made love to me this time, nice and slow, kissing each inch of my body. I think we fell asleep sometime around four, then were up again at seven to see him off. Seeing him was bittersweet, but honestly the perfect distraction. Today I have did nothing but stare off and daydream, even going by the library and blushing as I moved past the botany section, almost still feeling his heated breath on my neck, his hands in my hair.

I am muddled. In a state of constant confusion. Thinking of him and Tara and Jackson and wondering how long I can have all three of them before it comes tumbling down around me. Each of them is an addiction to me now, more than I care to admit.

Wynn my ocean, the calm, the chaos, ever churning, changing, mysterious and dangerous, yet so very alluring. Untamable, wild, his very essence a mixture of dark and light, mischievous and full of life. When I am beside him, there is something so, raw and real, so beautiful that I can’t explain it. His laughter contagious, his playful way reminisce of the god Loki, always a tease, a taunt, life a large and amusing game in which he moves each piece this way and that, gleefully watching us in our own self destruction.

Tara, my wind, the breeze on my neck, soft and giving, nurturing and uplifting, moving silently and gracefully as she entwines herself in my soul, bit by bit, until I have become certain the only true breath is one that I share with her, our lips touching, panting and gasping as our releases have swirled away from us, leaving us shaking and spent, only holding on to reality by the small thread that connects us.

And Jackson? He is fire. I can’t even call him mine yet. His mild manner a disguise for the passion that burns so fiercely within him. When he touches me, the heat and electricity sear my very soul, the intensity leaving me breathless, the need so powerful I am drawn like a helpless moth as his hands and lips assault me. Blazing, so powerful I feel it will consume me, the lust I have for him. More than just a physical flame, as if each bright flicker is fueled by an ageless spirit, powerful and full of wisdom. His very soul known to me as if it has sheltered and kept me a million years in his glow.


What have I gotten myself into? Musing I think of who could be my earth, then perhaps I might find balance, or then again they might all fade away, leaving me cold and dry and without air of which to breath or land on which to stand, falling into oblivion. Yet, musing is often interrupted and put on a back burner as life speeds up again, and the demands of just being me overwhelm again. I will call Wynn tonight, after I get back from Tara’s. She makes the most wonderful strawberry concoction of rum and berries and white cake. I wonder if she will let me eat it off of her soft belly…

Fireworks

Running down the stair well, my wet, slick body covered in lotion and hair dripping, silk pink robe barely covering me as I tried to tie it closed; all not my ideal fourth of July weekend. This always happens. My eccentric family is all about drama. That is why I stayed in the hotel. And yet, still, there I was, huffing my rather large hiney down three flights of stairs, the smell of smoke in the air, alarming blaring in my ears. Everyone else passed me up, moving ahead of my cumbersome frame. Silently hoping that the alarm was not fire but hungry lions and all the rude people were rushing to their bellies, I progressed along, down one flight, then the other.

Absently I noted a door on another floor open, and heard shoes squeaking as someone quickly made their way down. I assumed that they would pass as the others had, but as they approached they slowed down, and I looked up to see what had stalled them. The man was slightly winded, my heighth and, my appraisal could go no further as that as my gloriously graceful self twisted my ankle and tripped down the last four stairs.

Pain sliced through me, and I groaned. I felt my cheeks redden, and for a moment was disoriented. Then I felt a hand on my side, under my arm.

“Are you okay?” the man asked of me, as he tried to help lift me up.

The thought of someone lifting my frame had started the giggles, and I began to laugh at myself. He bent over and stared at me with one eyebrow lifted in question, his lips twisted together slightly. The beguiling look made me laugh harder. He smiled warmly in return and I noticed his face flush. The air suddenly was colder, and I looked down to notice that when I had fallen my robe had pulled itself open, my nude body poking out of the pink silk in various places.

Of course, in my state of mind, I also found this to be amusing, and laughed as I pulled my robe closed. He moved down the first few stairs flushing profusely, and I took it merely as him being a rather reserved man, albeit a gentleman. Again he offered his hand and I looked up at him as I moved my hair out of my face. He moved with quiet grace, his lithe body moving easily in his lose fit jeans and burgundy t-shirt. His hair was golden, cut short and professionally, his eyes a deep blue surrounded by slightly rectangular black frames. His glasses sat on the bridge of his nose, and it wrinkled cutely as he smiled with his Cheshire smile. Dimples; my only thought seemed to be dimples.

I took his hand and his strong body braced to take the weight of me as I pushed up and he pulled to steady me. I tried setting my foot down, but the pain was too intense and I gasp, pulling it quickly up. He bent down on one knee and pulled my calf onto his thigh. His hands were warm, the fingers splayed across the quickly bruising flesh. He made me move it from side to side, then up and down. I bit my lip against the pain and looked down at him for some type of diagnosis.

He looked up at me, and I could swear he wasn’t breathing, I could see his face get darker red and his eyes widened. “Um, I am not a doctor, but it looks sprained and not broken. “ His hands softly rubbed my calf and ankle, I moaned softly, feeling myself moisten slightly. I could hear the fire siren blaring again and snapped to attention. He mumbled sorry and placed my foot down slowly, and stood up. I smiled at him warmly.

“That’s alright. I appreciate your help. You think we should hobble out to safely?” I asked trying to stop assuming that every man I met was attracted to me. He reached for my hand and I smiled. “My name is Kitzy by the way.” His smile seemed contagious and mine grew larger, slightly goofy. He took my hand in his and kissed it chivalrously.

“And mine is Jackson.” I laughed at his gesture, smiling and feigning a fainting spell.

“Well how do you do?” I asked as he moved to wrap my arm around him and tired to support my weight, laughing as he walked me out the door.

We ran abruptly into the fireman, and he lost his hold and yes, my fat ass pulled us both down. (I did mention this was a glorious holiday weekend didn’t I?) Sitting in the grass we stared up at the uniformed fireman, his yellow and black jacket gleaming as the flickering lights roamed over the parking lot to the motel. He appeared equally startled.

We explained that I had been injured and he quickly bent and confirmed the initial diagnosis of bad sprain. He then helped me up again, Jackson being uninjured, rose up on his own and resumed his position beside me. He looked around and then again at my dishevelment. The fireman then shook his head.

“Honey, there is no reason to be out here, the fire was in the fifth floor. We have already extinguished it, just waiting on the inspector to come clear the place. It is a formality really. Just go up to your room and put some ice on that.”

Jackson spoke up. “Here, let me help you.” And then just as quickly as we came out, we moved back into the hotel. I hobbled through the main entrance and he pushed the elevator button as we awkwardly waited making small talk. The doors opened with a loud ding, and we stepped inside. “What floor?”

“Three.” I mentioned and braced myself against the rail. He pushed the button then pushed five as well. Before letting the door close he made sure to position himself closer against me. I looked at him and raised a questioning eye. He smiled crookedly.

“So you don’t lose your balance.” I laughed and allowed his body heat to warm me. He sighed, reddening slightly. “Damn you smell good.” He muttered as the elevator sputtered to life. I turned to look at him and my breath caught. I could see his desire in his face. The way he averted his eyes and my barely covered breasts. It was heady, the passion a drug that made me dizzy and I faltered, stepping backward.

“Ummm,” I stuttered, and shook my head. “It’s my lotion. Trying a new scent. It is honey suckle. Or it might be my shampoo, or the vanilla body wash.” His hand brushed my neck and I shivered, then he got so close I could feel his breath. His nose touched the sensitive skin, and a small moan escaped my lips.

DING

I jumped as the doors open to my floor, and groaned slightly as my ass hit the metal of the guard rail. He just stood there, almost paralyzed. I could feel the tension radiating from him as he tried to gather some composure. His smile was controlled, and he looked up into my eyes. “I believe this is your floor.” I sighed in response. “Are you okay, Ms. Kitzy?” He asked me.

“yeah,” I said laughing as I did so, “Just my ass and ego are both bruised I think.” He chuckled softly. The elevator doors shut close again, and he jolted as it moved. Neither of us made a move to stop it, and his hands slipped behind me, moving across the silk and cupping each cheek, I gasp in surprise and the next door opened, this time I fell against his hands.

“To protect you.”

“Oh, you are such a gentleman.” I whispered as he came closer.

“No, far from it.” He replied, then groaned as his self reserve broke. He kissed me with such passion it took my breath away. This stranger had moved both of his hands to cup my face, his eyes closed tightly behind the scholarly glasses he wore. I should say stop I dimly thought as his kiss continued, his mouth and tongue moving expertly to create torrents of desire. When he finally stopped I stared at him in shock.

Jackson had the audacity to blush under my gaze. “If you tell me no, I will stop and get off this elevator now, but damn it, I want you. And I couldn’t get off of here without telling you.” I could feel my own cheeks flush, and I just kept staring, my mouth open unbelieving. My hair had began drying but was still a mess, my silk robe rumpled, the mirrors all around the elevator showed my face flushed, eyes round, lips dark and swollen from his kiss. I could see the globe of my right breast protruding from the pink fabric. My nipple evident in the other one. My belly was showing slightly as well as my right thigh and leg. No wonder he was worked up! I was half way naked now!

And yet, I remembered how he looked at me in the stair well, and how calm and patient he had been. And he was so cute. I quit over analyzing myself and just asked what I wanted, and not surprisingly I wanted him with equal passion. Before I could chicken out I kissed him, pulling him into me bracing against the wall. It was almost animal like the way he growled as he heard my answer. His hand roamed exploring me, and his lips trailed to kiss my neck. I watched him through hooded eyes, my sore leg hiked up around his waste, his ass tight and pressed to support me.

I loved the way his pale skin looked against the darkness of mine, the way he moved against me, the way my nails left soft pink trails in his back. He pulled the small tie that held my robe together and again moaned, his vocal approval echoing in the small space. When his lips found my hard puckered nipple I gasp and moaned loudly, my hand in his soft hair. I couldn’t shut my eyes, I had to watch him through the mirrors. I shuddered involuntarily the rush so intense. I begged him for more, thinking this was to be fast and hard. Yet he seemed to be a starving man, bent on savoring every morsel, kissing my other breasts, hands lifting them weighing them appreciatively then smiling as his tongue tortured me.


He then moved down, running his hands over the large expanse of my stomach, murmuring how beautiful and smooth it was as he bent to shower it tenderly with kisses. He raised and kissed me fully again, and I felt like he sucked the very air I breathed out of me, I wobbled and he braced me against the rails. Jackson’s kisses were like nothing I have ever had. How can you be worshiped in a kiss? How can it convey so much passion and lust? It was as if I could feel his need as my very own.

I held his head in mine and he was momentarily disoriented. “I want you! Please,” I said gasping with each syllable. “Please let me feel you inside me.” My hand moved to his jeans and I pulled to hastily unbutton them.

“Mmm, almost.” He said as he pulled away. He dropped down to his knees in front of me. “I have to make sure you are nice and wet for me.” And with that I felt one thick finger slide between my wet lips. My hands went to the metal bar, trying to remain stable and thrust myself up at an angle to entreat his further exploration, my leg over his shoulder. He found my clit, engorged among my fat lips and pulled and twisted it, then parting me his tongue long and tapered tasted me and my I called out in ecstasy.

My legs spread further, my need strong, the cold air on my nipples, the silk falling and skimming around my skin, the sensations began to be too much. My hips thrust against him as he buried his face within me after throwing his glasses to the side.

“Plll… please” the words a mere prayer at this point. He suddenly stopped, and I whimpered in frustration. He rose, and pulled his pants down, anchoring them under tightened balls. His huge cock was covered in precum and I understood now why he took so much time getting me ready for him. He pushed me against the mirrors, staring at me, slowly guiding his cock into me. For a moment I thought it would be impossible to fit all of him, but he waited until the glorious tension faded and I grew accustomed to him. When he was buried deep inside me he kissed me and started his slow, rhythmic onslaught.

My hands braced against his shoulders holding him close to me. His moves deliberate and strong. I felt him building me slowly into frenzy, and yet our pace remained the same. His kissing me passionately then our heads bent together, the sensation to overwhelming to do anything other than relish it. My breathing was so erratic that when I came at first I couldn’t find the breath to scream, but then I did, pulling him closer with my leg, moaning and throwing my head back.

My walls shuddered violently around him and two powerful strokes later he came. His moan guttural, shuddering as he released inside me. I held him, his sweaty brow resting on my chest, my hips slowly milking his massive erection until he slid out sated. I grinned at him bashfully as his dimpled smile lit his own face.

He moved to kiss me once more, and wrapped his hands around me to gather up my belt. He straightened it, and my hair, then nibbled my neck. I moaned softly then louder as I looked down to see he was already hard again. Wrapping my fingers around his cock I noticed that they couldn’t even touch due to the girth. I stroked him softly marveling at the silkiness and when an errant drop of cum slowly drizzled down I bent and licked it off. He tasted of my cum, and I sucked him further.

DING

The elevator shuddered and I grasp for balance as it began to move. I was wide eyed as he quickly pulled his pants up and moved beside me picking his glasses up off the side of the rail. Up we went to level eight, the door opened, and a bleary eyed business man entered. His shirt was tussled and he smelt of alcohol. Fortunately he paid no attention to us as we looked at each other and smiled at our secret.

He escorted me to his room, as I had locked mine and didn’t have the key. There, we stepped into the spa and made love all over again. I found out that Jackson was there for work, and that he traveled often. Even closer to where I lived. I never made it to the fireworks this weekend. Mysteriously came down with a terrible headache and spent the day in bed, side by side with my new lover.

I think I am learning to love the holidays.