diversion

welcome, readers!

i’m sending you warm wishes that things are pleasant in your corner of the world.

i have a new read to share with you: my first voyeur piece.

as always, i am grateful for the time that you take out of your day (or night) to visit my humble blog. your feedback, good or bad, is always welcome. i do hope that you enjoy diversion.

 

diversion

Oh I watch you there through the window and I stare at you. You wear nothing but you wear it so well. — “Crash Into Me” by Dave Matthews Band

Travis was dressed for and hoping to get a run in before the movers arrived with more boxes and the last of his furniture, even though a light storm was likely to hit the metro. He ate leftovers for breakfast. Once he was settled in, the meals would be more elaborate. For now, cold Chinese food would have to do.

Standing by the large pivot window in his modern condo, he watched the morning activity around him. His last place was in a three-story brownstone across the street from a parking garage, a church, and a corner bistro; and the windows in his bedroom looked out onto a street that was always busy with pedestrians and cross town buses.

His new building was located in a more dense neighborhood, but he loved that it blended contemporary and old-world charm.

While admiring a partial view of the waterfront, a flicker of movement caught his eye. He looked in that direction, right into a spacious bedroom in the complex across from his. He took in the swanky decor, the large bed with colorful bedding, the nightstands on either side, and the creme colored chaise lounge angled in a corner of the room.

The sudden motion was a woman of color with full lips and a wide, but soft jawline. His eyebrow perked up when she opened her modest robe and dropped it from her shoulders. Light blue, hip hugging panties matched her bra; a bra that drew attention to her cleavage. She left the room, returning moments later with a bottle in her hand.

From his living room window, Travis gazed longingly as she put lotion on her body. His eyes slowly drifted over the full hourglass figure of his neighbor. Something told him that he shouldn’t have been watching: guilt. And it’s not as if he’s never seen a half-dressed woman before, but he couldn’t help himself. A whispered ‘wow’ left his mouth when her hands moved over her well-rounded hips and legs.

Doing something as simple as using lotion isn’t necessarily erotic, but somehow she managed to pull it off.

The way she leaned over to work the cream into her dark brown skin; the slow, meticulous way her hands moved up and down her legs, and the way her arm and thigh muscles flexed when she put a leg forward was almost like a strange fascination: one that he found arousing. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been standing there, but he regarded her until she was completely dressed.

Grabbing her briefcase, she left her bedroom—the private show was over.

Trying to ignore the uncomfortable strain in his pants, he smiled to himself and left for his run.

That night, Travis spent the evening unpacking. Curiosity got the better of him when a light came on in the opposite building. Moving skillfully around a coffee table and a stack of boxes, he was hoping to see the intriguing woman with the lovely face.

She was there, but to his disappointment, he was not rewarded with a robe or lotion. Only a tank top and boy shorts that barely covered her ass. She did nothing more than move from room to room while talking on her cell phone, eat from the refrigerator, dance around to music that he could not hear, and return to her bedroom to watch TV before turning her bedside lamp off.

Deciding to entertain himself, he surveyed some of the other units. The insides were nicely decorated with hardwood floors and warm color schemes. Residents were either eating, washing dishes, or settling on their couches in front of flat screen televisions.

He wondered if this would be his routine at night: scanning the windows of the building that faced his; staring into the homes of these individuals, into their lives. Learning a little more about them each time they moved around their space. Their intimate moments playing out in front of him like his own personal motion picture. Like the lanky guy one floor down who painted on canvases, the grey-haired lady who practiced her violin; or the couple in the corner unit who argued in their study.

Strangers who may or may not be aware that they are being observed.

On a Friday evening in September, something happened. Something that deserved his attention.

Dropping his leather satchel by the door, Travis fed his fish, pan fried some potatoes in butter, and poured himself a glass of scotch. Loosening his tie, he ate in front of his computer.

It was almost ten o’clock, he was finishing up some work on his laptop. Moments before exhaustion hit, he looked up just as her light came on. He immediately pushed back from the table, flipping a switch that almost cloaked him in darkness.

Making his way to the window, Travis leaned against the frame, glass of scotch in hand.

Button by button, the nameless beauty was shedding her clothes, flinging a red pantsuit and a blouse on the chaise lounge that was situated in that awkward corner of the room. Once she unhooked her bra and shrugged the straps off of her shoulders, his eyes were on her moderately sized, but full breasts. The images that flooded his mind only increased his arousal.

She sat on the edge of the bed, then removed her panties. He felt his dick growing hard as he watched her naked body gracefully fall back against the mattress.

Using both hands, she rubbed her face and neck with languid strokes. She palmed her breasts: pushing them together and rolling the nipples between her fingers. One hand remained there, the other drifted to her abdomen and hips. Reaching her thighs, the unknown woman bent her knees and spread her legs, inviting him to look as she fingered her labia.

Travis’ eyes widened as she teased the crease of her nicely trimmed pussy. Up then down, repeating the movement over and over. A voice, his own, could be heard as he softly counted the number of times her middle finger rubbed the hood of her clit. “One, two, three, four.”

He took a sip from his glass before placing it on the windowsill, truly savoring the rich, complex taste of single malt scotch on his tongue the way he savored the sight of this woman’s back arching upward as she pinched and massaged her stiff bulb. He couldn’t help but wonder what she was thinking about as pleasured herself.

Unbuttoning his slacks, he watched with fascination. He cradled and stroked his balls while she furthered her exploration. A pull at his zipper freed the painful erection that pressed against the front of his pants.

Travis closed his hand around his heavy member, his thumb slipping through a bead of wetness on the head. Slowly, he moved his hand from tip to base….repeatedly. In the dark corners of his mind, he was with this exotic woman: placing long, demanding kisses in that space where her neck and shoulders meet; his hands splayed across her back, moving down her sides to the curve of her ass, squeezing and lifting her cheeks.

He envisioned himself tracing the rounded lines of her breasts: sucking her dark, puckered nipples into his mouth—one after the other, lightly chewing on the taut skin; crawling between her legs, nuzzling and kissing her vulva, lapping at her lips—stopping briefly to inhale the scent of her arousal.

Travis tried to imagine what it would be like to taste her. To hold the flavor of her in his mouth before swallowing, leaving the beautiful finish of her juices to linger on his palate. He wanted to give her pretty pussy something more than her fingers. He wanted to fuck her in that large, well-designed bed of hers: without mercy.

He could almost feel the tip of his dick teasing her clit, separating her lips, entering her, and expanding her walls; his weight pinned against her—torso to torso.

His excitement continued to grow. Moaning raggedly, he thought about her sexy legs locked around his waist, effortlessly transforming from one position to the next. Her squirming beneath him as he moved in and out of her with long, deep strokes. The muscular length of him filling her, familiarizing itself within the warm confines of her sex; their bodies rising and falling like waves in the ocean. And he wanted to come with her—to share the shuddering sensation of an electrifying orgasm.

His erection ached at the idea.

For several minutes, Travis watched anxiously as the enticing lady eased two fingers in and out of her sex, seeking out her moisture. Her mouth was moving. Her hips reared up hard and fast as she stretched her opening, pushing urgently against her digits as though each undulation of her body was being pulled closer to the brink of pleasure.

He felt a catch in his throat when he saw her tug at the shaft of her clit. She paused, drawing slow, small circles around her bud before pulling on it again. Without missing a beat, she inserted her fingers inside of her, twisting them in and out of her entrance. His imagination led him to a place that made him think he could almost hear a squelching noise from the gradual withdrawal of her fingers.

He swore under his breath. “Fuck…” His own personal movie, and he was enjoying the show.

His fist tightened around his flesh, bucking his pelvis in time with her movements. The sensual rhythm turned him on so much that his shaft thickened in his hand. It was only a matter of time.

Working his rigid organ with quick, firm strokes intensified his pleasure, and stirred up visions of the walls of her body contracting around his glans, pulling him deeper inside her womb. His mind was clouded with the secret event that played out before him. He could almost smell the heady aroma of their bodies fucking. Adrenaline shot through his body, his breathing got faster and heavier. His knees were weakening, threatening to buckle underneath him.

Before long, Travis felt a familiar sensation in his groin. After a few good upstrokes, he threw his head back and shut his eyes tight, giving in to his need. A long, harsh grunt erupted from his mouth when his erotic pinnacle clamored through him. He placed his free hand against the wall when he found his release, almost slamming it against the exposed brick.

He couldn’t hear, of course, but at the same time, his neighbor’s cries spilled from her lips. Her mouth went slack. Grabbing her breasts, she tossed her head from side to side. Falling from the edge of ecstasy, she surrendered to the demand of her orgasm; kicking and squirming like she was in agony.

When the passionate spasms that claimed her slowly subsided, she brought her hand to her mouth, sucking and licking her fingers clean. The dreamy look that registered on her face was one of contentment.

An untethered Travis opened his eyes. The evidence of his sexual excitement had landed on the window and dotted the floor. By the time he looked in that direction, the light was off in the sensuous occupant’s bedroom.

As reality set in, and the last pulse of his climax tapered off, he tucked his soft, sensitive dick back into his pants then cleaned up the sticky mess he’d made.

 

The following night, Travis lingered by the window in anticipation, pretending to gaze at the dazzling cityscape that stretched out before him. He craned his neck, searching the rooms of her condo. He figured if he waited long enough, he’d be distracted with the pleasures from the previous night.

The figure staring back at him stopped Travis from enjoying his lascivious thoughts.

Instead of his mystery woman, a tall, lean, dark-haired man with a chiseled face stared back him. The suit he wore enhanced his powerful, confident look. His hands were in his pockets; the fixed, serious expression that showed on his face bore through the darkness, holding Travis’ gaze.

Travis guessed that the man would come looking for him, not that he blamed the guy. He’d probably do the same thing if the roles were reversed.

But the well-dressed man didn’t come for him. With an unrelenting stare, he threw Travis a closed-mouthed smile and nodded.

Travis wasn’t sure why, but he returned the gesture. Then the mysterious man drew the curtains.

The private show was over.

© enchanted.ladybug 04-01-2014

playtime

welcome, readers! happy new year!

as promised, i have a new read for you. this is actually a story that i’ve been working on for a few months. i did not set out for this to be a short story. originally it started out as a 1-2 paragraph project that i was going to share publicly on the message board that i’m a member of. but for some crazy reason i kept adding to it and nineteen hundred words later, i figured i would turn it into a story to post/share on my blog.

thank you for finding the time to stop by and read my contribution. i hope that you enjoy playtime.

playtime

The text message was precise and sent without an introduction: I’m on my way.

A few seconds later, Nia received a reply: Yes, Miss.

Darren knew he didn’t have a lot of time. He needed to tidy up the bedroom, brush and floss his teeth, shower, and shave his face and private area before his wife got home.

Having completed those simple requests, he warmed a bottle of coconut massage oil, and positioned himself. He waited patiently and silently for her arrival, hoping she’d be pleased with his obedience. When he heard footsteps outside of the bedroom, he felt it: that warm familiar feeling that excited arousal. He stood very still in an informal military stance for inspection: back straight, hands folded behind him, head down, and feet spread slightly apart.

Nia stood in front of Darren and lifted his chin. She nodded at his clean-shaven face and caressed his cheek, smiling when she felt his jaw lean into her fingers for comfort. Next, she had him open his mouth. Satisfied with its cleanliness, her fingertips passed over the surface of his upper body with the faintest touch. Her hand strayed lower, smoothing over his stomach and pelvis. She examined him, making sure that no traces of hair remained on his pubic area. A smile confirmed that she was pleased with his appearance. “Good boy, your grooming is satisfactory.”

“Thank you, Miss,” he stated softly.

“Safeword?”

“November, Miss.”

“Go.” Nia made a gesture with her head; Darren quickly moved to the other side of the room.


Minutes Later

Moving to his left side, she watched him, thinking there was something incredibly sensual about seeing Darren like this: on the bondage table, stripped of his clothing and vulnerable, wrists and ankles firmly restrained. Deprived of sight with a blindfold. Knowing that he was left defenseless to her every inclination.

Tonight, she craved a little pain with her pleasure.

She had a new toy—a Wartenberg wheel, and lightly tapped the flat side of it against his mouth. Holding the pinwheel comfortably in her hand and without a word, Nia lightly moved the device down his chin and across his collarbone and chest. As twenty-two sharp tines rolled over his nipples and rib cage, Darren’s mouth gaped open and he sucked in a breath at the foreign sensation. The unseen caused his body to quiver and goosebumps to develop on his skin.

She began exploring his torso with a myriad of random horizontal and vertical patterns. Gingerly at first, then pressing a little harder. Nia knew there was a small part of him that was afraid. She knew that in the secluded corners of his mind he was expecting this to be painful, and the thought of that little wheel lacerating his skin frightened him. But she also know that Darren trusted her judgement. He knew that even though she pushed his limits, she would respect his boundaries and keep him safe.

“You okay, handsome?” Nia asked as she continued to provoke him for a reaction. The fact that he never knew where the next touch would be coming from excited her.

Long, slow breaths spilled from his mouth. “Yes, Miss.”

The sinister spikes continued creeping along the contours of his body, circling his navel then moving against each hip joint. Nia moved the implement down each leg, making sure not to neglect the areas that connected his thighs and pelvis. The wheel stopped briefly then rolled freely against Darren’s sensitive scrotum. He sucked in another breath; the experience was heightened by the push of sharp points against the tender area of his glans—moving in one direction, then the other.

Darren reacted with a squirm. Nia knew that squirm. He was aching. Desperately. Not only wanting to climax, but needing to climax. She empathized with that desire, but he would have to endure the uncertainty, as he had been trained to do.

“Stand proud for me.” She watched his appendage take on a life of it’s own: swelling and pointing up majestically. The head glistened with a pearly bead of pre-cum. Unable to resist, she skimmed her fingers over the milky fluid and spread it over her lips, immediately licking and savoring the masculine taste of him. She ran the pointy wheel up and down his length, pressing harder, never letting it stay in one place too long as the intention was to tease him.

Low sighs accelerated to groaning as Darren closed his hands into tight fists and struggled against the restraints. “I like that, Miss.” The fact that he regarded this (new) sensation as an enjoyable one and voiced it, surprised him.

Nia smiled. “I’m glad that you do.” That feeling was his pleasure coasting delicately on the edge of pain, and it begged to be exposed. It’s what his body craved. She gently pushed his hardness toward his stomach, circling his testicles over and over with her wheel. She could hear his moaning grow louder and didn’t want him to go over the edge so she stopped, letting him rest for a short while. “Good boy. Relax and breathe, handsome. When you need to release, I’ll let you know.”

Eventually.

She tilted the prickly wheel at an angle. Then with careful attention, raked it over the long seam of his raphe with slow, gentle strokes before tracing figure eights around the flush crown of Darren’s arousal.

His dick lurched at her: a silent, albeit irresistible invitation to taste him.

Nia abandoned her toy and bowed her head. Her pretty lips hovered for just a moment before she puckered up, rubbing them over the rim and sensitive underside.

She covered the broad tip of his head with her ravening mouth. Relaxing her throat to accommodate him, she lowered her head. His girth moved smoothly along the slope of her tongue and palate, and soon her lips were taut around all of him. That’s when she heard Darren erupt in a fit of harsh sighs. Encouraged by his deep sounds, she greedily moistened his column.

Nia loved the feeling of having him in her mouth: heavy, warm, and throbbing for her. It’s too bad that he couldn’t see the way she swallowed his flesh, or the sultry look in her eyes as she inhaled the musky scent of him. Extending her tongue, she allowed its silky texture to coast over the veins that decorated his shaft. Taking her time, she lapped her way up and down his erection. Lost in the passionate act, her teeth lightly grazed him. His body trembled from the sudden, sharp pain.

She ravaged Darren’s gorgeous phallus with a sense of pride, taking it so deep that his tip touched the back of her throat. Her mouth moved up and down the length of him with light and heavy suction. Every few seconds, she’d tilt her head so that the crown rubbed against the soft texture of her cheek. Nia’s eyes rolled in pure bliss; she made small noises of satisfaction when he began throbbing and jerking in her mouth. Her saliva trickled down his shaft, forming a small puddle around the base of him.

Tightening her lips, she lifted her head with a slow, leisurely pull. Her tongue swirled around the swollen head of his dick and probed the tiny opening. She took a deep breath, hummed softly on the glans, then eased back into a continuous rhythm. Occasionally, she’d release him with a quiet pop, dip her head, and suck his balls into her mouth ever so gently.

Darren moaned his appreciation. The gentle vibrations sent him little sharp reminders that radiated throughout his body. He felt the strong desire of lust welling inside of him with each drop of her head. Breath after labored breath, he writhed but resisted the urge to thrust as Nia drew him in deeper, with purpose: nursing him with the steady pressure of her mouth, pulling him to surrender’s edge, enjoying the thick, muscular flesh of his hard-on with unhurried appreciation; sucking loudly while ooh-ing and ahh-ing. To add to his gratification, he felt her hand on his balls—stretching the skin, rolling and bouncing the sac in the palm of her hand. Incoherent words came from his mouth. He was painfully hard and he ached for an orgasm.

Nia sensed this but ignored his cries and chose to continue for a few seconds more—sucking harder while massaging his sac. With a soft murmur, she withdrew her wet, glistening mouth away from him, slapping the meaty crown of his sex against her tongue.

After releasing him, Darren’s proud organ jerked repeatedly, as if to tell her that it didn’t want to be left untouched and was in urgent need for her attention. Her hands roamed over his thighs and hips so that the urge to climax would subside. After a brief period, she oiled both of her hands and interlocked her fingers around the bottom of his manhood. Twisting up and down, she licked her lips when his plump head peeked between her thumbs on the upstroke.

Nia knew he was suffering but she wanted to continue increasing the intensity a little longer. She stopped, gave his erection a squeeze and changed her method: stroking him hand over hand with a firm, steady pace. Her skillful hands continued this way for a while before slowing down, giving Darren a chance to rest a little.

Darren’s body shuddered. He clenched his jaw, struggling to push out groans and sighs. It was clear that his expressive sounds were an indication that he was getting close to giving in to his pleasure. His head snapped back. Feeling his body stiffen, he called out in frustration.

Before he knew it, Nia had formed a ring with her fingers and slowly twisted her hand around his shaft. A leisurely rhythm graduated to a faster one. He shifted, desperately wanting to grab something—anything—to hold on to while trying to keep up with her repetitions and fighting the impulse of his body betraying him. Repeatedly, Nia brought him to the edge of climax, backed off so he didn’t lose his self-control, then started again.

Each time grew more powerful and more intense. Pressure was building in his testicles, and with such a strong orgasm growing inside of his body, the sensation was becoming unbearable. “It hurts, Miss,” he protested with a dry mouth.

That’s when she knew that he’d had enough. “Okay, handsome.” She wanted nothing more than to devote her attention to his manhood all night, but it had been days since his last orgasm and it was time to end the beautiful torment and reward him with what he needed the most. She slid her palm over the head then closed her hand around the shaft, squeezing him firmly at the base. With her other hand, she gently pressed two fingers against the sensitive space between his ass and his balls. With a soft, firm tone her command was simple: “Come for me.”

He did—groaning and hissing as he gave up the possession of his desire. Through long cries, shallow breathing, and contracted muscles, the smooth gift of his semen spilled over her fingers, landing on his thighs and stomach; it was an explosion that seemed to go on for several seconds.

It took awhile, but Darren’s heavy breathing tapered off. His body was flush with sweat. Soon, his trembling form stilled. “Thank you, Miss.” His body was weary from the fire of that intense orgasm—it was a feeling greater than anything he’d ever felt before. He was exhausted, but he was wonderfully liberated.

Nia sighed contentedly, her lust satisfied. She smiled down at him, admiring the lovely avenue of florid red lines the wheel left behind, and the milky-white ropes that remained on his warm, bare skin.

My pleasure, handsome.

© enchanted.ladybug 12.31.2013

blogiversary

welcome readers!

today marks the two year anniversary at enchanted.ladybug. i don’t have a lot to say, but i would like to take this opportunity to tell you that i appreciate all of you who take the time out to stop by my humble corner, read my stories, and comment on them. some of you have been such an inspiration, especially on those days/nights that i just didn’t think i was going to get anything done. so, dear reader,  i thank you…even if it’s just a small crowd of souls who visit. i just hope that you all will join me in the coming year as i continue to contribute to my blog, one seed of inspiration at a time.

i hope the new year that you all accomplish wonderful things, dream often, and be golden.

oh…and did i mention that a certain ladybug will be posting a new story tomorrow?

enchanted.ladybug

first in

welcome, readers.

i’ve missed you. i hope that things in your corner of the world are pleasant. or at least tolerable.

it’s been a few months, but i’ve been productive. this particular piece was a challenge for me; it’s my first anal sex story.

why was it a challenge?

my personal experience with anal sex is practically non-existent. i never really took an interest in it. not because i thought it was forbidden or anything like that, it was just something i wasn’t interested in exploring.

actually there are many things i’ve not experienced in regards to sexual experiences, but when you aspire to be a better writer, like i am trying to do, you have to step out of your comfort zone. stretch your mental muscles and write something new so you don’t become predictable. when you become predictable, your readers lose interest. it can be scary. which is part of the reason it took me so long to get this story posted. i was in a battle, with myself (it was pretty epic; there were swords, a court jester, banners, and cotton candy) to get past something i had no interest in and think outside the box. not only did i have to step out of my comfort zone, i had to step out of my sexual comfort zone.

so i tried it, and it wasn’t as scary as i made it out to be. it was actually pretty enjoyable. if i want to expand, and i do, i have to push the envelope a little—this includes personal envelopes. it’s important to step out of that zone sometimes, because being there, cloaked in the safety of what you’re accustomed to can cause hesitation. at least it did in my case: there were many nights when i’d literally look at my purple notebook on the table, or on the floor and involve myself with something else with no thought of working on my story. why? because i was being stubborn. i’m not working on that tonight, i’m not even interested in anal sex. i can’t write that kind of story, i don’t even know if that’s sanitary! in case you’re curious, there is a process to the whole anal sex thing. there are some steps that need to be taken before experimenting; there is communicating, cleaning, lubing….you can’t just get back there and….invade normandy.

my muse and i had a talk. we read a lot of articles, looked at a lot of pictures for the sake of mechanics, and even after all that reading and viewing, i was still a little hesitant because i didn’t know how i was going to work in the “process” of it….and still make the story interesting.
i don’t know if i got it right my first time out, dear reader. but i tried my best and battle aside, i had fun doing it—stepping out of my comfort zone.

as always, i am grateful for the time that you take out of your day (or night) to read my humble blog. your feedback, good or bad, is always welcome. i do hope that you enjoy first in.

first in

‘Cause I’m broken when I’m lonesome, and I don’t feel right when you’re gone away. —”Broken” by Seether.

It’s not easy being the other man. The sacrifice of broken dates, dinners gone uneaten, nights in bed alone. It took a lot of time and patience to adjust to and understand the absences. Gabriel could have asked Ariana to choose, but he didn’t. It’s what he signed up for, and he knew he’d be on the losing end of that request.

By definition, Ariana was married—to her job—as a firefighter. A second generation firefighter to be exact. They met at the post-race picnic of the firefighters’ fundraiser, the “All Fired Up 10K Run.” Gabriel was a volunteer at the event. Over beer and BBQ, they talked about the series of less than impressive blind dates they’d been on that went horribly wrong, exotic places they wanted to travel to, and songs they were ashamed to admit they loved. By the end of the picnic, Ariana had invited him to the annual pancake breakfast. “It’s five dollars a person for all-you-can eat pancakes, eggs, bacon, juice, and milk. There’ll be music and face painting, and the money will help various charities.”

“I don’t know,” he joked. “Five dollars is kinda steep.” Gabriel was decent looking in a mysterious way: Thick, dark hair pulled back into a casual ponytail, clean shaven, and a smile that could brighten anyone’s day.

She couldn’t help but laugh. “Well the breakfast is free. We have some local organizations who donate food to us every year; the support from the community has been great. The five dollars is more of a donation. “

“I’ll be there.” he winked.

They didn’t see one another for months after the breakfast. But he couldn’t stop thinking about a certain firefighter with big, soulful eyes and plump, kissable lips. When he couldn’t resist the urge anymore, he stopped by the firehouse on an impulse and asked her out.

She said yes.

In fact, he found himself wanting to spend quite a bit of his spare time with her. They went to improv shows, the planetarium, and even visited a diner in his childhood neighborhood where they had an onion ring eating contest. He loved her personality. She loved the sparkle in his eyes. Their friendship developed into something more and a few short months later, they were officially dating.

Initially, one of the things Gabriel loved about Ariana’s work schedule was that not seeing her for long periods of time made their relationship seem new. He actually loved when she’d come home occasionally smelling of smoke, sharing her experiences of the run she was on. Or how the rookie was doing during training drills. He had come to enjoy, in a sense, the time alone. It gave him time to catch up on work projects and coach his little league soccer team without feeling like he was deserting her.

Gabriel proposed a year later. He was very supportive of her and her career, but as their relationship deepened, so did the loneliness—and the worry. How did you deal with those feelings? He must have asked himself that a million times.

The issue had finally come to a head. Ariana was home folding laundry when he decided to tell her.

“I need to talk to you.”

She expected a confession—something that he’d been keeping inside all this time. Something that consumed him with so much guilt that he had no choice but to admit his faults: She expected to hear that he’d been seeing another woman. “Okay,” she sighed, putting the laundry aside.

“I’m lonely. I’m only telling you because I want to be honest about my feelings.” Gabriel was very careful with his words. When you’re involved with a firefighter, a call could come in at any moment and he knew he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if the last words they exchanged were out of anger. If something were to happen to her in the line of duty and his final memory was a heated argument, he wouldn’t have been able to forgive or live with himself.

There wasn’t a day that went by that  Ariana didn’t consider how her job affected him. Her job was stressful and unpredictable, but she couldn’t change who she was or what she did for a living. She assumed right away that the allure had worn off and the reality that he really wasn’t cut out for this life had hit him. An uncomfortable feeling overwhelmed her. “What do you want me to do, Gabe?” she asked, twisting her engagement ring around her finger. “I was a firefighter long before you met me.” The feeling that he was going to call the engagement off began to bear down on her.

“I know. I’m not asking you to give up your career. I want you to know how I feel. I want some understanding of the fact that I miss you and it kills me when you’re out there. It’s getting harder and harder to handle.”

She stopped twisting her ring. “Is that a threat?” If he was going to call this whole thing off, she wanted to know now.

“No,” he answered truthfully. “I would never consider leaving you or look to someone else to satisfy my needs. I just want to be honest; I’m miserable when you’re not here.”

A nod met his comment; Ariana knew he needed reassurance, but she didn’t know how to respond. She was appreciative that he was so open about his feelings. Relieved that they were still engaged, but afraid that the stress of her lifestyle had become too much for him. She feared that it would destroy their relationship.

Gabriel didn’t wait for a reply. He wasn’t really sure that he wanted one. He reached for his coat that hung on a wall-mounted coat rack by the door. “I’m going for a walk.”

It didn’t happen a lot—him leaving, but often enough that Ariana knew what “a walk” meant. Whenever their conversations hit a rocky area, he’d go to the bar around the corner for two beers and a signature sandwich made from their house-braised roast beef. When he left, he said I love you, but it did nothing to tame her emotions and stop that lump-like feeling from forming in her throat.

Gabriel returned two hours later expecting to find Ariana in a cold, angry mood. Instead he’d found the laundry neatly folded and his fiancee sleeping. After he showered, he walked lightly across the floor of the dimly lit bedroom; because of her job, Ariana was a light sleeper. Trying to curl in the bed without disturbing her, he’d barely pulled back the covers on his side when she woke abruptly. “It’s just me, sweetie,” he said, climbing in next to her.

She turned to face and kiss him. “You woke me up.”

“Am I in trouble?”

“No,” she said drowsily, tucking loose, wet strands of hair behind his ear.

“I’m sorry about earlier.”

Ariana quickly silenced him with a finger to his lips. In the time that Gabriel was gone, she thought about how they would resolve this in a way that they both would have some understanding and be comfortable. It was something that could be fixed, just not now. She pulled his face to hers and their lips met again; it was one of those seductive, slow-moving kisses that warmed him throughout. And aroused him.

In seconds, his frame was on top of hers. His lips moved and he was sucking and kissing the incline of her neck. He inhaled the delicate scent of her orchid blossom body wash, his masculine moans warm against her silky flesh as he lovingly pecked on her shoulder.

She held him tightly, wrapping her legs around his waist as he kissed and licked her. Sighing heavily as his path continued and he made his way to her hard nipple, taking it in his mouth through the thin fabric of her tank top, then giving the opposite one the same attention.

His mouth moved lower until his head was nestled between her legs. His fingers lightly glided over the edges of her panties before he removed them, exposing her lower body. Pushing her legs apart, he brushed his lips along her inner thighs. He always loved her her skin: a smooth, desirable tone of dark brown. Including the two-inch scar on her left leg from trying to climb a metal fence when she was younger. Dropping his head, Gabriel licked along the soft petals of her outer lips and spread her pussy with his thumb. Her warm, hairless flesh opened for him and before she could blink, his finger slipped inside of her.

Pulling at the sheets, Ariana gasped quietly as he probed deeper: curling his middle finger up and against her sensitive spot. At the same time, she could feel him draw the hood of her clit into his mouth. When his tongue rolled around the hard nub she almost lost it, panting her approval. Each touch raw, uninhibited, and increasing her desire. The muscles of her pussy clenched, her fragrant juices flowed freely into his mouth, down his chin, and to her ass.

Gabriel kept his mouth firmly pressed to her for a while longer, lapping at her repeatedly, losing himself in the warmth of her womanhood as he satisfied her. He pushed her up a little, angling her hips to chase the wetness that moved to her perineum and made a throaty sound while his tongue explored the delicate nerve endings. This tease was followed by the gentle pressure of his finger at her anal opening.

Ariana’s breath quickened and she caught a fistful of his hair. They’d talked about anal sex before, and even though he never pressed the subject, she always thought there was something forbidden about it and wasn’t sure if she was comfortable with the idea.

But something overwhelmed her judgement. Whatever it was, it made her feel naughty; salacious. Without thinking, she said, “Don’t tease me like that unless you plan on fucking me there.”

Caught off guard, Gabriel lifted his head. “Really?”

“Really.” She heard him make the sexiest sound, then felt his tongue flatten against her mound. Lifting her pelvis to meet his lips, her body reveled at the feeling of his slow, skillful mouth and muffled groans.

His focus was totally on her, licking her core tenderly over and over again. Teasing her beautiful pussy with the tip of his tongue: extending, twisting, searching for the sensitive spots that left her body no choice but to squirm and hump against his mouth. Searching for the storm of her orgasm, but not yet wanting to expose it. And he kept going, pleasing every inch of her sex noisily with his mouth, pulling away every few seconds to hear her swearing silently. When he gently blew air across the delicate tissues of her ass, the cool air forced her whole body to jerk.

“Turn over, baby.” Gabriel instructed gently, finally moving off of her to remove his boxers.

Obliging, Ariana rolled over to a kneeling position and heard the sound of a flip-top cap being lifted. Heat radiated all over her. The needy place between her legs ached for his continued attention, but the anticipation of what was to come aroused her with excitement.

While Gabriel liberally coated his fingers and erection with the slippery gel, Ariana leaned forward putting the soft curve of her ass high in the air. A moment later, she felt the cool drizzle of lubricant and his finger slide down the cleft of her backside, circling and massaging her tight opening. The initial sensation made her stiffen a tiny bit, but the pulses that rippled through her thrilled her, pushing her closer to climax.

Positioned behind her, Gabriel licked his lips, pressing against her puckered opening a little more until his lubed finger was buried inside of her. Carefully moving it in and out, waiting a few seconds and evaluating her reaction before gently adding a second finger; the inner walls of her ass loosening with each slow push and pull. “Sweetie, if you want to stop, just tell me.”

Long, uncontrolled sounds left her lips. She winced at the breach of his digits and aimed her attention at relaxing. She didn’t want to stop. Pushing out a few breaths to release the tension, Ariana closed her eyes. Her fingers drifted between her legs and she willingly massaged herself. “Give me more.” Wet with need, she was ready for him and pushed against his hand.

After few more shallow strokes, he eased his fingers out of her. Her three-worded invitation made him tremble. Grunting, he eagerly wrapped his hand around his firm flesh and began slowly guiding the tip against her tight hole. He was painfully hard, and ached to be inside of her lovely body, stretching and filling her. He felt he was about to lose his self-control, but he didn’t rush.

Ariana felt some discomfort. Her brows furrowed and a strain came across her face when she felt the soft, bulbous head of his glans at her opening. She groaned in frustration and bit into her bottom lip as he continued pushing his thick organ inside of her.

Expectantly, there was some resistance at first, but Gabriel slowly and gently inched himself past that outer ring. Once the tight warmth of her ass accepted his full length, he paused. The transition from pain to pleasure felt so good that he just wanted to enjoy the snug pressure that surrounded him for a moment.

Feeling her anxieties dwindle away, Ariana moaned and deliberately pushed back against her fiancee. “Fuck.” Her voice was a warm, soft gasp. Her mind sent her the most confusing signals: She didn’t know if it hurt or if it felt good. But it only took seconds to decide that the sensation of being so helpless, so full of him, was an intense and intoxicating experience. Lowering her head, she tightened her jaw and a ragged sigh left her mouth.

Gabriel grunted and pulled at her hips. He seemed to know just what to do: Thrusting and withdrawing at a smooth, steady pace. Driving deeper within her taught, velvety depths. He loved the way her anal muscles clasped around his girth, pushing and pulling at the prominent veins along his shaft as he fucked her.

Barely supporting herself with one hand, Ariana vigorously rubbed her swollen clit, the sensation caused her to shake involuntarily. With her eyes tightly closed she lifted her head and whimpered constantly, throwing her weight back against Gabriel. She knew it wouldn’t be long before her body would command her, and she would have to answer with an explosive orgasm.

Gabriel seemed to know it too and reduced his pace. “Not yet, baby. I want to come with you.” He lifted her ass cheeks, spreading them farther apart. Slowly rocking his hips against her, he panted heavily. “Oh fuck. So good, so tight…fuck.” His controlled movements gradually increased; the strong in and out strokes were such an extraordinary feeling, but before long, the slow build-up would overcome the both of them.

“Fuck me. Don’t stop.” Noises came out of Ariana’s mouth as short, simple melodies of sensuous moans. She melted in the heat of passion, fondling her sensitive pearl with one hand, clawing at the bed with the other. Her muscles contracted in the most powerful way and within seconds, she erupted. The ecstasy of her orgasm sent her into the most delicious convulsions.

As her essence dribbled down the back of her thigh, Gabriel plunged harder and deeper, hissing and grunting her name. Loudly. On his last forceful push, his muscles tightened. He growled when emptied himself, his sticky fluid filling her ass. His dick, soaked with moisture, pulled out of her with a sucking sound. At that point, there were no words–only heavy breathing with what strength they had left before their perspired bodies collapsed on the bed.

It was just after five in the morning. Gabriel was awakened by the thump of helicopter blades and sirens. The hair on the back of his neck bristled; something was wrong.

Ariana was gone. He quickly turned on the television and watched the news.

An enormous fire was in progress at a high-rise apartment building. The conditions had gotten so dangerous, they called for two other departments to come in and help fight the fire, including Ariana’s department.

Gabriel watched as much of the coverage as he could. He dressed quickly, grabbed his car keys and ran out of the house. He arrived at the scene just before the roads in the neighborhood were closed off, and watched with a crowd of onlookers from across the street at a safe distance. Flames engulfed the building. Black, caustic smoke and embers billowed into the sky that could be seen from several blocks away. The sound of shouting and glass breaking could be heard. A few residents were seen in their windows screaming for help as emergency crew members used extension ladders to rescue them.

Gabriel’s heart raced with fear as he watched the flames rage through the structure. He tried so hard not to think the worst. The inferno seemed to grow out of control and consume everything so rapidly, he only hoped it didn’t consume Ariana too.

Nearly three hours later, firefighters tackled the fire and it was contained. News reporters on the scene said the cause of the fire was unknown, but that it appeared to have started on the north side of the complex, spread quickly throughout the building, and that some of the firefighters had to enter with oxygen tanks to evacuate residents that were inside. Two ambulances were sent to the scene and The Red Cross was called in to assist with those who were displaced.

Once all of the flames had been doused and the smolders no longer proved to be a risk, it was reported that three people had been rushed to the hospital to treat minor burns and difficulty breathing. Three firefighters were being treated on the scene for their injuries, but no lives were lost. Hearing this, Gabriel bolted across the street, looking frantically among the crew.

He was heading for the triage area when he saw it. The jacket with a familiar name sewn on the back in conspicuous, yellow letters: MORGAN. With tears in his eyes, he called out for her, pushing past anyone in his way.

Covered in soot, Ariana turned around immediately and ran to him. He held her in his heartening embrace. “Don’t ever scare me like that again.”

Reaching her arms around him, she squeezed him in a long, intimate hug that lasted for minutes. “I won’t.”

So how do you deal with the worry? You don’t. Worrying is natural and all you can do is pray for the crew and their safe return. It just became a part of his daily routine. Gabriel learned not to let those thoughts consume him because there was nothing he could do to change the situation. Ariana is a firefighter—a dedicated firefighter, putting her life on the line each time she went on a run. And after today, he couldn’t love or respect her more.

© enchanted.ladybug 08.20.2013

choices

welcome, readers!

i must say that i’ve missed you. i hope that all is pleasant in your world. i realize that it’s been about four months since my last post, but i was productive during those silent moments. hopefully, i’ve made up for my absence with the new story i have for you.

i really appreciate your support, whether it’s feedback or encouragement, or just stopping by to read one of my stories: i am grateful for it all.

thank you for taking the time to come by; i do hope that you enjoy choices.

choices

“Your total comes to $33.87.” The short clerk’s smile faded as she watched Tod fish around in his pockets.

He checked his wallet. Twice. “I’m sorry, I can’t find my debit card.” He shook his head. “Just void every—“

“Excuse me, just add my three items in with his. I’ll pay for his groceries,” an olive skinned woman behind him said.

“Are you sure?” the clerk asked.

“I can’t let you do that,” Tod said.

“I insist.” Passing her card to the clerk, Shani lowered her voice. “Besides, people are starting to sigh and roll their eyes.”

“Thank you so much. I can pay you back.”

“That’s not necessary. I was only happy to do it.” She reached for her eco-friendly bag, smiled, and fluttered her fingers before heading toward the exit.

Tod was shamefaced, but intrigued. Grabbing his groceries, he ran wildly after the woman, calling out to her and almost running into someone’s cart in the process. “Miss!”

Shani was steps away from her car when he’d finally caught up with her. She stopped and turned around to a tall man with a solid build and a disheveled, medium-length shag hairstyle. His face was scruffy, as if he’d not shaved in a week. Still, she thought he was adorably handsome; and then some.

Out of breath, Tod said, “Really…I can pay you back. I must have left my debit card at home.” He’s not sure what came over him, but he blurted out, “Or dinner! I can make you dinner.”

She was taken aback by the unexpected invitation. “What’s your name?”

“Tod. And yours?”

“I’m Shani. Listen Tod, it’s okay. You don’t need to pay me back or cook me dinner.” Thinking he’d be satisfied with that answer, she placed her bag in the trunk.

He wasn’t sure if it was her kindess, or her sensual look that caught and held his attention, be he didn’t accept her graceful decline. “Shani. That’s a pretty name…very sophisticated.”

“Thank you, that’s kind of you to say.” She was mildly impressed at his approach.

He cocked his head. “You’ve gotta eat sometime…”

She smiled to hide her irritation. “How do you know that I’m not married?”

“I don’t. At least I hope you aren’t.” Tod paused for a moment. “Are you?”

“No.”

“Good, because that would have been awkward. Now what do you say?”

Seeing that he wasn’t going to take no for an answer, she closed the trunk door and pointed at a box of cereal sticking out of his bag. “You’re not going to feed me that, are you?”

That next evening, Shani found herself in a cul-de-sac of townhouses. She located Tod’s address and parked next to a red truck in the driveway.

As she approached the door, she smelled smoke and heard the high-pitched piercing sound of an alarm coming from inside. Anxious to see if he was all right, she rang the doorbell and knocked.

Almost immediately, he opened the door with a towel and an embarrassed look on his face. “I burned the rolls,” he said, welcoming his guest inside. “Would you mind opening those windows?” He gestured around the room and ran back to the alarm, fanning the smoke away with the towel.

Shani placed her purse and a bag of gourmet coffee on a sidetable near the door. The coffee, an Ethiopian After Dinner Blend, was a thank-you for dinner; a dinner that would be eaten without rolls. She quickly opened the windows and it only took a few seconds, but the smoke alarm finally stopped beeping. “Is there anything I can do to help?” she asked.

Tod was multi-tasking: dumping burned bread into the trash, tossing curly pasta with spring vegetables, grabbing plates from the cabinets, lighting candles, and placing a salad on the table. He doesn’t need my help, she thought.

A long conversation started over dinner. They talked about several things including movies and sports.

When asked about what she did for a living, Shani said, “I own a small flower shop downtown, Wild Flowers.”

Tod listened attentively as she discussed her love of all things flowers: How the smell of certain ones brought to mind memories of an autumn destination wedding she provided the floral design for, or the time she vacationed with friends at a beachfront villa in Costa Rica. She loved her job and took pride in her creativity, satisfied the most when she was helping others find the ideal bouquet to express their feelings. Her face lit up and he couldn’t help but smile.

“That’s enough about me. I can talk your ear off all night about this,” she said. “What about you? What do you do?”

“Well,” Tod began, “up until a few weeks ago, I was a risk analyst. The company I worked for decided they only needed one agency, and I was one of many that was gently let go. I’ve got a few things lined up, but in the meantime, I do freelance consulting. The client I’m working for is a thorn in my side, but it keeps a roof over my head.

Shani opened her mouth to apologize, but she changed her mind. “It’s such a devastating time for the economy. So many are struggling through it,” she said instead.

He agreed, going on to tell her that a few of his neighbors had to resort to garage sales to generate extra money. “Things are literally falling apart for so many people. I just hope this downturn doesn’t last forever.”

Shani helped clean up after dinner. She and Tod continued their talk over a glass of wine: sharing some similar interests and views on life, and discussing the people who influenced them the most growing up. He was very intelligent, she thought. She appreciated the fact that he was ambitious and pleasantly surprised to know that he preferred small, intimate groups instead of large crowds.

She also hated to interrupt the pleasant moment of their conversation. “I really should head home now, Tod. I’ve got an early day tomorrow. Dinner was fantastic; thank you.”

He insisted on walking her to her car and she didn’t refuse the offer. “Maybe we could meet for lunch sometime? I know the best place to get Belgian fries.”

She said, “I enjoyed your company…”

“But,” Tod interrupted. He almost expected a ‘but’.

“But,” she began with a smile, “our ages; I’m too old for you.” Shani didn’t want to hurt his feelings, but it was important that she be honest with him.

“I’ll be twenty-seven real soon,” he smiled. He knew the challenging subject would come up. But he liked her and didn’t mind the difference in their ages. He just wanted to see her again. “Will you at least think about it?”

She didn’t need to think about it. “Good night, Tod.”

A WEEK LATER

Shani was changing the decorations in the display room to reflect the upcoming Easter holiday.

Gia, an employee at the shop for the past three years, was arranging vases of fresh cut flowers in front of the shelving. “So…why haven’t you called him?” she asked.

“I’m just not interested.”

Gia rolled her eyes. She knew that the only person Shani was trying to convince was herself. “Oh, bull. That’s just you hiding behind the age thing. He asked to see you again, he’s obviously smitten with you.”

Shani shrugged. Gia’s comment about hiding was right, but there were still these frightening conflicts that, in her mind, were working against them: She had difficulty understanding what Tod could possibly want with someone her age; she was forty-five years old, and figured it wouldn’t be long before he set his sights on someone his own age. She never had an issue with her voluptuous figure, but her body was beginning to show signs that time was taking its toll on her. She’s also been married – twice.

Both times Shani allowed herself to think that she’d found the one she’d spend the rest of her life with, and both times she suffered physically and mentally at the hands of men who thought it was perfectly okay to abuse women. Her last marriage was the most damaging: Paul was an alcoholic, and an angry one. His violent rages seemed to grow worse with each drink. Dedicated wife that she was, she tried to help. She tried to stay. A broken arm and a dislocated jaw finally gave her all the motivation she needed to leave. Shani had sacrificed so much for both of her marriages, and she told herself that she’d be damned if she gave up what little dignity she had left.

With two failed marriages behind her and a new start on life, she didn’t have the desire to open her heart again; especially for a younger man. She had to keep things in perspective; if for nothing else, to maintain her integrity. “He’s probably never even been in a serious relationship, Gia.” Shani sighed.

“So? Who said anything about getting serious? Stop trying to predict what’s going to happen in the future. He asked you on a second date. Forget about love and just have fun.”

“I’m old enough to…”

“Be his mother,” Gia finished. Just then the doorbell sounded and a man with a cane came in. She walked over to greet him, but not before looking back at Shani and mouthing the words ‘call him’.

Thirty minutes later, the doorbell sounded again. Shani looked up from her workbench to see Tod holding a bouquet of white and purple orchids in one hand and waving with the other.

“Hi.” Moving toward her, he held out his arm. “These are for you.”

“You do know that I own a flower shop, right?” she asked, crossing her arms in front of her.

“I know. I haven’t heard from you in a week and I needed a cheesy excuse to come and see you.”

“I’m sorry.” she said, looking over just in time to see Gia smiling widely.

“Was it the rolls? Cause I can try again.”

There was a regretful look in his eye that Shani tried to ignore. Trying to keep her voice down, she said, “It wasn’t the rolls. I just didn’t think another date would be a good idea.”

Apparently Tod did, and he said so. “Come on, one friendly drink? I promise I won’t bite…unless…you’re into that kind of thing.”

Realizing she wasn’t going to win this battle, Shani rolled her eyes and shook her head. Relenting, she stepped from behind the workstation and took the bouquet with a smile.

That evening, during a small chat on the phone, a time and location were arranged. Shani promised to be at Tod’s house at seven o’clock sharp and dressed for weather that threatened to rain: a polka dot cotton top, cardigan, and relaxed fit jeans. After pulling her long hair into a funky, curly updo and putting on her shoes, she grabbed her purse and headed out.

At the restaurant, he was a gentleman the entire time: holding the door open for her, pulling her chair out, and making her feel as if she was the only one in the room. As they talked over drinks and appetizers, a pleasant feeling overcame Shani and she became mezmerized by her dinner companion’s deep green eyes that were flecked with blue, and fascinated by the sound of his laughter. The back and forth went on until they realized that they were one of the last few customers left.

A drizzle of rain left the streets glossy and wet. Wanting a chance to enjoy Shani’s company more, Tod suggested a leisurely walk. Just a couple of streets away, they strolled along the waterfront park, enjoying the tree-lined walkways, fountains, and high railings. They even made an impromptu stop at a late night dessert bar and shared a pint of condensed milk ice cream.

When they got back to Tod’s truck, he opened the passenger side door first and waited until Shani buckled her seat belt before making his way to the driver’s side. A block later, when his truck eased to a stop, he announced that he had gotten a call back from a company he applied to and would start work in a week.

“That’s wonderful!” Shani beamed, placing her hand on his thigh. It was unexpected, but then so was him kissing her. It took a moment, but her mouth relaxed against his. He kissed her deeply – so deep that she almost forgot to exhale. She tasted aged bourbon on his tongue: Damn he’s a wonderfully talented kisser, she thought.

It was the impatient drivers behind them blowing their car horns that pulled them apart.

Ten minutes on the highway, three traffic lights, and four turns later, they were back at Tod’s house. She thanked him for dinner and told him that she had a great time – which she did. As he walked her to her car, she was prepared to give him a good night hug when his next words caught her off guard. “I’d like to see you again, Shani.”

Despite the kiss at the stop light, she knew how she felt. The age difference was awkward. It had nothing to do with social taboos; it was her, and those ill at ease ideas made her feel as if she wasn’t sure if she wanted to commint to another date. Shani decided the best thing to do would be to let him down gently. In the most polite way possible, she said, “I don’t want to lead you on, but I don’t see us on future dates, Tod. I’m sorry.”

He was determined to get her to reconsider her opinion and not let her strong personality deter him. “I like you. And I know you like me.”

He was right; she couldn’t deny the chemistry between them. But even though Tod was more balanced and mature than her two ex-husbands would ever inspire to be, she wanted to tell him that they were in different phases of their lives. That he needed to travel; see the world and experience several relationships with various women. There was no time for that. Tod leaned in and kissed her with a long, incredible force.

Shani’s keys and clutch purse fell to the ground. Fuck it, she thought, pushing out a whimper when his lips connected with hers. She wasn’t fighting it any longer. Just as she sighed into his mouth, her arms closed around his neck; her anxieties replaced with exhilaration.

Tod pulled her closer. His body: warm and solid, felt incredibly good pressed against hers. Slowly, his hands roamed freely over the lush contours of her figure, stroking up and down her back through her clothes.

Enjoying the heated moment, Shani drew his tongue into her mouth, sucking it energetically while fisting the loose, shiny waves of his hair. Soft hums spilled from her mouth as their tongues slowly entwined, it was like she’d been longing for this kind of indulgence all day.

Eventually, their kiss ended and a breathless Tod tugged at the button of her jeans. Drawing the zipper down, his impassioned eyes studied her; drank her in right there on his dimly lit street.

Kneeling down, he helped her step out of her jeans. He smiled when he heard the low tones of her mewling as his fingers followed the plump outline of her labia through the fabric of her panties; lightly caressing her lips one at a time.

A series of pecks and playful nips sent feelings of euphoria racing through her body; her exquisite moisture saturating her panties. He quickly removed the damp material and tossed them aside.

Now exposed, Shani’s first instinct ought to have been to cover herself. Instead, she planted her feet firmly on the ground, leaned against her car, and sighed with content as that first trace of his breath lingered over the vulnerable area.

It was such an intimate moment, the thought of someone approaching and catching them in the act should have terrified her but it didn’t; there was something about being on display and having the moist air provide an erotic contrast to the heat radiating between her legs that only added to the excitement.

Tod made a soft sound and inhaled deeply, her natural scent filled his lungs and drove him crazy. “You smell so good, Shani,” he murmured. Flattening his tongue against her, he began his journey: licking the lines that formed her inner and outer labia with slow, measured strokes.

Biting her lip, Shani moaned loudly. This wasn’t lack of patience from someone whose hormones were out of control; each move had a purpose. Gently, he pulled the delicate folds of her pussy deep into his mouth. She tried to say ‘suck my lips’, but desire was weakening her and all that came from her were ragged sighs. He didn’t need direction, though; alternating between sucking and soft kisses.

She felt him stop, and it almost pained her when he withdrew from her.

Tod gingerly inserted two fingers inside the warmest part of her; stroking and scissoring within her deliciously swollen pussy. As he continued to get more familiar with her intimately, he couldn’t stop himself from moaning as he explored what she felt like: smooth, warm, and wet.

Struggling to breathe, Shani closed her eyes, listening to the slippery noises and enjoying the sensation of his hand. Demonstrating his talent put her on the edge of orgasm; each rapid movement excited her body and made her squirm from the irresistble pleasure that had awakened in her. In her mind, she cried out and pleaded for him to stop. In reality, she breathed out her satisfaction and relished being at his mercy.
.
When his digits were well lubricated, he pressed gently on the front wall of her vagina, stimulating the her spongy G-spot. Shani grunted loudly as his fingers crooked inside of her. Her back nearly came off the car as he deftly curled and uncurled his fingers within her walls, then she felt his hand shift in a way that allowed him to press his thumb against her clitoris.

Keeping a steady rhythm, Tod made little circles, reversing direction every few seconds. Seductive moans left his mouth as he removed his sticky fingers and licked them clean. He rubbed his nose across her tender spot when it stood noticeably at attention: begging for him to suck it. Breathing rapidly, he pushed the hood back, then softened his tongue to tease the sensitive mass of nerves. Then, he closed his mouth around her tiny erection. After several minutes of sucking, licking, and rolling, he paused for a moment, just to tease her – to make her need his tongue.

At that moment, Tod wanted nothing more than to have his dick surrounded by her divine pussy, but he ignored the need stirring in his groin and placed one of her legs on his shoulder. With an open mouth, his head drifted back to lapping at the soft shape of her sex. He murmured words that no one would recognize and held on to the swell of her hips as she pushed her pelvis forward. Turned on even more by the way she responded to him, he grabbed her thighs and pushed his tongue deeper inside her welcoming entrance, almost whining at the pleasantly sharp taste of her womanhood.

Rocking her hips frantically, Shani’s orgasm came without warning. Through a contorted face and tight jaw she clasped her fingers around Tod’s head, pulled it against her, and fiercely grunted out his name. She heard curse words being called out, though she can’t recall which one of them said them.

Tod’s nostrils flared. He growled and steadied her when she released her lust; and he happily took it all.

He stamped her damp inner thighs with kisses while she cooed softly as the pulse of her climax subsided. In an instant, mischief hit him. He gathered her clothes, rose, and kissed her bottom lip. “You want these?” he smiled. “Then come and get them.”

And with that, a barely breathing, half-naked Shani and her unsteady legs followed Tod into the house.

THE NEXT MORNING

Wearing only a towel, Shani stood in the doorway between the hallway and the bedroom. She watched Tod sleeping; his foot and arm dangled over the bed like the previous night’s encounter had reduced his strength.

They’d made love twice; and the gratification of her many orgasms still radiated in her body.

While the world slowly woke up, Shani removed the towel and climbed in next to him. When her body was even with his, Tod cradled her, and she settled into the embrace she carefully disengaged from earlier. At that very moment she realized something: She had finally stopped obsessing about the outcome and just enjoyed the moment.

Attraction is not dependent upon a number. And ages: his or hers, didn’t matter.

It doesn’t get more simple and real than that.

© enchanted.ladybug 04.07.2013

decadent passion

welcome, readers. i hope that you all had a wonderful christmas holiday. if you’re going out tonight, please be safe and drink responsibly. i hope that the year ahead brings new hopes, desired happiness and all kinds of colorful experiences for you and your loved ones.

in my blogiversary post, i promised a new story. this will satisfy my personal goal of posting one story each month for a year. as i mentioned in that post, i know it’s an insignificant milestone, but it holds a special meaning for me since it was the first time i wrote without taking a long break as i did in the past.

thank you for taking the time out of your day to read decadent passion. i hope you enjoy it.

decadent passion

 After shutting her computer down, Maia packed her briefcase and observed the city from her corner office on the 19th floor. Rooftops were dressed up with cheerful holiday decorations. The sidewalks were covered with festive sculptures. Christmas lights twinkled throughout the city, some blinking a bright red and green just like in the song. It had been a long day – a long week, and she couldn’t wait to get home where a relaxing shower and eggplant purple bed sheets waited for her.

“Maia, I mailed those custodial agreements by certified letter this afternoon. Mr. Landry called and said he’d be available after the first of the year to negotiate a possible settlement.” Garrett poked his head around the door. He was barely out of college, but he was an efficient assistant; unlike that temp that was here before him. When she couldn’t figure out how to send a simple fax, Maia promptly relieved the girl of her duties.

“Thanks, Garrett. You’re a gem.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to come to Boston with me? My parents won’t mind one more,” he asked.

“I’m sure, but thank you.”

“I got you something. It’s not much, but…” he stepped inside the room.

“You didn’t have to get me anything,” she smiled, taking the gift bag from his hand.

“No peeking until Christmas,” he said.

“I promise. But that means you can’t open your gift until then, either.” Maia swiveled in her chair and unlocked a file cabinet. Turning back around, she held out a beautifully wrapped gift with a card attached. Inside the box was an iPad mini. Their last case required lots of long hours, lots of paperwork, and Garrett was there the entire time: attending every meeting, deposition, preparing appeals and he didn’t complain once. He not only earned the tiny tablet, he deserved it.

“I promise, thank you so much!” he beamed, pulling his boss into a hug.

“You’re welcome. Now go. You have a plane to catch.”

“I’m going. Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas, Garrett.” After waving goodbye, she exited her office and locked the door.

“Good evenin’ Miss Duvalier.” Ben Jameson, the night janitor looked up from his cleaning cart to see Maia coming down the hall.

“Good evening, Mr. Jameson. Merry Christmas; please tell your wife I send my love.” She handed him a container with a smile. Each year she made a different baked good for him and his wife. This year it was homemade gingersnap sandwich cookies with a lemon-ginger cream filling.

“Yes ma’am. Thank you, and Merry Christmas!” he nodded, pushing his cart down the hallway.

At the elevator, Maia pushed a button on the outer panel and in seconds, the doors slid open. She had just stepped inside the car when a familiar voice called out.

“Hold the elevator!” It was Alec Preston, a newly made partner of the firm, walking hurriedly down the hall. He was ten years her senior and had a charming confidence that many women in the office found attractive. Some had no shame in flirting with the man, In fact, a few of them had been very vocal about how they felt after hours: I’d fuck him five ways from Sunday, was often heard while giggling over Pomegranate martinis and Lamplighter cocktails at the local bar around the corner. Being in this field didn’t leave Maia much room to hold any real expectations of getting to know her co-worker better, no matter how good he looked in a suit. She quickly pressed the ‘Hold’ button to delay the doors from closing while he boarded.

“Mr. Preston, I’m surprised to see you here this late in the evening.”

“Just finishing up a conference call,” he offered, stepping into the cabin. “What are you still doing here?”

“Tying up a few loose ends,” she answered, pressing the ‘P’ on the inner panel.

The doors closed and the elevator car began its descent to the parking garage. Maia wanted to ask about his holiday plans, but decided against it. The story going around the office was that his wife of thirteen years left him recently: no warning whatsoever. After a long, messy divorce, she and their five year old son moved to Monte Carlo to start a life with a new man she’d met. “Have you done all of your Christmas shopping?” That was a safer question.

“I have. My son wanted one of those battery operated riding cars. A Mercedes Benz with chrome grille and hubcaps.”

“He’s got great taste.”

“No kidding, the thing has a radio and a working horn. Brooke agreed to a video chat on Christmas morning so I can watch him as he opens it.”

Maia smiled and the elevator jerked, causing the two passengers to stumble. A grinding noise rang out and the car came to an abrupt halt between the 15th and 13th floors.

Alec asked if she was okay and she nodded. He attached an earpiece to his ear, then realizing what he’d done, removed it. “Getting reception in here might be a problem.”

“I’ll try the emergency phone,” Maia said. The conversation was short. “Security’s sending a mechanic, but they said it could take up to an hour to get here and release the doors. Maybe longer because of the holiday traffic.”

“Well…I might as well get comfortable then,” Alec said.

Both attorneys removed their coats. He tossed his aside, Maia folded hers and placed it in a corner.

Taking a seat on the floor of the decorative car interior, she looked inside of her briefcase for something….anything to read. The latest issue of Travel & Leisure was found underneath two legal pads.

“Nuremberg, Germany.” Alec said, pointing to the cover and taking a seat next to her. “Have you been there?”

She found the fact that he was in her personal space a little unsettling. “Hm? Oh, no. I haven’t.” Breathing in the amber scent of his aftershave awakened her senses. Damn, he smells good, she thought. “Have you?”

“Twice. Once for my honeymoon, the other for my ten year anniversary.” An emotion caught in his throat. It was bitterness.

Maia changed the subject.

Time slowly ticked away during their small talk. They exchanged important events that happened throughout their lives. Maia was born in Haiti. Her father taught music and gave piano lessons on the side for extra money. When she was eleven, her mother passed away. Not long after that, she and her father moved to Chicago, then to Greenwich Village, New York when she was fifteen.

“I didn’t speak English when we moved here,” she announced.

“Are you serious?”

“Not one word of it.”

Alec’s mother, according to him, was a retired educator and his son wants to be a fireman when he grows up.

Maia laughed and admitted to him that she also wanted to be a firefighter at the age of five. “It was for all the wrong reasons,” she began. “I just wanted one of those helmets they wore.”

Alec threw his head back and filled the car with his hearty laughter. “So you became a lawyer instead. And might I add, a damn good one. Nice job on that Jensey case.”

“Thank you.” She knew the compliment was sincere. Seventeen years practicing and five years with this firm, she’d built a decent reputation for herself: from her attention to detail, her hard work when it came to recognizing and solving problems, to making sure that she was always available to her clients. She was very straight to the point and didn’t believe in telling a client something because it’s what they wanted to hear.

“Why?” he asked.

“Why what?”

“Why an attorney?”

“My father used to tell me when I was younger that I had this natural ability to fight for what’s right. Once I got into high school, I don’t know, it was just something I knew that I was going to do. What about you?” she asked.

“My father and grandfather were lawyers; so I’m carrying on the family tradition.” He loosened his tie. “I”m starving. What I wouldn’t give for a large pizza and a bottle of Lambrusco.

“That does sound good,” she agreed, turning a page in her magazine.

Alec tilted his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. Even though there was a wonderful article about Nam Hai, Vietnam with beautiful destination pictures, Maia caught herself staring at him every few seconds. After minutes of sideways glances and averting her eyes, she kicked her shoes off. Maybe it was the dim lighting, but her mind swam with naughty thoughts and the tiny morsels of sensuous desire had been planted. Suddenly, she didn’t mind him being so close.

Alec was sleeping lightly. His face, normally serious, looked peaceful. His lids were closed but she had his irresistible, dark eyes etched in her memory. His short, cropped haircut and the stiff, salt and pepper hairs of stubble on his face, though barely there, gave him a rugged look.

She had to. She couldn’t resist. Maia was aware that she was about to cross a boundary she hadn’t crossed before; and never thought to. Before tonight, Alec was nothing more than a co-worker. Tossing the magazine aside, she shifted her body and reached out to touch his cheek; the tiny growth felt rough to the back of her hand.

It didn’t even surprise her when he asked half asleep, “What are you doing, Duvalier?”

“Touching you,” she said boldly.

Alec’s eyes opened to face her. They held one another’s gaze until Maia broke it by kissing him aggressively  It was demanding, lust-filled, and his lips on hers just felt so good. Her tongue pushed past his lips and twisted with his. As they moaned into each other’s mouths, she lowered her hands and massaged his faint erection through the fabric of his designer suit pants. Taking advantage of her roaming hand, she unfastened then unzipped his slacks. No time was wasted in liberating his manhood from the confines of his boxer briefs. Breaking the kiss, she asked with a whisper, “It’s okay, isn’t it?”

Alec only nodded. His ragged breathing wouldn’t allow him to speak actual words. He watched himself grow in her hand as she held the fullness of him. He helped her by lifting his hips and tugging his pants past his waist a little.

Maia wet her fingers and swirled through a large drop of precum that seeped from the thin slit of his meatus. He released a low hum of pleasure when she smeared it on the tip, then flattened and glided her palm over the fleshy head. His manhood stood proudly; she turned her hand upside down, gradually twisting her way up his shaft. Her fingers wandered and lightly thrummed on the small, sensitive flap of his frenulum. Maia lost herself in the moment as her hand closed around him to stroke his sufficient girth with gentle, yet firm pressure.

“That feels so good,” he sighed in appreciation.

With a slow, soft glide she continued to move her hand up and down his length, sweeping her thumb over the head when she reached the top. “Fuck my hand, Alec.” She smiled when she said it, gripping his distended arousal until he groaned and moved his hips against the pumping pressure of her hand.

The continuous pace drew Alec to the brink of climax with each buck of his body. He was breathless and he loved it.

Squeezing him between strokes, Maia shifted to a kneeling position. It had been a while since she’d given another man a blow job. And she’d never done it in an elevator. That kind of spontaneity usually followed a drink or two…or three. Yet here she was – perfectly sober – about to wrap her lips around Alec’s dick in this small space. It was so unlike her, but at this moment, she didn’t seem to care.

Brazenly, she tightened her thumb and forefinger around the base of him and leaned down; her lips approaching his hard on. She wanted him to relish every single minute of this. Rubbing her lips across the soft, round head, she couldn’t stop herself from humming quietly. Maia teased him with a lick and a gentle blow. Her tongue traced the coronal ridge, dipped into the narrow opening then circled the glans.

She felt a pull from deep within her loins; one that evoked sexual desire and lubricated her inner thighs. It was a clench that she was all too familiar with – and one she’d have to ignore for the time being.

When her head descended on him, the spongy crown of his hardness pushed against her palate. This sensation generated more pleasure because Alec closed his eyes and repeatedly cried out with elation as the warmth of her mouth enveloped him.

Enjoying this as much as he was, she cupped his balls, kneading and rolling their weight between her fingers while she sucked up and down his erection in a smooth, leisurely rhythm. Her head moved with a steady purpose, then eagerly increased until he popped out of her mouth.

He lowered his hand to the nape of her neck and was stopped from twirling his fingers in her hair. “Hands on the guardrail, counselor,” Maia said abruptly, closing her mouth around him. Any other day, she wouldn’t mind a little passionate hair pulling, and she realized that he was submitting himself to ecstasy, but she didn’t want him interfering.

Continuing with her attention, her head eased up and down with gentle pressure. At first. After a few seconds, she abandoned her satisfying momentum, vigorously sucking and licking him with sloppy sounds.

Writhing against her enticing mouth, he did as he was told and grabbed the brushed copper railing, allowing her to do what she pleased. “Right there. Just like that.” The smooth timbre of his voice sent tremors of pleasure through her body. He watched the upward pull of her lips on his shaft and thought it was a remarkably beautiful sight. “Shit…so fucking good.”

Maia was insatiable. Her head bobbed faster; she sucked him long and deep, as if she was encouraging his dick to get harder. Alec’s plump head tapped her gag reflex – saliva dribbled from her mouth and down the sides of his hard length. She continued with her delicious torment; each up and down pass was met with a plea for her not to stop.

And she didn’t. Her lips gripped him firmly. She knew what type of suction to apply; and when. Every few seconds, she would switch techniques: tracing the rim of his head with her tongue, brushing her lips over it, then pulling her mouth off of him to tug and suck his scrotum.

He sighed heavily and moved restlessly, like he was attempting to get away from her.

Several minutes later found Maia lifting her head a little. She relaxed her jaw and took him into her mouth until her lips just barely touched the base. He wanted to fuck her mouth, and asked if he could. When she moaned out a, ‘Mmm hmm’, his pelvis began to thrust uncontrollably, pushing his dick further down her throat.

The wet, messy noises consumed Alec with such a strong desire, that he held the guardrail tightly and, through clenched teeth, announced that he was about to come.

Maia’s body was on fire from the sexual sounds: her insistent sucking and groaning; his whispered words of approval and the moans of delight that escaped his throat.

That same warmth overwhelmed Alec. He thrust himself deep into her mouth, then felt his body tighten.

Maia braced herself for the explosion. Tightening her lips, she wanted nothing more than to milk him; to taste his creamy reward the moment it rushed into her mouth.

With a feral grunt, he called out to her….

The elevator cabin lurched, the lights came on and Alec woke with a jump.

A startled Maia quickly glanced around. The magazine, displaying a one-bedroom villa in Nam Hai was still in her lap, and Alec was not exposed. The jump of the elevator had pulled her from the mindless passion of her fantasy.

It was only a dream, she told herself. A very vivid one, but still a dream. She took a moment to clear her head and push the indulgent images to the dark corners of her mind, hoping Alec couldn’t tell that she was overwhelmed with embarrassment.

The emergency phone rang and Maia scrambled to answer it. The service technician on the other end told her that a power failure was the cause of the elevator getting stuck, but that it should be up and running again shortly. Relaying this information to Alec, they began to gather their things.

“Everything all right, Duvalier?” Alec asked, pulling on his trench coat.

He noticed. “Yeah, I just dozed off and had a weird dream,” she explained with a racing heart.

“Hate those.” The elevator came to a gentle stop in the parking garage. “But, at least we’re free from our cell,” he joked.

With an uninterrupted glide, the doors opened. Maia never thought she’d be so relieved to see concrete and ramps.

“Merry Christmas, Mr. Preston. Enjoy that pizza.” A rapturous smile widened on her face as she stepped out of the elevator and headed to her car.

© enchanted.ladybug 12.31.2012

blogiversary

welcome, dear readers.

yesterday marked what is known in the blog realm as my blogiversary. one year (and one day) ago, i started this humble little corner and it’s been a wonderful journey.

i really want to thank all of you who have taken the time out of your day to visit enchanted.ladybug.

after starting this blog, i gave myself a personal challenge that i never mentioned to anyone. i wanted to see if i could in fact, post one story every month for a year (december story to follow shortly). it wasn’t easy: there were times – many times – when i lacked the energy and inspiration to write. there were times when i just wanted to throw in the towel and give up. but that would make me a quitter, and quitting meant that i would have to admit failure. when i was faced with doubt, i believe that it was those moments of uncertainty that kept the story from speaking to me a lot of the time, but the light of inspiration always seemed to shine on me; giving me the encouragement i needed to push through, and even though it seems like an insignificant milestone, i didn’t give up. i am appreciative to those who took the time out to uplift me when i questioned so much.

a year ago, i mentioned something about there being power in silence: i’m so full of useless drivel. really, don’t listen to anything i have to say.

i know that to grow, to better myself, i need to embrace those quiet periods, but i am working on it. i’m working on me, dear reader. i have to in order to become better at what i enjoy doing so much. writing satisfies my soul – i enjoy researching information i need, i enjoy the feedback. i love that it allows me to experience fantasies i will probably never live out in the real world. i love that i can escape from the unpleasantries of life when i am getting ideas down.

i learned something about myself this year as i toiled away to reach this personal goal i issued myself: that i don’t enjoy deadlines. i have a whole new respect for professional authors who do this on a regular basis. with my work schedule, it’s almost impossible for me to turn out story after story with the hopes of producing something of quality that others will enjoy reading. so i don’t know that i will give myself deadlines anymore. i do know that being a better writer also means having to step outside of my comfort zone a little and i am also working on that.

i’m not abandoning my blog; i love my little corner, and all of wonderful people who visit here. i just won’t be pushing myself to post a story each month as i had done this past year. what i will be doing is incorporating other things that will keep us connected – maybe even actually include you, as i plan on posting some writing challenges.

it’s been a great year, and i thank you for sharing this journey with me: reading my thoughts, encouraging me, just sticking around period. i am eternally grateful.

so, here’s to my first year – with more to come.

be golden.

enchanted.ladybug

manolo’s

welcome, everyone. i hope you all had a pleasant holiday.

i have for you a new read, but this one is a little different from what you’re used to seeing: this piece is written from the perspective of a pair of shoes. sounds crazy, right? i know…i know. but i wanted to try something different. i only hope that you enjoy the material.

thank you, as always, for taking the time out of your day to visit my humble blog. i do hope that you enjoy manolo’s.

manolo’s

Being a pair of shoes is not an easy task, especially when you are a designer shoe. We are in high demand. Fashion shows, red carpet events. Shoppers; the wealthy and the not so wealthy, the shoe-obsessed, the first time buyer – all with a desire to spend money to feel special and exclusive. They all want us because we are what’s “in.

Did you know that there are some women who don’t mind the agony of an aching foot if it’s covered with a designer shoe? Some humans are all about prestige.They love labels and names.

I have a name. My creator, a Spanish designer named Manolo Blahnik, beautifully crafted my twin and me in Italy and labeled us Mary Jane. I’m Mary.

Our owner, Dacia, took us home about a week ago.

I’ll never forget the day we met her. Jane and I have heard the associates talk in the stockroom about women, some of whom are well-connected, come in with an attitude of entitlement, drop their bags at the door, give them an indignant look and speak to them with a callousness in their tone that really wasn’t necessary. It was a behavior that the employees were only too happy to tolerate because they know that one swipe of a credit card would give them a nice commission. We remember Dacia smiling. A lot. A well dressed woman of medium height, she wasn’t stunning like other women we’ve seen, but she had happy, almond-shaped eyes and was so gracious and soft-spoken. My twin loved her hairstyle: a romantic, low bun with a few loose tendrils of natural black hair framing her face.

Jane and I belong to a large fraternity, and we’ve met them all: Jimmy Choo, Giuseppe Zanotti, even that pair of Louboutin’s she tried on: The Viva Bellas. That sexy leather, smooth suede and that trademark red bottom; she wore them well. Then she asked for the Manolo Blahniks. She took us, settled into a chair and gently slipped her foot into our inner soles. Jane and I noticed immediately how soft and fleshy her feet were.

The human foot can have a strong odor, but there was something about the scent of her feet that gratified our senses; a faint aroma of perspiration and lotion. We walked to the mirror and saw for the first time how our black patent leather looked against her smooth, dark brown skin. With her new height, she exuded sexiness and I thought to myself, this is a woman who appreciates quality footwear. After admiring us for a moment, her satisfied, austere voice told the associate, “I’ll take them.” And just like that, a size nine pair of Mary Jane Manolo Blahniks were carefully tucked into a shoebox with a dust bag.

On the ride home, Jane and I discussed at length what outfit Dacia might wear with us. We both agreed that a silk, button-down shirt and a pair of striped, wide-leg pants would make for a sophisticated look.

Accustomed with darkness, we waited in the box, though I’ll admit that I was a little more anxious than Jane to get out. We heard the muffled sound of what sounded like Dacia having a conversation with a gentleman; there was some laughter in the room then silence. The next thing I knew, we were removed from our signature white box in succession and placed on the bed. My twin and I took in the decor in the spacious bedroom: A modern layout with purple bedding and an abstract canvas painting above the bed. There was a cozy sitting area next to a window; I thought it added a certain elegance to the room. There was even a built-in shelf along one wall dedicated to books. Jane wondered if Dacia had read them all.

We watched our owner undress. She stripped down to a bra with a suspender belt and fishnet stocking set. Glancing at herself in the mirror, she let her fingers linger over the swell of her hips through the silk fabric – like she was proud of her body. Jane and I admired the decorative lace and black ribbons that adorned her lingerie. She slipped her feet into our insoles and buttoned the straps across her instep. Pausing to look at herself one last time, the corners of her mouth raised into a smile.

There was something sensually empowering about her look.

We walked into the living room to find a man kneeling on the floor in front of a chair. He was naked and his head was bowed. I laughed softly when Jane said that he looked so obedient in that position. I told her that it was probably the same man we heard in the bedroom earlier.

Dacia took a seat in front of him in a beautiful upholstered chair and crossed her legs.

“Good evening, Miss,” the gentleman offered warmly as he lowered his forehead to the ground. “Thank you for gracing me with your presence. I am ready to serve you,” he said. My owner said good evening and called him ‘little one. When asked if he liked her new shoes, he told her that it was a smart and impressive purchase. She bobbed her foot for a few seconds, then told him that he had permission to sit upright.

After changing his posture, Dacia extended her leg and lightly rubbed my toe box along his chin and jawline. She smiled with approval and licked her full lips. “You may touch me, little one.”

Overjoyed at the opportunity, he very tenderly caressed my shank with his strong hand before cradling my counter.

Next, he took my sole and heel and pressed it right against his chest. Keeping his eyes on her shin, his hand began moving up and down Dacia’s calf and inner thigh. I noticed that her eyes fluttered and her leg jerked a little when his fingers lightly touched the skin behind her knee. Then he lifted her leg a little. Parting his lips, a tongue slowly crept out of his mouth. When little one flattened it against me, I gasped quietly; the moist, rough texture was an incredibly nice surprise.

Jane wanted to know if the man was licking me as a part of some sort of ritual, but the only answer I could provide was that he seemed to be doing it out of reverence. Excitement ran through me like fire as his tongue continued to caress my flat surface.

Dacia softly moaned her satisfaction. “You like that, don’t you?” I heard her ask.

Admittedly, I thought she was talking to me, but little one spoke. “Thank you for the honor, Miss.”

Dacia leaned back in the chair. “Suck it.” Her direction was calm. I watched, enchanted as he slowly took my heel into his mouth. The warmth that enveloped me was an amazing sensation. Little one coiled his tongue around my heel and sucked it deeply. “That’s a good boy. Nice and slow.” She told him that watching his mouth on her shoe was making her wet.

I noticed her hand moving around and heard a sound – wetness, coming from between her legs. Through heavy gasps, Dacia moved her foot and told him to give her other shoe the same attention.

Holding her ankle, little one lowered me gently to the floor to stew in my state of nirvana. When he lapped at Jane’s sole, I heard a familiar gasp from my twin. The inside of his mouth is so warm and spongy, she whispered. Little one sucked her heel into his mouth and Jane cooed. As far as I could tell, she too was savoring the experience.

There was something so enthralling about the way his mouth swallowed each inch of the back of my twin’s shoe. I sat idle, enjoying immensely the sound of my owner’s passionate sighs and watching the push and pull of little one’s head as he sucked the back of Jane’s shoe with such devotion.

Dacia told the him not to stop – that his subservience pleased her. She said that his dedication was the reason she was stroking herself and that if he was a good boy, she would let him suck her fingers when they were done.

With a small smile, little one closed his eyes and gradually increased his pace on Jane’s heel: She told me that it tickled.

At that moment, my owner’s planted foot wandered and I was rubbing against little one’s inner thigh, then against a pouch of skin between his legs. A protruding part of him began to swell and elongate; I couldn’t resist being excited and dizzy. Dacia shifted and flexed her foot. She pressed my sole against his enlarged organ and a thin string of fluid dripped over my toe box. Yes, I tasted the substance. Even though I didn’t have the luxury of seeing my twin, I told Jane that it was slightly salty in flavor.

Through fits of laughter, Jane told me over and over how delightful this feeling was to her. With a soft whisper, I agreed with my ticklish twin.

Little one had this look on his face – he was glowing with contentment. With a faster rhythm, Dacia caressed him. No longer in a position to contain himself, he began moaning as I was being eased up and down the length of him. One of my owner’s hands was still between her legs, her fingers swirled rapidly around a small, fleshy projection while the other hand traced the curve of her bosom before scooping it from her bra. The weight of her breast spilled from the cup with excitement, like it was trying to escape. Smiling, she caressed the surrounding dark circle of skin around her breast with her palm. In seconds, a small, hardened peak protruded from her chest and Dacia wasted no time rolling it between her thumb and index finger.

Pulling her legs away, Dacia’s voice cut through the air. “Sit up, little one.” With a whimper, he did as he was told. Jane and I shared a glance as we noticed that his swollen flesh had grown even more and was now standing proudly at attention. “Such a pretty dick,” Dacia purred.

So, that organ has a name. I can see why Dacia used the word pretty to describe it: Blue veins forked around it’s girth, and the tip of it was bulbous; it looked like a helmet with a hole in it. It was a long, broad prominence that pointed at an upward angle and I admired it the way people admire art.

Shifting her weight, my owner placed her feet so that his dick was sandwiched in between my twin and me. Without hesitation, without warning, Dacia began manipulating his hardness slowly up and down. It was amazing how quickly the heat radiated between us; it was a provocative feeling. Pressing her feet closer together, she massaged his stiff flesh with authority. I heard little one breathing rapidly; profound and throaty as he fought desperately for air.

“Fuck my shoes.” With Dacia’s breathy demand, little one pushed his pelvis forward, forcing his dick between our insteps. “Faster,” she said. After hearing his directive, his thrusts became more insistent. There were beads of sweat on his forehead and a strained look on his face, like he was fighting against the uncontrollable feelings inside of him. Jane and I murmured softly over and over as we endured his powerful gyrations. Suddenly a deep moan came from little one’s throat. Dacia immediately pulled her feet away, planting them on either side of his body. “Look what you’ve done,” she asked opening her legs wider, massaging her crease and the outer folds of skin around it. She coaxed the moisture that glistened from between her legs and spread the fluid on her inner thighs; Jane and I found it attractive and fascinating.

“I’m sorry, Miss.” Little one lowered his head as if he were being scolded. I’m almost sure I saw his dick jerk forward a couple of times, as if it had a mind of its own.

Leaning forward, my owner unfastened Jane’s strap. Slipping her foot from the shoe, she leaned back, draping one leg over the arm of the chair. Dacia began circling that swollen bump of flesh with my twin’s heel. It peeked from a hood and reminded me of a smaller version of little one’s maleness.

Overwhelmed with intense pleasure, all I could do was stare captivated while it was being flicked back and forth. Jane told me that there was a heat inside of her that she couldn’t even begin to explain…but she loved the sensation, especially when her heel moved up and down, encouraging the two petals of flesh between my owner’s legs to separate.

With a soft moan, Dacia asked, “Do you want a snack now, little one?”

“Please, Miss?” After he was given permission to come closer, little one lowered his head to the juncture of her thighs and lapped at his offering. I observed, in a state of still and pleasant contemplation as he flattened his tongue against Jane’s heel and my owner’s wet mound.

Dacia’s fervent sighs and little one’s muffled groans carried through the room as he licked and nibbled his snack. I even heard the sounds of pleasure from my twin and lived vicariously through her; she said she enjoyed the warmth of his breath and the velvety texture of his tongue. At one point, little one curled the tip of it, and lightly tapped my owner’s erect nub. When Dacia finally pulled the shoe away, thin, ropy strands of wetness stretched from her entrance to Jane’s heel. At that moment, she announced that she was coming.

Coming where? Jane asked. Even if I was able to provide an answer, there wasn’t time to do so.

Little one closed his mouth around Dacia’s moist center, growling deeply as her body twisted and shuddered uncontrollably. My owner, unable to contain the passion inside of her, cried out in release. It was the most divine noise she’d made all evening.

Breathing heavily, Dacia’s body relaxed against the chair. A look of satisfaction settled on her face.

Without being told to, little one took Jane from my owner’s hand and cleaned the heel before slipping it back onto her foot. I couldn’t wait to ask Jane how it all felt. It took an enormous amount of effort, but once she gained her composure, she said it was moist, warm and that the sweet, pungent scent of her was lovely.

Dacia reached between her parted legs, allowing her fingers to skate across the milky fluid that wept from her entrance. She offered her hand to little one and he happily accepted. One by one, he cleaned her glistening digits, then lowered himself to the ground and waited silently. Rising from her chair, my owner sauntered off and told him to come to bed.

Moments later, my twin and I were placed in our dust bag and tucked neatly into our shoebox. As we rested on the shelf we listened to what was going on in the bedroom a few feet away; groaning, gasping and the slapping of flesh. The steady, harsh noise of bedsprings  The headboard pounding against the wall. It went on like this for a long time.

Dacia and little one started swearing over and over. Jane said she counted the word Fuck seven times. I told her I counted five Oh Shits and as a lark, I imitated the sounds I heard my owner making.

In the quiet moments following their heated coupling, Dacia and little one shared niceties and soft laughter. Jane and I discussed the excitement of the day, exchanged a smile then said goodnight.

The next morning, while we waited patiently at the foot of the bed, Dacia and little one got ready for work. Two smells lingered in the bedroom: an engaging musky aroma and her perfume. They kissed. This wasn’t a kiss between acquaintances. The way their lips met…it was deep, intimate and arousing – a kiss between two people secure in love. He said he’d make reservations at Aenaria il Ristorante for dinner. She said, “Sounds perfect.”

When Jane and I stepped out into the real world, the rush from the previous evening was still fresh in our thoughts. We said hello and good morning to stilettos, platforms, loafers, wedges, and sneakers as we passed them by. Walking among the rubber, leather, straps and buckles, we wondered how many others like us indulged in the same exciting adventure with their owners – after all, every shoe has a story to tell.

© enchanted.ladybug 11.30.2012

navarro

welcome, everyone .

in the spirit of halloween, i thought it would be nice to write a story around my favorite holiday. while i’ve written a non-human short story before, this is my first attempt at writing a story that afforded my me the chance to see what unfolds between a human and a ghost. the genre of erotica is divided into so many branches, i honestly don’t know if this story would technically fall in the paranormal, non-human, or fantasy elements;  i just know that i enjoyed writing this piece….it’s always something i’ve wanted to try and it was important to me (and my muse), as with all my stories, that i respect the plot, setting and my characters, especially with this piece. i hope that i’ve done that here, and i do hope that you enjoy navarro – have a safe and happy halloween.

navarro

There’s something vividly beautiful about autumn.

At the end of summer, you can feel a shift in the air letting you know that a change in the season is right around the corner. Trees bursting with gold, red and yellow leaves blanket the ground and crunch under your feet. The air is crisp and chilly. Long drives on remote streets to enjoy the impressive fall foliage. Apples, pumpkins and other locally-grown produce pouring out of bushel baskets at the markets. County Fairs and Halloween. Fall comes in with such an entrance that you’re forced to let go of the hot, sultry dog days of summer.

Normally, Emani spent her October 31st handing out candy to witches, wizards, comic book characters and cute little princesses  This year would be spent at a bed and breakfast; her prize for winning a call-in radio contest. According to the announcer, she was to claim her prize at the studio between between 9:00 a.m. – 5:00 p.m., Monday through Friday within 10 days of being notified. Excited that she’d won anything, she stopped by the front desk of the station right after work, proved her identity with her driver’s license and walked out with a large manila envelope containing her getaway information.

It turns out, she’d read later, that her vacation was part of a Halloween package. Accommodations were made for four days and three nights. The owners promised to provide a one-of-a kind experience for every visitor, including a candlelight walking tour of the neighborhood on Halloween night

She couldn’t wait.

Day One: Check-in

One of the first things Emani noticed were the brick paved streets before studying the distinction of the historic surroundings.The bed and breakfast was a charming building located in a residential neighborhood. Upon entering she was welcomed by the warm and comfortable atmosphere. A curvy woman at the front desk introduced herself as Kim Collins, one of the innkeepers. “Hello! Welcome to the Hillside Bed and Breakfast. How may I help you today?” She wore a dress that didn’t do much to flatter her figure, but she was a friendly woman.

“Hi, I’m Emani Foster. I have a reservation for a four day, three night getaway.”

“Oh, you must be the contest winner! Congratulations, we’re happy to have you with us. My husband Robert is out running errands but he’ll be back later this evening to greet everyone.” After checking in, Kim escorted Emani to her suite on the main floor. Pale jade green and neutral colors commanded the room, from the paint on the walls, the bedding on the hand carved wooden canopy bed and the private bathroom with a jacuzzi tub and shower. This corner suite included a working fireplace and a door that opened right into the intimate courtyard. “We’ll have a reception in the parlor this afternoon with hors d’oeuvres and drinks. At that time, our assistant, Vivian will give everyone a general tour of the grounds and a little history behind our establishment.” Kim smiled as her new guest perused the room. “If you need anything at all, please don’t hesitate to ask me or Vivian.” After a thank you from Emani, Kim nodded her head and quietly closed the door behind her.

Deciding to unpack later, Emani parked her travel bag at the foot of the bed and went right to the garden just outside her room. It was a typical autumn day. In a cloudless sky, the sun was warm and bright but the air was cool. She looked around, noting how beautiful her surroundings were. Rustic wrought iron table and chair sets were tucked away in the tiny nooks of the courtyard, and a small garden pond with a waterfall was proudly displayed in the center of the courtyard. Despite the peaceful environment, Emani suddenly felt uneasy. She was there alone, but had the strange feeling that someone was watching her.

“Originally the building served as a boarding house. Over the years, the property changed hands many, many times. It sat vacant for several years before a local hotel group purchased the property. Shortly after that, it underwent a massive renovation.” Using a cheery voice, Vivian smiled through her presentation. She could probably recite the words backwards in her sleep. “Historians say that this building was built on Native American burial grounds, and some guests have reported seeing spirits that were of Indian descent.”

Gasps were heard, and a few facial expressions grew wide eyed and flooded with terror. After Vivian’s short informational speech, Emani joined a few other guests, and went sight seeing.

Worn out from a day of visiting historical museums and antique shops, Emani took her tired, aching feet to her suite for a long hot bath. After undressing, she stepped into the tub, sank into the water and allowed the exhaustion of the day to fade away. Without realizing it, she dozed off.

It was the stroke on her cheek that interrupted her light sleep. With a sharp intake of air, her eyes shot open.

She froze.

Standing in the doorway was what appeared to be the lifelike apparition of a man. A man with a chiseled face, and a long mane of deep black hair. She didn’t want to think she was being ridiculous, but she knew the hazy edges of the man in the doorway was a ghost. Emani blinked, and before she could cry out, he instantly disappeared.

As the sun started to set that night, Vivian had arranged for the guests to go on a haunted hayride on Middle Earth Acres, a fifth generation dairy farm situated on a large estate. On the ride over there, Emani’s mind was trying to sort through the strange figure in her bathroom and his cold hand against her face. Vivian said that past guests have seen spirits, Emani just didn’t think she’d be one of them.

Middle Earth Acres

A huge tractor slowly took off, towing a trailer full of thrill seekers behind on a thirty minute ride down a desolate country road through the woods of a haunted farm. The October air was brisk, and as a part of the attraction, the screams of lost souls could be heard among the trees. The narrator on board weaved a wonderful story about the undead and the secrets that lied beneath the ground. As they traveled into the unknown, live actors dressed as zombies and ghouls emerged from the darkness and frightened the entire tractor. Along the winding trail, twigs snapped, the wind howled, and monsters of all kinds threatened the fundamental structure of the group’s existence.

Just as the narrator mentioned a dog-like creature that lurked deep in the woods, Emani saw something that chilled the bones and ligaments in her spine. A mist swirling within a vaporous cloud, hovered in the air.

Then it transformed. This wasn’t high tech visual effects, it was the ghost of a Native American man sitting on a horse; the same one that touched her cheek that afternoon. Her gasp went unnoticed, she was on a haunted attraction after all. She saw him again when they passed the cornfields, at the bonfire while she and others in the group shared the heart-pounding action of the night’s experience and again near the entrance of a covered bridge on the property. Emani was a rational person, but what she found disturbing, was that no one else seemed to notice this entity.

Back at the hotel, Mr. Collins and his pleasant face waited at the front desk, greeting all of the guests upon their return. When Emani entered her suite, there was a small box on her bed. As if the night wasn’t strange enough, there was an odd name on the gift tag. Something that started with a D that she couldn’t pronounce. Scrunching her face, she lifted the box top and peeked inside: chocolates. It was late, too late for her to make sense of anything, so she pushed the decorative box aside, climbed into bed and turned on the television. She was about halfway into a documentary when she felt her skin beginning to prickle.

Denzhone….

That one word hung in the air and caused her heart to palpitate. “Who’s here?” she asked, trying to be fearless while pushing herself up on the bed. Surveying the room, she saw nothing, but the voice that called out to her was so distinct.

“Don’t be afraid.” There was strength in the voice. The apparition materialized a few feet away from her now. Emani analyzed him; from the long rectangular cloth around his waist, the high moccasin boots, to the cloth headband around his forehead. He was a beautiful man with deep bronze skin and high cheekbones.

“Who are you?” She should have screamed, or called out for help, but having seen this entity several times already, she didn’t feel the need to. “What do you want? Why do you keep following me?” It seemed silly to throw so many questions out there, but she wanted answers; now.

“My name is Navarro. I don’t mean to frighten you, denzhone.”

She looked at the box of chocolates. Then back to him. “Why are you calling me that?” He had the wrong room, the wrong woman, she thought. “I’m not her, you’ve…got the wrong person.” Emani was hoping he’d go away after that, but he approached the bed and pointed at the small box.

“Denzhone. It means beautiful in my language.”

She appreciated the flattery, even if it was from a spirit. “Are you a demon?” The desire to know more had taken over.

“I am an Apache warrior.”

“Okay. And what…why have you been following me?” she repeated, drawing her knees up to her chest.

“All I know is that ever since you came here this morning, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.” It wasn’t the in-depth answer Emani was looking for, but it was an answer.

Sighing heavily, Emani fell back on her bed. Oddly enough, she didn’t feel threatened. He would have harmed her by now if those were his intentions, and besides….he brought her a gift. Crooking her head, she looked at the box. “Well you brought me chocolates, you must be harmless.” She looked at him, not knowing what to make of all of this.

“Do you…know that you’re dead, Navarro?” Emani asked, wondering if he might be one of those lost souls that didn’t know they were no longer alive like she’d seen on those paranormal shows. He nodded his reply.

“You’re welcome to stay if you want.” It probably wasn’t a rational thing to say, but she said it boldly. Emani watched the apparition sit on the edge of the bed. She wanted to know more about him, and he was only happy to oblige.

The Apache (pronounced Uh-PAH-chee) Nation was once a powerful tribe.They had a history of trading goods with the Pueblo Indians and remained generally peaceful with them.

There came a time when the Spanish, who became more involved with exercising their authority, prohibited the Pueblo from trading with the Apache tribes and forced the Pueblo to work their land. Because the Pueblo tribes were hesitant to trade, the Apache repeatedly took their supplies. Problems with Spanish settlers and other Indian tribes resulted in the Apache tribe raiding those villages as well. As a result of this and other activities, including cruel Spanish governing power, the Pueblo Indians revolted, driving the Spanish out of of New Mexico. The Spanish reconquered New Mexico, but by then the Apaches were beginning to lose their powerful reputation because their hostile behavior made them the enemy of other villages.

When the Comanche tribe moved in, they proved to be an even more powerful tribe than the Apache. During the hunting and planting season, when the Apache Indians tended their land, the Comanche raided the Apache settlements. The Comanche Indians, ready with an abundance of firearms obtained through the strong trading relationship with the French, raided the Apache tribe, making them weaker and the Comanche tribe more powerful. As a result, they became enemies of the Apache as well.

Eventually, the Apache Nation was forced to settle on government issued reservations.

Navarro was a warrior, one of the ones responsible for taking supplies and valuables from the Pueblo, though he said he did so to survive when wild animals were in short supply. He was one of seventy-seven other Apaches killed at the Battle of Tres Castillos when they were surrounded and attacked by Mexican soldiers.

He and his family were buried on the grounds the Hillside Bed and Breakfast rested on.

His father was a medicine elder who used the spirit world to heal others in the community and perform religious ceremonies.

As the evening went on, Emani felt like she was talking to an old friend, not a ghost. She told Navarro about her childhood: That she was of Italian and Bahamian descent, that her family moved around a lot because of her father being in the military, that she’s the youngest of three older brothers, and harmless practical jokes make her laugh. She even showed him the scar on her right knee that she got when she tried to teach herself how to roller skate when she was six. He reached out and traced the heart-shaped outline on her knee. His touch was cool and sent goosebumps up and down Emani’s arms.

Navarro told her that the long cloth he wore was actually called a breechcloth, or loincloth and that in some tribes, leggings were worn with it. He taught her Apache words. “Nose. Bichih. Leg. Bijad. Apple. Masaana.” He also taught her how to count to three. “Dalaa, naki, taagi.”

Emani fell asleep just before the golden light of the sun peeked over the horizon. Navarro sat next to her, watching her. He stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. “Sleep well, denzhone.” And with that, he was gone.

Day Two

Over french toast and home fries, Emani joined some of the other guests for breakfast in the private courtyard. The hayride was still a hot topic, then a woman mentioned the strange things that happened in her suite last night. Everyone listened intently as she talked about lights flickering in her bathroom and possibly hearing the whispers of a little girl. One man said that he thought he heard his name being called and it nearly made him jump out of his skin. Whether they’d experienced these things or not, Navarro would remain Emani’s secret.

All that day, her thoughts were of him. Looking for signs of the seductive spirit among the beautiful landscaping and gnarled vines at the wine tasting tour and at the art gallery later that afternoon. She had hoped to catch sight of the presence on the nature walk, but never saw him.

“Are you enjoying yourself, dear?” Kim asked after graciously accepting the peach flavored sparkling wine Emani brought back from the winery.

“Yes ma’am. Everyone’s been very nice and accommodating. I’m really enjoying the tours.”

“Will you be joining the others at the haunted corn maize tonight?”

“Oh, that sounds a little too spooky for me. I might just grab a bite from the cafe around the corner, then spend the night in my room with a book.” Emani declined.

“Well you just let me know if you need anything.” Kim thanked her for the gift and went into the kitchen.

Later, after a dinner of fried clams and french fries, Emani headed back to the hotel. On her leisurely walk, she couldn’t stop herself from looking around, hoping a certain spirit would reveal itself to her again.

Emani stepped into the shower, steam rose and filled the bathroom quickly as the water fell over her body. She soaped herself with a loofah. After wetting her hair, she poured shampoo in her hand and returned the bottle to a recessed shelf. She had just lathered her hair, when something cold brushed against the back of her neck. “Navarro?” She stood still, wanting it to be him. “Navarro, are you here?” her question came with a whisper.

“I’m here, denzhone,” he said at last.

Emani felt the chill of his fingers lightly brush her upper back, she was happy to hear the sound of his voice behind her. “I didn’t think I’d see you today.”

“I was not going to let you be alone tonight.” The next thing Emani felt was his fingers move through her soapy hair. “Close your eyes,” he said. There was no time to think about a reply, she simply closed her eyes and tilted her head back. Emani felt his gentle hands at the crown of her head, rubbing the sweet-smelling shampoo throughout her hair. Using small circles, Navarro used his fingertips to lovingly massage her scalp. Emani enjoyed the feeling of being pampered. She enjoyed the closeness of his cool, ghostly body near her physical one. His fingers got a little more firm, working the lather into her curly tresses for a few moments and even washed her back before he gathered her hair and asked her to turn around. Carefully, her head was guided under the hot spray: all traces of shampoo being rinsed down the drain. Emani’s body was turned back around and she felt a tug at her hips; she was being pulled closer to him.

Feeling his arms encircle her shoulders, they stood still under the invigorating spray of water until she broke the silence. “Will I see you tomorrow?”

“You will.” If Emani had her way, they’d stay in that shower forever; her back nestled against his front; his cool breath against the hollow of her neck. But the change in temperature would soon force her out. When she no longer felt his breath or his embrace, she knew that he’d left: that didn’t stop her from turning around though. To her disappointment, there was nothing there but her and the visible mist of steam.

It was just after one in the morning when Emani got tired enough to turn the television off. In her dark and silent room, she burrowed under the covers and fell asleep almost the instant her head hit the pillow. Moments later, there was a shift on the mattress. The cool embrace and breath on the nape of her neck caused her to smile and move in her sleep, like the deep corners of her mind had alerted her to his presence. Near her shoulder was a depression in her skin where his mouth kissed her. Opening, then closing her eyes, Emani slept in the comfort of Navarro’s arms.

Day Three : Halloween

After a breakfast of berries topped with vanilla yogurt and granola, Emani joined the other guests from the hayride to enjoy more of the outdoors before the candlelight tour that night. The men decided they’d rather go fishing or play a leisurely 9 hole round of golf than to walk around a farmers market, but everyone agreed to meet together for a late lunch that afternoon.

“It was so cold in my room last night,” said Donna. She and her husband shared a suite on the second floor. “I swear something was in there…watching us.” She smelled like impostor perfume and talked with her hands for emphasis.

“I’m still tryin’ ta get ova that maze and that dreadful hayride.” Dark-haired Laila and her southern drawl were on vacation for her upcoming birthday, celebrating the fact that she was ’50 and fabulous’.

“That hayride was scary,” Emani chimed in as they passed a small group of fruit vendors. Mostly, she did it to deflect the conversation away from all the ghost talk. “I can’t wait until the candlelight walk, that sounds fun.” Deflecting even more. And it worked, the ladies all agreed and just like that, the topic was changed.

Candlelight Walk

“This mansion was built in the mid-1840’s. It was occupied for generations by the prominent Westfield family.” A storyteller in period dress stopped the group in front of the historic house. “Legend says that Mary Westfield, the last heir of the family died here at the age of 96, and some believe that her spirit never left.”

There was oohing and aahing. Laila gasped, and Emani didn’t mind when she linked arms with her.

The storyteller continued. “There have been reports from the staff and tour guests of furniture moving across the room, an apparition appearing in the attic window, smells of cigar smoke and footsteps in the hallway.” The tour continued inside of the restored Victorian home, where everyone was led through all fifteen rooms and the attic. Overall, the candlelight walk was nice, but it was an hour that passed too slowly for Emani.

On the way back to the hotel, fairies, vampires and comic book characters were already haunting the streets of the quaint suburb, going from one dimly lit home to the next to fill their bags with candy. Hearing their eager voices made Emani smile with nostalgia.

“And that concludes our candlelight tour. Thank you all very much and have a safe Halloween!” After a round of applause, some people stayed to chat up the storyteller, others watched the trick-or-treaters. Emani made small talk with her group for a while then politely excused herself for the evening.

Back in her suite, she noticed a small gift box at the foot of her bed. Knowing the contents inside of it, she grinned, almost not believing that this ethereal man caused such a fire to radiate through her veins.

After a long shower, she perfumed her body with a sandalwood, neroli and jasmine oil blend, and selected a skimpy tank top and panties to wear for that evening.

The alarm clock displayed the time with bright neon green numbers. It was 10:37 p.m. Finding a sitcom, she turned off all the lights, abandoned the remote and climbed into bed. She’d eaten two chocolates from the box when his rich voice called to her from a dark corner of the room. “Denzhone.”

Her eyes swept around the room, then she saw the soft glow of Navarro standing there. He was shirtless and the loincloth he wore was much shorter than the one Emani was used to seeing him in. His long, black hair casually draped over his broad shoulders.

Scooting to the edge of the bed, Emani held his gaze. Before her eyes, Navarro’s semi-transparent figure seemed to take a more solid shape. In an instant, he was standing right in front of her. When he reached out for her cheek, Emani leaned into his caress with her eyes closed. Expecting his touch to be cool against her skin, she was pleasantly surprised. The warmth of his firm, roughened hand filled her with longing. “You feel so real. How?”

“My father and his years of spiritual practice helped me develop the energy to appear physically. But it’s only temporary, denzhone.”

She nodded and flattened her hand against his chest, her fingers slowly exploring its contours like she was trying to commit the feel of his muscles to memory. Her hand lingered over a long scar that looked like it was created with a knife. She glanced up at him. “Is this how…?” Navarro confirmed her suspicion with a nod.

Without a word, she tucked her finger inside his breechcloth and pulled him closer. Navarro’s deep sighs rolled through the silence when her lips touched his mid-section. Lifting her chin, he leaned down: his mouth descended on hers and in seconds their tongues became twisted. Time seemed to stand still as they shared their first kiss. Their lips, soft and earnest, moved tenderly against one another; Cradling each other’s face, they kissed passionately. Navarro moved his mouth, pressing kisses on her cheeks, her nose, forehead and temples. Air escaped Emani’s lungs in a rush of heated gasps.

He pulled away with a smile and they stared at each other in silence. It only took a moment for them to undress, their clothes landing quietly on the floor. Emani turned the television off when Navarro climbed into bed. Just as he did, a fire roared to life in the antique fireplace; flames danced pleasantly among the snap and crackle of the wood. He eased Emani onto her back. Slowly working his way down her neck and chest, his breath deepened as he decorated the soft flesh of her upper body with kisses. Quivering a little, Emani sighed with pleasure.

Navarro’s nose and mouth skirted over the dark circle of her areola before his lips locked around her breast. Emani’s body jerked slightly with excitement as she watched his lips pull her taut nipple away from her body. He suckled for a long time, moved to her other breast and then to her belly, dipping his tongue in her navel and kissing her tenderly. The pressure of his mouth on her skin warmed her from the inside out.

Barely able to contain her moans, Emani stopped her voice from carrying too loudly throughout the room, afraid the other guests would hear her impassioned cries from the corner suite.

Before she could even pose the question, Navarro answered. “They won’t hear us.” With her mind at ease, Emani relaxed while Navarro focused on her lower body.

Her shapely legs parted and she felt him nip at her pelvis. Making his way down her leg, Navarro stopped to kiss the heart-shaped scar on her knee. “You smell good, denzhone.” When his mouth grazed up her inner thigh and lingered on her mons, a loud, greedy sigh escaped Emani’s mouth. His tongue flipped at her clitoral hood until her pearl peeked from it. She whimpered helplessly and grabbed fistfuls of his hair when he closed his mouth around her.

Desperate to taste more, Navarro gave in to desire and pushed her legs further apart. His lips pulled and sucked at her labia. Parting her swollen folds with his tongue, he inhaled her musky scent and began lapping at her as if it was the best thing he’d ever had in his mouth.

Every two seconds, Emani’s hips rose to meet his mouth. He grunted against her sticky sex, doing his best to hold her quivering body in place as his mouth moved to her rhythm. She mewled constantly as he devoured her: pushing his tongue so far inside of her that his nose was pressed against her clitoris.

Bursts of immense pleasure consumed Emani’s body; she lost herself in the rapture and gasped his name repeatedly. Feeling she was about to fall over the edge of satisfaction, she tightened her grip on Navarro’s hair. He didn’t seem to mind, in fact, her grasp urged him to increase his labial attention. He tried to speak, but the muffled noise got lost in her wetness. He licked her deeply, with low growls as the swelling in his loins became evident. Mentally, she begged for mercy. “Oh god, Navarro,” was all she could say.

Just before she would lose control, Navarro pulled his mouth away from her pussy. He swept his nose back and forth against her sensitive clit then changed positions. Holding his erection, he ran the head up and down the length of her opening. The sensation of feeling his firm flesh against hers spread through their bodies.

With short, harsh gasps, Emani’s back arched when she felt the fullness of him penetrate her. Navarro took a few deep breaths and leaned over, his body settling gingerly on top of hers as her sheath closed around him. With long, slow strokes, he moved in and out of her tight depths. She locked her legs around his waist. Curling her hands underneath his arms, Emani pressed her nails into the muscles of his back and rocked beneath him – with him. Ragged sighs spread through the air with each thrust.

Navarro pushed further and harder, groaning with Emani when his manhood nudged the base of her womb. “Denzhone…..so good.”

His mouth found hers. When she tasted the tangy essence of her own sex, Emani raked her nails across his back. Deep, shuddering cries and sloshy noises filled the room as he stroked her most sensitive places slowly and intentionally. She needed that, and he knew it.

Tearing his lips from her mouth, a wave of enormous power overcame him and he started thrusting relentlessly. Meeting him stroke for stroke, Emani lashed at the bed sheets with her fists. Dizzy with sensual indulgence, a knot coiled in her stomach. Her womanly muscles clamped around him and her body betrayed her. In those final moments of passion, they groaned in blissful agony. Her juices washing over him seconds before his otherworldly fluids spilled into her. Their mutual sighs and desperate gasps were incredibly passionate as they climaxed.

Navarro’s body gradually subsided on top of Emani’s; her arms and legs still locked around him. He tucked his head in the hollow of her neck, kissing her tenderly before their sweat covered bodies surrendered to sleep.

Day Four : Check-out

Navarro woke before the sunrise the next morning to find Emani sleeping. He reached out with his spectral hand and caressed her peaceful face. The coolness woke her with a contented sigh: she managed a smile at the ghost-like figure.

“I have to go.” It pained him to say these words.

“Will I see you again?” It pained her to hear these words, but she knew the answer. Navarro smiled when she reached out to cup his jaw. Slowly, he faded into a snowy cloud wisp. Emani’s fingers fluttered in the haze as the Apache warrior disappeared little by little.

After breakfast in the courtyard, Emani said her goodbyes to the other guests. Back in her suite, she checked the room twice to make sure she wasn’t leaving anything behind. Her heart was a little heavy knowing she’d never see Navarro again. With a sigh, she gathered her things and headed to the front desk to check out. Her eyes caught something on the bedside table just before she left the room. A cloth headband; Navarro’s headband. She picked it up and sniffed it. It smelled earthy, like him. Folding it over, she carefully placed it in her bag and said goodbye into the air.

“Did you enjoy your stay, dear?” Mr. Collins asked.

“Yes, sir. I had a wonderful time,” Emani smiled.

“And did you get to experience any strange happenings?” Mrs. Collins asked as she joined her husband behind the front desk.

Emani shook her head. “No, ma’am. No scratching sounds coming from the walls, no slamming doors. No strange activity at all.”

© enchanted.ladybug 10.31.2012

Bibliography: “Apache Indians.” native-net.org. Native Net, n.d. Web. 30 Oct. 2012

History Detectives. “Apache Warriors.” pbs.org. Public Broadcasting Station, n.d. Web. 30 Oct. 2012

Carlisle, Jeffrey D. “Apache Indians.” tshaonline.org. Texas State Historical Association, n.d. Web. 14 Oct 2012

 

france

welcome, everyone.  i have another read for you. it’s a story that i originally wrote in april of 2010. i’ve revised it and hopefully made it interesting for you. i am working on a new piece for next month’s post and am (so) glad that i had this story in my documents folder to share with you.

i want to thank you all for taking the time out of your day to read the stories on my humble blog. i do hope that you enjoy france.

france

“Excuse me, could you…” Spirit’s arms fell to her side in defeat, a map and bus schedule tucked between her thumb and index fingers. She was prepared to make the walk back to her hotel room, her feet on the other hand, wanted to ride the bus.  “Never mind.”

Her eyes rolled at the cluster of people that pushed past her, surely everyone in France wasn’t this rude. “Ideal place of love my ass,” she snapped, watching their backs grow smaller.

This was not how she envisioned the residents of this city to be.

Today, Spirit found herself in the park listening to music and poetry by local artists. She grabbed a modest lunch, nearly filled a memory card with pictures, and marveled at the ornamental structures that make up the Place de la Bourse; but now…now she just wanted to be back in her room; if only she knew for sure when the bus would be coming.

Bordeaux, France is a thriving city rich with contemporary and historical buildings, museums and festivals. It’s bursting with classical architecture, shops and over a quarter of a million vineyards where some of the world’s most expensive wines are made. Just as she pulled at a stray thread on her sundress, a voice called from behind her. “Are you lost?”

Startled, she jumped and turned quickly toward the mans’ accent. Spirit’s eyes fell on his and she produced a smile. “I only wanted to know when the bus would be arriving, but no one will help me,” she stated.

The gentleman before her possessed the most mesmerizing eyes. Striking, cold, and blue-gray; like gunmetal. He looked at his watch. “Should be here in about ehh, ten minutes.” His seductive accent interrupted her fixed look. Relieved, she thanked the man; her feet would have to tolerate another ten minutes. “My pleasure, Mademoiselle.” He nodded at her and pressed forward, she stole a glance at him as he walked away.

After claiming an empty spot on a bench she stuffed the map and schedule in her shoulder bag. “Mademoiselle, pardon me. Are you familiar with the warehouse district of Bordeaux yet?”
Those gunmetal blue eyes had returned to her.

“Oh, no.” Spirit lifted her gaze and placed her hand just above her brow line to act as a shield for her eyes. “Why, is there something I should see there?”

“The La Dame de Shanghai. It’s a popular nightclub here. Your hotel will tell you how to get there.”

“Hotel. Wait, how did you know I was a visitor?”

“The map and schedule in your hand a moment ago,” he smiled, “anyone who lives in Bordeaux knows what time the bus arrives. You will come?”

It beats another night of reading French For Dummies and staring out at the city from her hotel window. “Sure, why not.”

“Parfaite. My name is Trey,” he smiled, extending his hand to her.

“I’m Spirit, nice to meet you,” she replied, shaking his hand.

“The pleasure is all mine, Spirit.” Trey gathered her fingers and kissed the back of her hand. He winked then walked away, this time she watched him until he disappeared in the crowd.

According to the hotel manager, after dark, the bars, music scenes and clubs are alive with people who seek to satisfy their taste for France’s buzzing nightlife. The La Dame de Shanghai is a floating nightclub and restaurant located on a former submarine dock. One of the clerks was even kind enough to suggest an affordable clothing shop where Spirit could find something suitable for the La Dame de Shanghai’s dress code.

After shopping, she had a light dinner of tea, and crepes filled with meat and vegetables before heading back to her hotel room. While relaxing in the tub, she thought of Trey and regarded his striking blue eyes. Smiling to herself, she thought of the overused idea of a steamy affair with someone from another country. Images of his lips caressing her thighs flashed through her mind, awakening her inner desires. She wondered what his kiss would taste like. Would it taste warm, sweet and cool like mint? Tangy and tropical like fresh pineapple, or bitter like over-extracted coffee? “He probably won’t even be there,” she said, flicking water about. Her body sank a little deeper into the hot, sudsy water. “He does have a sexy accent.”

Spirit stood in the mirror for a long time, examining her attire. Her short peach colored dress had a large side slit, open middle exposing her midriff and ties at the neck and back. It complimented her light brown skin perfectly. She even talked herself into buying a some body jewelry and exchanged her plain navel ring for a butterfly ring studded with gemstones and a faceted droplet crystal. After tousling her short pixie hairstyle, and giving her eyes the smoldering look, she rubbed lotus flower oil on her body and left for a night out in beautiful Bordeaux.

The La Dame de Shanghai

When day transitioned to night in Bordeaux, the city became even more alive. Music of all kinds pulsated from the ships and warehouses along the waterfront. Spirit was drawn to the warm ambiance of La Dame de Shanghai. The Asian decor, intimate lighting, house music and the abundance of champagne were all so elegant and inviting.

She nodded and smiled her way through a crowd, trying her best to blend in with the locals. The bar was straight ahead; maybe a drink would help her relax. She managed to wedge herself between two tall men who didn’t seem to mind her presence and waited on the bartender, whose back was facing her. When he finally turned around, her eyes lit up with enthusiasm.

“You made it,” Trey grinned.

“I did. This is a very nice club.” She felt his eyes on her.

“You are breathtaking.”

“Thank you.” Spirit did her best to keep from blushing at his compliment.

“A drink. What would you like? Anything you want.” He placed both hands on the bar and leaned in just a bit. Earlier today, his medium ash brown hair was pulled into a ponytail, now it hung past his shoulders and was parted on the side so that a section of hair covered his left eye.

“I bet you have no idea what a Delta Sunset is.” He simply pushed away from the bar and turned his back to her. “How come you didn’t tell me you were the bartender?” she called after him.

“Because you did not ask,” he teased. By now a woman joined one of the men next to her. It was hard not to stare at them, but no one seemed to notice how they pawed at each other. When the frisky gentleman pushed up his date’s skirt, she moaned loudly causing Spirit to shift in her seat uncomfortably.

Trey turned and beckoned Spirit with his index finger. “That is not unusual here, you get used to it.” She leaned forward. His lips were a shallow breath away from her earlobe and she swallowed back the urge to kiss him deeply. “You are not very good at making bets,” he whispered, pulling away and sliding the requested drink before her.

“I’m pretty bad at it. How much?”

“It’s on me, don’t worry,” he winked.

The energy in La Dame de Shanghai seemed to intensify as the night went on. Playing the wallflower long enough, she entertained a few men’s request to dance; losing count of how many times her ample bottom was groped, or how many erections she felt against her back.

Whenever he was afforded a free moment, Trey’s dangerous blue eyes bore right into her. Not out of jealousy, but he was entranced by her; the way her hips rolled against the music, as if each movement called out to him. His gaze searched her body; It was difficult to tear his eyes away from admiring her curves.

When she was all danced out, Spirit was lucky enough to find a small table in the restaurant section. She took a moment to look over the menu, and decided on an appetizer and another Delta Sunset from the bar. Every couple of minutes she’d survey the bar catching a glimpse of Trey. When her food arrived, she looked once again, only he wasn’t there. Her shoulders dropped then shrugged. It’s probably just as well, she thought as she folded the corners of her napkin. What was I thinking? That I was going to have some torrid one-night stand with a French bartender?

“You do not like the food?” The soft sound of his voice excited her. She almost came undone.

“The food is great,” Spirit beamed. “Care to join me?” she motioned to the empty seat across from her.

Trey sat down, tucking that patch of hair over his left eye behind his ear. “So, what brings you to Bordeaux?”

“Well….” Spirit told Trey that she’d seen an ad online and got the idea to take a vacation. The problem was deciding where to go. She narrowed it down to three destinations: Italy, New Zealand, and France. She went with the draw a name from a hat method, only she used a cereal bowl. Paris was the obvious choice, but the more she read about Bordeaux, the more she was drawn to the city. As the evening went on, Trey learned that Spirit was a surgical tech, that her eyes were olive green and could change color depending on the light, and that she got her name from her late, great grandmother.

She learned that Trey was originally born in Lyon, France, a city divided into nine boroughs that was located between France and Marseille. He’s an only child with a passion for photography, and a love of jazz greats like Nat King Cole, and Nina Simone.

After Spirit paid her check, she glanced at the time and stood up. “I should get going, Trey. The bus will be making its last route soon.”

“I will take you to your hotel. I mean…I don’t mind giving you a ride,” he began eagerly, “I promise to take you straight to there, and I will keep my hands to myself.” Spirit laughed softly at his charm and accepted his generosity.

“I want to see you again.” Trey’s request came softly and modestly after parking his car.

“Trey, I really appreciate you giving me a ride.” Spirit opened her pocketbook and fished for money. “You’ve been so kind, really. But I don’t think that’s a good idea. I mean, I’m just here on vacation.”

Trey listened and nodded, his eyes fixed on a lamppost. “When do you leave?”

“In a week,” she sighed dispiritedly.

“Then do not deprive me of being with you during the rest of your stay, Mademoiselle.” His words massaged her soul.

Spirit left her room information and tried three more times to pay Trey for giving her a ride; three times he refused and promised her a tour of the wine museum and a picnic in the park the next day.

She said good night. He said bonne nuit.

In her room, Spirit stood in the bathroom mirror, mouthing the word mademoiselle over and over. She lowered her voice and mimicked Trey’s words to her, purposefully exaggerating the last word. “Do not deprive me of being with you during the rest of your stay, Mademoiselle.”

Biting her bottom lip, she tapped the bathroom light with one, quick jerking movement and crawled into bed.

Spirit was eager to see more of Bordeaux with Trey. They walked the streets of Rue-St. Catherine’s, sampled local wines and toured the wine museum where Trey proved to be an excellent tour guide. She learned that Bordeaux was home to 9,000 chateau’s that made wine, and that 12,000 different red wines were made there. The French are passionate about wine, so even an inexpensive bottle would be delicious. They bought lunch at a cafe and headed over to the Jardins Public for their picnic.

The Jardins Public

Serenely impressive, the Jardins Public is an English-style garden with an elegant landscape. It contains a library, botanical garden, lakes with ducks and swans, and an isolated area for picnics. Trey spread out a blanket underneath a large shade tree while Spirit went to admire the swans feeding in the lake.

“Did you know that swans can bond for years, sometimes for life?” he asked, walking up behind her.

“And did you know that it’s believed that in Hindu mythology, the swan represents grace, beauty and wisdom, and that the Goddess Saraswati was depicted sitting on a swan?” Spirit replied.

“Did you know that I find you incredible?” he confessed.

As the afternoon continued on, Spirit and Trey found themselves lounging on the blanket getting acquainted  They discussed French and American cuisine, childhood hobbies, and jazz music. After a while, Spirit commented on the pleasant scent of the flowers and fell into a light sleep. Trey watched her for a few moments before caressing her cheek with the back of his fingers.

For the next couple of days, Trey exposed Spirit to more of Bordeaux’s vibrant city. Their tour took them to striking museums and historical monuments. They strolled along the riverfront, admired mansions that were built in the 18th century and visited the Pont de Pierre; a beautiful seventeen arch bridge, spanning 530 yards that was built in 1822. Trey told Spirit that because of the unobstructed view, this was the perfect place to take photographs.

That evening, after dinner at a bistro, Spirit offered to buy caneles from the bakery. Popular in Bordeaux, they were the perfect way to conclude a meal. She’d just bitten into the crisp, burnt sugar shell of her second fluted cake when six words caught her off guard.

“Spirit, spend the night with me.” It wasn’t a question really, more of a polite wish.
It was as if instinct pushed her to respond so impulsively. “I’ll need to stop by the hotel and grab a few things.”

Trey’s building was located on a quiet street, about ten minutes from the Garonne river. His cozy apartment boasted charming decor, right down to the long drapes that accommodated the floor to ceiling windows. One large room served as the kitchen and dining area with a separate bathroom and bedroom. The dark, hardwood flooring gave prominence to the white stone walls. Spirit admired the black and white photographs on the walls, and figured they were probably taken by Trey.

“Make yourself at home, the bathroom is there on the right.” Trey tossed his keys on the dining room table.

“Your apartment is lovely,” she marveled, dropping her shoulder bag on the floor next to the sofa.

“Merci. Please, have a look around.”

While Spirit made her way around his intimate apartment, Trey listened to his incoming messages. The male voice on the machine spoke in French, but it caused Trey to chuckle. “My friend is going hiking and wants to borrow my camera. Would you like to come with me or do you want to stay here?”

“There are places to hike in France?” she asked, emerging from the bedroom.

“Oh yes. The Cantal Mountains are amazing. The landscape is so rich and green, it takes about a week to get through a guided walking holiday. The farms and villages are beautifully maintained, the flowers and wildlife are well protected. It’s very stunning. I uh, I wish your stay was longer, I would love to take you there.”

Spirit smiled, then crossed the living room to gazed out of the tall window. “And you trust me in your apartment alone?”

“Why not? You won’t get far if you take anything, you can’t figure out the bus schedule,” he joked, clutching his arm dramatically when Spirit playfully punched him. “I won’t be long, I promise.” He stood next to her at the window.

She turned, crossed her arms and looked up at his towering stature. “Well, since you promised.”

Trey smiled at her and planted the most gentle kiss on her forehead before collecting his camera. He showed her where the towels were, and how to use the remote for the television and DVD player.

After a shower, Spirit found herself going through Trey’s jazz collection. Tonight just seemed like a Betty Carter night. She loaded five CD’s into the player, programming it to play randomly and continuously. Just as Betty’s husky voice filled the room, Trey entered to find Spirit lying on the couch reading a magazine. “Isn’t her voice enchanting?” he asked, locking the door behind him.

“I’ve always loved her voice; so powerful and one of a kind. She wasn’t afraid to be wild and push the limits.”

“And what about you?” Trey was sitting on the floor in front of her.

“What do you mean?”

“Are you afraid to be wild and push the limits?”

“I think the fact that I’m here with you should answer that.”

“That is fair,” he laughed.

“Are you afraid to be wild and push the limits?” she asked in return, propping her arm and resting her head in her hand. Trey slowly lowered his head, his lips gently touching hers. The kiss was lengthy, soft and completely natural. When their tongues met, she got the answer to her question: Sweet and creamy with a nuance of vanilla; like caramel.

He drew back, breaking the kiss. Spirit saw his lips move and she heard his voice say, I’m going to take a shower, but she was too caught up in the way his lips felt against hers. Tucking her hands behind her head, she closed her eyes while the music acted as her personal sedative.

Trey returned a short while later and knelt in front of her. He watched her resting for just a moment before stroking her cheek. Spirit shifted slightly and opened her eyes. She grinned after having felt his nose brushing her jawline. He stood up, pulling her along with a gentle tug.

Drawing her close, he tilted her head and their lips came together in a firm, passionate kiss. He backed her into a wall and lifted her legs around his waist. She planted her forearms on his shoulders as his lips moved from her mouth to her neck. Trey inhaled the sweet floral scent of lotus near her collarbone. “Mmm, you smell so good,” he said against the front of her shoulder.

Spirit purred her gratitude. “Let’s go sit down on the floor,” she softly suggested. He whimpered, nuzzling the camber of her neck. Reluctantly, he released her legs and led her to living the area. They sat comfortably facing one another, gazing quietly into each others eyes. After their hands were placed on one another’s knees, she whispered, “I want you to do something for me; breathe very softly. Focus…and you will breathe with me.”

Trey closed his eyes. It took some effort, but when his eyes opened, they were breathing in sync; slowly and jointly. Spirit was gentle in her instruction, telling Trey that this technique was being done to open their minds, invite the powerful energy into their bodies and deepen their connection.

The exchange was such a pleasant experience. Trey felt a current flow throughout his body, right down to his fingertips. This process went on for some time; the warmth, the connection, the build up was erotically overwhelming.

When she felt that each of their minds had opened up, Spirit had Trey undress and lie on his back. “Keep focusing. Settle into your body and breathe.” Kneeling between his legs, she worked her way down his body, massaging his arms and chest. Taking her time, she moved her hands over his stomach and pelvis. When Trey sucked in a quick breath, he gave her a look, as if to say he was sorry for breaking his concentration. Smiling, Spirit placed her hand on his abdomen and gently reminded him to inhale and exhale deeply. “It’s okay. Slow down and your body will relax.”

As Trey’s shallow breaths calmed, her hands worked his inner and outer thighs, caressing where his legs and pelvis join. She then moved toward his testicles. Carefully, she spread her fingers and massaged them against her palm, then pushed them against the underside of his manhood.

His arousal began growing.

The fire inside of him intensified, causing him to writhe with need, but he was determined to concentrate.
With a feather light touch she swept the tops of her fingers over the head of his sex and along the sides. “So beautiful,” was all she said. Without breaking the connection, she closed her hand around the base of his dick. Alternating with her left and right hand, she slowly stroked him until he was fully erect.

Leaning over, Spirit’s mouth descended on the firm length of him. He fought back the urge to explode in the moist vessel that pleased him. “Your mouth is so warm. It feels so good,” he moaned, watching as her lips passed up and down his rigid flesh. She stopped briefly, burrowed her face between his legs and licked between his testicles. Next she gently sucked each clean-shaven scrotal sac into her mouth which were firm because they had become engorged from the excitement. While rolling his testes around in her mouth, Spirit opened his legs a little wider and allowed the musky scent of his sex to intoxicate her. After bathing his balls with her tongue, she flattened it against his shaft, licked her way towards the tip, and flicked her tongue across his frenulum.

Trey released a long sigh and called out for her. His hard on lurched toward her and she pulled away, gently blowing on the glans as if to tell it to behave. Noticing his natural fluids pool in the narrow opening on the head, she rubbed her nose and lips in the wetness. Her tongue dipped right into that opening, then she closed her mouth around his manhood and watched his varied expressions. She moaned, raising and lowering her head, and working her tongue in numerous ways until he burst out of her mouth like a cork from a bottle.
Kissing her way up his body, she asked, “Can you feel our energies connecting?”

“I’ve never felt anything like this, it’s so enticing,” he nodded, gently stroking her back as she pressed herself closer to him. The sensual impulse grew more and more powerful. His body wanted more of this; he wanted more of this. And she knew it.

Spirit sat upright and removed her camisole. She reminded Trey to keep breathing and guided his hands toward her chest. Her nipples puckered as soon as his palms made contact, she arched her back, breathing steadily as his tender fingers splayed over her exposed breasts. “Suck them,” she whispered hoarsely.
Trey was only happy to comply.

He pulled her forward, lapping at her areola one after the other before pinching her nipples between his teeth. He sucked avidly, enjoying the weight of her bosom in his mouth. Several minutes passed before she pulled away, breaking the suction.

“You have a butterfly in your stomach,” he said, playfully pointing out her jewelry  His fingers teased her boy shorts aside and he massaged her clit. “You don’t mind, do you?” he smiled. Shaking her head no, Spirit lifted her breast and closed her mouth around her nipple. His thumb slowly circled her bud, causing it to swell. Her thighs trembled at the heat of his hand.

Each approaching the edge of climax, they both continued to breathe in unison; slowly and and deeply like a well-rehearsed duet. Spirit committed each nerve in her body to making this night full of ecstasy. She learned long ago to tame her orgasm, but Trey was new to the experience and she knew that he was aching to succumb to passion soon. Lifting his hand, she sucked his thumb into her mouth, followed by his each of his fingers. Immediately, she shed her boy shorts and straddled him.

She took his erection and rubbed it between her labia. “Look at it. Look at the way the head is nestled between my lips.” Trey glanced between her legs, and when she pulled it away from her fleshy folds, a milky strand hung between them. Gasping in pleasure, he relished the tease.

No longer wanting to fight the desire, Spirit leaned in, placed her hands on Trey’s chest and lifted her hips. “Are you ready to accept all that I have to give you?”

He barely pushed out a yes, before Spirit guided herself onto him. A symphony of energy spread between the two of them like a fierce fire. She bounced up and down on his throbbing phallus, listening to and becoming aroused by the wet sounds. Moments later she planted herself firmly on top of him and wound her hips against his pelvis. The serpentine movements she made caused another surge of energy to pass between them.

Forcefully, Trey pushed himself deep inside of her silky depths, grunting something in French over and over. Spirit sighed her own sensuous throaty sounds as he moved in and out of her. She rocked against him, cupping her beautifully formed breasts and squeezing her vaginal muscles possessively around his dick.

Just as the pale cool light of the moon streamed through the windows, a tremendous feeling manifested deep inside of them. Their minds and bodies were alive and free. Trey’s body shook. “My head is spinning, Spirit. I can’t…I don’t…”

Spirit knew what was happening. She mewled softly, her hips bucked vehemently; encouraging his sweet release. “Don’t be afraid of the power. Let the pleasure wash over you. Let it rule you. Come with me.” she cried at last, her body tensing throughout.

Trey pressed his fingers into her thighs and gyrated fast and frantically. Spirit pressed down against him to meet his upward thrusts. He released a loud agonized gasp that caused them both to surrender to the aching need cascading through them. Bodies shuddering as they climaxed together. Energies uniting as they responded to the cry for deliverance. Breaths breaking out in heated moans and gasps. His hot release and her essence melding into one sensuous substance. Even after Spirit collapsed on his chest, he continued to spurt inside her sumptuous walls.

“What did you do to me?” he panted, wrapping his arms around her, holding her damp body close to his.

“Introduced you to what happens when you bring harmony and intimacy together,” she whispered, combing her fingers through his hair.

As their spasms of ecstasy subsided, Spirit relaxed in his embrace. They both closed their eyes while Betty Carter lulled them to sleep with, Moonlight in Vermont.

Just before the golden light of the sun rose above the horizon, Spirit and Trey woke to the subtle scent of sex lingering in the air; a delicious reminder of the previous night. His finger floated down the bridge of her nose. Her face wrinkled and the corners of his mouth teased up into a smile. “Stay with me,” he stated in a throaty tone.

“For the rest of day?”

“No.”

A quizzical look washed over her face. “For the rest of my vacation?”

“For as long as you like; or forever.”

She was speechless. As she searched for an answer, Trey massaged her backside. “I…I uh, I don’t know what to say, Trey.”

“Say yes.”

“In French, or in English?” she teased. Trey smacked her bottom and she giggled.

Spirit tilted her head, softly kissed his jawline then answered, “Oui.”

© enchanted.ladybug 09.29.2012