0 comments/ 18146 views/ 0 favorites For Abi By: SilverSexKitten She who stained my fantasies & the boy who satisfied them. Her lips were soft and barely glazed with a pink gloss. She was wearing a black choker that made her neck line look inviting. The room was filled with her sweet fragrance. It was like a tasty mix of champagne and roses. When she walked in it circled around my nose and danced through my senses. I wanted to nestle my face against her neck and take in the smell as my eyelashes batted against her skin. Her bronze shoulders were sleek and moved gently as she dazzled her companions. Today she sat with two boys, I hardly noticed them. They were too typical, gorgeous, drooling and trying to sound more intelligent than their fated frat brains would allow. She smiled as a courtesy and scanned the room as she nibbled away at a blueberry muffin. It was no matter to me, they didn’t appreciate her enough, no man ever could. I peered from behind my book and looked down at her shoes. Her feet were dangling off the barstool each with perfectly manicured, sparkly blue toenails. The light bounced off the metallic specs in the color and flickered in my eyes. They curved around so smoothly and her star-shaped toe ring was the perfect touch that left them flawless. I trailed up to her black, beaded anklet resting calm against her skin. I wanted to rest my hands on her waist in the same way. The line of her black, Capri-cut pants was very flattering to her trim stomach that now adorned a beautiful tan. I imagined unzipping her pants and finding that same brownish hue beneath her panties. My goddess was sure to lay unclothed in the sun, as all beautiful creatures should. I was pleased with her low-cut, white tank top. A built-in bra so she felt confident leaving the house braless only to be met with the cool breeze of the afternoon. Her innocence and Mother Nature created a very alluring and pressing image through the thin fabric. I wanted so badly to slide those straps down her shoulders and leave the tank top around that pretty little waist of hers. Turning the page of my book that I had purposely grabbed today, I waited for her to notice me in the corner of the café. Once, I saw that she was reading an anthology of poems, ever since I’ve carried a similar one in my purse. I took a class on poetry too. If nothing else, this schoolgirl crush that has found me at 22, will at least leave me a better writer and one who appreciates the poetic arts. She continued to laugh and drag her fingers over the lid of her cup. I stared longingly as the condensation of the glass made her fingertips ever so wet. They glistened sweetly and I wanted to suck them. Today she drank an iced, vanilla latte perfect for this warm and breezy summer day. She laughed out loud at one of the boys though it was merely an entertaining laugh meant to satisfy them, not one of true amusement. She just toyed with them, what she really wanted, really needed was the soft touch of a woman. A woman who knew exactly where to put her tongue, just how rough to be, the value of silk sheets… When she smiled, I got chills. She always threw her head back slightly; her dirty blonde hair would shake and then resettle in its usual wild yet deliberate style. I wanted to smell her hair and touch it as I held her face against mine. Kissing her would bring meaning to my life and purpose to my lips. I bet her lips tasted like sweet fruit, perhaps from the strawberry flavored gloss. Oh how I wanted to taste them. Rush! She looked over here. I ducked quickly behind my book in a fit of nervousness and fear. My heart raced and my body melted with the thought of her beautiful emerald eyes passing mine. Oh how it made my stomach flutter so. I peeked beyond the pages again and she was slipping away to the bathroom. I dare not follow her, it’s too risky. Instead, I closed my eyes and imagined her trip. She would saunter her way through the swinging door and walk to the mirror. There she would run her soft fingers through her hair and straighten it just a bit. Next came the lip-gloss. She would reapply it ever so carefully so that it perfectly outlined her lips and shine with an inviting glare. There, she turns sideways and glances at her tank top and the way it shapes her body. The white makes her skin look that much more tan and her pants accentuate her hipbones. Pleased with the image, she smiles and heads back to her table. I love the way she walks, so gracefully as if almost floating across the floor. Simple and yet she manages to wiggle her hips so your eyes are transfixed on her long legs moving back and forward. Those long, smoothly shaven legs……. “Catherine……hello Catherine!” “Oh, hi Kyle. Sorry, I didn’t hear you.” “I know I know, staring off into your dream world again. What’s up?” I sneered at him. If only he knew how little he mattered to me. Kyle was a pretty boy; I will admit that, tall, rugged, light brown hair and piercing blue eyes. He had broad shoulders and a killer smile. His handsome physique would fade in his thirties and he would have nothing left but the sad stories of the girls he conquered in college. For some reason though, he appreciated my bookworm appearance and my bitter/sarcastic personality. It didn’t matter to me; he was just there for show. She had raised her head when he walked in and let her eyes follow him to my table, mission accomplished. I pretended not to notice and simply smiled at him. “Just enjoying a light lunch, how are you?” “I’m great, I just got back from playing basketball….” He droned on like that for a few minutes and I looked beyond him to watch her. She was now slipping her purse over her shoulder and heading out of the café. A boy hooked on each arm, she smiled at Kyle and me as she passed through the door. I couldn’t contain myself; she actually smiled at me! The blood surged through my body and my legs felt like fire. The feeling was overwhelming; I threw my book into my bag and grabbed Kyle’s hand. I yanked him into the bathroom, locked the door and shoved him against the wall. He acted a little surprised but it was not unlike me to throw him down at the exact moment I wanted him and have my way with his body. Quite frankly he didn’t mind. I clawed at his t-shirt and pulled it over his head, I unzipped his pants and they dropped to the floor. Kyle unhooked my sweater, unsnapped my bra and released my breasts. He grabbed and pawed at them like a hungry puppy. He wrapped his lips around my nipples; they were hard and had become a raging pink. He flicked his tongue at my skin and nibbled on me with his teeth. I closed my eyes and pictured her soft touch, her small hands stroking my nipples and pulling at my skin. She would cup my breasts and squeeze them. She loved to rub her soft face against them and lay sweet kisses around my tightening skin. I wanted to throw back my head and grab her hair pushing her into me. Her tongue was so warm and wet and her eyes looked so pleased. “Oooh Catherine baby, I love your tits.” I dragged my nails down his back and pressed my tongue against his neck. I licked my way up to his ear and purred, “Call me Cat, you know I like it when you call me Cat.” “I want you Cat, let me feel inside of you.” He hiked up my skirt and I let my small, black, lace panties fall to the floor. I stepped out of them and slid my hand between my legs. I pushed my fingers inside enjoying how wet I had become. Kyle was mesmerized by my playfulness and watched as I continued to stroke my sweet pussy. I bit my lip and reached further inside. I imagined her sex, small tufts of blonde hair, then neatly shaven, smooth as my face and a beautiful pink hue. I wanted so badly to feel inside of her and watch as she bucked her hips against my palm. She would rock my world like no other and leave me numb from pleasure. I opened my eyes and Kyle was sliding on a condom. I guess it was that time; he was never one for laying the groundwork. No matter, I wanted to be fucked...hard. I spread my lips open and smirked at him. He smiled like a 5-year-old boy and raised his cock. I crashed against him and felt his dick fill me up. He moaned and rocked into my hips and I squeezed my thighs around him. I loved the way his skin rubbed against mine as he thrust in and out of my cunt. It was now on fire and looked hotter than the small patch of red hair I had left there. I wanted her to admire it, awe at my close trim. How badly I wished it were her body against mine. A double-sided dildo so our bodies were mashed against each other. With each thrust I imagined the bounce of her firm breasts for my lips to follow. Her soft skin rubbing mine, and our warm bodies sticking together. I wanted our hips to rock together, pressing, searching and grinding. His cock was hard just like the smooth plastic of my blue dildo at home. The one that I had used countless times wishing she were with me. Mmm the sweet nights I've enjoyed with that toy. Kyle slid with ease in and out of my cunt as I was more wet than I had been all week. I wonder if it would please her to see me now. My body pressed up against a hot boy against the cool tile of the bathroom wall, screaming and clawing at his skin as he makes me shake. She drove me wild with the thought of her sexy smile and I fucked him harder. Kyle picked me up and turned around so I was against the wall. I wrapped my legs around his waist and put my hands above my head. He pounded into me letting the head of his cock slide in and out, over and over. He moaned and gritted his teeth as he passed through my lips. My pussy throbbed with warmth and I could tell I’d be sore later. It was worth it, he fucked me harder and faster and it made my blood boil. I closed my eyes and I could smell the sweet strawberry scent of her lips, the taste that would follow as her tongue probed my mouth. Oh how badly I wanted to suck on that tongue, to feel it against mine. I could spend hours simply exploring her mouth, sliding my tongue upon hers and tasting her sweetness. I pulled Kyle’s face to mine and kissed him hard and deep. He sucked back gently and continued to thrust himself inside of me. I reached down and rubbed my clit, stroking it with my fingers. I screamed as the feeling flowed throughout my skin, I was on fire. I rubbed harder and squeezed my thighs together. I was so close and I wanted so badly to feel the release of my orgasm. I wrapped my arms around Kyle and pulled my body close to his. My skin was right up against him and I rocked hard on his cock. I could feel his dick slide in and out and it rubbed my clit. I held on for dear life as it hit me hard. My orgasm surged through my body and split every part of me. I slammed my hips against him and held it there, squeezing my thighs and holding is cock between my legs. I screamed and let it stream through my body. I slowly released my grip and slid off Kyle. After that I kneeled on the floor, my pussy still pulsing. I grabbed his wet dick and sucked on it. My hand wrapped around the base of his cock and my tongue swirled around his head. I licked off all my juices and imagined they were hers. I pictured my tongue sliding in and out of her slit, the overwhelming smell the sweet taste. Oh how I wanted to nibble her skin between my lips, feel the hot, musky warmth of her cunt against my face. To eat her out would be to know the purpose of my tongue, I wanted to taste her so bad. She made me so hot; my face was warm with lust. I slid my mouth up and down Kyle’s hardness and sucked against his skin. I reached up and stroked his balls, gently pulling at his hair and circling my fingers around his skin. I massaged them and spread around my wetness from the base of his dick. I could feel him jerking in my mouth and he gasped as he shot his cum down my throat. I sucked hard against him and milked his cock of warm juice. I felt it coating my mouth and sliding down my throat. I let it settle on my tongue for a moment and then I slowly swallowed it looking up at him with a sly smile. I ran my tongue against my teeth cleaning his stickiness from my mouth. I smiled up at him as I slid off his dick. He turned and leaned up against the bathroom wall breathing hard. He was rather sexy when he was glistening with sweat and out of breath. I almost wanted to take him home with me. I handed him his clothes, kissed him softly and headed out the door. I’m not one for goodbyes and after all, this was never about him in the first place. I bit my lip and smiled at the thought of what I had just done. Not only had I fucked a beautiful boy in the bathroom until my legs felt shaky, but I had made love to the most gorgeous woman in the world while I was doing it. It was a fantasy but it left me feeling satisfied. My goddess, my beauty, she was the answer to every ounce of wanting in my body. I went home and soaked in the bathtub for an hour. The white bubbles glistening over my skin as I ran my hands over my soft body. I enjoyed the warm, flickering glow of the candles and the soft tunes of the music. A sweet glass of wine and the fresh, jasmine smell of the oils mixed with the water. I rubbed my feet together like a schoolgirl as I thought of her. I slid my hands between my legs. My pussy was still puffy and swollen from this afternoon. I reveled in the feeling and wished I had my lovely lady to tend to it for me. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the warm water and relaxed. When I was finished, I slipped on a satin nightgown and climbed into my bed. My bed, how I loved it more than anything I owned. It’s tall and thick with light blue, silk sheets that make your skin tingle. It smelled like sweet green tea and roses as I lost myself in my down pillows. I twirled and wriggled around with excitement under my light covers and then settled as I stared at the ceiling. That night I fell asleep with my hand gently nestled between my legs. My sensitive skin sucking on my fingers as I dreamed of laying her down in a field with a cool breeze blowing at her thin summer dress……. For All the Love in Paris (This is my first submission in this category, so comments would be vastly appreciated. Thanks everyone.) * I swallowed the last of the whiskey with a chaser of coffee. When the shot glass shattered to bits beneath my chair I didn't even notice. Nor did I wince hours later when I realized the majority of the shards had managed to lodge themselves in my ankles. Well, this is what stinking drunk at eight in the a.m. gets you. Good fucking morning, Paris. And ain't it a swell one? I've been in this city, this depressing, miserable, beautiful city for almost three months now, after I'd arranged to have all my belongings at home sold and the money wired to me here. There was no way in hell I would willingly return to my shambles of a life back in Washington. Though I wasn't happy here, it was much better than living up a life of lies back home. Nope, don't think that. This is your home now. This trip was initially intended to be shared by two. Two newlyweds, a pair of lovers so entranced with the sickly stench of promises of forever that they'd spent all they had on the perfect honeymoon. Three weeks in Paris, the most romantic city on earth. No matter that neither spoke a drop of French. They would learn, love, and return to build a life together. After all, they'd gotten every blessing possible. Everyone was sure they would marry and then morph seamlessly into the perfect couple. Too bad "everyone" was usually wrong, too bad this time was no exception. But more pressing matters waited. How could I numb myself back into an alcohol induced sleep if I had just sank the last of it like it might sprout legs and sprint off if I didn't? That begged another thought: how many more times could I coax the kid next door into buying my groceries? His mother had taken his bike last week after I'd ordered yet another bottle of cheap wine. That was before I realized wine was weaker than whiskey. My recent reliance on alcohol was initiated when I discovered the first time why I was dragging my feet in Paris. I didn't want to go home. There was nothing for me there. At least in Paris I could be left alone. Did I want to be completely alone? In a city full of romance and splendor? I convinced myself daily that, yes, I wanted to be the only person on Earth. So broken was my heart. No matter, I told myself. Now that I was pleasantly inebriated, I felt like a walk. I limped my way into the bathroom and cleaned my wounds, brushed my teeth, and attempted to smooth down my unruly hair. When I glanced into the mirror I gasped a little. My cheeks were hollow, my eyes sunken and dull, and my skin pale and ghostly. Now I truly looked as dark as I felt. I stripped down to nothing and stepped under the shower head, letting the warm water wash away my intoxication. My dick was so lifeless I felt like an eighty year old. I was twenty five, in perfect shape. I should be sleeping my way into a filthy nickname through all kinds of Parisians. I guess that didn't matter now. My sex life was nonexistent. I flipped off the water and tied a towel around my waist. I never was much for looking like a slob in public. It was breezy outside, so I pulled on a thin sweater, then a skimpy pair of briefs and clean jeans. Finishing with my trusty loafers, I swept a hand through my hair and hurried out the door. ***************** The air was full of far away traffic sounds and the sweet smell of rain. I loved this city. The buildings were ancient, rustic almost, with no real purpose but to please the masses, it seemed. I found myself twelve blocks away at the local library. The stone steps loomed impressively above me, and I mentally whistled at the thought of just how many people busily climbed their way upwards each day. Not so for me. I eased my way up the steps, careful to mind the bustle. Students with book laden arms, mothers with impatient children, and old couples with contentment stamped across their faces greeted every direction I turned. Petals from a nearby tree fluttered in the wind, and my skin shivered as I crossed the threshold into the musty air conditioned silence. The only noise to be heard was the faint rustle of worn pages and the hushing of librarians. I stood idly inside the doorway, drumming my fingers on a desk, and came to a conclusion. I would apply for a job here. "Excuse me, sir, are you drunk?" Well, maybe I'd apply tomorrow. I turned abruptly towards the unusual English, and held my breath in shock. Instead of the nosy old librarian I had expected to scold me, I faced a man slightly shorter than me, a man with an expression only worthy of Adonis himself. "Umm, no," I sputtered, "I am most definitely not wasted. Or did you say drunk? Because that I may be." "Sir, we have a zero tolerance policy. If you so much as volunteer a peep the head librarian will shove you down the stairs herself. But otherwise, go ahead. This place could use some excitement." That was an odd thing to say. And in English. Very odd. "Really, you'd better move before she sees you." He gestured lightly toward a sour looking woman in a dingy dress at the front desk. I had an internal argument with my feet, who apparently did want to cause a scene, and stumbled my way to the biographical section. I had been in this particular library four times now, and I knew that if you continued past the dusty biographies, through the rows of encyclopedias, and on to the very back of the building, you'd eventually come to an alcove with a small door next to it. This section wasn't restricted, but not many knew it was there. It was an erotic literature section, and I was the only person currently browsing it. Most people would be too ashamed to show their faces here, but I reveled in the homoerotic images and pornographic details. I was proud of my knowledge, and interested in the subject. I hadn't had sex for weeks, and I hadn't lifted a finger to masturbate since my fiancee left. I needed it, badly, and the written word was all that could do it. I brushed my hands over the familiar spines and felt an unusual texture. A new book? "Hello again, sir. Can I help you find anything? I know a little about this part of the library, if you're interested." His familiar voice jostled my dull brain into thinking how attractive he was. This man, he was gorgeous. "Oh, yes. Hello. Is this book new, do you know?" "Yeah, I think it is. Not really new, it's quite old actually. But a new addition to the section." Huh. When had this come in? I looked around for a bench and studied the spine closer. There was no picture, no dust cover. Only faded gold lettering in French on the side. "That says 'The Complete Chronicles of the Deviant Virgin.'" "Oh. Thank you. I can't read French. I speak very little. I still think I'll check this out though." "If I may, sir, this is my favorite image." His slender hands grazed mine as they gently took the book from me. He flipped straight to page seventy-three, produced a bookmark and stuck it between the pages, then snapped the book shut. "I can check that out for you, if you'd like. Just follow me." I wondered briefly how he knew I would only take a single book. Just an assumption, I supposed. His nimble frame sashayed through the shelves quickly and quietly, leaving me to gaze at his perfect butt longingly. He motioned for me to wait behind his back then strutted away toward the desk. Wouldn't he need my name? This is too weird. I could feel my drunkenness leaving me as I considered confronting this gorgeous guy. He knew my name, he knew where I would be, that I only took one book. That's too much. I made up my mind to leave just as he hurried over with my book in his hand. His black hair fell loosely around his face, his blue eyes bright and alert with mischief. "Here you are. I'm James, by the way. I haven't meant to bother you, it's just that I rarely get a chance to practice my English. Anyways, I'm rambling. This is good to go. Bring it back when you wish. It was lovely to meet you. Goodbye." "Oh, um, I'm Greyson, but everyone calls me Grey. It was nice to meet you, too." And with a slight nod and brazen wink, he was gone. I wound my way back through the city in a haze. Once I reached the walkway to my newly leased apartment, I bent to retrieve the key under the flowerpot on the table. I struggled inside and dropped the book on the nearest clean surface, then slammed the door in my own face. I heard a distant flutter and spun around to see a small card floating to the floor. Registering that it was James's bookmark, I picked it up and turned it over in my hands. In English, the note said: 'This is my favorite so far. I hope you enjoy it as much as I have. I've been waiting for days to speak to you. You didn't disappoint.' What the hell did that mean? On the opposite side there was a neatly written phone number with an endearing invitation to call. And in the bottom corner, a messy 73 with what appeared to be a nude man beside it. It was hurriedly sketched, but beautifully done. I laid down the note with shaking hands and leafed to page seventy-three, then dropped the book in surprise. Two men stood naked in amazing detail, their bodies chiseled in perfection. Each lovely penis stood at attention, leaking a white substance onto the floor. They were turned toward each other, arms splayed affectionately over neck and shoulders, nipples pebbled and dark. Their balls hung low, and their lips were taken in a kiss so passionate their mouths looked melded together. It was beautiful. And so very erotic. One man looked familiar. He had black hair and blue eyes framed by thick lashes... Wait a minute. Who was this guy?