It had been a while. Too long, really. But I was back in town and I was here with her now. We've seen each other so often, that no flowery reunion greetings were necessary. So just inside my door, in lieu of saying hello, she had wordlessly opened my zipper, reaching inside and squatting down over dangerously high heels to take me in her mouth. I could only gasp for breath as she worked that magic that I knew so well. I wondered if she would continue till I exploded, but she had other plans. She stood up with a grin, and led me with my cock to the bedroom, her clear heels clattering the whole way.
She tumbled back on the bed, pulling me down with her. Our mouths locked, our tongues continuing our familiar exploration. She was already wet, and she had been ever since she greeted me at the door in her own inimitable way. I barely had enough presence to reach over to the night table, tear open the foil packet, roll the party hat on. I looked down and we both reached down to guide me into her.
Honey, I'm home. She was soaked. She was very warm. It felt delightful. I started to slide in slowly, carefully. But again, she had other plans. She grabbed my hips and pushed me into her hard. I started to thrust, hard and deep, but with the slow, deliberate pace that I knew she liked. I could feel her forehead getting damp, I could see beads of sweat making their way through her makeup. She closed her eyes and started to pant.
I was working up a good head of steam myself, as I huffed and puffed up that hill. Up we climbed, higher and higher, on our way to heights of ecstasy. It would be a lofty peak for both of us today. I could feel her tense beneath me, her body quivering ever so barely perceptibly. She finally reached her lofty goal, and her body racked in wild shudders below me in time to my thrusts. But it wasn't a final mighty explosion, an early end to her party. She came and came and came, each orgasm growing successively stronger. She clenched my cock hard with each shudder.
I could finally hold on no longer. I was near the heights of my pleasure myself. I closed my eyes and sailed off the edge of that cliff, swan diving into the inky depths, my own shudders pumping out my essence into that gossamer glove.
I opened my eyes to see her smiling back at me. I reached down, gripped the base of the condom and carefully pulled out of her. I wrapped the used condom in a tissue and lay back on the bed. I set the crumpled tissue on a book on the night table.
I've always loved to read, ever since I was a little boy. Even now, it's rare that I'm very far from either a book or my trusty e-reader as I go about my day. I read to learn new things. I read to pass the time, to fill a few spare moments. It helps me relax.
But most of all, reading allows me to live other lives. It's allowed me to travel to worlds I would otherwise never get to experience. I've gotten to see the world through other eyes. I've learned from others' mistakes, I've reveled in others' triumphs. I've seen different viewpoints, I've gotten to read others' thoughts. Reading, like travel, has broadened my horizons and has simply made me a better person.
This hobby has been a little like reading books. I've lived worlds I could only imagine before. It's let me glimpse ladies at their most intimate. It's sometimes given me a tiny peek into their lives, even if only ever so briefly and fleetingly.
She lay beside me and nestled comfortably in the crook of my arm. She put her face on my shoulder and one hand on my chest. I glanced down at the chipped polish on her nails and her rough, reddened hands. I turned my head to kiss her and I saw the troubled complexion on one cheek where her makeup had rubbed off.
I knew she had led a hard life, in her few years. She didn't tell me that, and I would never have asked her about anything so personal. But she didn't have to tell me. I could read her tormented tale, between the lines. I had read her tale on her hands, on her face, in the occasional flicker of fearfulness in her eyes as if she thought I might cause her harm. As if I ever would. I could see that her life had been harder than anything I could ever come near setting straight, not that she would ever ask me to, or want me to.
I looked down at the tarnished, worn bracelet on her wrist. I looked at it, and then back at her face. She had always been so sweet to me, she had always been so lovely. I don't know why she had, but she really deserved much better. I reached underneath the edge of the bed and pulled out a bright pink paper bag. Her eyes opened wide and her mouth dropped open.
"This is for you." Her surprise, joy and delight were genuine as she pulled out the small pink box from the bag. She opened it to reveal a new bracelet, gleaming rhodium bright, so shiny it almost hurt the eyes. There was a single charm on the bracelet, a jewel crusted silvery heart. She squealed with delight as she stripped off her old bracelet and I helped her clip on her new one. It was only a small trinket from the mall, but I had given it a lot of thought before I found it. It had only cost a few dollars. But for it to have been able to make her smile and forget about her life for a few moments, with me there? Priceless beyond measure, precious beyond words.
Yes, I had glimpsed her hard life. I could only see the results. I didn't know the details of how she got there. I probably will never know. Those lines might never get written, in the book of our times together.
But this is real life, not a book. I'm not just sitting back passively, reading and waiting what is going to happen next. I'm not just reading about her life. I've also become a very small part of it. My words have helped intertwine her life to my own.
She kissed me, and cuddled up again. I smelled her fresh hair and nuzzled her scalp. Maybe her life had been hard, is still hard, will be hard. But her life won't be hard when she's with me. I'll make sure of that. That is my vow.
I don't know how our tale will end, for that part of our book has yet to be written. I just know there will be many more chapters. Our story will go on.
She tumbled back on the bed, pulling me down with her. Our mouths locked, our tongues continuing our familiar exploration. She was already wet, and she had been ever since she greeted me at the door in her own inimitable way. I barely had enough presence to reach over to the night table, tear open the foil packet, roll the party hat on. I looked down and we both reached down to guide me into her.
Honey, I'm home. She was soaked. She was very warm. It felt delightful. I started to slide in slowly, carefully. But again, she had other plans. She grabbed my hips and pushed me into her hard. I started to thrust, hard and deep, but with the slow, deliberate pace that I knew she liked. I could feel her forehead getting damp, I could see beads of sweat making their way through her makeup. She closed her eyes and started to pant.
I was working up a good head of steam myself, as I huffed and puffed up that hill. Up we climbed, higher and higher, on our way to heights of ecstasy. It would be a lofty peak for both of us today. I could feel her tense beneath me, her body quivering ever so barely perceptibly. She finally reached her lofty goal, and her body racked in wild shudders below me in time to my thrusts. But it wasn't a final mighty explosion, an early end to her party. She came and came and came, each orgasm growing successively stronger. She clenched my cock hard with each shudder.
I could finally hold on no longer. I was near the heights of my pleasure myself. I closed my eyes and sailed off the edge of that cliff, swan diving into the inky depths, my own shudders pumping out my essence into that gossamer glove.
I opened my eyes to see her smiling back at me. I reached down, gripped the base of the condom and carefully pulled out of her. I wrapped the used condom in a tissue and lay back on the bed. I set the crumpled tissue on a book on the night table.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I've always loved to read, ever since I was a little boy. Even now, it's rare that I'm very far from either a book or my trusty e-reader as I go about my day. I read to learn new things. I read to pass the time, to fill a few spare moments. It helps me relax.
But most of all, reading allows me to live other lives. It's allowed me to travel to worlds I would otherwise never get to experience. I've gotten to see the world through other eyes. I've learned from others' mistakes, I've reveled in others' triumphs. I've seen different viewpoints, I've gotten to read others' thoughts. Reading, like travel, has broadened my horizons and has simply made me a better person.
This hobby has been a little like reading books. I've lived worlds I could only imagine before. It's let me glimpse ladies at their most intimate. It's sometimes given me a tiny peek into their lives, even if only ever so briefly and fleetingly.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
She lay beside me and nestled comfortably in the crook of my arm. She put her face on my shoulder and one hand on my chest. I glanced down at the chipped polish on her nails and her rough, reddened hands. I turned my head to kiss her and I saw the troubled complexion on one cheek where her makeup had rubbed off.
I knew she had led a hard life, in her few years. She didn't tell me that, and I would never have asked her about anything so personal. But she didn't have to tell me. I could read her tormented tale, between the lines. I had read her tale on her hands, on her face, in the occasional flicker of fearfulness in her eyes as if she thought I might cause her harm. As if I ever would. I could see that her life had been harder than anything I could ever come near setting straight, not that she would ever ask me to, or want me to.
I looked down at the tarnished, worn bracelet on her wrist. I looked at it, and then back at her face. She had always been so sweet to me, she had always been so lovely. I don't know why she had, but she really deserved much better. I reached underneath the edge of the bed and pulled out a bright pink paper bag. Her eyes opened wide and her mouth dropped open.
"This is for you." Her surprise, joy and delight were genuine as she pulled out the small pink box from the bag. She opened it to reveal a new bracelet, gleaming rhodium bright, so shiny it almost hurt the eyes. There was a single charm on the bracelet, a jewel crusted silvery heart. She squealed with delight as she stripped off her old bracelet and I helped her clip on her new one. It was only a small trinket from the mall, but I had given it a lot of thought before I found it. It had only cost a few dollars. But for it to have been able to make her smile and forget about her life for a few moments, with me there? Priceless beyond measure, precious beyond words.
Yes, I had glimpsed her hard life. I could only see the results. I didn't know the details of how she got there. I probably will never know. Those lines might never get written, in the book of our times together.
But this is real life, not a book. I'm not just sitting back passively, reading and waiting what is going to happen next. I'm not just reading about her life. I've also become a very small part of it. My words have helped intertwine her life to my own.
She kissed me, and cuddled up again. I smelled her fresh hair and nuzzled her scalp. Maybe her life had been hard, is still hard, will be hard. But her life won't be hard when she's with me. I'll make sure of that. That is my vow.
I don't know how our tale will end, for that part of our book has yet to be written. I just know there will be many more chapters. Our story will go on.
