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Sometimes

By: SweetOblivion



Sometimes.

It was near dawn when she saw him that night. She hadn't looked to see him since her mind was restlessly engaged in the day-to-day pre-occupations that seemed to fill her every living moment at that time. She was staring out of the window at the water pooled on the cobbled streets, wondering when the next rainstorm would rattle against the thin pane of glass that separated her writing desk from the outside world. 

'I wish I could talk to you right now,' she murmured and sat forward at her desk, resting her face in her folded arms. She felt empty and uncertain, trying to work out whether he would allow her even this or whether he would tell her, that by murmuring her longings out loud, she was speaking to him after a fashion.

'I just want to hear your voice,' she sighed, wishing that he were there to cup her face in his hand. 'I do need you and I hope you know that.'

She knew that he knew. She was not insecure about him or his feelings, but still she worried. She worried that she might raise his ire without any intention of doing so. She worried that it would be too long before he kissed her hand again and told her to her face that she was simply glorious. She worried that he would not see all the love that she had for him in her eyes. She worried that he did not know that if things were different, he would be her world and she would be his wonderful companion. And so she sat there, observing the darkness where she hid her head, waiting silently for the rain to resume, for the storm to continue and for her restlessness to abate.

She didn't mind his dalliances, even the ones that he denied. She didn't mind that he pretended not to know what she meant, just so that he could still protest his innocence without worrying that he would not always keep her heart swimming. She just wanted to stay awake a little longer to let normality drain away so that her mind was free: free to keep dreaming and repeating each wonderful dream bringing herself back with trembling lips to the love that could be waiting here for her.

'Sometimes I think too much. I really should spend more time doing,' she muttered determinedly, eventually deciding that she couldn't sit there any longer. She would slip into the blue strapless darkness of her most beautiful dress. She wanted to change in the middle of the night in the hope that that special invitation to the dance would still arrive for her to open with trembling hands. She wanted the gloved excitement and the whispered imaginings and the spreading of that smile, soft and muted at first, but widening slowly as she crossed the room to strip off her everyday clothes and dress into the realm of fantasy. 

Antique lace and turquoise satin shorts and a matching brassiere would be lovely: simple and yet delicate lingerie to impress him. And the shoes – what shoes should she choose – something delicate and fine for him to admire or something more robust that would mean he could carry her around the dance for ever. Yes – beautiful wedge shoes – a round toe with a chunky heel – perfect and irresistible – just how she wanted to be for him.

She was almost ready for him now even if he never came. It did not matter, she would still sit down at her dressing table and make herself up so carefully and so creatively: a blush, a hint of scent, a touch of mascara and a wash of eau de toilette. She would sprinkle it liberally like some beautiful waterfall adorning her with its spray, before reality intruded again.

But there it was again with the thought of washes and sprinkles and water, reality! It broke into her reverie and caused her to look up and stare towards the sky, trying to make out in the half-light what type of rain the next day would be filled with. Her face fell at the thought and then despite her disappointment at the inclement weather she found herself smiling broadly, having realised that there he was in the darkness outside. It was strange that he had chosen to settle on a bough at the bottom of the little park that her house abutted. 

She stood up and wiped the mist away from the windowpane, trying to make sure that it really was him. She wondered what he was doing in the town and why on earth he had chosen that thick branch to rest on, when he could so easily have knocked at her door and been ushered into the warmth.

Donning a cape to guard against the chill pre-dawn air, she forgot about the finery she was wearing and slid out of the house, clipping her keys to the little velvet band around her neck. She gasped as the cold lunged at her, swirling within her clothes and making her shiver. She was glad of the feeling despite the discomfort. It made her feel real again after all the pretences of the day and anxieties of the night.

In any case, it didn't take her long to make her way quietly across the street to bring her to him. She drew herself up and pressed her face against the gates to the little park, whispering a greeting that drew him from his thoughts and led him to sit up and swing his legs, so that he was sitting facing her. 

'No rest for the wicked?' He asked.

She smiled ambiguously.

'No wicked for the rest then?'

'No, it's all for you sir.'

'I was hoping you would say something like that,' he leered down at her.

She giggled.

'No giggling after midnight,' he frowned. 'You will disturb the nightjars.'

'Yes, sir,' she smiled again. 'Tell me why do you dally here so late? I have never seen you in the city before.'

'You owe me a fuck - remember?'

'I couldn't sleep either,' she wouldn't let his dissonance perturb her, 'and yes, I do remember quite well. Did you come here to claim your due?'

'No, I came here to tell you that these cobbled streets seem to me the architecture of your ruin. Your face will take on their grey pallor if you stay here too long.'

'I only stand here because the gate is locked and because you do not knock at my door.'

'It would have been uncivil to call on you at such a late hour.'

'And it is not uncivil to draw me out onto the streets instead?'

'You came to me, girl.'

'You knew I would.'

'Yes. So, come to me now. The grass is so much softer that the cobbles.'

'Then I will not need these shoes.'

'Not once you leap over the gates that seems to inhibit you so.'

'Is there no way round this, sir?'

'I could open the gates to you.'

'Then do so, sir.'

'Alas, I have no key.'

'That's not much good then,' she said, squeezing the iron bars of the gate in her frustration.

'Do you look for goodness in me, girl?'

'No, but even scoundrels have manners, supposedly.'

'Take off your cape, please.'

'As you wish sir.'

She slipped her arms out of the sleeves and pulled the garment off, holding it out to him in her arms.

'And the dress. Let us give the police a mystery to solve.'

'Do you intend to murder me, sir?' She inquired passively as she stepped out of the gown, leaving it in a silken puddle of fabric on the ground.

'No, I intend you to come to me as I intended you to.'

'Naked?'

'Near as.'

'Then you will never see mud on my shoes again.'

'You can accommodate my desires barefoot. Fancy footwear has no place where we are going.'

'Does it not?' 

'Bare feet suit your status. You do not need footwear to fraternize and fuck to your heart's content.'

'I will still miss them, sir.'

'And yet you will still leave them.'

She nodded sadly. She loved her shoes though she was not sure why. Since she had known him, she hadn't worn them as much as she had in the past and yet they still held out an aura of civilisation that she desired.

'Shall we burn all your shoes and let woods grow up on the ashes?'

'I doubt that would be possible, sir, even with my collection of shoes.'

'A bonsai wood then?'

She smiled thinly and reached behind her one foot at a time to shed the footwear.

'The pavement is cold and I feel conspicuous in my underwear.'

'Take off your underwear and I will carry you to somewhere where you can be even more conspicuous and less hesitant in your attendance upon my whims. Nice shorts by the way.'

'Thank you for noticing, sir,' she smiled. 'Would you make love to me among the ashes of my shoes?'

'Would you have me encourage your delinquency among the destroyed decadence of once desired clothing?'

'I still desire it, sir.' She stamped her foot petulantly

'Then I will make love to you by a waterfall far, far away from here.'

'That would be lovely, sir,' she smiled and remembered the way the eau de toilette had been so reminiscent of falling water such a short while before.

'Since the sound drowns out your shrieks.'

'Must you steal all my delight, sir?'

'No, I would share it. And you know that is true.'

'I know it is true that I love waterfalls,' she nodded gently.

'It is true that you will crouch down and watch the one across the water, while I take you as I intended.'

She shivered and hugged her naked shoulders, crushing her breasts against her rib cage.

'If you are lucky you will see trout leaping up in their joy as you press back and surrender in yours.'

'Will they sir?' She gasped lightly.

'They will once you take off that fashionable brassiere, girl.'

She looked up at him, feeling put out by his salacious reply, but said nothing, other than to lift up one bare foot and then the other, trying to stop them becoming numb with the cold. 

'I dream a waterfall and you sense a grey cobbled street,' he growled, jumping down from the bough and staring at her huddled form on the rain-washed sidewalk.

'I sense the chill ground, sir, and the impending approach of a law enforcement officer.'  

'If you crouched down, he may pass you by. Do it. Do it for me.'

'Yes sir,' she said bleakly, wondering where this was leading, hearing his voice, pushing her down so that her hands rested on the wet stones, where the water still lapped after the rain. Each cobble was wet and rounded, like the curves of a soft feminine form, beautiful and yet elusive in their beauty. Some of them had been prized loose by the daytime traffic and sat in the gutter as unwanted debris. Is that how he felt about her, she wondered. Was he so disappointed after taking her up that he would discard her like debris - too dull and unresponsive? Would he remember that somehow it once offered so much promise until he compromised her existence by taking her from the place where she belonged? An overwhelming sense of sadness flowed through her as if all the worries of the world had just landed on her shoulders. 

It all seemed so puzzling and so insurmountable until he reached down to take her hand and lever her up. He hauled her in against him to hug her and wrap her in his jacket, solicitude taking the place of degradation. She gulped down a sob and let him lead her to a bench a hundred or so yards away from the gates.

They sat there reaching across to haul you in against me to hug you and sit here side-by-side, thoughtful and contemplative, watching as a policeman poked around at her discarded clothes with his nightstick. She suppressed a giggle as the man scratched his head, puzzled by the scattering of fine garments.

'That's better. We have no need of sadness,' he murmured pulling the jacket off his shoulders and wrapping it fully around hers. 'We may have need of haste though when he spies us over here.'

'What about my clothes?' she frowned, standing up.

'Don't worry about them. Mere fripperies. Stand by my side and just spend a tranquil moment, before we have to scoot.'

'That doesn't sound very dignified, sir. And those clothes have meaning to me.'

'It isn't dignified, but needs must and meanings can be rewritten. I may not even be able to stop to make you smile again, pressed as I am to evade the vagaries of the law.'

'I thought the law was fairly precise about indecent exposure, sir?'

'How can anyone regard your toes touching the wet sidewalk as indecent?'

'I think I am more concerned about my toes than the law, sir. The law may share your interest in other parts of my body though.'

'The law is an ass.'

'And you love my ass, sir. It is all perspective.'

'I do, harsh disciplinarian that I am,' he grinned at her and they quieted for a while, watching the officer walking around the clothing and then picking up one garment at a time.

'I'm not sure that he should be disturbing a scene of crime like that.'

'I'm not sure he should be tugging the elastic of your rather fetching shorts like that.'

'Perhaps he thinks they are satin boxers, sir.'

'Perhaps he thinks your dress is de rigueur for the well dressed officer of the law.'

'I do hope not. He will tear it and do irreparable harm to my shoes if he tries them on,' she moaned quietly as he hid her eyes behind the palms of his hands theatrically.

'It is no joke, sir.'

'No, I think it's a felony. Perhaps we should go back to your apartment so that you can rebuke his superiors harshly for his misdemeanours, so much so that they cannot stand it and give you enormous sums in compensation?'

'I think we would do well to go back to my apartment, sir, where you can be so very harsh that I won't be able to stand it.'

'It's fortunate that you have such good ideas.'

'Yes sir, it is.'

'And it's fortunate that you keep your keys on your collar, you clever girl.'

'Your clever girl, sir.'

'And it's fortunate that I appreciate my clever girl straddling my lap.'

'So, you can take me, when the mood takes you?'

'Let's go find the mood before the moody officer takes us in, pet. I will not fuck you so appreciatively in a cell.'

'It is true that there are more chairs to choose from and the music is better in my apartment,' she grinned and they stood up together, sidling down the street and slipping into the safety of her home.

'You would hate it, were I more conventional, pet,' he laughed, closing the door firmly behind them and pulling away his jacket from her shoulders, so that she stood naked before him.

'It would be more comfortable though. For a moment back there, I thought you would offer me to the officer.' 

'Property is nine tenths of the law, pet and you are my property.'

'So?'

'I could not decide which tenth I did not own and thus which tenth I could not offer.'

'Sometimes, sir, you think too much.'

'Sometimes, girl, that is a fortunate trait,' he responded cleverly, resting his hand thoughtfully on her bum. 'You know what, girl?'

'What sir?'

'I could get quite used to fucking you.'

'So could I,' she giggled, 'but next time can you choose a warmer place to disrobe me.'

'Ah, location, location, location.'

'No sir; it's called common sense.'

'Touché, but I do so enjoy your sweet surrenders.'

'Then why don't you use them to the extent I would have you use them, sir?' She queried. Was it that he was uncertain about her psyche? Was it that he was trying to discover each element in her make up piece by piece and then to try to figure out the jigsaw that she was? 'Or don't you know me well enough for that?'

'You, enigma, you.'

She giggled lightly under her breath

'Good girl: the nightjars will be appreciative of your concern for their welfare.'

'And the transvestite officers of the law too?'

'The quality of their mercy is not strained by the fact that we now have glazing to protect your goose bumps and to save the sensitivities of the night fauna, when finally, I take you.'

'Ah finally...'

Yes, finally,' he smiled pulling her down over his lap and slapping her backside hard. 'And don't you forget to thank me like the good girl for it.'

'Thank you, sir: forgive my lack of manners.'

'Forgiven already. Let us dream impossible dreams together.'

'I thought we were going to fuck, sir.'

'Whatever happened to romance?'

'It was fatally injured when you gave away my garments to that perverted policeman.' 

'You look so sweet when you are cross that I could eat you.' 

'Metaphorically or sexually speaking?'

Do you prefer metaphorically or sexually speaking?'

'Both'

'Greedy!'

'Terrible girl'

'Sometimes I am,' she murmured and tugged at his clothing, drawing him down on top of her naked body. 'And sometimes, I just want to live happily ever after.' 

Sometimes...



Thanks to Lady Catie for your help. Thanks to Very Metal for your information. And a big thanks to a certain hot biker dude I know. You gave me the idea for this story! :D 

Happy reading and don't forget to vote! 

********* 

Tim Bryton stood in front of the glass door of his tattoo and piercing shop. His knowing green eyes looked outside at the fast paced world rushing past him. It was a typical Tuesday, and when he saw the clock ticking closer to noon, he turned the 'closed' sign over to 'open'. It was time for his work day to begin. 

He turned his six foot frame away from the door and looked around his shop. He couldn't help but smile at his own little piece of the world. This was his shop. He had opened his shop about twelve years ago, and he was pleased to say, as far as money was concerned, he was doing well. He had enough money to pay his bills and still had enough money left over to buy parts for his bike.

Tim looked at the far wall of his shop, towards his trophy case. It was adorned with medals, trophies, plaques, and pictures of him and his bike. He loved his bike as much as he loved his shop. He hated labels, but his friends called him a "biker" with the whole biker look going on. He played tough, was as mean as an alley cat, and he had stories and scars to make his poor grandma turn over in her grave.

He loved having the freedom to do whatever he wanted. He could shut the shop down to go to bike conventions for week long, hard core parties. You would think at the age of forty-four, Tim would be ready to settle down a bit, but no, he didn't ever think of himself as a 'family man.' Sure, it's nice to have a hot girl warming his bed or riding on the back of his chopper from time to time. But Tim usually got bored with them after awhile. 

He always shuddered when the girls started talking about marriage. Tim could never picture himself strapping on the old ball and chain. Besides, how many bikes do you know come equipped with a car seat? No, no wife or kids for Tim.

He walked over to the counter and ran his hand over the smooth wood. Tim had spent a lot of time renovating his shop downstairs and his apartment upstairs. He had bought this old building for a great price in the historic district of downtown. It had been a little run down, okay, really run down, but he had spent many years fixing it up to his liking. He was convinced that he probably would never get it one hundred percent done because every time he turned around, he would want to paint another room, buy a new piece of furniture, et cetera.

Tim walked around the counter, and he clicked on the computer. This time of day was always slow for him because business didn't pick up until around five o'clock. He didn't mind. Tim would either chat on the computer, look at porn, or he would try to design some new tattoos. He was his own boss, so he did whatever he felt like doing!

Tim decided to cruise some porn. He hadn't had sex since Friday night, and he was still feeling horny. Tim's Friday nights usually found him at the local biker bar followed by a couple hours of hot sex with his latest conquest. Last Friday had been no different. Tim had found a hot looking twenty-two year old. She was horny, slutty, and eager to please; just how he liked them.

He smiled as he thought of the girl. Tim had fucked her pussy raw, and then sent her walking, bow-legged, back out the door. He could feel his cock responding to his thoughts, and he debating on calling the girl back. 

Tim left out a groan of frustration and shook his head. "You must be going soft, Tim. You never call the girls back. Never!" He jumped at the sound of his deep voice echoing in the still room. 

He turned the computer off, unsatisfied with where it was making his mind wander to. He walked across the room to the far wall. He parted the curtain that separated the main room from where he did his piercings. "Maybe all I need is a few beers, whack off, and find somebody else to fuck. I don't want any bitch getting under my skin." He thought to himself.

Tim grabbed a beer out of his fridge. He popped the cap off and took a long swallow while leaning against the counter. He looked around the small room that also doubled as his office. There was a piercing chair on the one side of the room, and a sink, fridge, bookshelf, and his desk on the other side.

Tim stared at his desk. He thought, "I should really get some new tattoos drawn today." He had a client who was a local fireman. He wanted Tim to design a tattoo in memory of his best friend who had died while fighting a fire.

Tim heard the bells jingling at the front door signaling someone was coming into the shop. He sat his beer down on his desk. Tim was surprised to have a customer this early in the day.

Walking out into the main room, Tim noticed an attractive girl standing by the door. She had long brown hair swept up in a ponytail. Her face was sweet and innocent; Tim guessed she was around twenty-five or so. Tim also noticed she had a killer body underneath her long flowered sun dress.

Tim smiled at her. "May I help you?" She obviously didn't belong here. She must have gotten lost on the way to a PTO meeting or something.

Samantha King felt her eyes widen when she spotted Tim. She wanted to feel frightened and she decided the shiver that ran down her spine was of fright. She didn't want to admit to herself the instant attraction she felt when she spotted the man. He was tall and he loomed over her. She could tell he was in good shape underneath his tee-shirt. Sam noticed his shaved head, his tattoos, his piercings, his all knowing green eyes...She was breathless and scared of her reaction to him. "Sorry. No...sorry!" 

She turned to leave, and Tim couldn't help but stare at her butt. She had a wide ass, and Tim felt his cock stir as he imagined grabbing her and burrowing himself deep inside those cheeks. 

Tim shook his head to clear his thoughts while he walked quickly over to her. For some reason, he didn't want her to go. He touched the smooth satin skin on her shoulder. "Hey! Don't run away. What do you need?"

Sam jumped when she felt the delicious warmth of his hand on her shoulder and spun around. She pressed her back against the cold glass of the door. He had her pinned right where she was, and she panicked. She couldn't open the door, and she could get away from him without rudely pushing her way past him.

Her wide blue eyes searched Tim's face; questioning, wondering. Tim thought her face was beautiful, but in a totally different way than what he used to looking at. Her skin was smooth with no trace of makeup. He noticed a lock of brown hair had fallen out of her pony tail and landed across her right eye, and he had to fight the urge to smooth the hair away.

Tim sucked in a deep breath to calm his nerves. He realized it was a mistake when the smell of her filled his nose, clouding his brain. She smelled like wild flowers and shampoo. Tim's brain was confused. He was used to finding girls in smoky bars wearing so much makeup painted on their face you would swear their face would melt off. So why was he reacting this way to this plain faced, sweet smelling girl?

Tim realized they had been standing there staring at each other. He smiled to put her at ease. He knew she was looking at his piercings. He had his ears, lip, and eye brow pierced. Tim suddenly felt self-conscious at the way she was staring at him.

Tim knew she was well bred, and that she usually never spoke to someone like him. He knew and accepted that as he collected his nerves and stepped away from her. "Can I help you?" He tried again as his demeanor fought to return to normal.

Sam noticed his change in attitude, the magical moment was now lost. She swallowed hard. "I'm sorry. I came here on a whim. I was scared to even consider it, but I made it here. Now, I am sorry, but I chickened out again!"

Tim smiled at her feeling completely lost. "Chickened out of what?" 

She blushed and stared at the far wall. "I was wanting a piercing. I know...it sounds stupid."

Tim chuckled. "You're in a tattoo and piercing shop. I don't think any thing will sound weird in here. If you want your ears pierced, you can always go to the mall." He walked over to the counter and pretended to flip through a bike magazine. He didn't want her to feel threatened, and he was giving her the opportunity to walk right out of here.

She laughed in disbelief. Nobody had ever talked to her as this man had! She felt defiant and totally dismissed as he turned her back to her. Sam was not used to anybody treating her this way. Sam felt his surprise when she walked up beside him and whispered, "I don't want my ears pierced." 

Tim looked down into bright blue eyes. "Oh?"

Sam's cheeks were red, but it was from excitement not embarrassment. "It's stupid really. I have been reading things and have heard people talking about getting their...um...privates pierced. I have been divorced now for over two years, and I am finally ready to get back into the dating world. I have been married since I was twenty years old! What do I know about dating? I met a guy on line, though, and I am thinking about meeting up with him. I wanted to get a piercing, though, to spice things up...I don't want him to think I am old. He is only twenty eight."

Tim watched her face light up as she talked to him. She had let her barriers down. She had let go of society expectations. She was talking to him like he was a friend of hers. He didn't know why, but he felt happy about that. 

Tim leaned towards her and whispered, "Well, if you want a piercing...you have come to the right place. Follow me, and I will explain more about it."

Sam had no choice but to follow him. She watched as he walked through a curtain in the back of the shop. He told her to sit in the piercing chair. It looked just like a dentist chair, except this one had stirrups-ups and the middle of the seat could be removed. Sam sat down on the edge of the chair feeling very nervous. 

Tim walked over to the bookshelf. "What's your name?"

Sam watched him as he pulled a black book off the top shelf. "Samantha...Sam." 

He handed her the book. "Well, here you go, Samantha Sam. My name is Tim."

Sam laughed at him. "You can just call me Sam." She opened the book up not really knowing what she was going to be looking at. She let out a shocked gasp when her eyes spotted various pictures of vagina's baring all kinds of piercings, hooks, and tattoos.

"You...you have pictures?" Tim nodded. "Yes, I take a picture of all my work. I started out with mostly tattoos, and I always wanted to keep a record of it. With piercings, it is sort of the same reason. Someone comes in with an idea, and I help them create what they would like."

Sam nodded, the words were stuck in her throat. The various pictures were arousing her in a way she would have never imagined. "I...I just have never seen so many cunts in my life." Sam slapped her hand over her mouth, but it was to late, the vulgar words had slipped out on it's own. 

Tim grinned at her words as he sat in the desk chair. Tim watched her face as she flipped thought the book. He sipped on his forgotten beer trying to still his mind from seeing Sam naked in his mind's eye. He wondered what her 'cunt' would look like with a piercing. 

After a few moments, Sam pointed to a picture. "I want this done." 

Tim rolled his chair next to her and looked over her shoulder. "That's called a vertical clitoral hood piercing or VCH for short. It is the most common. As the name implies, the piercing and the woman's genitals are both vertical, meaning the jewelry situates comfortably between the legs and is not subject to much stress. A VCH is a piercing which feels very different with alternate styles of jewelry. It can be started with a bent barbell, called an el bar, or a ring style. Once healing is complete, experimenting with different lengths of bars and sizes of balls, or various sizes and shapes of rings can be very fun. The stimulation is definitely dependent on the style of jewelry. Personal preferences, as with all matters of sexual expression, will vary."

She grabbed his arm. "Does it hurt?"

Tim shook his head. "This is a very quick healing piercing. I have had many women swear it heals in a week or even less. But to be on the safe side, you should care for it according to the instructions for a four week minimum. The procedure itself is extremely brief. This is not a major piercing, except for possibly the mental component. Physically, I pierce a membrane of tissue that is much less than an ear lobe. Many women comment that their ears hurt more. It does sting or pinch for a split second, and may momentarily startle you. By then it is over. Most women leave commenting that either they don't feel it at all or that it feels good already!"

Sam's eyes widened as he explained the details. "I heard it enhances sex!"

He grinned at her. "Most women are built with some amount of hood tissue in which the jewelry can be placed for a safe, comfortable, attractive, and stimulating piercing. The piercing goes through only a thin bit of tissue above the clitoris, not through it, but the jewelry itself touches the clit. That means when there is any action in the area the clit will receive more direct stimulation. Most women like this a lot."

Tim paused for a moment to let the information sink in. "Do you understand everything and still want to go through with this?" Sam smiled up at him, and he felt his heart skip a beat. She nodded her head yes. Tim handed her the necessary form to fill out, and he left the room to gather the supplies.

Sam nervously filled out the form, and she was just finishing up when Tim walked back into the room. Sam handed the form to Tim. "Here you go!"

Tim scanned over the paper to make sure everything was good to go. He stopped at her age. "You're thirty-eight?" 

Sam nodded yes. "Why?"

He shook his head. "I don't know. You look younger than that is all."

Sam grinned up at him. "Are you flirting with me, Tim?" 

Tim felt his heart beating a little to fast, and he didn't answer her for fear it would come out as flirting. She was having an awful affect on him. Tim patted the chair to signal to her to slide the whole way back in the chair.

Sam reclined in the chair, and Tim assisted her feet into the stirrup-ups. He pulled the middle of the seat out so that her butt rested on a very small ledge of leather.

Tim rolled his stool between Sam's spread thighs as she pulled her dress up over her hips. Tim felt his dick jump when he realized she was not wearing any panties.

Tim busied himself by pulling on his gloves and raising the seat up to eye level. Tim was now staring at Sam's pussy for the very first time, and he was surprised to see she had a major bush growing between her thighs.

Tim parted Sam's hair to find her little clit. "Tim?"

Tim heard her voice quiver, and he looked at her. "You getting scared?"

"No. I was just wondering...if you have to shave me?"

Tim thought for a moment at her statement. He did have to trim some hair back, but the thought of shaving Sam's pussy totally bald really got his dick throbbing in delight. Tim nodded yes.

"O...okay. I never shaved myself before. I heard that is all the rage, though. What the hell? Go ahead before I chicken out." 

If Sam would have had her eyes closed, Tim would have pumped his fist up in the air for a sign of victory. He didn't know why, but he really wanted to do this for her.

Sam watched Tim as he walked over to the sink and filled up a cup of warm water. He reached into a drawer and pulled out a can of shaving cream and a disposable razor. With the items in his hands, he sat back on the stool between her thighs.

Sam felt Tim cutting her pubic hair with a pair of scissors. She had never had a guy spend so much time between her legs! She wondered if he liked doing this for a living. She wondered if he liked shaving her. She also wondered if he liked her pussy. She had never cared before, but she wanted Tim to think she had a nice body.

It was a long process, but eventually, Tim had Sam's hair short enough to shave it. He applied the cream to her mound. Sam sighed and closed her eyes. It felt so strange to feel someone run a razor over her most private areas. She felt Tim's fingers spread her cunt wide open as the razor scraped over her tender flesh. 

Sam was dying to know what he was thinking. Her fingers gripped the arms of the chair. She was getting very turned on. His gloved hand seemed to be brushing over her clit with every pass.

Tim was enjoying this just as much as Sam was. His cock was hard and throbbing between his thighs. His eyebrows were knitted together as he carefully shaved Sam's pussy. He could smell her arousal now, and it was making him drunk with lust. Tim was almost sad to see the last patch of hair disappear.

He sat back and stared at Sam's naked pussy. It was a beautiful sight! He grabbed a washcloth and lathered it with soap. While he cleaned Sam up with gentle care, her eyes stayed on him the whole time. Her eyes had a clear blue tint to them, and Tim could easily read her mind. She was in heat!

Tim ran his hand over Sam's bare mound, and he felt her shiver under his touch. "Ready for step two?"

Sam nodded and she closed her eyes again. Tim sat back on his stool, and he prepared the tools needed for the piercing. When Tim looked back between Sam's parted thighs, he noticed she was getting wet and very aroused. Her pussy lips were swollen, red, and starting to part exposing her juicy little hole to his hungry eyes.

He had to swallow a groan as he felt his dick jumping in his pants. Tim wanted nothing more than to yank his dick out and sink it deep between Sam's moist folds. He was feeling dizzy. All he could smell now was Sam's delicious sex.

Tim laid his hand over Sam's smooth mound. He found her clit easier this time with no hair in the way. Sam's thighs parted wider, and Tim heard her sigh. 

Tim warmed the needle receiving tube with his gloved hand. Then, he placed the tube gently but securely under Sam's clit hood. The tissue was so thin, Tim could see through her flesh, to where the tube was underneath.

"Okay. When I say 'now', I want you to take a deep breath." Sam nodded her understanding. "Ready? Now." Sam sucked in a deep breath as Tim pierced the needle swiftly through her flesh and into the tube. 

Tim ran her jewelry through the skin, and he marveled at the delicious sight of Sam's pussy. Tim noticed she was still holding her breath, and he rubbed her thigh. "Okay. It's all done."

Sam exhaled. "It is? Really?" 

Tim pulled his gloves off, and he handed her a mirror. "Yep! Take a look."

Sam grabbed the mirror and looked at her pussy. "Oh, Tim! I can't believe how different I look with no hair! My jewelry looks fantastic!"

Tim went about cleaning up the room while Sam stared at her pussy in the mirror. She couldn't stop talking about it. "I know what you mean when you said I would be stimulated. I hope it does make sex better."

Tim smiled at her from across the room. "Well, you will constantly have the bell tip against your clit. If that doesn't have you in a constant horny ball of quivering flesh, I don't know what will!"

Sam ran her finger over her clit hood. "Oh, you're right!"

Tim watched Sam fingering her clit, and he couldn't help but feel his cock harden again. "Sex will be better without your hair, too. You will mash together like velcro, and you will hear your pussy juices squishing out of your little cunt."

Sam's eyes widened. "Tim...oh my god. I am so horny!"

Tim tried to will his nerves to calm down. "Watching you fingering your clit is making me pretty horny, too." 

Sam's cheeks turned red. "You like watching me like this? It's not slutty?"




Sometimes...



Tim let out a groan. "Sam, you are about the farthest thing I know from slutty, but slutty isn't bad. I like slutty."

"I bet you do, Tim. I bet you like slutty girls. Do they talk dirty to you?"

Tim's eyes widened and he stared at Sam still spread eagle on the chair. "Sam? What are you trying to do?" He walked over to her chair, and he pushed the button to lower it to the floor. 

"I don't know, Tim. Do you know I have only ever had sex with one guy? One! Or that in all the years I was married to him, I have never felt this dirty, this slutty, this horny, or this alive?"

Tim grabbed the soapy washcloth again and ran it over Sam's wet pussy. Sam arched her back and moaned. He cleaned the blood off her lips and then dried her off.

"I have to take a picture of you for my scrapbook."

Sam looked frustrated when Tim told her to take her hand off her clit so he could take a picture of her. As soon as the camera's flash went off, Sam's finger went right back to fingering her jewelry.

"Are you hard, Tim?" 

Tim smiled at her. "Yes, if you really want to know, I have been hard since you walked in the door."

"Will you fuck me, Tim? Fuck me like a man is supposed to?"

"Well...You should take it easy until you heal."

Sam sat up in the chair. She wrapped her arms around his neck. "No strings attached. I am so fucking horny, Tim. I want you to run your shaved head all over my clit. I want to ride your big cock."

Tim chuckled at her. "You don't have to talk me into it, honey. Come on!"

She gave a squeal of delight as she followed Tim out of the room. They made a stop at the front door so Tim could turn the sign to 'closed' and lock the door. 

Sam grabbed Tim by the hand, and they ran up the steps to Tim's apartment like two teenagers. As soon as Tim had opened the door, Sam pushed him up against the wall.

"Kiss me!" She didn't wait for Tim to comply. Her hot mouth slanted over his in a frenzied need. She pawed at Tim's tee-shirt until she was pulling it off his body. 

Tim ran his hands through Sam's hair yanking the offending elastic from her hair. He pulled back to watch Sam's long brown hair fall past her shoulders. "Holy hell, Sam!" Tim's toes were still burning from the kiss.

"Bedroom! Now!" Tim knew she meant business by the tone of her demanding voice. He grabbed her hand and took her down the hall towards his bedroom.

She squealed with delight as she pushed Tim on the bed. He wasn't used to being bossed around the bedroom, and he felt the need for control. Tim rolled Sam on her back, and he held her hands up over her head.

Tim kissed her again; hot, hard, and lustful. She pulled her mouth away, and her eyes were on fire. "Tim! Don't hold me down. I want your pants off, now!"

Tim climbed off of her and stood at the edge of the bed. "You want these pants off? You do it!"

Sam let out a shocked gasp. She bit her lower lip, narrowed her eyes, and slithered over to the edge of the bed like a cat. Tim admired her spunk. She grabbed the waist band of his jeans and yanked Tim over to her.

She pulled the zipper slowly down its track while she stared up into his eyes. Sam was fighting to be the one in charge, but Tim's lust filled eyes held fast with hers, refusing to back down as he felt her unbutton his jeans. Tim felt a surge of victory when Sam finally broke eye contact to look down at his cock.

"Oh, Tim. Look at you! You're all hard, and your tip is dripping." Sam grabbed Tim by the root of his cock and pulled him closer to her mouth. Tim let out a long groan; at first from the pain from her pulling him and then in total pleasure as her tongue slipped into his slit. Tim felt his eyes cross.

Sam crawled off the bed and knelt in front of Tim. He was better than she would have ever dreamed. She continued to lick the pre cum from out of his slit. She inhaled deeply through her nose. She felt her pussy clench in need when the smell of his male arousal assaulted her nose.

She ran her tongue along the underside of Tim's cock while she stared up at him. He was watching her worship his cock. He ran his fingers through her long hair in a loving gesture. She wrapped her lips around the head of his sex, and he couldn't help but marvel at how absolutely beautiful she looked with her mouth full of his cock. 

Tim also knew she meant business with the way she was sucking on his cock. She was quickly bobbing her mouth up and down his shaft. She wanted him to cum! She wanted to taste it. 

Tim tried to pull her off of him before he came too early, but she kept on sucking. "Sam, I am going to cum if you don't stop soon. If I cum, it will be awhile until I recover enough to fuck you."

Sam slowed down, but she didn't stop sucking on the head of Tim's dick. Her eyes looked up at him. She was actually daring him with her eyes. "Sam..." She pulled her mouth off of his flesh and stood up to look him in the eye. "You better fuck me then! I am so horny right now!"

Tim pulled his jeans, socks, and shoes the rest of the way off his body as Sam pulled her dress up over her head. He was suddenly glad she had nothing else on underneath. He wanted her right now with no detours.

Sam was surprised when Tim took her into his arms. She felt his hardness pressed into her belly as his hands ran up and down her back. He nuzzled her neck, and she was surprised at the tender moment that past between them. She had never felt so needed, so loved, or so treasured as a woman.

She stepped back to marvel at his chest. She ran her hands over his chest and looked at the tattoos on his skin knowing each one was special to him and had a different meaning. Sam ran her tongue over his nipple and sucked the ring into her mouth. Tim sucked in a deep breath, and Sam felt his cock jerk against her belly.

Tim pushed Sam back until her knees were against the bed. He kept pushing her until she finally gave up and laid her back against the soft covers. She tried to scoot her way up the bed, but Tim shook his head no. He grabbed her hips and pulled her back to the edge of the bed.

Sam instantly saw the hard lust return to his eyes. Tim grabbed a pillow and placed it underneath her hips. He leaned forward and kissed her mouth again. He was gentle in kissing her this time. He nibbled, teased and tasted her lips until she was moaning against his mouth.

Sam was getting impatient as her legs wrapped around his waist, urging him to enter her body. He was running his hands up and down her body as his lips traveled to her neck. Tim kissed and sucked the flesh there as well.

"Tim...oh, please fuck me!" Sam was begging him now. Tim took a nipple between his lips and he smiled to himself. His male ego had wanted to win with her. He had wanted her to stop trying to boss him around. He had wanted her in a sex dazed lust of frenzied need.

Her hips were trying to grinding against him as he sucked her nipple between his teeth, but he had his hands on her hips holding them firmly to the bed. Tim kissed his way down her stomach, and he heard Sam let out a gurgled moan. "Please!"

His lips and tongue traveled down to her smooth mound, and Sam had let out a shocked gasp. She had never had lips or a tongue touch her there before because she had been covered in hair. She spread her thighs wide apart as Tim's tongue danced over her outer pussy lips. "Oh...oh..."

Sam's eyes crossed when she felt the unfamiliar sensation. Tim's mouth found erogenous zones she didn't even know existed on her body! Tim seemed hell bent on kissing, licking, and sucking her entire pussy. "Tim! Oh my...Oh yes! Right there. Yes that feels so good! Baby..."

Tim placed his hand at the top of Sam's mound and pushed down slightly so her inner folds would come out for his tongue to taste. Sam had her legs over his shoulders now as he licked up and down her moist folds. Tim could smell her arousal, and he stuck his tongue inside her hole because he also wanted to taste her.

Sam let out a string of curse words and he felt her fingers on his scalp as he fucked her with his tongue. Her thighs were quivering around his ears, and he knew she was close to cumming. He ran his tongue up to Sam's new el bar and flicked his tongue over it twice as his finger found its way up Sam's spasming pussy.

Sam didn't even know she was going to cum until it came crashing over her. The instant Tim flicked her jewelry, she was cumming like crazy. Her hips bucked and thrashed against Tim's searching finger as Sam came all over Tim's mouth and hand.

"Fuck me, Tim! Now!" Tim stood up and looked down at Sam. She was so beautiful with her hair spread out on the bed like a halo. Her face was flush and damp. Her eyes were almost black from lust and her lips were red from his kisses.

Tim reached over to his night stand and grabbed a condom. He ripped the package with his teeth and quickly slipped it over his aching dick. Sam never took her eyes off of him.

"Roll over." Tim grabbed Sam's hip to roll her over. Sam was still half dazed from cumming so hard, but she rolled over onto her stomach. Tim placed the pillow under Sam's breasts for her to lean on.

Tim let out a loud groan as he stood at the side of the bed with Sam on her knees in front of him. He knew she had a great ass the moment he first saw her turn around. He remembered his thoughts upon first seeing her ass, too. "You have a great ass, baby. I want to fuck you so hard while I grab this sweet ass. I want to watch your skin ripple as I pound you so hard."

Sam let out a moan as she laid her face against the covers. She felt Tim grab her ass cheeks and spread her wide open for his gaze. Her fingers dug into the blanket when she felt his hard cock slamming into her on the first try.

Her pussy was so wet she could feel her juices running down over her clit. Tim was relentless as he thrust his hips. She could hear the "slosh...slosh...slosh" of her pussy every time Tim slammed deep inside of her. 

"You hear that baby? Ung! You hear...oh...how your pussy...ung...likes my hard dick? Aww! Fucking you so hard?" 

Sam was moaning so loud she couldn't even answer him. She could feel his balls slapping against her piercing, and she knew she would be cumming hard again.

Tim stared down at his cock sliding in and out of Sam's hot juicy pussy. He thought, "Oh fuck! What a beautiful sight!" He could feel his balls tighten, and he knew it wouldn't be long before he was filling the condom with his sperm.

Sam was starting to slam back against Tim every time he tried to pull out of her. He gripped her ass hard to hang on for the ride. He felt Sam tense up, heard the sharp in take of her breath, and he was almost mad he couldn't see the sweet rapture on her face.

He felt her muscles rippling over his cock; felt her cum pouring out around his dick. Tim closed his eyes and let his cum shoot out of his body. "Awww...I'm cumming!"

Tim continued to thrust his dick inside Sam until the sensation became too much. He slumped against Sam's back in defeat. He was sweaty and spent. 

Sam turned her head. "Oh Tim! That was fucking amazing! I think I even blacked out there for a second. I never came so hard in my life."

Tim kissed her neck. "I just hope we didn't damage you from going to hard. I couldn't stop myself."

Tim stood up and reluctantly pulled his deflating cock from her body. He threw the used condom in the trash can as Sam crawled underneath the covers.

His heart skipped a beat as he watched her lying against his pillows. Her eyes were closed; long lashes fanning out against her cheek. Tim crawled in beside her with the intent of just laying down for a moment. He had to get back to work soon.

Sam snuggled against his chest and made adorable little purring sounds. He smiled as he brushed her tangled hair between his fingers. He rested his head against the pillow. He was never one for post sex snuggling, but for some reason, it felt right with Sam.

Tim heard Sam's deep breathing, and he knew she was asleep. He closed his eyes wondering if he could sneak past Sam's death grip to go back downstairs to work. She could sleep for awhile, and then come back downstairs when she woke up.

In a few minutes though, Tim had also fallen asleep.

*****

Tim rolled over in bed confused and disoriented. He realized he was naked and his pillow smelled like sex. "Sam!"

He sat up in confusion as his eyes scanned the semi dark room. He was alone. He glanced at his clock. "Shit!" It was past six o'clock.

Tim quickly got dressed, and he ran down stairs to his shop. He unlocked the front door, and he turned the sign over to open. He was breathless and still foggy from sleep.

He ran his hands over his face and sighed. He could still smell Sam all over his hands and face. He could still taste her on his tongue.

Tim walked into the back room to grab a beer. He stopped when he saw a note on his desk. His name was written on the front.

He tore the note open and saw money inside. Tim laid the money on the desk and read the note.

Tim,

Sorry for leaving without saying good bye! You were sleeping so soundly, though, I didn't have the heart to wake you. I had a great time with you. Please except the money. We were in such a rush I never paid you for my beautiful piercing! I do love it! Every time I look at it, I will think of you!

Anyways, I feel bad for the fact we probably will never see each other again. We agreed on 'no strings attached' fucking. This makes me sad, though, I know it is the right thing to do. Take care!

Sam

Tim read the note twice before he finally put it back down on the desk. He counted the money, and he realized she over paid him by almost fifty dollars. "Damn!"

When Tim turned to look out the window, he spotted the picture lying on the counter where he had placed it earlier to develop. Tim picked it up and stared at Sam's newly pierced pussy with mixed emotions. He had a feeling this picture will never be placed in his scrapbook.

Tim heard the bells on the front door jingling signaling a customer. Tim walked out of the back room almost hoping it was Sam. It wasn't.

"Hey man! I was beginning to think you weren't open today. I was wanting to finish the coloring on my tattoo."

Tim nodded to the man who just walked into his shop. "Sure thing Chris. Have a seat."

The man laid down on the table, and Tim got busy on the tattoo. Every once in awhile, his mind replayed his event with Sam. He wondered if he would ever see her again. He had her number on the form sheet, maybe he should call her.

Tim shook his head. He thought, "Damn! You must be getting soft Tim. You never call the girl back!" 

Tim let out a sigh. Maybe he should change his motto to 'never say never'.



Sometimes



Sometimes... On one of those typical, boring days where hours go by and all you're doing is housework. And then you turn around and wonder where the day went. And vacuumed carpet just doesn't seem to justify the monotony of that day.... Well sometimes, on days like that...Just to remind myself that I exist as more than a vacant cleaning machine. And I guess to brighten the day too ... I carry the washing out to the laundry. Put each piece in to fill the load. Turn the socks in the right way so the toes get clean too, empty the tissues from all the pockets, separate the whites from the colors. I pour in the detergent, switch the settings to heavy wash and close the lid, stand beside it and listen to it fill. Then, when it begins to hum to life, I hoist myself up onto the lid, denting it in just a little from my weight, but not enough for anyone but me to notice the evidence. 

The door to the laundry hangs open and I can hear my neighbor pottering around in his backyard, occasionally singing along to his radio. And thinking of his presence I sit there and feel the vibration spreading through my thighs, making my breasts jiggle lightly, the movement waking me up from my daze. I wonder what he would think if he knew I was just over the fence, inside the laundry window sitting on my washing machine. Letting it go to work on me. Pressing my thighs together to carry the pulsing movement to my outer lips. Wriggling into position, so that I can feel it in my clit too. 

I think of myself perched there, my hair tied out of the way with a scarf, well-loved, over-sized Guns and Roses T-shirt. A frilled cotton apron tied round my waist. I'm like some confused 50s housewife throwback. I blow a stray piece of hair out of my face and slip my hands beneath the apron towards my cunt. It's wet, turned on by stealing this secret moment amongst my housework. It always amuses me how I can play at domesticity but I still come out dirty.

With this in mind, my fingers slowly stroke my clit, flicking the piercing in the hood and spreading my wet up from my hole and around the inner lips. My clit hardens and my cunt muscles start a rhythmic clenching, aided by the vibration I can feel in my pussy lips. With the tips of two fingers I rub up and down, pushing against the side of the clit rather than it's too-sensitive head. 

The neighbor's hammering breaks my concentration and my thoughts switch back to him. What if he found me like that? Lost in my dirty thoughts, legs swinging open, panties pushed aside. He would smell my wetness and take it as an invitation. His hands, worn and dirty from working in the yard would be grabbing at my sides until he found the waist of my panties and ripped them quickly down my legs, leaving them to hang off one ankle. I draw one foot up onto the edge of the washing machine as I imagine him roughly spreading my knees. He would tear at my T-shirt, untucking it from my apron and whipping it over my head. With a handful of breast, I think of how he would leave the apron and scarf on me, mocking my attempt at wholesome. Calling me a twisted little slut. My fingers dig into the flesh of my breast, then pinch the nipple, hard. My hips thrust towards the edge of the machine, imagining him pumping into me. With each thrust I grind against the vibrating lid from my pussy to my ass. My hand is working faster. 

My upper body eventually gets lost to the sensation as the spin cycle begins and I go slack, leaning to the side and pressing my cheek against the cold glass. I don't really notice though, not now, because it's that time when the machine starts shaking like it's about to launch into orbit. When I'm not sitting on it, this is the part of the cycle when the old machine rattles out of its position against the wall by a few inches. It roars and whirs, like its insides are about to explode. 

This is the best part. The vibration thunders through me, the leg that is supporting me becoming weak. It's now, with my mind on my neighbor's frenzied fucking, and the noise of the machine building and building, ..that my cunt contracts and I come, jerking backward, drawing my knees back together, rubbing my clit right up to my orgasm's end, when it becomes too much and my hand falls aside. 

The spin cycle ends with a jolt and the motion starts to die. My body adds its own last shudders to the movement.

Then, when there is silence, I climb down and adjust myself. I open the lid and pile the clean clothes - your clean clothes - into the basket. carry them to the line and peg them up. Whistling as I hang up your Y fronts, with a certain glow on my face.

But I only do this sometimes...just sometimes.



Sometimes



I

He told me he loves me.

Then, he kissed me.

I kissed him back and smiled.

"I love you, too."

We made love for the first time that afternoon, in the spare bed in my apartment.

He was so excited, I saw him trembling.

I was trembling, too.

When it was time for him to enter me, I touched his lips with my finger.

"Wait," I said.

He paused.

"I want you," I said, "to kiss me when you put it in."

"Okay," he said, and bent toward me.

I touched his lips again.

"Wait," I said.

He paused. I could tell it was hard for him to stop, but I needed his strength.

I looked into his eyes and said, "No, I mean every time. I want you to kiss me every time when you put it in."

He looked at me.

"Forever," I said.

He smiled and said, "I promise," and then he kissed me. His lips so tender and sweet, so firm and insistent, his tongue tickled mine.

Then he put it in me.

I came. 

He froze and said, "Did I hurt you?"

I laughed and said, "No, that was me. I had an orgasm."

Still worried, he said, "Are you going to do that every time I put it in you?"

"Yes," I said, "I promise."

He smiled.

"But only if you kiss me."

He looked puzzled.

"Now."

"Now, what?" he asked.

"Make love to me, you beautiful, beautiful man. Do you think that's the only one I have inside me?"

Thank goodness, he didn't answer me. With his words, I mean.

We've been together a long time, now. We married, we have children now.

Sometimes he forgets.

Sometimes I forget.

Sometimes one of us reminds the other.

Mostly, we remember.

II

Sometimes he loves me harshly, physically, I mean.

I enjoy it. I like submitting to him, being his woman.

He's guilty, afterward, and surprised to find that I like it.

Bondage. Discipline. Physical punishment.

We've tried it all.

We tickled the limits, but backed away.

We were both afraid we would like it too much to stop.

Sometimes, he loves me tenderly.

He woos me for days, touching me when I don't expect it.

Giving me little gifts, leaving sweet cards under my pillow.

I learned not to initiate the path to physical release.

I learned to wait, to let him do this.

He needs to watch me respond, slowly, captured by his attentions.

We call this, "Little Kisses." 

It is a time I cherish.

It ends with depth. With intensity.

He fills me.

Sometimes, I take him.

A man needs that, you know.

He doesn't think I love him unless I make him do what I want, sometimes.

Of course, I mean sexually.

I love his submittal to me, revealing his vulnerability.

That's hard for a man, but I think we're closest then.

After, he cooks me breakfast.

When we're done, he cleans up the kitchen.

I like to give him a gift when he's done.

Something he has to wear.

Later, I tell him, "I need you."

That means I need him to be him, again.

Somehow, that always involves a passionate kiss.

Sometimes, we make love, together.

We wrestle, not knowing who will win.

I think we both win.

III

One time, he asked me if he could take naked photographs of me.

"Why?" I asked. I knew he didn't know why. It's not that kind of want.

He said he didn't know.

"Okay," I said, "I have a condition, though."

"What's that?" he asked.

"I'll do anything you want, pose in any way you tell me. You can take as many photographs as you want. Anything. But..."

"What?" he asked. I could tell he was aroused at the idea. His feet shuffled back and forth.

"You must have them professionally printed in large format and bound into a book."

He was intrigued and leaned forward, "Okay, I guess, but..."

"What?" I said.

"Why?" he asked.

"I'm not through, yet. There's more."

"You're so impatient," I added.

"What?" he asked, careful to keep his impatience out of his voice.

"You must promise to look at the pictures every morning for the rest of your life."

He was puzzled at this, but he knew I meant it. I could tell it from the wrinkles around his eyes.

"Also, you must promise to look at the pictures every evening before you go to bed for the rest of your life."

"Why?" he asked.

"I don't know," I said, "but if it's important to you to capture me that way, it's important to me for you to look at them every day. Do you promise?"

"Yes, I guess," he said.

"I'm not done, yet." I said.

"This is a lot of conditions," he said.

"Yes," I agreed, "But you're asking a lot, too."

"Okay, what else?" he asked.

"When I ask you, " I said, "You have to look at the book and masturbate while I watch."

"What!" he said.

"You heard me. I want to be sure the pictures arouse you. It's the only way I'll know."

"How frequently will this be necessary?" he was intrigued by this. Men are such trolls.

"As much as I ask. Maybe every day."

"But..."

"Do you want the pictures, or not?" Now, he's starting to think about how I'm feeling. He looks uncertain. Good.

"Hmmmm..." was all he could manage. He's all aroused at the idea, but I've engaged the other side of his brain. It's fun to watch his words escape him. I try hard to stifle a smile.

I pull off my blouse and show him my boobs in a lacy pink bra. The nipples show through and believe me, they're proud for his gaze. He likes to do me while I'm wearing that bra. I didn't know any of this was coming, but boy, was that a good choice this morning.

"MMMM..." is all he can muster. I laugh out loud.

"If you want the pictures, you're going to have to operate the camera while I'm naked. That's got to be harder than talking."

His trousers are tented out. That's intriguing, but we've got to settle this pictures thing.

I remove my bra, slowly, not like a stripper but in as feminine a manner as possible. You know what I mean. A chaste, but definitely female motion. Admit it, you've practiced this in the mirror.

He's actually having a hard time keeping the extra saliva in his mouth. I'll never get an answer, now.

"I think my breasts are still pretty, aren't they? They'd look nice in a picture. You can just nod if you like."

He nods, emphatically. He doesn't know what to do with his hands.

I unzip my skirt, slowly. I don't think it's provocative, but apparently, he does. I drop the skirt to the floor, revealing the matching panties. They're sheer, also, and he can see the little pink rose above my vulva through them. He calls it the happiest place in the world. Some book. I make him kiss it, sometimes. He swears it smells like a rose. You know, a dab of the right scent, just before. Glamour.

Well, his mouth is hanging open.

I turn so that he can see my butt which is definitely not covered by the lacy panties.

"I'm definitely not eighteen any more, but I think if you're careful, it'll look nice in the pictures, don't you? With the right lighting?" He took a photography course.

I don't mean to wiggle it, but you know, it's hard not to.

He moans, low down in his chest. It sounds like an animal.

His hands are wiggling. They want to touch something, hold something. Possess something.

Me, I guess.

"I didn't mean to get you all excited." (Damn, that's a lie, isn't it? I try so hard not ever to lie to him.)

He makes a noise men are not supposed to make. It's actually frightening. I don't know what's holding him back. All the cerebral stuff like manners, concern for relationships, that's surely ....

He doesn't. Hold back, I mean. When he's done, I'm all wet and icky, but happy, you know. I'm laying on my tummy, the rosy glow on my chest and neck shows, but it's fading away. I don't know where the bra and panties are - I remember a pink arc across the room but I don't remember which direction.

He's still inside me but it's relaxing away, crawling out of me. That weight on my back is his chest.

A hand caresses my neck, my ear, my hair. He's so sweet, after.

"What about the pictures?" I ask.

IV

He's gone now. 

Heart attack.

I garden, I shop, I keep the place picked up.

Church every Sunday.

The kids stop by from time to time.

They never let me keep the grands enough.

I remember.

I still feel his fingertips on me, I swear, his ghost reminds me sometimes.

It always makes me smile.

I remember his last kiss, strangely like the first one. 

So tender, so full of promise.

"I love you," I say, to the air.

The kids are coming over this afternoon.

I've got to remember to lock up that picture book.



Sometimes



Home alone and wanting to get fucked.  So I let you listen in on me...

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