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The Bad Day

By: justifiedmedea



I had had a bad day, no, not just a bad day, a day where absolutely nothing went right. Even the weather had decided to chip in on my misery; torrents of rain had continued to drench the city all day long. All I wanted was to go home, have some hot tea, put on my flannel pajamas and go to bed. Then I could forget everything that had gone wrong. Perhaps, at least I was hoping, by tomorrow, I would forget today. 

My toes had begun cramping in my soaked shoes. I was damp all over and I was sure that I smelled. I was shocked that the people crammed around me in the tube weren't cringing away from me. My hair was a rat's nest, I was wearing my spectacles and I had mustard down my jumper. I'm also sure that the expression on my face didn't do anything to recommend my temperament. 

There was a family sitting next to me, with three screaming children. I thought that this might be my breaking point, the point where I completely lost it, where I started wailing and couldn't stop. They would take me away, put me in a straight jacket and the nice men in white would do their best to keep me comfortable. 

That's of course when I saw him. I always knew that I was ill fated in love, but this was certainly going to put the cap on it all. Leave it to me to have the most miserable day, look absolutely horrid because of it and then see him. 

I was in London for six weeks. Six weeks to spend in an amazing city and travel on the weekends to the continent. Opportunities like this did not exactly grow on trees. I was from a small Midwestern town, went to a fairly closed off university in Ohio and did not often get the chance to travel. Being a starving student usually didn't allow for things like traveling and eating to occur on any sort of regular basis. A nicely padded scholarship though was paying for this trip and for once I could eat and stay warm at night. It was almost shocking to feel....human for once. 

I'll also be the first to admit that I have high class tastes, tastes for things that weren't usually accessible to a starving college student. I like to blame my parents for this. They had sent me to a private school from fifth grade on and my sensibilities for the finer things in life would never quite get over the experience. I, as a college student, was poor and feeling it. My family was comfortable, but I had gone to school with people who went to the Galapagos Islands for the weekend. I had seen how the other half lived and had learned to appreciate it.

He was one of those finer things in life. I could see that immediately. 

Along with a taste for fine things, I have a.....appreciation shall we say for older men. My friends and I often argued over this. I was fine with their general disdain for the men I found attractive. I always figured that it left more for me in the long run. Guys my age were still idiots. Even ones a few years ahead hadn't learned very much about pleasing a woman in the ways that really mattered. My only problem was that older men usually didn't want starving English majors with no prospects. So you could say that I'd been having a dry spell in more ways than one. 

While I could usually live with this, I had no problems with being single and taking each day as it came, it was on days like this, in moments like this, that I liked to curse fate and circumstance, because of course it was only on days like this that I would run into someone like him. 

Do you have an image of your ideal man or woman? The image that when someone talks about your dreams coming true, pops immediately to mind? The image that you always imagined Prince or Princess Charming would look like. I'm sure you do. Everyone does. Even if you're a confirmed hermit with no interest in love or sex at all, I'm positive that if someone mentioned something about the perfect person, there's an image that immediately comes to mind. He was mine. 

Tall, slender, understated power, it clung to him like a scent. It crossed my mind to wonder what he was doing on the tube. Men like him drove powerful sports cars or had chauffeurs who drove dark sedans. His clothing was understated but extremely expensive, designer probably, perfectly tailored to hug his body like a second skin, showing it off to the maximum effect. I'm sure he knew it too. 

He had a craggy face, with an aquiline nose which reminded me of famous Roman emperors. Heavily lashed eyes and a straight, nearly cruel looking mouth. Dark eyes glared at nothing. Long slender hands were folded across his chest as he leaned casually against the wall of the train. His hair, which brushed his shoulders, was a deep reddish brown, with just a little grey beginning to streak through it at his temples. It simply begged to have my hands run through it. 

Of course, it would be today of all days that I would find the man that I had always imagined Mr. Right to be. This finished making what had been a bad day into one that was awful. I winced as one of the children jammed in next to me gave an ear-piercing shriek. No wonder I hadn't seen Mr. Perfect standing so close. The train was packed as full as it possibly could be, and it only got worse at each stop. Rush hour was never a good time. Today of course, it was as close to Hell as one could get while on an underground train. 

I took comfort in the one thing I could generally count on in Great Britain, the great British reserve. Of course this has been a stereotype in the international community for almost as long as the British have been going out and conquering people. Technically, the British may no longer have an empire, at least not in the sense that they used to, but their reputation for being cold hearted bastards, remains, and to my surprise, seems to be generally true. I was not only enjoying London because it was a great city, but as much for the people in it. 

One of the other great enjoyments in my life was people watching. London is one of the biggest international crossroads in the world and if you're ever there, just go and sit on a city bench for twenty minutes, you'll see every variety of people you can possibly imagine. I was told that there are three hundred languages spoken in London. Three hundred languages mean at least that many people to stare at unobtrusively. And if you're like me, and are a confessed people watcher, you will get away with more actual starring than almost anywhere else in the world, or at least I assume. 

There seemed to be a national agreement not to stare at one another, to ignore whatever was going on around you. When you go on the underground in London, it will be quiet. People are considerate to others for the most part, unlike America completely, no loud conversations, few people speaking on their mobile phones. Here in this horribly crowded underground, ugly and as miserable as I was, next to whiny snotty children, I could at least watch the man of my dream's reflection in the window as much as I liked and be sure he would never know. 

I gave a deep sigh as the children finally seem to wear themselves out and finally began to quiet down. 

There is a hypnotic rocking motion in any subway type train that will usually soothe me very quickly, without the children screeching and being lucky enough to have a seat at the very least (because of course I had to go such a long way and was able to wait long enough for enough people to change in and out of the car to actually grab myself a seat), I was able to relax and begin to fantasize about the man I could see reflected across from me in the glass. 

I began to imagine what I would do to him if he was actually mine. What would he be like? What would he like? I could imagine being pressed against his lean lines. I'm not the thinnest person in the world. I may be a starving college student, but I also work full time at the library as well as go to class, I don't have much time to exercise, other that what I get from hauling around a fifty pound pack all day long. As a consequence, my curves are much, rounder than perhaps they should be. 

I imagined what it would be like to have his muscled thinness pressed into my softness, how his hips would sink deep into mine, what it would feel to have him resting on top of me. And yet I thought that his weight would be pleasantly heavy and hold me in place quite firmly. The innate power his very stillness in this over crowded rail car promised that he would be able to turn me anyway he desired whether I wanted to be turned or not. 

Another reason I like older men is that usually they have a great deal more experience in everything in general than those my age. I could imagine what his hopefully knowledgeable hands could do as they worked themselves over me. I could imagine their rough callused feel on my soft skin and his demanding insistence on being able to have whatever he liked. I wondered what his lips would be like, soft and gentle, or hard and demanding. 

His sharp nose would certainly suit me just fine buried between my legs, hard against my clit as he took as much of me as he could with his mouth.

Would he take me up against the wall? The floor, in the bathroom? What would it be like to wake up with him, would he wake me up making love to me in the early hours before the dawn, would he sneak up on me in corners and take me in public, bend me over, flip my skirts up and have his way with me? 

Would he take his time, lingering over my breasts and my hips and everything in between or get right to the point. 

A distinct throbbing began low in my belly.

I sighed again. What was the point? Here I sat bedraggled and smelly, and besides, another problem with older men, young women my age, outside of a midlife crisis and the need for extremely young girlfriend, don't usually appeal to them. I mean, lets face it, when you're a handsome, successful man in your late thirties, early forties, you can get plenty of equally attractive, well off women. Who would want to mess around with an inexperienced awkward college student who doesn't even know where they are going in life yet? I've had my flings here and there, a college professor here, a business man there, but it never lasts. 

I clenched my hands in the strap of my bag in my lap and let my head droop, what was the point other than frustrating myself really badly, which certainly was not what I needed at this point in my day. Even if I looked radiant at this moment and had the self confidence of a more experienced woman I doubted if I would have the courage to go up to him and propose a night of crazy steamy jungle sex in my small bedroom. 

Well, if nothing else, tonight when I was dry and warm in my solitary bed, I would have an image to let myself fantasize to and to slide my hands down between my legs and frig myself utterly senseless over, seeing his face as I buried my hands deep into that soft spot that made the world come to pieces. Knowing that somewhere out there, my Mr. Perfect existed, would have to be enough. Hell, for all I know he could be a complete and absolute pig, better to simply know that the handsomest man I'd ever seen exists. I was reminded of the lyrics from the Moulin Rouge, about "how wonderful life is, now that you're in the world". 

Great, just fucking great, I had hit that point in my tiredness that I was getting sentimental, like that was going to keep me warm at night. 

After the few minutes of brief heady excitement, my misery re-exerted itself. Being much more depressed than I had started out, I peeked up at the reflection again for one last mournful look at Heaven. 

And met his eyes in the glass. 

I was momentarily stunned by this unexpected event. I was also caught by their greenness, even in the basic reflection. He didn't look away, neither did I. In my mind, I began swearing. He was probably repulsed by the image I represented. Hasn't your eye ever been caught by that one horridly awful looking person, making it impossible for you to look away? I'm sure that's what was currently going through his own mind. 

I finally managed to pull my gaze away to look at the advertisements along the top of the train wall, feeling my cheeks get embarrassingly red, trying to act like I wasn't imagining fucking him senseless up against the nearby doors of the train. 

"Next stop, South Kensington", boomed the mechanical voice of the pre-recorded female announcer through the speakers in her perfect British accent. 

Finally, only one more stop until mine. I began believing that I would actually make it home. 

"Please mind the gap between the train and the platform, this is a Piccadilly service to Cockfosters", continued the announcement that had become as common as to almost completely disappear from my memory as soon as it was said. 

The next few minutes were interminable as I sat and determinedly starred at everything except the man in the corner that seem to have a magnetic pull on my own eyes. 

"Next stop, Gloucester Road", the announcement came again and I felt the train slowing down to a stop at my platform. I leaned my head back for one final moment for that last burst of energy that would get me out of the tube, up the stairs and down the street to my flat. I glanced at the window one last time. He was still watching me. This time I blinked, in what was probably very much a 'deer in the headlights' look and then nearly ran as the doors finally opened. How awfully embarrassing. The most perfectly awful way to end a perfectly awful day. 

I slowed down once I got to the lift that would take me up to ground level and managed to actually raise my eyes from the ground, where they had been firmly focused. I felt like weeping. 

Even if my common sense told me that I never would have had any chance at him, there was the shame that I should be confident enough in myself to walk right over and make him see me for the glorious person I was. 

Ha, doesn't that just sound like something they told you in middle school to try and convince you that you didn't have to be popular to be happy? 

The dinging on the lift had finally stopped, letting people know that the doors were about to close. Here, just as on the tube, people were standing as close as peas in a pod. This was certainly one aspect of a big city I could live without. I like my personal space bubble that I usually keep firmly in place in my dealings with people. 

That's about the time the scent hit my nostrils. A dark, musky, delightfully masculine scent that seemed to waft from the body behind me. Whoever it was, was nearly pressed flat against me, just as I was with the stodgy gentleman in front me, and they were generating a great deal of comforting heat. If I hadn't been quite so aware of the fact that I was in a public place, horribly embarrassed and upset with life in general and that whoever behind me was a stranger I would have relaxed back against them and enjoyed the warmth for the few minutes the horribly slow lift took to reach the surface. Any comfort at a time like this is always appreciated. 

I had a frustrating image for a second of wearing a helmet with a light on it and carrying a canary with me to ensure there was enough oxygen down below to keep me alive. This was probably similar to what miners felt when they were returning to the light at the end of a long day down in the dark tunnels far below the earth. I wondered if they were as grateful to see the light as I was going to be.

Finally the lift reached the top and I suddenly realized when everyone in the crush started trying to turn around that unlike most tube lifts, this one exited on the same side you walked in on. I always forgot this small fact and it was always a pain in the ass to get yourself turned around to get out. I sighed and began to try and turn around myself, which was made considerably more difficult that it should have been by the fact that the delicious smelling man behind me wasn't also moving to turn. I gritted my teeth and forced my own body around, finally coming face to face with the chest of the person behind me. 

I felt myself freeze.....no, it couldn't possibly be.....

But it seemed that it was. 

I continued to stare avidly at the soft red cashmere sweater that peeked out of the camel hide jacket on the stranger I had been starring at on the train. 

I took a deep breath and began to trail my eyes upward to look over his shoulder at the doors that were just beginning to open. I could do this, I could get through this without passing out at his feet in joy and embarrassment at being so close. Why wasn't he moving? 

I was essentially trapped against his chest as the rest of the thirty or so people crammed into the lift flowed around us and out the doors. Was he trying to be in everyone's way? Just my luck. 

I finally looked at his face and found that he was starring at mine. 

My eyes were almost immediately trapped in his. 

I think at this point I may have made a fairly unattractive gulping noise, but now I can't be too sure. It was like drowning in a green pool that continued to suck me deeply into its dark depths. 

I felt my grittiness in all its many multifaceted granules, down to the very tiniest speck of dirt in between my toes in my soggy shoes. I have never been more aware of myself and all of my inadequacies in my entire life. I couldn't move and he simply wasn't going anywhere. In hindsight, this probably occurred to me as being odd, but at that exact moment, I couldn't think beyond how utterly gorgeous he was. I knew that I was probably embarrassing myself ten times more than I had managed on the train earlier, but I no longer cared. 

"Get a drink with me." 

Five simple words that seemed to bring the world back into focus. At this point people were getting on the lift to go back down. He had a deliciously smooth voice that rumbled from his chest to mine where we were still essentially pressed up tight against one another. This couldn't possibly be happening, could it? 

He grabbed my arm and hauled both of us out of the lift just as the doors began closing once more. We stood looking at one another by the lift to the Piccadilly service in the Gloucester Road tube station. Him looking good enough to come from the pages of a Vogue magazine and me looking like something the dog dragged in, that's been dead for a couple of days already. I felt the biggest smile begin to lift up the corners of my mouth. 

Things like this don't ever actually happen.

Apparently today was actually going to be the best day of my life instead of being absolutely miserable. 

"Yes" came my rather awkward croak of a reply. His hand was still on my arm and seemed to brand itself into my senses. I felt like I should start purring at him at any minute, god, how awful and yet wonderful was this?

I know that at this point I must have greatly resembled the Cheshire Cat, that's how big my smile must have been, my hair was still crazily sticking everywhere and that mustard stain was most certainly still on my jumper, but suddenly I didn't feel like things were quite as bad as they should have been. 

He took his hand away from my arm and reached down to grab one of my hands. "What's your name?" he says in the beautifully silky voice with a crisp accent. Have I mentioned what an accent does to my knees yet? 

"Launa" I reply and somehow I can't get anything else out, I do notice that he doesn't offer his own name. Mentally I'm screaming at myself to get over this horrible teenage awkward moment and to act like the grownup I am. We begin walking toward the turn stiles, he has somehow managed to pull me in close to his side, his arm settling around me. He has no apology on his face about his rather cavalier treatment of me, but I have to say that as I'm not fighting against him, I have to suppose he really can't say that I'm upset about this state of affairs. 

I manage to not fumble getting my Oyster card out of my bag and get through the turnstile, somehow not ever really loosing contact with my stranger. I don't know how we managed this, I never thought it was possible to fit through with essentially not loosing contact with someone else, have you ever seen those things? 


The Bad Day Ch. 02



Author's disclaimer: This is all mine, please do not copy without permission.

*

That walk was one of the longest I have ever experienced, before or after. He had tucked me up against his side again as soon as we moved from our private corner by the Waitrose and began moving relentlessly in the direction that I had pointed. 

It was at about this time that it really began hitting me that this was really happening. I hadn't actually gone around the bend and was hallucinating. I was actually going to get Mr. Perfect. Hell, I didn't even know his name yet. Shouldn't you ask the man you were about to have the opportunity to ravish what his name was?

Somehow, it didn't quite seem appropriate to ask. Silly sounding, isn't it? But somehow walking down the blustery street in the pouring rain with the sexiest man I had ever seen with nothing but sex on the brain, the mood just wouldn't let me say anything. All I could manage was tugging him in the right direction on the right streets to reach where I lived. I had never found a man that scrambled my mind enough to actually not be able to form a coherent sentence. Maybe this wasn't good idea that I thought it was, I mean, really, this could be dangerous, being with a man that dazed me enough to not be able to think. If I was like this now, what would I be like afterwards? Completely mindless?

As this was running though my mind, that little voice, you know, the one that always gets you in trouble chimed in and reminded me that this was Mr. Perfect. I gave in without a fight. I actually think it was disappointed in me. 

The kiss from before had left my entire body extremely sensitive to the littlest stimulation and our every movement together simply made it worse. Even in the cold and the wet, I was aware of his arm over my shoulders, his thigh pressed against mine, and somehow I just knew he was watching me. How, I'm not sure. How do you walk down a street pressed as tightly together as we were, watch that other person, not pay attention to where you are going, and still manage to be the one leading and keeping the pair moving? He did. 

My life never works like this. Things don't work out for me. I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop, for him to stop me and tell me that he had suddenly remembered another appointment that he just has to go to, that he had had changed his mind, that he had to go home and wash his hair. But he didn't, he kept us going relentlessly down the streets, through the square and to the front door of my apartment building.

My flat is in a fairly typical London building in Kensington, a grayish whitish five story building that blends in with everything around it. I thank the heavens that for once I don't have to be ashamed of the place I'm taking someone home to, (even if it isn't technically really my place.) 

I had to fumble through my gigantic bag to find my key. This is usually a task in and of itself that involves me dropping everything else, sticking my head in the bag and rooting around for a while. Sometimes I get lucky and can simply stick my hand in and fumble around a bit like that and then find it by touch alone. This is on a good day, when it's not raining, I'm not in a hurry, and I don't have an extremely gorgeous guy on my arm that I just need to get upstairs to make my dreams come true. Of course I had to embarrass myself with my bag and my key. It felt like forever to find it and then get it in the lock to turn. Of course he was staring at me and I was staring at him and my belly had gone beyond feeling simply warm to doing complete flip-flops, I'm sure that that made everything ten times worse.....but really.....can you blame me? 

The lobby was empty for once. We didn't have internet in the building, but had found that we could go pirate it in the lobby from other people. Usually the lobby is packed. I can't imagine what it would have been like to have walked in when the usual ten people were sitting there. I would never have lived it down. In hindsight I have to wonder what he would have done with all the catcalls. 

And then we were finally in the elevator, ensured privacy at last. The doors had barley closed when he had me up against the wall again. (Personally I was shocked that not only could we fit in the tiny Elevator Of Death, as I like to call it together, but also that for once it was working). We would never have made it if we would have had to walk up the five flights of narrow staircase that it takes to get to my apartment, we would have probably made it to the third floor and he would have had me face down on the stairs, my pants around my ankles, with his hopefully thick cock pumping in and out from between my thighs as I screamed loud enough for the neighbors to all think the building was on fire....hmmmm, maybe not such a bad idea anyway......

But his wiry body had me dangling from several inches off the floor and his mouth, oh that delicious mouth of his was on mine again and my random thoughts about the lobby and the elevator disappeared from my mind as if they had never been. 

That sweet caramelly taste had invaded my brain, my breasts ached where they were crushed against his chest and his hands were underneath my bottom at this point holding me up. I had never had such a heady moment in my entire life. I was still aware of the mustard stain and I couldn't believe that he was able to be so up close and personal as it was with the way I looked and hopefully didn't smell, but I decided at this point that if it didn't bother him than it wasn't going to bother me. I just hoped I hadn't found the man of my dreams who also happened to be a mad man. 

As his lips continued to eat at my mouth I became aware of him making deep growling noises low in his throat. This only served to turn me on even more than I already was. It was almost as if he was devouring me all of me. I had never felt such a sensation of being consumed by any other lover I had ever had. 

He began tugging at my jumper, pulling it up and pulling at my shirt underneath. He had to work his way through the shirt I had under that as well and I was so busy kissing him back and letting my hands glide through all that glorious hair that I really couldn't help him. His hands finally reached my flesh and every sensation that I was already feeling became intensified even more, almost as if electricity was running through my body. His hand curved over my breast and began to knead gently, pressing my nipple directly into the palm of his hand. 

It took both of us a minute to realize that we had reached my floor and that the door was open. 

By some miracle, I still had my keys clutched in my hand against his back. He kept me dangling from the ground, prompting me to wrap my legs around his waist and he walked with me out of the elevator. I pulled back from his kisses long enough to get him to my door and we again somehow managed to get through my door.

The door clicked shut and we were on the floor so fast my head was spinning (even more than it already had been). I didn't even really have the sensation of being lowered, just of suddenly being there with him over me and grinding his erection against the crux of my thighs. 

Im sure I must have been a sight. I have long, really thick and curly blonde hair that had long since fallen out of the chignon that I had had it messily tied up in. My glasses I had tossed when we walked in the door. I only really need them to read. And here I was sprawled across my entrance hallway, completely unbound looking, with a stranger pulled over me. Hell, I still didn't know his name. I had to give myself another reality check, this was really happening. 

He himself was looking much less pulled together than he had been. I liked him even better for it. I can't stand those people who never looked disheveled no matter what happens. I pulled at his jacket, enjoyed the rich suede under my hands even as I rushed to get it off him. 

I got through his top layers completely. I didn't really give him time to do anything else but help me, and when he was uncovered.....God, if there is a God, what a sight that was. He was long and lean, with a trail of hair lightly dusting his abs, leading to the button on his trousers. He was braced over me and seemed to appreciate the fact that I was nearly drooling over his abs. 

He suddenly began moving again, and this time it was my shirts that began coming off, and then I was sprawled under him in my green bra with my breasts spilling out of the cups in a way that they do when I'm not careful about arranging myself just right. He didn't stop there. 

He reached back and tugged my trainers and socks off with deft skill that I would admire much later. My pants and underwear came next. My legs were still spread wide around his own thighs and it took a bit of maneuvering. Somehow this only managed to make me even wetter than before, so that by the time he got it all off me I'm sure I had drops of my own lubrication caught in my pubic hair. He took a look at me lying wide before him in nothing by my bra and my hair and groaned. 

With one finger he lightly traced through my nether curls and my lips all the way to my ass. A line of fire ignited in my body and I jerked up toward him, trying to maintain contact with those talented fingers. His hands, those wonderfully strong hands, parted my thighs wider and he leaned down, beginning to lick me where his finger had stopped, retracing its way back to the beginning and then he was circling my clit, making me cry out in agony before pressing his mouth fully against me, making my back arch off the floor. 

He went slowly, seeming to savor every taste he had of me, slowly forcing his tongue deep inside of me and showing me that my earlier fantasy was more than correct by pushing his nose into me and against my clit every time he pressed deeper into me. 

At this point he had his hands clamped on my sides to keep me in place. I couldn't stay still with all of this going on and Im sure that the noises I was making weren't sexy at all. On later introspection I was sure I had sounded like a wet cat in heat. And that heat, you know that heat that begins to build and build when you start to reach that point, that final climactic point where the world explodes in front of your eyes and you don't know anything but what is happening to your body and whoever with.  

Suddenly he pressed a finger lightly against my ass and pressed it a little way inside, crooking it just slightly. It was enough to send me completely over the edge, screaming. With his mouth deep in my cunt and his finger in my ass I felt as if the world had completely ended. 

It took me a few moments after the spasms in my belly stopped and my inner muscles had quit clamping together to realize that he had pulled back and was watching me. My eyes, which had rolled into the back of my head began to refocus on him. He was braced with his arms standing in stark contrast to the walls behind him. It was if all of his muscles were straining against a great pressure and he had a slightly wild look in his eyes above his glistening chin. 

Another involuntary groan pulled itself out of me and another afterwave pulsed through me. One of his hands came up again and that finger, the same finger that had started my bliss traced from my collar bone, between my breasts, over my belly, right back down to my apex. Goosebumps broke out over my body and I couldn't help but sighing. He stared for another second and then very deliberately caught my eye as he reached for his own pants. 

-----------------------------

A/N: Just thought that I would note that yes, I am aware of the fact that midwesterners don't say "jumper" or "spectacles", being a midwesterner myself. But I was in London when I was writing this and I wanted to convey that my character had been there long enough to start picking these small bits of slang up. Thanks for the reviews though, I live for them! 



The Bad Day Ch. 03



Disclaimer: This is all mine, please dont copy. 

He paused at the last second and almost teasingly ran over the button as he continued to stare at me with his dark eyes. My body at this point felt completely liquid. You know that feeling after an intense orgasm where all your physical abilities seem to leave you and all you can do is lay there and absorb the feeling and catch your breath? That's where I was. He looked as if he was contemplating something deep inside of me that only he could see and maybe, just possibly begin to understand. 

I hadn't had a lover in a long time. I hadn't had the time or really, the opportunity. I was working on my thesis and I had vaguely thought that once I had managed to finish it and land myself a steady job I would have enough time to go and find a prospective lover. I was young. I had all the time in the world. Besides, who needs to think about their own love life when you can absorb your entire being into something like Shakespeare?

Don't get me wrong, the Bard and I did not exactly get along, and I usually ended up hating him by the time I was done working on whichever piece that was my trial of the night. In the end though, you have to respect him. Of course, all of this hate and respect do not lead to a healthy style of living for someone like me. I'm sure that one of the reasons I looked as bad as I did was because of my continual haunting of libraries and spending too many hours bent over old texts which caused one to strain their eyes and breathe in too much dust. Just the other day I checked a book out of the library that was published in 1846 and had only been checked out once in 1876. I had nearly keeled over in shock at finding it still on the shelf and in circulation. To tell you the truth, I was contemplating finding a way to steal it for my own collection.

Here was another issue that continually blocked normal social interactions. I am a bibliophile. I almost feel like I should be attending meetings for it. If I started out with just one precious book at the beginning of any new school term, I ended up with two stuffed and crammed entire book shelves by the time term was over. I have often been found sitting with a new book somewhere, subtly breathing in the scent of new ink and running my hands through the pages. My friends, the few I still had, often mentioned that they worried about me. I don't know why really, I had just found that I preferred books over often awkward and tedious dates with boys that I knew wouldn't interest me. 

Of course, existing like this, as thrilling and exciting as I found it to be, did not leave one with the opportunity to.....work out certain frustrations shall we say? I had felt the ache for the past several months. That ache that just begs for manhandling and gives one the desire to wake up one morning feeling sore and well used, of course it didn't help that I was living in a city with some of the most sexually alluring accents that I had ever heard. Accents that continually tickled my inner eye and made me think of dark bedrooms and sessions across my desk instead of sitting at it. What? Sorry, American, accents just do it for me, almost as much as books do, and that's really saying something. 

He finally moved. I think it was because I whimpered. An after shock ran through my body, making me arch up, which pressed my breasts, still fairly encased in my bra to push up toward him. 

He smiled. It was a smile that promised that he was no where near done yet. Swiftly he stood up, crouching back down to wrap his arms around me and lift me up. I was still enough in a daze that the feeling of vertigo that I suddenly experienced was nearly nauseating. 

He paused for another moment and looked down the hallway. There are only three doors to go through off of it. One, which was to our immediate right, was the bathroom and since the door was open, it was fairly obvious. The next one on the right led to the living room and the kitchen, this too was obvious, since you can see the couch from the hallway. The door straight ahead is the bedroom, and after a moments contemplation, he took us there. 

My bed was my crowning glory in this small flat. The huge size filled with the softest sheets I could find, a down comforter and too many pillows is one of my few aesthetic pleasures in my fairly meager student existence. I had to have a comfortable bed, it was my one huge requirement for any living space. I had almost forgotten that a bed was for things other than sleeping and reading. Tonight I was going to be made to remember. 

He set me gently down in a sitting position, reaching behind me to free my breasts from my bra, laying me fully down as he pulled it off. He paused again, seeming to enjoy the view of my larger breasts free and my body sprawled across the white comforter. One big hand came up and gently cupped one in his hand, making me purr. 

It seemed as if he had decided to go slow for this round. His hands slowly savored my body and all I could do was moan and arch and twist under his grasp. I wanted nothing more than to grab him to me and do exactly what he was doing to me, but I was still too fluid to really do much. 

Sometimes, when you orgasm, there isn't any more energy for you to do it again. Things have too much sensation for your body to want to do anything again so soon, but that slow heat began building in me again. It has always amazed me how hot my body gets as it reaches higher and higher toward its final explosion. His hands continued to work their magic, his mouth running over places I didn't even know could produce sensation, such as the side of my knee, and my body began stringing itself tighter and tighter once more. 

At this point I had my legs spread as wide as I could possibly manage, begging him to put his hands or his mouth back where I really wanted them, but he was not to be rushed. Liquid oozed out of my exposed vulva, showing him that I was ready for his touch. He gave me a slow smile and finally reached for his pants again. 

With my hands buried in the bedding over my head all I could do was stare at him as he scooted out from between my legs and off the bed to tantalizingly slip his pants down over his hips in the most frustrating strip tease of my life. 

The slow stripping of his pants revealed tight boxer briefs, which were strained enough to reveal the tip of his pressing out of the slit in the front. I have to admit a weakness for this, it always looks as if they are begging to have the tip of themselves sucked deep in my mouth to be swirled around like candy. 

He managed to pull his pants all the way off without tearing my attention away from his boxers and his hands went maddeningly to the boxers, repeating the process until I was ready to scream as this time he bent over enough to push them off that I couldn't see what they revealed. 

He didn't simply stand up either, but elegantly stretched his arms up, over his head, displaying his entire body with an athletic grace that most men cannot pull off in this situation. I think I was drooling at this point. 

Like a cat he crawled onto the bed once I had had the opportunity to once again worship the lean lines of his chest and stomach and fully appreciate the long, thick, deeply red erection between his legs. I was gratified to see that it was leaking at the tip and I think that when I licked my lips as I stared at it caused him to finally come back to me. 

My body ached and thrummed with unfulfilled needs. An orgasm brought by hand and mouth can be sharply amazing, but having a man's body fill yours and physically push through that ache and need over and over leaves one with a completely different sensation, one which my body was more than ready for. I love women as much as I love men, and there were times when I craved nothing more than a woman's soft hands and mouth running over my body, her breasts pushing into mine, but there were times such as the last few months when I wanted nothing more than a man's purposeful roughness. 

He seemed to slither over me. I could finally manage to bring my hands up to cradle his face and run them through his hair and down his back to grasp his wonderfully muscled buttocks, pulling him into me, encouraging him to push himself into me. I could feel his erection, where he had it teasingly just brushing my lower pelvis. I pushed my legs even further apart and arched my lower body up, finally managing to feel his cock brushing against the top of my clitoris. I dug my heels into the bed and pressed higher, tilting myself until he was just at my entrance. 

"Please...." I did not quite recognize the breathy, low voice as mine, but he smiled again and pressed my hips back down into the mattress, pressing his pelvis into mine and seeming to settle against me, braced on his knees and elbows, keeping me where he wanted me. 

The tip of him was just outside of me, and finally he pressed inside, but only just, only just so that he had the wide, round tip of him pressed inside of my slick heat. I nearly came from that alone. The pressure he had by simply doing that much was superb. I wiggled, trying to get him further inside of me. 

He looked into my eyes then and them began moving incrementally forward. The sensation was intense and exquisite. One of his hands reached up to roughly twist my nipple, sending a sharp sensation straight to my groin, making me jerk. His other hand reached down to gently press my clitoris, which was standing out starkly, just waiting for his full length to press into me far enough to hit it as he thrust in and out of me. 

I don't care how many lovers one has, or how often one uses a dildo to stretch their body, the first time a man enters you is a new sensation. Especially, if like me, you haven't had sex in a long time. It feels sharp and fills you up in a way that no toy ever can. Your body feels as if it is brimming with sensation and your lovers size, no matter what, seems to stretch you to your limit. It is new each and every time you have a new lover.

It was like that with him. He wouldn't rush himself, just kept pushing through my straining muscles, pressing directly into that deep heat, that spot that isn't your g-spot, but that spot that is at the very back of you, where the most scorching fires burn. My hands were clenched in his hair and across the muscles of his back and I think that I was making nearly inhuman noises trying to force his body to completely take mine. I was blind and deaf to all else. Nothing else existed but his body and mine in this moment. 

And finally he stopped. He pressed deep against my cervix and I could feel his heavy balls pressed tightly against my anus. His bush of reddish pubic hair crinkled against mine and I felt like I could feel every detail of him pressed into mine. 

Leaning down, he kissed me, invading my mouth with his tongue as deeply as he did with other parts of his body, finally pulling far enough back to brush his nose against mine and smirk at me. I couldn't decide what the smirk was about until his body suddenly and violently jerked out of mine and slammed back in. 

My hips bucked and I howled. He forced himself into me all the way again and made a circling motion with his hips, sending fireworks through my body some more, My eyes were completely crossed and glazed at this point and he did it again, and again and again. Building up a rhythm that seemed as if it might last all night long. 

I didn't know if I would survive this or not. 



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A/N: Thank you again for all the kind reviews, especially those of you who keep coming back. You have no idea how much you brighten my day when you do so. Hope this came a little quicker than last time. Please continue to let me know what you think!



The Bad Day Ch. 04



The orgasm that pulsed through me this time made my whole body spasm around his in an agony of heat and contractions that made me think that it might be too much, that it just might kill me this time. The intensity made me finally black out for a second or two. 

When my eyes opened next, his dark ones were staring intently down into mine, his body still hammering in and out of me making the spasms of my body go on for far longer than they ever have before. I couldn't do anything else but lay there and cradle him deeper into my body, shifting my hips for a slightly deeper angle that made my eyes roll back into my head again and made him buck harder into me and groan deeply in his chest. 

It was like he just couldn't let himself go yet, that he hadn't yet had enough of me. It was a heady sensation.

I drew my knees up and wrapped my arms around his back to hold him as closely as I could. I let one hand wander down and cup one of his buttocks, enjoying the flexing sensation of his truly superior ass in my hand. I was mostly a pile of goo at this point, my body was still gently contracting and his body was still continuing the same heavy rhythm of before. I couldn't do anything else but lay there holding him close and take it. 

He began building me up once more. The heavy pounding thrust of his body just continued and my body either had to heat once more or begin hurting, my body, being the smart body that it is, began slowly heating again. 

His jaw was clenched tightly at this point and he had finally allowed his eyes to shut as he pressed his face against mine. The slow heat that had begun building between my thighs finally gently released, making my body contract with waves and waves of gentle pressure against his. This wasn't like the other two orgasms I had had, this one was soft and finally pulled his body with mine. He gave one last deep groan and started pounding into me even harder then he had before, loosing all sense of rhythm and feeling like he had gotten ten times harder inside of me then he had been before. He had wrapped his arms around me at this point as well and we rocked together unevenly until both of our bodies finished shuddering. 

We collapsed together in a sweaty pile of quivering flesh that I at least assumed wouldn't be moving any time soon. 

He shifted us over on our sides, cradling me into his chest, curving his body around mine and drawing the covers over us. I breathed in his musky scent and let my body drape around his in my completely satiated state and just let my mind drift off. I felt too good at this point to actually be able to think about anything constructive. I couldn't even think about what was going to happen next. It was all way too much for me. 

He murmured something in my ear and I think I must have drifted off, because the next thing I knew it was dark out and he was over me, kissing my neck and ears with wet nibbling kisses that sent shivers throughout my body. It was like having electric shocks run through me.

"I didn't have time to truly enjoy all of you last time, though of course, I really cant complain too much", he spoke softly as he continued nuzzling and kissing my neck and shoulders, passing here and there to come back to my mouth and give me the same type of kisses that had started all of this. This time he was going to go slowly, savor me, and I have to say, I had no objections at all.

His hands had started out combing through my hair and tracing over my cheek bones, but he began trailing his fingertips lightly over my shoulders and chest, plucking my nipples gently, and I was finally able to run my hands over the sculpted muscles of his body, to finally be able to truly luxuriate in the wonderfulness of him. 

I hooked my leg over his waist and rolled him under me. He didn't resist, but helped me do it. I'm not usually graceful enough with these sorts of movements to pull them off completely. But with his help we rolled smoothly and I enjoyed the sensation of his body rolling against mine. He somehow managed to continue kissing caressing me as we went and I enjoyed the sensation of my bare breasts pressed again his hard, only slightly hairy, chest. 

This wasn't like any sex I'd had ever before. It was like he was going to enjoy every inch of me and take his time doing it. But now it was my turn to enjoy him a little bit. Up until now he had been the one to mostly control things, and I wasn't about to complain about it, but now I could take my time as well and enjoy everything he had to offer me. 

I closed my eyes, it wasn't that I didn't want to see him, but that I wanted to actually experience him. Its like when you take away one of your sense, everything stands out more clearly, his hands on me, the smooth planes of his chest, shoulders, and arms, the downy hair on his upper thighs that tickled mine, his heavy erection against my belly, the stubble that had become apparent on his cheeks brushing against my skin as he continued to kiss me everywhere he could reach. 

His hair was as messy and tangled as mine and I allowed myself to take a few minutes to untangle it and slide my fingers through its silkiness. Tracing his cheeks and chest I let myself slide further down, far enough to put me at eye level at perhaps one of the more interesting parts of him. 

I brushed my cheek against his cock, enjoying the smooth hardness. It was the perfect length and width for me, hard and growing redder by the minute. I had been wondering what he tasted like and decided I wanted to find out. I licked his length making him grunt and twist his hands in my hair once more and without any more warning I sucked him into my mouth all the way to the root of him. His whole body jerked and it almost seemed like he gave a short scream, though he muffled it behind his teeth. I swirled my tongue around and balanced the delicate spheres of his balls in my hand. With my other hand I started a gentle sucking twirling movement with my mouth and hand to drive him crazy. The taste of him was like the rest of him, rich and musky and at the end of it all, pure male. 

When I managed to drive all of him down the back of my throat and bury my nose at his base, in his coarse reddish curls, it was like I had the very center of his entire being. He was audibly moaning now, it was no longer simply the vibration of his chest and body. It was his turn to arch his back and twist and moan under me. I thought it was fitting since he had managed to do the same to me only a fairly short time earlier. 

The tip of him started leaking freely with his thick, viscous essence. I lapped it up like cream, starting to hollow my cheeks and really suck on him every time I drew near the end of him, almost pulling completely off before sucking him back down. I continued to let my other hand play between his legs, keeping him perilously close to the very edge of explosion. 

He finally arched his back one last time and pulled his hands from my hair to grab under my arms and pull my mouth up to his. My legs were over him and he nearly growled at me.

"No more, I have to have you right now, I think I might die with it!" And with that he speared his thick flesh back up into my own eagerly waiting body. 

In this position it felt like he went even deeper than he had before, with my legs spread wider over him and his cock rubbing against my clit and my g spot simultaneously. His hands clamped on my waist and with a few short thrusts I felt him grow even harder and burst inside of me. His teeth and jaw clenched and his entire body bucked against me. His hands going up to grab my breasts almost painfully as he came deep inside me. 

I think I must have had an overly pleased look on my face when he finally opened his eyes again, because he reached down between my legs where he was still buried and gently tugged on my clitoris, which Im sure stood out wetly between my legs. It was time for my body to buck and arch again as I began coming yet again. This was as intense as the first time and I could do nothing but grab his other hand and slump over his chest to bury my face in his shoulder. 

With the first throb of my body I had the overwhelming need to sink my teeth into his muscle and get another taste of him. As I did it, his body jerked helplessly under mine once more and it was like the world exploded once more before everything disappeared once more. 

A/N: Hope everyone enjoyed it! I love hearing feedback! 



The Bad Day Ch. 05



This time when I woke up I knew that I had passed out. It was dark outside and the rain had started up a steady tempo on my window. I wasn't sure that I could move yet, but I knew that if I turned my head a little I would be able to see my lover who had apparently not decided to disappear before I woke up. 

I was sprawled over my usual side of the bed, the sheets over my ass and nothing else. I felt pleasantly flushed and well used. 

This, this is what I had been craving for so long...

I wanted to see what he looked like, hair tussled from our lovemaking and asleep in my bed. I forced the muscles in my neck to turn so that I could see the aftermath of our desire. 

I ended up staring into his dark eyes, which were locked on me. 

I felt my cheeks flush. 

He gave me a slow sultry smile that warmed up my stomach immediately. I felt my eyelids droop and the warmth in my cheeks turn into something else. 

"Hello" he murmured, "I was thinking about waking you up..."

"Have you been awake long?" I asked. 

"No, just long enough to enjoy watching you sleep."

I suddenly felt slightly awkward. "You do realize," I started, "I don't even know your name."

His smile went from sultry to almost childish. He reached a hand out towards me. "Do forgive me, how unutterably rude of me, but then, I wasn't actually interested in talking a bit back. Please allow me introduce myself. My name is Adin Greensborough."

I reached out my hand to give him a firm handshake. "Launa Marcum", I returned. "So very nice to meet you Adin Greensborough."

"Oh no, dearling, I think in this case, the pleasure is all mine." 

Oh that accent....I felt my toes curling into the bed. Im sure at this point even my ears were flushing. I let out a contented sigh and sank a little further into the mattress. His hand had kept mine in his and he had rolled onto his back, keeping my hand cupped in his on his chest. I snuggled a bit closer, so that I tuck myself under his arm pit and up against his side. I nestled my head into his shoulder and wondered what happened next. I still wasn't sure that I would be able to move.

The hand that wasn't holding mine slipped around my back and began a soothing rubbing motion that if it was possible made me relax even more. I thought that if my muscles relaxed anymore then Id probably never move again and that would be the end of it. He would have killed me after all. I sighed again, wouldn't be such a bad fate that. 

I felt my eyes closing again when his touch went from a gentle massage to something different. I purred. I couldn't help myself. 

He moved fluidly so that he was now curved around me body and my face was buried in the pillows. His fingers dug into my back and into knots I didn't know existed. Oh yes....I could handle this....all day and all night if he wanted. The man had utterly marvelous fingers. 

His hands paused and I felt one of his fingers trace over the phoenix tattoo that was on my shoulder. "Funny that," he said, "I didn't even notice that before. Naughty girl." 

I shrugged my shoulders at him. I had several tattoos, he just hadn't been paying attention to anything beyond what we had been doing at the time.

He moved again to straddle my body with his thighs and then the real massage began. His fingers moved up into my hair and rubbed behind my ears and in those odd places on your skull where you just need some good pressure every now and then. From there he moved to my neck and shoulders, digging his fingers deep into tendons that had balled up with the tension of sitting over a desk and reading a computer for hours and hours on end. 

As he moved down to my shoulder blades and mid back he started placing wet kisses on my neck, where it met my shoulder and small nibbles that made gooseflesh rise on my arms and legs. The lower he went, the more wet kisses were placed in lines down my spine and over my muscles. 

His hands finally began kneading my nicely rounded derriere when his hands curled around my hips, pulling them up. His hands kept massaging my muscles, though now they moved to my thighs, pulling them higher and wider apart as he kept at it. I had flexed my arms straight out in front of me under the pillows to hold onto the head board at this point and I couldn't help but to wiggle myself invitingly at him as he kept up his torturous kneading. 

Im sure that I was nicely exposed to him now. My pussy dripping once again, begging for him to take advantage of the situation, and he did. 

I felt him move up and place the tip of himself against me once more. I really didn't have any warning as he paused and then thrust himself back inside of me. It was a good thing that he had kept his hands on my hips, because the rest of my body went limp, and he was the only thing keeping me propped up. 

He moved one hand around my hip to reach between my legs to tweak my clit and began a rhythmic thrusting. It didn't take long, my orgasm was long and gentle this time around. 

His hands had moved up to cup my breasts and he curved his body completely around mine, gently driving me into the mattress as he continued his gentle, but demanding thrusts. I felt his pubic hair rasping across my ass and his balls slapping me every time he moved and I felt myself building up again. 

How many times could he do this to me before I would self implode? 

And then he suddenly picked up the pace, losing his rhythm and jerking roughly against me. His face was buried in my hair and I felt the long hot spurts of his cum inside of me as he came as well. It was enough to send me over once more.

We ended up in a heap on my pillows, nearly crammed up against the headboard. His breath was hot against my ear and I think that it was his turn to not be able to move as his body was limp against my back and he seemed to be quivering.

"God that was good." He moved his mouth enough as he speak to kiss my ear once more. "I think you might kill me yet."

"Funny thing, Adin" I replied. "I was thinking the same thing."



A/N: Just a short interlude. Hope everyone is still enjoying it. Thank you again for your reviews, Im enjoying writing this, but reading your thoughts still make it even better!