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Thursday, 24 April 2014

Home Sweet Home - Verse I



A Collaboration with Keeper of the Crimson Quill

I'm not sure exactly how I found myself in the place I reside now. An unfortunate turn of events rocked me to my foundations a year ago and my idyllic lifestyle was wiped out in favor of a far less picturesque existence. It's nothing more than a transitional stage that I find myself in now, back to my home base to recuperate and lick my wounds. I needed somewhere that I could focus on my writing, somewhere safe. 


I've long been disconnected from any apron strings, have been independent since I first moved out of the family home at twenty. So it was with heavy heart that I returned to the scene of my adolescence. That's not to say that the times I spent there weren't jovial, on the contrary, I was blessed with a happy upbringing and have many fond memories within these fortifications. However, once you have made that decision to forge your own path in life, it becomes uncontemplatable taking those two steps back.

There are times in your life when it is necessary just to bite the bullet and I masticated hard on the one fired my way. I relocated from my modernized century-old cottage to a poky little bed chamber, pallid and somewhat unwelcoming to a man fast approaching his forties. Fuck it, I had to do something right? It seemed fruitless renting and I had made the decision to cease employment and follow my dreams of becoming a writer. All my monies were temporarily unobtainable and only likely to be freed upon a lengthy divorce and I didn't want anything to compromise my goal. So I sucked it up.




Anyhoots, now I'm a prisoner in this place. Not that I'm getting it twisted, my time is largely my own here and right now it serves its purpose rather well. As a sexual creature though, I feel confined. Social outlets dried up on commencement of my return and I spend large portions of my day with myself and I as company. I'm self-sufficient so it suits the purpose but, to say that I don't crave the touch of another, would be to tell a rather hefty mistruth. That's what we all desire ultimately, to feel with our fingertips, kiss with our lips and fuck with whatever it is we're packing. I miss that. 
 
A few dusks passed something happened...something I felt as though I had no control over whilst, in the same moment, something I totally owned. The sun had ebbed away, leaving behind it chilly whispers as its moist rejoinder. I had been outside, grimacing like a cooler at a poker table, punishing myself as I invariably do by choosing such a frosty locale to scribe my prose. It was one of those deceptive evenings where it felt warmer than it actually was, leaving me chilled through to my marrow and none the wiser for a lengthy period. Eventually the penny dropped.
I'm more of a shower person ordinarily but my former walk-in cubicle had been replaced  with a modest wall-fitting which could best be described as working. Thus, the cramped bathtub was my destination this night and I spent forty five uncomfortable minutes semi-submerged and without so much as a rubber ducky as company. Naturally, at one juncture, attention turned to my soaping myself down and my cantankerous cock began to stir as it traditionally does in such circumstances. Always the opportunist. Nevertheless, something held me back from petting on this occasion...so I left him be.



Some of my least favorite moments in life are those few breath-stealing minutes after you evacuate your tub/shower of choice and re-acclimatize while you towel yourself dry. It has become customary for Keeper to slide naked under the divan while this adjustment takes place. This night I felt different to others, wired somehow...to what I had no idea but there was electricity present and furthermore it appeared my stiff prick was acting as some sort of conductor. I nestled back into my array of pillows, closed my eyes tight and reached down to grip my thumping member.

I couldn't shake this nagging feeling that I was in the presence of an unannounced other, could feel a mesh of essence in the air which was wholly intoxicating. I peeked out, just to ensure it wasn't my mother delivering a pile of ironed linen to my boudoir. Once satisfied, I kicked off the sheets and hoisted my nectarinal derriere from the mattress, my rigid cock standing sentinel-like at the apex.

There was an accompanying feeling also, that being of inhabiting another place entirely. The bite in the air had been replaced with a heady heat although my bedstead felt colder than usual against my bare pelt, as though were it fashioned from wrought iron. The baritone rumblings of approaching storms were in contrast to the clear dusk I had been presented with formerly. Indeed the whole integrity of the atmosphere had changed. In addition, I felt soothed by the mollifying sound of crickets, not an audio conducive to my current environment. Regardless of any discombobulation felt I had never before felt so utterly serene and, in the self same moment, aching to cum. 
 


I loved this house.  I had purchased it after my divorce for a dime and a song…well, a little more than that, but I couldn’t help feeling I had stolen it, the price was so low.  Yes it needed a little work but mostly cosmetic fixes.  The foundation was solid and the windows and doors opened and closed easily having been replaced decades after the settling had ceased on the hundred year old home.


It was nestled in the country, quiet and secluded and the second I stepped inside upon my first viewing, I felt welcomed by the old place.  It seemed to have a spirit that greeted me with warmth and assured me that this was home…the perfect setting for me to write my book during my year-long sabbatical from work. 


I needed the time to get my head straight.  The divorce had been bitter and nasty, a battle that had raged mercilessly in the court system for three years.  My lawyer had earned every cent that my ex was now paying him.  He had fought for me valiantly, winning me a settlement that allowed me to buy and fix this place up, not to mention that it also afforded me the privilege of taking a year off work without having to tighten my purse strings or pinch pennies.



So far though, I hadn’t yet written a word.  It seemed my tortured brain needed the break as well, and I had put my laptop aside and kept my hands busy with a trowel and paintbrush instead.  The colours I chose for the rooms were cheery, adding light and lifting my spirits.  The floors were made of good hardwood and I decided that only a light sanding was needed for them.  I wanted to keep some of the scuffs and scratches ingrained for character.


The hard physical work was having a positive effect on me.  My body was becoming lean and toned and the aches that throbbed in my muscles the first weeks of starting my renovations were dissipating, leaving me feeling strong and fit.  The fresh air and sunshine that kissed my skin as I worked weeding the gardens against the stone foundation gave me a golden glow that not only made me feel ten years younger but made me look it as well.



I was enjoying getting acquainted with my new home, often talking to it as I worked patching and painting, sanding and staining.  Tonight I ran my hand over the smoothly sanded trim like a lover’s caress, “You are so strong and beautiful.  Isn’t it Christine?”  My golden retriever responded by thumping her tail against the floor as she lay watching me,  thrilled that I was including her in the conversation.


The heat outside was very nearly unbearable.  The air above the asphalt driveway shimmering still even as the sun started to dip below the horizon casting hues of deep purple and orange into the clouds that were gathering in the evening sky.  I heard the low rumble of thunder in the distance.  The rain that was surely threatening would certainly be good to cool things but in the meantime, the humidity was causing beads of sweat to form at my nape under my long blonde hair and trickle down curling like a snake around my neck before continuing their path downward to be caught in my modest cleavage.



It had been a long, hot day and the heavy air was making me more tired than usual.  I decided to wash the heat and sweat off my skin under a cool shower and go to bed.  My skin still damp from the shower and with Christine at my heels as usual, I made my way through the house to my bedroom in the darkening night, not bothering to turn on the lights.  My long wet hair, clung to my back, giving me the fleeting sensation of being embraced.  I suddenly realized how much I missed being touched by another.  I stood at my bedroom window, my forehead against the glass and let my hand flutter over my apple shaped breast, relishing the feel of the soft tender flesh.  How I longed for a man's hand at this moment.  Yes, a man's hand, a man's lips, a man's touch.  I felt the moisture between my legs as an old familiar ache started building in my pussy and I let out a deep sigh, my breath fogging the glass in front of my face.


My temperature was rising again and decided I really didn't want to make myself hot all over again.  Letting my hand drop from my swelling tit and hardened nipple, I pushed away my desires.  I opened the window hoping for a breeze only to be disappointed by the stillness of the night.  Not even a breath to flutter the light sheer curtain that hung open beside the bedroom window.  The curtains were for decorative purposes only.  There seemed to be no need to close them at all as there were no prying eyes for miles. 


I had kept the wrought iron double bed that had been left in the house. It’s dark twisted metal was cold and hard yet like the rest of the house, it welcomed and comforted me.  Christine curled herself into the dog pillow I kept at the foot of the bed and I laid down on top of my down comforter, not wanting the weight nor the heat of even a thin cotton sheet covering me.   Completely naked, I rolled onto my back, closed my eyes and let the cricket’s night time serenade sing me to sleep.




For this story and more from Keeper of the Crimson Quill, please visit riversofgrue.com

Saturday, 12 April 2014

But Him....Damn...



Damn, I like him.  I can’t help myself.  When I left my husband a couple of years ago, the last thing I wanted was another relationship…hell, even today the thought of commitment, compromise, the cleaning of the toilet still turns me off anything too serious.  But him…damn.

The hilarious part was he lived so close to where I used to live back when I was happily, then unhappily married… and yet, though the town was small…everybody knows everybody, I didn’t know him when I lived there…well, I knew of him, but I didn’t know him, y’know?

Well, let’s just say circumstances presented themselves and I’ve had the opportunity to get to know him since I moved 800 miles away.  Turns out we have tons in common.  I don’t find that in many men my own age.  I have a young heart and spirit and well, let’s just say a majority of the men I’ve met my own age have let their spirits age with their bodies.  Not him though….. damn.  

So…I liked him.  Fine…who couldn’t use another friend, right?  Only one problem…we’re very physically attracted to one another too.  Now, don’t get me wrong...I can think of more than one occasion where that was definitely not a problem for either one of us...one time in particular…..

He came out to the coast...it had been months since his last visit.  He was visiting here for family reasons but because he was in the vicinity he gave me a call.  As soon as I heard he was close an overwhelming sense of excitement took over.  It was a sensation I was familiar with.  I had felt many times before as I lay alone in my bed, my eyes closed, letting my hands wander over my body while my mind conjured visualizations of him touching me, tasting me, filling me.  It consisted of a quickening of my heartbeat, a tightening across my chest as my tits swelled and my nipples hardened, a burn low in my belly that moved rapidly and fluidly down my abdomen that left my pussy wet and pulsating.  Yeah, simply put…..horny as hell.

We met for lunch at a very cool local micro-brewery pub and grill.  The beer was incredible and the food even more so.  I had missed him, he was one of a few people I could sit and talk to hours and though I was enjoying catching up on the details of what we’d been up to since the last time we spoke (text messages don’t count - too brief)… and what our plans for the summer were, I kept finding myself distracted as my eyes wandered from his eyes to his mouth to watch his lips move.  I couldn’t help but imagine them on my lips, on my skin.  I practically had to sit on my hands.  It was everything I could do to not reach out and touch him.

He knew.  He knew the effect he was having on me and by the time we finished eating, I could also tell that he knew I was vibrating with excitement and anticipation.  I could tell by the way he grinned at me with that twinkle in his eye as he ordered another beer and leisurely leaned back in his chair, making himself comfortable, making me wait, just to tease me…his playful way of torturing me.  Ha!  It worked too…by the time we finished up at the pub and headed out I was so worked up I would’ve cum if he’d blown in my ear.

He hadn’t seen my condo yet, so I invited him back to my place to listen to some music and yeah, I may have even said, “to see my etchings”.   I had to laugh at myself.  I hadn’t been with any other man since the last time we had been alone together, and like I said…it had been months.  I couldn’t help but think of Eddie Murphy’s stand-up routine…the one where he’s referring to how women will hold out sexually to make men want them more.  He speaks of being a starving man who’s fed crackers….”Those the most delicious mother-fucking crackers you ever ate…those crackers are fucking filet Mignon” …or something to that effect anyway.  I wondered for just a moment if he was trying to make me starve.

Wouldn’t make a difference if he was…. I already knew I wasn’t settling for crackers with him and as a matter of fact, if I was starving, it was because I had decided never to settle for crackers again!  In any case, this starving chick was looking forward to digging into a nice big steak…some very delicious Alberta beef, ha!

We entered the elevator that would take us up to my condo.  I brushed close to him as I pressed the button for my floor and I felt my temperature rise.  Trying to hide the flush in my cheeks, I dug through my purse, looking for my keys.  You can imagine how my flush deepened when I found them still in my hand from opening the building door…..then dropping them on the elevator floor.  He bent over and picked them up.  When he rose, I saw that grin again…the grin and the twinkle in his eye.  The grin and twinkle that said he knew…..fuck…..

I was a goner and I knew it.  The only hope I had was to shut up and not fucking giggle too much.  I pointed out the proper key when we arrived at my door and he unlocked it and swung it open, allowing me to enter first.  As we walked in, I had my back to him and it somehow gave me the confidence to keep my cool.  Without turning I pointed to my left, “This is the kitchen,” I said.  Moving down the short hallway I took another step and without stopping pointed to the right and said, “and this is the bathroom.”   Within a couple more steps I reached the 90 degree turn in the hall.  I turned and faced him about present him with my bedroom.  I wanted him to see the twinkle in my eye for a change.

Before I had the chance to comprehend what the intense look in his eyes meant, he grabbed me, pushing me hard against the wall behind me, his mouth coming down on mine.  My body was on fire.  I reacted immediately, moaning against his lips and grinding my pelvis against his as my arms went around his neck.  His body pinned me against the wall and I held his head tight against mine, kissing him hard and deep, my tongue darting into his mouth to find his, my teeth pulling at his bottom lip.  His hands were all over me, working with a frantic yet controlled urgency.  It didn’t take them long to find their way under my t-shirt, roughly pushing it up over my tits along with my bra.  His mouth disappeared off mine and I felt his lips, wet and hot on one nipple while his fingers kneaded and pinched my other.   I pulled my jacket, t-shirt and bra over my head and dropped them to the floor in a heap.  My hands returned to the back of his head and I pulled him closer to my tits. 
  
His mouth went back and forth between my tits, licking and sucking as his hands moved down, pulling on my belt, then the button and zipper of my jeans.  I pulled on his shirt, wanting to feel his skin on mine.  He stood for a moment and pulled his shirt off.  He kept his eyes open as his mouth came down on mine again, my leg came up to wrap around his hip, pulling him closer to me.  The only things between us were our hands as mine worked on opening his jeans and his slipped under the elastic of my lace panties.  His fingers were immediately treated to the heat and the wetness he had been causing between my legs.  He watched my eyes widen as his thick finger found its way inside of me, then watched them glaze over with passion as my hips began to rock back and forth, fucking his finger, my hands gripping the open waistband of his jeans for purchase and my lips and tongue greedily kissing, tasting his mouth.

His lips moved roughly over my cheeks and chin and down my neck.  Keeping one hand on the waistband of his jeans, I reached into his jeans with my other one.  Tasting his way back up my neck he stopped at my ear. “I want to fuck you…” his voice breathed, low and urgently against my ear just as my hand wrapped around his huge and hard cock and my pussy clenched even more tightly around his finger. “……now,” he finished as he wiggled his finger inside me.
It was all too much.  “Oh fuck yes,” I moaned loudly as the blood left my head and I held onto him tightly as my pussy convulsed around his finger, covering it with my hot juices as I came.  Relentlessly he continued to pump his finger in and out, taking my orgasm so high I was afraid I might pass out.

I pushed his hand out of my pants, found my breath and my balance and disengaged from him.  I led him around the corner to my bedroom. I had held his hard throbbing cock in my hand and that’s what I wanted inside me.  I kicked off my shoes as I pulled my jeans and panties the rest of the way down my ass and legs.  By the time I reached the bed and turned around I was completely naked…..and I was thrilled to see he was too.  I fell backward on the bed and he was on top of me.  With one strong firm thrust he was deep inside me.  I gasped loudly as the still quivering, wet walls of my pussy clenched tightly around him and my pelvis instinctively rose to his.  He held himself deep inside me for a moment and my hands went to his ass, pulling him close as I spread my legs open wider, wanting him all.

His hips started to thrust back and forth in a steady rhythm and I fucked him back, meeting each thrust with a lift of my ass as his eyes held mine.  Oh god he felt so fucking good inside me…I wanted to fuck him forever and set my mind to do just that.  I reveled in having him on top of me, feeling the weight of his body on mine, smelling the light musky smell of his sweat and our sex, hearing his breath catch with each deep hard thrust.  I felt a series of mini orgasms as he fucked me, I fucked him back through the shudders that took over my legs with each one, each one taking me to a higher level of ecstasy, each one causing me to moan his name with passion.  His rhythm began to falter slightly and I urged him to roll onto his back.

We stayed joined together as we held each other, rolling over and switching positions.  I sat up, my knees straddling his hips and ran my fingers through my hair, pulling it away from my face and letting it fall down my back. I felt his hips stiffen underneath me as he kept his cock hard and deep inside me.  I stretched my torso and arched my back slightly, letting my head fall back as I swiveled my hips and rocked back and forth on top of him.  I kept my hands on my thighs…I wanted to concentrate solely on his cock…to please him as much as he pleased me.

I moved slowly to start, wanting to feel each fucking lovely inch of him impale me as I lowered myself on him, then let my pussy lips slide up his long length as I rose up again.  I felt his hands on my tits…he squeezed and pinched and my rhythm picked up.  I was breathing hard and I knew I was going to cum even harder.  I wanted him to cum with me…..I fucked him harder and faster, gripping his forearms and bucking wildly on top of him.  I couldn’t hold on anymore…my pussy quivered violently and flooded his throbbing cock with my cum as the muscles in my thighs locked hard, squeezing his hips. I cried out my pleasure and approval as my orgasm took over and I was rewarded with the sound of his cry and the bite of his fingers digging into my hips as he held me down on him tightly and exploded with his own orgasm deep inside me.

Completely spent and weak I collapsed on top of him, resting my head against his chest as he ran his fingers lightly up and down my back.  I basked in the feeling of complete satisfaction and relaxation.  Oh yes, being physically attracted to each other definitely had its benefits.  The problem with it would come soon enough…when he tapped my leg…an indication that he needed to get up.  That he would be leaving soon…and it would be months again before we would get to do this again. 
Ah fuck it, I could think of worse problems….. ;)