sleight of hand

welcome, readers!

happy halloween! i hope that you’re doing well, and that things are colorful  in your corner of the world.  i did promise to try to have something posted in time for halloween, and i do have a new read for you! don’t worry, there are no ghosts like my last halloween story, but i hope you enjoy my contribution.

as always, i want to thank all of you who take the time out of your day to visit my humble blog. your support, feedback, and light mean so much to me.

whether you’re having or attending a party, taking your little ghouls and goblins trick-or-treating, or just handing out candy to cute little witches and cowboys…have a safe and fantastic halloween.

i hope that you enjoy sleight of hand.

sleight of hand

“The devil has no power…except in the dark.” —Cassandra Clare, City of Bones

“I’m not babysitting him, Brian.” On a conference call with her supervisor, Nahla rolled her eyes.

“I can’t meet with him and I know that if anyone can close this deal, it’s you.” There was a short pause. “This is an important account for everyone.” If this were a game of chess, Brian Powell would have just forced Nahla’s enemy King into an unfavorable corner with that comment.

She sighed. “Fine, I’ll consult with him.” She could almost hear her boss smiling through the phone. Being an executive at a commercial real estate firm didn’t lend itself to turning away clients, especially ones of Matthew Grant’s caliber. Nahla was confident and direct, but she was also personable; and that’s how she won the trust of her clientele. But the rumors about Matthew’s demeanor didn’t inspire her confidence.

He entered Nahla’s corner office  fifteen minutes late, bringing with him a swagger that grated on her nerves. He also brought his strong investing principles and a need to put his money somewhere.

“Mr. Grant, I’m Nahla Davenport.” She crossed the lavishly furnished room with her hand extended.

Immediately struck by her exotic appearance, he shook her hand. “So you’re the ambitious executive that came so highly recommended.” In his late forties, Matthew Grant was a well-respected, self-made business man who came from humble beginnings. But everyone Nahla talked to said that he was impossible to work with.

It was rumored that most rival firms never got past their presentation; that he had a reputation for being openly critical during heated discussions over contractors and renovations, never hid the fact that he was bored and would sometimes walk away in the middle of potential million dollar meetings without even asking for projections, leaving banks with no choice but to pull the listing and consult with another firm.

Be calm, be dignified, she reminded herself. “Mr. Powell sends his apologies; I’ll be handling our meeting this afternoon.” Realizing she was still holding his hand, she invited him to take a seat in the chair facing her desk. “Can I get you something to drink? Coffee or tea?” she asked, handing him a presentation folder which he nonchalantly looked through.

“No, thank you.” Matthew wasn’t Hollywood handsome, but he was a distinguished, dark-haired, green-eyed eligible bachelor who had single and married women from all social circles gravitating towards him. He looked up, taking in the full length of her body before she sat down. “Brian told me about your impeccable project success rate, but he never mentioned how beautiful you were.”

A flash of heat went through her that she didn’t welcome. Flattered and agitated by his compliment, Nahla thanked him. “I understand that you’re looking for an aesthetic property. This particular building is a foreclosure, but it can be purchased inexpensively and fixed up.” She then spent the next fifteen minutes trying to convince him that the deal was promising. “The potential for appreciation on the investment is excellent and I have contacts at Lennox Financial who are prepared to negotiate.”

The entire time his eyes were on her, but he wasn’t paying attention to her pitch. He was analyzing her, long and hard. His gaze lingered at her smooth, medium brown skin, high cheekbones, and a pair of revealing, almond-shaped eyes. Her shoulder-length black hair with auburn highlights and side-swept bangs  suited her. She had a habit of wetting her lips, probably an unconscious habit, but it was turning him on.

Nahla noticed Matthew checking her out more than once. He wasn’t very subtle about it, either: sly smiles and deep stares here and there. He was trying to make a connection, but she wouldn’t return his interest.

He mumbled something: she expected him to get impatient, verbally attack her and leave. “Any other investors that want in on this?” he asked with a long sigh, tossing the proposal on her desk.

“It’s an attractive, profitable enterprise; and I do have some foreign investors who are interested in this deal.” She’d be willing to bet that Matthew had already done his homework and knew about the foreign investors.

She needs to loosen up. “Perhaps we can discuss this deal over dinner. There’s a new steakhouse I’ve been dying to try.” His eyes leisurely swept over her again.

Her eyes met his. She drank him in for a few seconds, cleared her throat then looked away. “I’m a vegetarian, Mr. Grant.” That was a lie. Nahla felt that unwelcome flash again. Eager for him to leave, she glanced at her watch and brought the presentation to a close by standing up and making her way to the door. “But I would love to invite you to our annual Halloween party this Saturday night.” She tried to hide her irritation.

“All business with you. I like that.” Taking the hint, Matthew followed. “So—where is this shin-dig, sweetheart?” He flashed her an over-confident smile, pretending not to notice her fist balling up.

“Please, call me Nahla. You can get the information from my assistant. Don’t forget to wear a costume.”

She watched him turn on the heel of his Tom Ford loafers and leave her office. In that short time, Matthew Grant managed to rub her the wrong way and give her a headache. Closing the large oak door, she prayed—twice—that she didn’t blow this meeting.

Nahla looked at her fist. Hitting him would probably turn him on.

 

Halloween party : Are You Afraid of the Dark?

During the day, Lakehurst Resort operated as an upscale family destination spot. Tonight, after hours, its large banquet hall would be transformed into a haunted carnival to host the annual Halloween party for Nahla’s company. Everyday items like PVC pipe, burlap and cheesecloth were formed over Styrofoam to create ghoulish scarecrows and horses. There were cauldrons bubbling in the corners, realistic cobwebs cleverly strewn across a scary ticket booth at the entrance, intricately carved pumpkins on each cloth-covered table that lit up from the inside, and a fortune teller. Later, there would be a contest for the best costume, and a horror movie.

When Matthew arrived at the party dressed as the devil, complete with makeup that looked professionally done, he spotted Brian Powell immediately and they talked shop over drinks and appetizers. Nahla was standing with a small group; every few seconds, he would turn his head to look at her. Compared to the other costumes, there wasn’t anything special about the pink boxing uniform she was wearing, but he couldn’t stop looking at her.

It took him all day, but he finally figured out why she was so intriguing: like most women, she wasn’t hell-bent on throwing herself at him, or rather, his bank account. He was instantly drawn to her in a way he’d not been toward anyone else. She was—different.

He recalled vividly how soft her hand was in his a couple of days ago. The way her dress pants emphasized her curves; getting a peek down her fitted shirt at her ample cleavage. He could still smell the jasmine and coconut water notes he picked up in the perfume she was wearing. He smiled to himself, thinking about her hand at her side, balled into a fist. All of these thoughts elevated his desire.

The party was in full swing. One hundred and fifty costumed employees mingled, played games, laughed, and danced to the music of a local band. Nahla was casting her vote for the best costume when Matthew appeared next to her. “Trick-or-treat.”

She took one glance at him. “Mr. Grant…I see you’ve let your alternate ego out for the night.”

“Speaking of alternate egos…” He looked her up and down. “Don’t tell me that you don’t enjoy being someone else, even for a couple of hours.” It wasn’t mandatory that Nahla show up, but as an executive who was trying to prove to her supervisor that she was worthy of being a name partner, it set a good example to her co-workers. If it were left up to her, she’d be at home going over an exclusive list of her best buyers.

“Touche.” Looking into his enchanting, pale green eyes, she did that lip-licking thing again. “Are you having a good time?”

“I am, this is quite a party.”

“Mr. Powell throws one every year as a way to celebrate our firm’s achievements. He really gets into this stuff.” She nodded in the direction of her boss, who was dressed like an outlaw from the wild west.

The music changed and the band played a slow song; Matthew raised his eyebrows at her.

“If you ask me if I’ve ever danced with the devil, I’ll punch you,” Nahla declared.

Matthew chuckled, taking her hand. “Fine. Will you dance with me?”

“You don’t like me, do you?” he asked.

“You’re an educated, successful man, Mr. Grant. What’s not to like?” In the middle of the crowded dance floor, they swayed to an acoustic tempo; her arms around his neck, his hands against her back.

“My pretentious, overbearing attitude?”

That made Nahla smile. She suddenly decided that it wouldn’t do any harm by being genuinely nice to him. Besides, she could hear Brian’s voice in her head: ‘This is an important account for everyone…’

“I’ll be damned, I didn’t know your mouth could actually do that,” he said, wanting to know what else that tempting mouth of hers could do. He pulled her closer until her body was cradled against his, letting out a low groan when he felt her breasts pressed against his chest.

Matthew wasn’t a bad dancer. Rocking gently with the music, Nahla’s body followed his unhurried movements. It had been a long time since she slow danced like this. She’d forgotten how much she liked being close to a man: being held, smelling his aftershave, feeling safe in his presence.

Shit, she thought. Even when he’s dressed like he’s ready to drag someone to the Underworld, he still excites me.

She tried to carry on a casual conversation, but her efforts were interrupted when, halfway through the dance, he told her that he didn’t expect her to be so desirable. “I’ve wanted you from the first moment I saw you,” he added.

He looked down. “Do you see what you’ve done to me?” he asked, making Nahla aware of his erection pressing against her.

She looked up. Feeling that large bulge against her tied her stomach in knots and made her nipples harden. Nahla’s job kept her busy, and that left little time for dating. She was fine with that, until the devil came along…tempting her, reawakening a passion in her that she buried for months; causing this enormous force of pleasure to spiral through her.

She didn’t want to be attracted to him, but she was. And even though it bothered her, it didn’t stop her from lusting after him. In her mind, she was bearing the solid weight of his body; feeling his warm, sweat-covered frame pressed against hers, slamming roughly against her pelvis.

The thought of him saying dirty, filthy things in the hollow of her neck as she clung to him made her want to come right then and there. “Mr. Grant, you’re a nice-looking man, I can appreciate that. But I’m not interested in you.” That was her way of trying to deny the raw chemistry between them.

“You and I both know that’s a lie.”

Damn him.

For the rest of the song, they danced without speaking. Her body, flush with his, raged with sexual need. She felt herself getting wet. Grateful when the music finally stopped, Nahla took a small step back. “I…um…I have to go.” She walked away from him while the crowd applauded the band. It was easier to do that than to admit that she wanted to feel the fullness of him; pushing in, and pulling slowly out of her.

After the contest, Nahla sat at a small table in the back; Matthew sat next to her. The lights went out, and the movie started. Rubbing his chin, he asked, “Do you know what you need?” He had a strong desire to nuzzle her earlobe and kiss the curve of her neck; lift her leg over his shoulder, bite the inside of her thigh. He wanted to take the broad head of his dick and massage her clit with slow circles; push deep inside her over and over, feel the tender flesh within her gripping him tightly—fuck her mindlessly and savagely until he could no longer control his desire to come.

Nahla tried to ignore him by watching the supernatural horror film on the screen ahead of her, but his deep, rough voice, along with the feeling of ecstasy, was taking over her senses and making it hard to keep her composure.

“You need someone to push your buttons.” He slid closer to her. His strong hand was on her leg, his breath incredibly warm against the rim of her ear. “To fuck you until you can’t stand it.”

Nahla crossed her arms on the table and whispered, “I’m not that desperate to close this deal, Mr. Grant.” She fidgeted, fighting hard to keep the self-control that would ultimately slip away from her.

Matthew squeezed her thigh and frowned. “Be still, Nahla.”

It wasn’t as if she could go anywhere: on one side of her was a wall; on the other side of her was the Father of Contention. She should have knocked his hand away, she should have protested. Instead, she simply nodded at his instruction.

Without warning, his fingertips walked up her thigh, hooked inside her panties and pulled them aside. When he drew his thick finger up and down the crease of her entrance, Nahla’s body responded in the only way it knew how and moved against him.

Matthew’s nostrils flared. His growing member pressed painfully against the inside of his pants, wanting—like a caged animal—to be freed. Teasing her under the table was elevated by knowing that she would enjoy this just as much as he would. “I need to be inside you,” he said, the pad of his finger lightly rubbed her clit, coaxing it from its hood. “I want the taste of you on my tongue.”

Nahla’s head fell forward. Her defenses were not just down, they had ceased to exist. She felt sensuous and vulnerable at the same time; it made no sense. Biting into her lower lip, her body trembled at the table. She wanted to moan and swear, and lock her legs around his waist; taking every inch of him, feeling the hard thrust of him against her inner walls.

Matthew eased a finger just inside her, pushed a little further, past the tightness he felt and stopped. Nahla inhaled sharply and tightened around him as if to say, ‘Mine.’

“That’s it, sweetheart. Let me in,” he said, grinning in the darkness. He continued to do as he pleased between her legs: working her clit by rolling the little bundle of nerves between his thumb and forefinger, pinching and pulling the soft folds of her lips, twisting his wrist as he stroked inside her; intent on bringing her the ultimate pleasure.

Nahla should have been ashamed at her defenselessness, but thought there was something incredibly comforting about being at his mercy.

A second finger joined the first. Nahla gasped, trying her best not to be louder than the volume of the movie. Obeying instinct, she scooted to the edge of the chair, parting her knees a little to accommodate him.

Her ass slid back and forth against the seat as she undulated against him. Her receptive flesh throbbed against his fingers and she let out a small hum, feeling her climax approach.  Fuck, this feels so good. Take it.

Matthew shifted in his chair a little, scooped his hand under her leg and placed it on top of his, spreading her open a bit more. Without missing a beat, he moved deeper  within her opening, then withdrew. In and out. Over and over.

Slowly, ever so slowly.

Then with one gentle flex, he was scissoring inside her warm recesses. He heard her sucking in several breaths, knowing that each pleasant stroke pulled her closer to the edge.

“You know, you may not like me,” his voice was low, just above a whisper, “but your pussy certainly does.” He pulled his digits out part way, then, taking his time, entered her again. The tight walls of her womanhood contracted, enticing sensations shot through her as he fucked the inside of her body. He was methodical, touching special places that she could never reach. Matthew didn’t need to ask her if she liked it, he knew she did.

The deliberate rhythm went on and on, causing satisfaction to flutter and erupt inside her. Nahla opened her mouth to speak, but couldn’t. Don’t stop, is what she wanted to say, but her eyes were locked on the pumpkin sitting in the center of the table; the flickering LED flame dancing within the ghastly cut-out highlighted its eerie gaze.

The air felt warm, but it was her: hunger and need ripped through every fiber of her body. A sigh escaped her lips. She could smell her fragrant arousal as she accepted more of him.

His movements became more concentrated, more demanding. Pushing in, pressing inward and upward, massaging her G-spot, then pulling out—his fingers saturated with her juices.

Faster. Harder.

Nahla’s hips matched each steady thrust of his hand. I hate you. I want you. Take it all…

Matthew fingered her for several minutes, then growled one word in her ear: “Come.”

Nahla squeezed her eyes shut. Her body tensed, her heart raced. She imagined hearing him utter that word and that guttural sound against the folds of her lips. With an emotionless stare, the jack-o’-lantern centerpiece watched the pleasure on her face as she released her desire. She barely had time to brace herself before the familiar jolt of gratification claimed her.

Wanting so badly to cry out, she tightened her jaws and pressed her knuckles to her mouth to stifle the noises and quick breaths that dared to leave her mouth.

Her orgasm was all-consuming—it almost hurt: so intense, yet so enjoyable. Lost in that incredible moment, she panted heavily through her nose.

When the delight of her climax finally ended, her body relaxed and her eyes slowly opened. She committed every moment of this scrumptious event to memory.

Damn him. Again.

Matthew caressed the edges of her labia long after she stopped quivering. When he slowly pulled his hand from between her legs, he smiled victoriously, sucking the reward of her wetness from his fingers, one at a time.

 

Monday Morning

Brian Powell stuck his head in the door of Nahla’s office. “I just got off the phone with Matthew Grant. He said that was one amazing party and that he was ready to put up the money on the foreclosure.

“What about the projections? Doesn’t he want to look at the figures for the last ten years?”

“I asked him the same thing. He said we could send the figures by courier as a formality, but he’s ready to close the deal immediately. You must have really impressed him, Nahla.”

She felt a decadent pulse at the apex of her thighs. “I must have.” Seconds after her boss left, her assistant’s voice came on the intercom, letting her know that an important call was holding on two. She picked up the phone and pressed the blinking line. “This is Nahla.”

“Now will you have dinner with me?”

Speak of the devil…

 

© enchanted.ladybug 10-31-2014

impulse

welcome, readers!

i hope that the universe has been kind to you and that everything is colorful in your corner of the world.

it took some time, i know, but i have a new read for you. just a boy-meets-girl encounter, but you might be interested in knowing where the inspiration came from. i was lurking the internet one day and came across a picture that is either the inside of a club or a lounge.  i stared at that image for the longest time, thinking to myself that it would make an awesome hookah lounge. from there, my mind imagined a guy and a girl having a date there, and from there my mind started thinking naughty things so i grabbed my notebook.

i know that Halloween is around the corner, and i’m not making any promises, but i will try to post something for the occasion. no promises, but i will try.

as always, thank you for visiting my little corner; thank you for your encouragement; thank you for being you. i do hope that you enjoy impulse.

 

impulse

Eight months. That’s how long it had been since their breakup. A job offer was the reason that Kiara and her ex-boyfriend were separated by 901 miles. He had to make a hard decision and in the end, his profession won out over his emotions. They tried a long distance relationship. Seeing each other as often as they could, occasional video chats and late-night phone calls; it wasn’t perfect, but they were happy. Eventually the distance was too difficult to maintain, both agreeing that they wouldn’t be able to grow as a couple with so many miles between them.

It’s also how long it had been since she’d had any physical contact with anyone. To come out of her dating hiatus, she decided to avoid serious commitments for a while and experiment with casual dating. It didn’t take her long to learn the balancing act of having a sexual relationship: establishing boundaries, learning to be intimate without getting (emotionally) attached—no strings, no commitments. Her last encounter was nothing to write home about. An average dinner date with a guy she met at an outdoor movie party that led to average sex twice a week. He filled a void during that transitional time after her breakup, but when he started showing signs that he wanted more, she ended that arrangement.

When Kiara’s co-worker, Loren, insisted that her single neighbor was someone she would connect with, her initial reaction was an emphatic no. Going out with someone sight unseen just didn’t appeal to her and the few times she was set up ended in disaster. There was the lawyer who wanted to show off by wolfing down an entire bowl of phaal, then spent forty-five minutes in the bathroom. The personal chef who spent the evening talking about how women have no place in positions of authority, and the landscaper who was eager to take her to dinner then conveniently forgot his wallet when the check came.

Loren offered a few general details of the man like she was a salesman trying to sell a car for sticker price. To quiet her colleague’s pestering, Kiara relented and agreed to go out with him.

His name was Shaun, and after a few friendly emails back and forth, plans were made to meet him for drinks on Friday night. She kept an open mind and had no expectations, convincing herself that she’d have nothing to lose.

A day before the big night, she got an email.

I hope you haven’t changed your mind.

She replied promptly.

I’ll be there at eight o’ clock sharp wearing an ice blue off-the-shoulder mini dress.

The Al-kimiya Hooka Lounge had recently been renovated to keep up with the evolving business district downtown. Beautiful Arabic decor, exotic crimson red and burnt orange color tones, ambient lighting, and plush seating made for an inviting and upscale atmosphere.

Kiara arrived early, and a friendly hostess took her to a cozy table near the back. She looked around the partially crowded lounge watching this short, thin guy walk around like he owned the place. In the seconds it took her to shift in her seat and glance at her watch, he’d already made a beeline for her.

“I’ve not seen you here before.” His arm was outstretched. “Name’s Tony.”

She got a whiff of his nauseating cologne and shook his hand. “Hi, nice to meet you.” Probably picked it up from a truck stop, she thought.

“That is a beautiful dress you’re wearing. It’s very distracting.”

Clever. “Thank you.”

“Is that a Prada?”

“No, sorry.” Macy’s, twenty percent off. Try again. “May I have my hand back, Tony?”

He smiled, releasing her grip. “You strike me as a lady who enjoys lemon drop martinis.”

“Actually, she enjoys something a little more tropical.”

Behind Tony came the deep, controlled lilt of an accent she later learned was from North Ireland. Before her stood the figure of a tall man with dark, tousled hair, devilish looks that made him very easy on the eyes, and lips that were just begging to be kissed. He was holding two fruit-garnished cocktails. Kiara threw a half smile at Tony, who raised his hands up as if to say he meant no harm as he backed away.

Taking the empty seat opposite her, the stranger’s deep-set blue eyes met her gaze as he identified himself. “I sure hope you’re Kiara or else this is going to be really awkward.”

“I am, and thank you for that,” she said, looking in Tony’s direction.

A server arrived, offering them menus. A short while after making their order, a multi-hose hookah and a Mediterranean olive appetizer was placed at their table.

Between the food, the smoking, and the drinks that, according to Shaun, were concoctions of Guyanese rum, pineapple and Armagnac, they talked about his work as a consultant in the pharmaceutical business, their mutual love of  Travel + Leisure magazine, and how they were coping with single life.

“My ex-wife and I wanted different things. I wanted her to work a steady job, and she didn’t.” Having recently wrapped up a three year marriage, he admitted to being nervous about dating again. He tried the obvious methods like speed dating and online personals. But the problem he faced with getting to know someone virtually was that the image he formed in his mind was ruined when a face-to-face meeting took place. “Not everyone was truthful in their descriptions,” he added.

Their conversation moved along from subject to subject. Shaun had a great sense of humor. He was well read, loved classic literature and talked passionately about the influential works of Ovid’s Metamorphoses. They talked about Kiara’s volunteer work with a non-profit organization that provides shelter for the homeless, and their wanderlust cravings; how they both wanted to visit Turkey, rent a countryside estate and walk down narrow roads that ended at secluded beaches.

Shaun caught the server’s eye and waved his hand, ordering two more drinks. When the second round arrived, Kiara raised her glass. “To two successfully unsuccessful relationships.”

“I’ll drink to that mouthful,” he laughed, the rich sound sent vibrations up and down Kiara’s body.

As the lounge became more and more crowded, the energetic buzz of laughter and conversation erupted around them. Shaun straightened his shoulders. “So, was I what you were expecting?”

Kiara picked up an olive. “I didn’t have any expectations. You were—a pleasant surprise,” she said, tossing the small fruit in her mouth.

“Nice answer.”

“What about me?”

“Oh, I expected to be bored out of my mind.” His bright, blue eyes lit up when smiled at her. “Actually, Loren couldn’t stop talking about her fascinating co-worker and how I wouldn’t be disappointed.”

“And?”

“And she was right. You’re a sweet, amazing woman.” Shaun looked at her a little longer than he should have, quietly admiring her natural, full lips and her desirable brown eyes. “And I’m far from disappointed.”

She shifted in her chair: an attempt to ignore the warmth between her thighs. Kiara was enjoying the company of her blind date. But then something changed. A burning need clenched deep within her stomach. The dampness between her legs reminded her of her lackluster sex life. Her mind became congested with images of them together; she bit her lower lip to hold in a whimper.

She wanted him.

It’s amazing what a cocktail or two can do for one’s courage. In her partially intoxicated state, she took a small sip of her drink then absently rubbed the rim of her glass. “Is your dick as nice looking as you are?” Bold, but she would blame the alcohol in the morning.

Shaun took a long drag from the hookah’s mouthpiece, the water at the base bubbled softly. When he exhaled, thick clouds of smoke billowed around him, hitting Kiara with the sweet smell of mango-flavored tobacco.

She watched his face emerge from the vapors: he wasn’t smiling. The expression on his face was dark and intense, his irresistible eyes called to her. For a moment, she held the lust-filled gaze that was locked on hers. Then her eyes drifted to his faded jeans and white button up shirt with the sleeves rolled up.

Shaun stood up and moved closer to her. He leaned down, his lips barely touching her earlobes. The scruff on his jawline tickled the side of her face, making her heart beat a little faster. He breathed the challenge in her ear. “Let’s go find out.”

His words hung there between them, enticing and fiery. Loren never mentioned his accent, but Kiara liked it. A lot. A gasp caught her off guard as he took her hand and led her through a maze of people down a long hallway. He made a right turn to a door that was roped-off for private events, unhooked one of the stainless steel ends and pulled her inside the elaborate room where he immediately slipped his arms around her.

Lowering his head, he swept his nose over hollow of her neck, whispering endearments against her smooth, perfumed brown skin. His teeth slowly and deliberately nibbled her there for a long time. He paused, lifting her chin to capture her lips in a sweet, unhurried kiss. Reigned in by the tenderness, Kiara embraced him; she could barely breathe but she didn’t care.

With a groan, he slowly backed up to the large sectional sofa, taking her with him. Starting at the bottom, she unbuttoned his shirt, spread it and slid her hands around his taut waist. Pressing his lips to hers once more, Shaun quickly deepened the kiss, their tongues fighting for control in an unforgettable tango of tasting and stroking. Passion spiraled through her body and she lost herself beneath his mouth.

Just after the kiss ended, Kiara fussed with the belt buckle on his jeans but only for a few seconds. She undid the button on his fly, then reached into his pants, fondling and lightly raking her nails along his tender scrotum. It was driving all of his senses mad, but it felt so good. Dropping to her knees, she pulled his pants down to his ankles. Shaun’s dick sprang free, fully erect and dangling in her face. Gripping the base of his shaft, she licked at a bead of moisture on the crown. Her tongue lashed at the small slit on his glistening head before outlining the rim and tracing the veins that defined his length.

Kiara opened wide  and his dick was in her mouth. As her lips moved up and down every inch of him, she hummed delightfully when his tip gently touched the back of her throat. Shaun’s eyes rolled back. He softly moaned his satisfaction; the warm, wet feeling made his body twitch.

Kneading his balls in her hand, she kept her mouth on him, licking and sucking insistently. When her jaws began to ache she squeezed his erection with her lips, slowly pulled the head out with a gentle pop, and stood up. Taking his hand, she slid it under her dress. Through the fabric of her panties, he drew his fingertip, the middle one, along the swollen folds of her labia. She whispered, “I want your dick there.”

With a provocative smile, he quickly peeled his shirt off and tossed it aside.

Easing her dress off her shoulders, Kiara stepped out of her clothes. She pushed him onto the vibrant cushions and straddled his legs in a reverse cowgirl position. She rubbed her pussy along his aroused flesh then lifted herself, hovering over the plump head of his dick before lowering herself with a moan until he was completely inside her. That first feel—the tightness of her, the fullness of him, was an intense pleasure for both of them.

Resting her hands on his legs, she moved slowly, pulling up and pushing down over and over again—making him feel each gentle bounce.

“Fuck,” he growled. Holding her firmly by the pleasant swell of her hips, Shaun’s body rose to meet hers, each thrust to her center more profound than the last. He drove deeper, stretching and filling her, fucking her the way she needed to be fucked.

Kiara arched her back, the slight curve of  his dick stroked her G-spot and caused her inner muscles to tighten around him. She rubbed her clit with tiny circles, panting harshly as her walls held and released him in measured movements. Both of them crying out blissfully as the aroma of sex and soft sucking noises filled the room. It was lewd, sexy and exciting.

Shaun struggled to control his sweat-covered body, but he wasn’t able to take it anymore. His balls ached. He needed to come. The friction of him tunneling into her, subjecting the depths of her body to his firm member, was bringing on the betrayal of his orgasm. Loud, choppy moans were forced from his lungs.

Tremors of pleasure rioted through Kiara’s body that were so strong, her heart pounded like a drum. She could feel him throbbing inside of her, the frantic thrusting made her moan savagely in a way that surprised her. She leaned forward, gripping his thighs to ride him faster. Obscenities—his and hers—almost climbed over the muffled sound of music from the lounge.

Four rough strokes later he came, closing his eyes and shouting in that final moment of release. When his thick, white fluids spilled into her, Kiara’s orgasm came fast and hard. She shuddered through it, taking all he had to offer.

Out of breath, Shaun sat up to hold her, resting his cheek against her shoulder as they recovered. Kiara absorbed the warm, solid feel of his chest against her back. A sudden sharp spasm hit her thigh muscles; she was looking forward to the dull pain the next day. Gasping softly, she smiled at him over her shoulder.

Shaun propped himself up on his elbows, watching as Kiara gathered her clothes. “Can I call you sometime?” he asked with a hint of fatigue in his tone.

After dressing, she shook her head and kissed his sleepy face. “No, but I’ll come find you.”

And she did, several days later.
© enchanted.ladybug

 

*al-kīmiyā (the chemistry), is the Arabic spelling of the word alchemy.

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