1 comments/ 17770 views/ 5 favorites Tender Touch By: Patrick-Donovan for E. She must be a fixture at the pub because you see her there almost every time you go. She sits at the end of the bar, sometimes with another person, often alone. She seems normal enough: a little shorter than you, maybe a bit older, oval face, waist-length red hair. Her build is hard to tell because she's always wearing a sweater, but there does seem to be some meat on her bones. Not that breasts matter to you, but since Pat started joking about your problems with men meaning you might be better off with a woman, you've found yourself looking. Each time you come to the pub, you notice her. This night is different. When you come to the pub, you find only one seat available to you: the one right next to *her*. You order your pint and turn to look around the pub. What a crowd. Lots of people talking to each other, but no one you recognize. Except *her*. When you turn back to pick up your glass. Damn you wish the stuff at home was as good as this. As you put the mug down, you notice in the mirror behind the bar that the woman is looking at you with her sparkling green eyes. Nothing especially threatening, more hopeful than anything else. It may be that she has no one else to talk to either. You put the drink down and turn to look at her and smile. "Hi," you manage. Simple enough start. She blushes and smiles in return. "Hello," she responds in a lilting Irish accent. Her voice is lovely. "I'm Sara Beth. My friends call me Sara." That seems to go well. "I'm Lorien, but call me Lauren. Are you from America?" You nod. "Where?" "Upstate New York. Where are you from?" "Ireland, Kilkenny. But my mum teaches here and I like the crowd, so I moved in with her. Do you like it here?" "Oh yes," you answer, enthusiastically. "I like the crowd, too." So your conversation seems to go well. She tells you she's 24 and works in a music shop around the corner. She asks you a lot more questions about home and what you do and you tell her about the pharmacy. She tells you she had a lover who once worked in a pharmacy. You find that you both have a lot more in common. When she mentions Tori Amos, you tell her you just got the new album and she's bummed because she hasn't heard much of it yet and she can't buy it because her mum's going to get it for her birthday. Without even thinking about it, you ask: "Would you like to come over and listen to it?" Lauren seems very shy about imposing, but you'd like the company and think she probably would too. So you pay your tabs and head out into the cold night. Long after the Tori Amos CD has played, the two of you are still laughing and talking. You've rifled your CD collection and played all the ones you both like. Conversation covers everything from music to sex (the latter subject being something she blushes at). You find that, despite her apparent shyness, there is a wonderful personality underneath waiting to spring out. Maybe she just needs to be in the right company for it to emerge. It's way after midnight before Lorien even looks at her watch. When she sees what time it is she tells you she has to work in the morning and apologizes for having to leave. She was having a really good time. You take her to the door and she turns to ask you something before she goes. "Sara," she pauses, her shyness showing again, "could we do this again sometime?" You smile, amazed at her polite timidness. "Sure, but next time we raid *your* CD collection!" She smiles back with a blush and clutches your hand for a moment, then dashes off without saying good-bye. * * * * * The next afternoon, upon returning from the lab, you find an envelope taped to your door. You take it off and go inside, putting your stuff away and plopping down on the bed. You open the letter and find a card inside. It says: Dear Sara, Thank you for having me in last night. I had a really great time, hope to do it again soon. Lauren You're surprised by her thoughtfulness, but inside you're pleased to know that someone thinks so highly of you. It must go with the territory of being such a generous and compassionate person. The two of you meet again a couple of days later and have lunch. Lauren doesn't ask about the card, so you tell her you got it and that you appreciated her being so thoughtful. She seems embarrassed, but thanks you for your kindness. That evening she comes by with some of her discs and you have another night of fun. "Sara," she asks as she's getting ready to leave, "do you mind if I tell you something? It's kind of personal, but you seem like, you now, like someone I can talk to." "Sure. Go ahead," you reply. Lauren turns away to look at the door. "I've been dating this bloke, Randy. We've been going out for almost four years now. He's great. Even my dad likes him, and that's a miracle in itself. But he's kept putting off asking me to marry him, so I asked him when and that's when he told me -- told me," she begins to cry, "he'd found someone else, but that he couldn't find a way to tell me about it." You gasp, then sigh, putting your hand on her arm. "Oh, Lauren! What did you do?" "I threw him out of mum's house! He took my heart and dragged it along and then stomped on it!" She puts her arms around you and cries on your shoulder. You hesitantly put your arms around her and let her sob for a few more minutes, until she composes herself. Then she lets you go. "That's why I was in the pub the night we met," she goes on, sniffling. "I'd just thrown him out and walked to the pub to get myself blazing drunk. But then you showed up and ... helped me ... forget about Randy. That's why I sent the card." "Oh, Lauren, that's all right. I'm glad I was able to help. I just didn't realize things had been so bad for you that night. I wish I could have helped more." She sniffs a few more times. "Thank you, Sara," she clears her throat. "Um, I should go now. Thanks again for being a friend." Lauren hugs you quickly and pulls away, but not before planting an ever-so-gentle kiss on your right cheek. Then she disappears, just like before, leaving you blushing and speechless. * * * * * The next day you find another gift from Lauren on your doorstep, this time a box containing a single white lily and a card, which says: Sara, Thank you for listening to me rave. You're a very special person. Love, Lorien Your face blushes a deep red as you remember her kiss from the night before. Once again she has surprised, yet pleased you. What is going on? Over the next few days you find yourself thinking a lot about Lauren. What was it that makes her so ... oh God, attractive isn't the word, surely? ... intriguing? Maybe it's her shyness or gentleness? Maybe the fact that you have so much in common? By the end of the next week she is so much on your mind that you decide to settle it once and for all, so on Friday you head to the pub again, hoping she's there. She doesn't disappoint you. She sees you come in and your eyes meet. Immediately she casts hers down and you wonder what's wrong. You walk to the bar, but there isn't a seat available. When she realizes you're standing next to her she looks up, her gaze brighter. She smiles and the happy Lauren you've come to know returns. "Are you okay?" you ask, concerned. She blushes and looks away for a second. "No ... no, I just thought maybe you, well, you know. I was wondering if maybe you thought the flower was too much." You laugh a little. "Oh no! It was very thoughtful. I love lilies." She sighs and then smiles. "Oh, that makes me feel better." You talk for a few more minutes, but it is obvious the atmosphere of the pub isn't appropriate anymore, so you leave together and return to your place. As you're walking, Lauren is silent, but about half-way there you feel her hand steal into yours. A tingle goes through your arm and you repress an urge to jerk your hand away. Some part of you says that it isn't right, but another part says it would be rude and maybe even hurtful to pull away from her just now. You keep control, squeeze her hand to reassure her, and walk the rest of the way home. Once inside you offer Lauren some tea and the two of you sit back and talk some more, this time you tell her a bit about your recent trouble with men and she starts to feel better, knowing she isn't the only one with problems. "Men. They're all jerks," she states firmly. "Well, until we find ones that aren't, anyway. The free ones are jerks and the good ones are taken," you reply. She looks at you for a long time, not seeming to be able to take her eyes away from you. After a moment or two you start to blush and she looks away. After that you both sit back and listen to music, neither of you really saying anything. It seems as though Lauren is just thinking, staring off into nothingness. You wonder what's on her mind, but you don't ask, you just look at her as she stares across the room. Her long hair hangs down her back and over her shoulders, some of it drapes over the front of her sweater, covering the bumps of her smallish breasts. You wonder how she takes such good care of it, making it look so soft and beautiful. As it rolls past one in the morning, you ask if she has to work early. She stirs out of her contemplation. "No, but I can go if you need to sleep." "Oh no, I was just checking to make sure you knew what time it was." "I-I knew. Look, Sara, are you tired?" You suppress a yawn. "Well, a little, yeah. But I don't want you to leave if something's wrong. You seem a little quiet." She blushes. "I was just wondering about things. Men, you know, our problems." "Yeah..." "I don't really want to leave either, but I hate to impose." You stand up. "No, no. Listen, why don't you stay the night? There's room on the couch." She stands up. "Oh no, I couldn't do that," she says and heads for the door. "Lauren, what's wrong? Wait, don't go!" you call after her. She stops with her hand on the knob. "I-I'm sorry. I'm just not used to people being so nice to me. I don't want to impose. Besides, I don't have anything to sleep in." You walk over to your dresser and pull open a drawer. "It's not a problem, really. I have plenty of room and plenty of things for you to wear. Please, stay and talk to me." Lauren lets go of the handle and turns back, walking toward you. She takes your hand and holds it tightly, then hugs you close to her. You feel flushed once again, but this time you return the hug warmly. After a few seconds she pulls away and walks to the bathroom. "I need to get ready. Can you find something for me to wear?" "Sure," you answer and start rummaging through the drawer. You hear her busy in the bathroom while you look for a nightshirt. Finding one you pull it out, walk to the bathroom door and knock. "Found one for you," you announce. The door opens and a bare arm appears, taking the shirt from your hand. You start to walk away, but you realize the she hasn't closed the door. Going back to close it, you notice Lauren's reflection in the mirror. Her back is to it, so you can see the delicate creaminess of her ivory skin. Her shoulder blades and spine add sharp angles to her otherwise smooth flesh. On her right shoulder there is a complex tattoo about the size of your hand made up of long, slender golden leaves and three bright-looking stars. In a simple Gothic script, written below it, are the words 'Lorien the Fair'. Looking downwards, following the curve of her back as it plunges to her hips, you are shocked to discover her smooth, tight behind bared in the mirror. You almost look away, but your heart races and you feel compelled to look longer. Momentarily, as you watch with growing interest the movements of her beautiful bottom, Lauren starts to pull up a pair of satin green knickers. As she does, she turns toward the mirror and you catch a glimpse of the brass-red forest between her legs before it is covered by her underwear. When she stands up to pull down the nightshirt, you can plainly see her small but firm breasts hidden beneath the canopy of her long red hair. The heat of what you thought was embarrassment now reveals itself for what you had feared it was, excitement, as you feel a twinge of moisture inside your own underwear. You turn away from the door and walk to your dresser, fuming at yourself, and start to change. How could you think about another woman? It isn't right. What would Lauren say? As you remove your outer clothes, you try to concentrate on something mundane, but thoughts of Lauren keep coming back to you. "I'm going to kill you for putting this into my head, Patrick Donovan," you say to yourself. You slip off your pants and drop them onto the chair with your shirt. As you remove your bra and toss it onto the chair also, leaving you in your lacy black knickers, you hear someone behind you. You turn quickly, pulling your arms to your chest to cover your breasts, and see that it is Lauren, dressed in the nightshirt and ready to climb onto the couch. She turns away. "I'm sorry, go ahead and finish," she says. You turn back and pull on the nightshirt, wondering if she had been watching you for long. Part of you hopes she had been. You and Lauren sit and talk for a little while, but sleep seems to come over you both and you bring her a blanket and pillow. When your guest is settled in you turn out the light and crawl under your own covers. Laying there you begin to think about Lauren again, wondering what it would be like if she, well, if she was interested in being intimate with you. You fall asleep with dreams of her arms wrapped around you tightly in the night... ...you are stirred by the feel of someone sitting on the bed. At first you're disoriented, forgetting you had a guest, and you jerk awake with a gasp. Your heart slows down when you realize it is Lauren, sitting on the edge of the bed trying gently to wake you. "I'm so sorry, love," she says, her voice shuddering, "but it's cold and I-I wondered, um, could I-could I... Your heart skips a beat, but without a word you throw back the covers. Lauren puts the extra pillow in place and crawls in. You feel her bare feet brush against your legs and you have to stifle a gasp. What is going on with you? You feel like a schoolgirl doing something naughty with the boy next door. Lauren pulls the covers back up and turns on her side to face you. Something about her face in the dim light of the room strikes you as indescribably beautiful. You notice now, more then ever before, the sensuality that she exudes and your heart begins to race as you wonder what might happen. "Thanks," she whispers. "Anytime," you respond and turn over to sleep again, but sleep is hard to come by after that. Later on your eyes open when you feel something touch you. As you shake off sleep you realize that Lauren, whose deep breathing you can hear as she sleeps next to you, has thrown her arm over you. Instinctively, despite your inner fear, you move back towards her a bit and that triggers her response. Her arm slips under the covers and wraps around your chest, just below your breasts, holding you tight as she scoots closer. Now you can feel her warm breath on your neck and a chill shoots down your back and legs. As her embrace tightens you can also feel the soft pressure from her breasts through her shirt and yours. A rush of warmth fills your loins, but you close your eyes and try to sleep. This is all the further it should go. The sensual warmth of a kiss on your neck makes you shudder awake once more. Lauren's arm has slipped from your chest and her hand now strokes up and down your arm. Her hot, moist lips burn another hole into your soul as they move along your neck towards your ear. The kisses are so gentle and slow, not rough or hard at all, just tender and soft. You shudder once again. Your inner fear tells you to make her stop, but your sensuality is afraid to. It wants this. It needs to know. You turn over and face her once more. She pulls back her arms and a look of fear crosses her eyes too. "Please, Sara, don't be angry with me." You find her hand and squeeze it. "No, Lauren, it's all right. I don't want you to stop." Your inner fear curses, realizing it is losing. Lauren's eyes glimmer with passion as she moves closer to you. Slowly her arms encircle you and yours respond in kind. Suddenly there is a warm, sensual body in your embrace. A woman who has sent you all the signals of romantic interest and you can finally read them. Ever so slowly her lips move towards yours, her chest presses into yours, and you feel her legs begin to intertwine with yours. Your heart pounds like a bass drum, anticipating the moment of -- -- Lauren's lips press into yours. A charge of incredible sensual force surges through your body, making every part tingle. Her lips are so unbelievably soft and wet. They're like none you've ever kissed before. Her hand slides to the back of your head and she holds it tightly as she presses her lips harder into yours. Your hands slide up and down her back and through her hair. You can feel her breasts rubbing against yours through the fabric as she begins moving against you. The kiss seems to go on and on. Lauren, using her sudden burst of sensual energy, rolls you onto your back and comes with you. Now you find yourself laying beneath this woman, whom you barely know but have come to feel is a very special person, and she begins to move against you. You open your legs instinctively for her, raising your knees and feeling her slip between them. The gentle thrusting motion of her hips makes creates friction against your knickers, which rub against your mound, causing you to flush with warmth and moisture. You run your hands up and down her back, sometimes carrying them to her bottom. Once, when you bring them up, you slip them under her nightshirt and slide them up over the bare skin of her back. Her mouth breaks your long kiss and she moans at your touch. She lifts herself above you, driving her pelvis harder against your sex, and allows you to pull off her shirt. In the dim light you can see the raised mounds of her breasts. Your heart seems to beat faster as you reach up and gently touch one of them. The skin is so soft and smooth, yet firm. Her nipples, you can feel, are hard as gum drops and she gasps when you gently squeeze one of them. "Is this what a man feels when he touches me?" you ask yourself. You cup the breast for a moment before letting go. Then Lauren sits up on her knees and lifts your nightshirt. You raise your back after hesitating for just a moment and watch as she pulls it slowly up, revealing to her the round, succulent fruit of your own chest. You sit up in front of her, on your knees as well, and allow her to remove you shirt the rest of the way. The two of you are sitting, face to face, clad only in your underpants. She looks longingly at your breasts as they hang lightly on your bare chest. Slowly she extends her hand towards it, cupping it warmly in the palm of her hand. You breathe in sharply. This is all so different from having a man touch you there. So much softer. Lauren clasps your other breast in her other hand and gently presses on them both, flattening them against your chest, rubbing your nipples in circles with her thumbs. You lean your head back and begin to moan softly. Lauren's hands slip from your breasts and slide around your back. She pulls you toward her and you feel the warmth of her bosoms as they brush yours. Your mouths move together, hands grasping each other's heads as you caress your way around your bodies. Lauren's tongue parts her lips and flicks against yours. You give in to curiosity and desire and let it slip into your mouth. What fire, what electricity! The soft, sweet intruder invades your mouth, brushing and caressing your tongue. You respond the same and she moans deep in her throat. Her grip on you tightens as her hands move to your back. Suddenly she breaks the kiss and begins kissing your cheek and works back to your ear. You feel her tongue dive into it and you let out a soft scream of pleasure. Her sensual energy grows stronger and she moves down to your throat, ever so gently biting your skin. You wriggle with pleasure against her nude chest, breathing in deep gasps. Tender Touch One hand moves down to your behind, where she caresses your smooth, pantied buttocks, occasionally slipping a finger beneath the elastic to tantalize you. The other hand reaches around front and clasps your left breast, raising it so the firm nipple points toward her hungry mouth. You steel yourself for the feeling, but nothing you have experienced has prepared you for the jolt that seizes your body when her wet, full lips plunge down upon your luscious bosom. You feel her hot, sensual tongue circling your areola, moving closer and closer to your nub. When it brushes across the erect button, you suppress a squeal of lust. When her teeth clamp lightly onto it, you let go and cry out in low growls. Lauren's pleasuring is beyond anything you could have imagined, and she isn't even close to done yet. She buries her face between your breasts and breathes deeply, snuggling each one. Suddenly her hands slip into the sides of your panties and you feel her begin to pull them down. Her hands grasp your bare bottom and she pulls you onto your back, sliding your underwear down as she goes. You don't even have time to react before your beautiful, naked sex is revealed to her. She drops your knickers on the floor and casts her gaze over your body. If there was enough light she could see you blushing all over. You've been nude with other women before, but never in this kind of situation. You are so embarrassed, or is it fear? Are you afraid she won't find you attractive? Lauren lets out a long, slow breath. "Oh, God, Sara Beth. God, you're so beautiful." You're too worked up to reply, except to reach for her hand and caressing her fingers. She takes your hand and guides it towards the front of her knickers. Before you even touch the fabric, you can feel the heat radiating from her sex. Her hand places your fingers onto the soft bulge in her underwear. She closes her eyes as you gently rub the wet silk. You feel her pubic hair beneath the cloth. Moving further back you can feel the nub of her clitoris and she gasps. A little further back you can feel her slit parting and you can push the wet material slightly up into her vagina. Lauren begins gyrating her hips and grunting softly at this point. "Oh, Sara, yes. Yes, that's so wonderful." You pull your hand away and grab the elastic of her panties. You pull down, rolling the fabric past the top of her pubic triangle. She raises her knees and slowly pulls them off the rest of the way for you and there she is, kneeling before you in her full glory. Incredibly beautiful. "Oh my," you whisper. "Lauren..." Your hands caress her hips, unsure what to do next. Slowly she moves up between your legs and you part them for her, raising your knees. As she lays forward on top of you, your hands slide to her shoulder blades and caress them. Her hair cascades like a waterfall down around your face, creating a curtain hiding you from the rest of the world and only Lauren's beautiful face, with its sensual lips moving ever-closer towards yours, can be seen. The feeling of her bare breasts pressing into yours makes you breathe deeply, and the new sensation, of her sex as its forest of silk brushes yours and its warmth mingles with the heat from yours, makes you gasp. "Oh, Lauren," you hiss, as her hips begin to move, rubbing her mound against your own. Then her mouth covers yours and you are cast into a world of exquisite silence. For long minutes, maybe even an hour, your two bodies move together as one. From above the scene is beautiful, her naked back and buttocks moving around and your legs all intertwined. Your hands moving up and down her back, stopping often to clutch the firm but smooth mounds of her bottom, and her hands lost in your hair as the two of you kiss passionately. The heat of your sex builds as her motion creates sensual friction, but her motion alone isn't enough to make you come. When she breaks the kiss and comes up for air, she looks into your lust-filled eyes. "Do you want more, Sara?" she asks. Still panting, you gasp a reply. "Yes, Lauren, please. Make love to me." You feel her hands as they spread across your chest, working down towards your breasts. She clutches them softly and kneads them. She pinches your nipples with her fingers just hard enough to make you growl, then she lowers her mouth to them once more and suckles like a baby at the source of your milk. You feel her pulling and tugging like an infant would to draw nourishment from its mother, as if she was trying to draw the nourishment of love from your heart. Her efforts are certainly producing results, as the warmth and wetness of your sex grows rapidly. Slowly Lauren works her way downward from your bosoms, leaving them tender and moist. You shudder as you feel her chin brush through the thick pelt of your mound. Her mouth places angel kisses all around your sex, across the top of your triangle, then down the inside of your left leg and then up the inside of your right leg, ever so close to your blossoming lips. You quake and quiver as she teases your womanhood in her passion. You raise your hips to show her you want more and she lays on her stomach between your legs. Wrapping her hands over the tops of your legs she coaxes them apart, which spreads your already excited labia completely apart. Lauren can see into the depths of your body and she is hungry for what's inside. You feel her cheeks as she snuggles with your sex, gently stimulating you. Her lips brush against your labia, gently parting them, then rub over your clitoris. Up and down she does this, ever so tenderly, allowing your arousal to build. Occasionally her tongue will flick the button of your clitoris or slide between your lips, sending another light jolt through your body. You softly lay your hand on the back of her head and whisper her name sweetly. "Lauren..." Lauren raises her head and you caress her cheek with your fingers. She kisses them and nuzzles with your hand before returning to her work. You scream out in a grunt when you feel her tongue plunge straight down into your sex. You can feel it as it wriggles its way into your vagina and her lips press against your labia and clitoris. This sudden explosion of pleasure almost triggers an orgasm and pushes you right to the edge. She pulls her tongue back and begins to draw circles around your clitoris. You writhe and pump against her as she builds up speed. Again she plunges her tongue inside you and you cry out. This time you feel something give inside your loins and you thrust your sex hard into Lauren's face. You can't help it now as your bottom pumps high up into the air. "Lauren, Lauren!" you gasp hoarsely as you begin to come. Your lover begins licking your clitoris rapidly and you feel her slide two fingers slowly inside your vagina as you buck. The pleasure of her invasion strengthens your orgasm and you buck harder as they wriggle inside you. Lauren can feel the walls of your birth canal clamping and squeezing on her fingers as you come again and again. In reaction to the pleasure your hand shoots down to your sex and grabs her hand, forcing it farther inside you. You pull her into you as far as she will go as you climax for the third time. You can feel her inside as your sex grips her tightly over and over again. "Lauren, oh God, Lauren!" you cry out, trying to repress the volume but finding it difficult. Lauren's tongue continues to flutter against your sex until you call out her name. Then she lifts her face to see your arching back and neck during the throes of orgasm. "Sara, you're so beautiful. Come, my sweet Sara. Come for me. I love you." Her words of love trigger another explosion inside your sex as you spill more of your juices onto the bed, coating Lauren's fingers and hand. She continues to pump her hand, with your help, and whisper sweet words of love to you. The world goes dark around you and all you can think of is the feeling of her inside you and the sweetness of her Irish-lilted words. You wake sometime later with Lauren still between your legs, her cheek resting against your furry sex as she sleeps. Gently, so as not to startle her, you start to caress her head, running your fingers through her hair. She begins to rouse with a soft moan. Slowly she gets up and crawls up beside you on the right and lays down, wrapping her arms around you. You pulls the covers back up over you and you embrace her fully, pulling her sensual form against your aching body. You've felt nothing like what she did to you before. Your whole perception of love and pleasure has changed in one night as you hold the first person who has shown you love and affection in a long time in your arms. Lauren rolls onto her back and you lay your head against one of her breasts. It feels so soft, like when you massage one of your own, but different. You let your hand and fingers explore her small mound of flesh, but soon you find yourself curious about what she had done to you and you lift your head and begin to kiss around her areola and nipple. Already it grows hard before your eyes as you slip your mouth over it. There's nothing like the roughness of a woman's firm nipple in your mouth and you hear the sensual moan from her throat. To have such power over a woman...you tug on it with your teeth and she grunts loudly. You begin to suckle and also rub her other breast. Lauren moans your name over and over again. "Sara, my sweet Sara. Please, please, make love to me. I need you to touch me so much." Her hand brushes through your hair and then cups your cheek. You kiss her palm and them begin kissing down her tummy. You stop and nuzzle her navel, causing her to giggle. As you move further down you begin to smell her arousal. Familiar with your own sexual scent, you still hesitate. You know that it takes the right frame of mind to do this. You know, more than any man, what it takes to pleasure a woman. The scent is all part of the sexual process. It's all a part of lovemaking. If Lauren could brave the unknown for you, then the least you can do is brave it for her. It's all a sign of how much you mean to her... ...You climb over Lauren and slip between her legs, scooting down until you're face is above her sex, your breasts pressing against the sheets. You can see her neatly trimmed bush of silk and the glistening of her parted labia. You've never really appreciated the beauty of your own sex until you see Lauren's, aroused and made hungry by her desire for you. Your hand reaches down and your fingers pull her lips apart. You slowly start to slide on finger inside her sex and you feel her body tense up. This is something you've done to yourself, so starting with it seems like a good idea. You feel the slick inner walls of her vagina as you roll your digit around inside her. She tightens her buttocks and rocks gently against your hand. Your other hand caresses her abdomen, just above where her womb is, and you wonder about her body. She's a woman, just like you, desiring love and passion. Inside is a womb, just like yours, that someday may hold a child. You wonder if it ever will. You wonder if yours ever will. The thought of it makes you wetter. Gently you add a second finger to your action inside Lauren and she moans deeply. The sound of her moisture and the movement of your fingers reminds you of when you touch yourself. You wonder if it feels the same for her as it does you. Then you remember when she did this to you and realize it feels far more wonderful. Maybe now you should... ...Before you can really allow yourself to think about it you lean down and kiss the cleft of Lauren's sex, over her clitoris. She gasps as your tongue begins to circle the erect little organ. Sometimes you slide the flat of your tongue over it and she grunts, bucking her hips and buttocks up off the bed. Your fingers pump faster and you try pushing your tongue inside her a little ways. You realize the taste isn't quite so bad as you thought -- or maybe you've just put it out of your mind enough -- and you try pushing it further in. Lauren cries out. "Oh, Sara. God, God, Sara Beth. Yes, you're so wonderful. So beautiful. Love me, please love me." Your fingers go into overdrive, pounding your fist against her sex as you try to drive your fingers towards her cervix. She begins to scream out her passion as you start sucking on her clitoris. Inside her birth canal you can feel her starting to clench you, trying to trigger her climax. You remember what she had done for you and you want to make her feel as good as she made you feel. "Lauren, Lorien. You're so beautiful. Come, I want you to come for me." She cries out in ecstasy as orgasm sweeps her body. You feel her sex grab you with incredible force and convulse in waves as she climaxes. Her bottom lifts off the bed and her lubrication spills out around your fist and rolls down over her anus and to the sheets below. You keep pounding into her. "Oh, Lauren. I love you, Lauren. Come for me." She screams out your name and you feel her come again. Curious about her reaction, you gently slip the tip of a finger into the moist rosette of her anus. You push it in just a little ways, but that is enough to send your lover over the edge again and she climaxes for a third time. You can feel her sphincter pulsing along with the muscles of her vagina as she explodes once more. "Oh, Sara! Oh my god, my love. Love you, love you..." Her moans subside as her body begins to stop quivering and gyrating. The contractions within her body slowly begin to die away and you gently release her from your attentions. Before moving up you place a long, firm kiss against her mound, and then climb gently on top of her. Lauren's legs wrap around your body as you lay your lovely breasts against hers. The two of you kiss for a long time, not speaking, just kissing and letting the last moments of her passion die away. Her hands caress your bottom, gently gliding her finger tips up and down the valley between your cheeks. You feel her heated sex brushing against yours beneath you. The two of you move together the way a man and woman make love -- the only way you have ever made love before -- but you realize, as you move intimately and tenderly against your new lover, that this is really no different. Centuries of hatred and anger and violence have preceded this moment, and yet it comes clearly to you that, at the heart of the matter, it is only about love. Love and nothing else. And that the woman -- no, the PERSON -- beneath you is very much worth loving. Later on you slide off and lay at Lauren's side, holding each other. In the morning you awaken with her bare breasts pressed into your back and you wonder what the new day is going to bring. You turn to face your new lover and see her sleeping soundly like an angel and decide not to disturb her. In fact, why bother to get up at all, it's nice enough just where you are. END --- Patrick Donovan * Amateur Romantic E-rotica * Share your passion. Tender Touches Author's Note: The following story was a requested work from shybuthorney. He started a thread on the story ideas forum here at Lit and it sparked my interest. I contacted him and with his encouragement, decided to tackle his idea. I do hope you enjoy this story as much as I have enjoyed writing it. Thank you to shybuthorney for allowing me the opportunity to write something for him. ~ Red The rain fell rapidly down the window of Tom's Hyundai Coupe. Mentally he cursed the glowing numbers on the radio that told the hour and minute. He was late and the clock did nothing but drill that fact into his sleepy head. His hand came up to wipe across his tired features. A long, drawn out yawn escaped his lips just before he vigorously shook his head. "Come on, ol' boy, time to wake up," he said to himself. Tom sat up straighter, opened his eyes wide and stared out the rain-slicked window. Soon his lids were growing heavy again and his head bobbed up and down. The sound of a blaring horn and a pair of bright yellow lights coming toward him made Tom jerk the steering wheel, he'd barely been gripping, to the side of the road. The slickness of the rain, the speed of the vehicle, and the over-correcting of Tom's maneuver spelled disaster. Immediately he was awake, his eyes were wide in their sockets and his face frozen in fear as the back end of his car swung around and his grip on the wheel loosened, sending him sliding across the seat. While the car continued to spin out of control, Tom's life flashed before his eyes. He thought it ironic that it didn't take too long and how everything seemed to be in slow motion. His back hurt as it connected solidly to the passenger side of the car. The arm rest jabbed at his ribs and he cried out in pain as his elbow hit the door handle. His teeth rattled in his head as the back of his skull met the window. Just as quickly as it had happened, the car stopped moving, the engine died, and Tom started breathing again. He sat there for a minute, or laid there, depending on how one chose to examine the situation. His tired eyes stared at his legs stretched out before him. He glanced at the seat belt, the metal hook of the unused latch seemed to laugh at him. Tom turned his body around and pulled himself back over to the driver's seat. His hand came up to rub at the knot forming under his short brown hair. When his fingers came away sticky and warm, he grimaced; he didn't need light to tell him he was bleeding. A hard knock on his driver's window made him jump in his seat. Tom turned and stared into another light, this one small but just as bright. He reached out and felt for the handle of the door, pulled it and pushed the metal open. Timidly, almost not quite trusting his feet, Tom stepped out of the car and let the door close behind him. Immediately he was assaulted by rain drops, but soon those were shielded from him by the person holding the light to his face. "Are you alright?" a voice asked. The stranger swept the light up and down Tom's sore figure, before settling it on his face. Tom winced from the invasion to his pupils, lifted his arm and pushed the offensive glare away. The movement, though small, sent his head spinning and he stumbled back against the car. "No, I'd say you're not." Tom groaned, but said nothing as the stranger's hand reached out and gripped his shoulder. "The phone service is down, or I'd call a truck for you and an ambulance." "No. . .that's not necessary," Tom replied, telling himself this accident was his fault and he deserved every bruise he felt. "Are you alright? Did I hit you. . . or anyone else for that matter?" he asked as he glanced past the person with the light and looked up and down the deserted road. "No one else was on the road and my car is fine." Tom sighed. "Good. I'm sorry about all this though," he said and pushed away from the vehicle only to stumble again. This time the stranger caught him with a pair of firm hands, dropping the light and the umbrella they'd been holding. "Maybe I'm a little bruised up," Tom admitted to himself and then heard the soft chuckle of the person who held him up. He blushed, though it went unseen because of the darkness. He wasn't aware he'd spoken out loud, nor had he been aware until that moment that the person he'd almost killed, was a female. "Well, you certainly can't drive. Come with me. The storms not going to let up anytime soon and I don't live too far off the main road." Tom frowned. He didn't know this woman yet he wasn't in any position to refuse her hospitality. With a heavy sigh he accepted her offer with a verbal promise to pay her back for all her troubles. "I'm sure we'll settle it up later, right now, let's just get out of the rain. Do you have anything of importance you need from your car?" Tom turned back to look at his vehicle. It was drive-able, he knew it was, but he also knew the woman was right, he was in no shape to drive. He made a mental sweep of what was in the car and then shook his head, sending a fresh wave of nausea through his system. The woman must have sensed his discomfort because her firm grip on his arm increased. "Good then, let's go," she said and gently led him toward her Vauxhall Astra. Constance Simmons opened the passenger side of her car, helped the young man in and then shut the door securely behind him. She knew she was being stupid. She didn't know this man. He could be an axe-welding, drug lord, on his way to off some man, woman or child who hadn't paid their latest hit. Constance rolled her eyes and laughed at herself as she darted back to the man's vehicle. She felt the rain continue to beat down on her, plastering itself to her clothing which was already soaked through. She grabbed the flashlight and her umbrella, closed the one, turned off the other and half jogged/half walked back to her car. She climbed in and sighed heavily. "Here," she said, turning in her seat and reaching into the back. "It's dirty, but it's dry." A blanket, rough and somewhat smelly, was passed over to Tom. She watched his pale features blanch as the odor of rubbed down horses filled his nostrils. A soft chuckle escaped her lips as she settled it around his wet body. "When we get back to the house I'll find you something clean. Honest." Constance's car had been running and now she swiftly put it into gear, checked her windows and glanced back at her passenger. "Can you buckle up? Or do you need help?" she asked. Tom hesitated for a moment, recalling how he had sailed across the seat of his car because he hadn't been buckled. "I've got it," he said. He reached around, grabbed the strap and pulled it across his blanketed form. When the snap was heard, Constance secured herself and then took off. The drive began in silence. Both occupants very much aware of the other and the fact that they were strangers. "My name's Tom." Constance smiled. "Constance," she said and turned off the main road. "Are you alright? I can't really tell if you're bruised up real bad or not, but you sure were unsteady on your feet back there." "I banged my head and got jabbed in the ribs, but all in all I'm okay." "Well, banging your head doesn't sound good. You could have a concussion, so I'll take a look when we get back to the farm. It means you'll have to stay awake for a while." Tom agreed. "I'll stay awake." At least he hoped he would, after all being tired was what got him in the situation he was in now. Tom leaned his head back and let his lids close slightly. His gaze shifted over the dashboard of Constance's car. There were no frilly things dangling from the mirror, no bobble heads shaking too and fro. The floorboards seemed clean, free of fast food wrappers and various empty Starbucks cups. Completely unlike his car. His hazel green eyes glanced at the woman driving the car. Her hands gripped the wheel with confidence. Her fingers were long and well-manicured, but the nails short as if she had no time for painting and polishing, but was willing to keep herself healthy looking. His gaze traveled up her arms and he didn't fail to notice the strength in them. When his assessment reached her face he was surprised by how pretty she was. She'd mentioned a farm and the blanket she gave him reeked of animals, he just assumed she would look like a hardened and seasoned farmer's wife. She didn't though. She looked confident, mature, and very much aware of herself as an individual. Tom sighed and turned away to study the raindrops sliding down his window. He wouldn't mind being confident, more mature and more aware of his own appeal. He snickered softly... "nothing appealing about me," he muttered. "Huh?" Constance's voice filtered into Tom's mind. He jerked around, grabbed his head and muttered, "Nothing, just talking to myself." Constance smiled, but said nothing else. She watched Tom from the corner of her eye as he pulled the blanket up closer around him and snuggled into it. She took the opportunity to study him, using the glow of the dashboard lights to aid her. He wasn't a tall fellow, she remembered how he barely cleared her five-foot-four height. She estimated him to be an inch taller than her and he weighed less than she did too. She sighed, bound and determine not to focus on her weight, after all hadn't she lost five pounds this week and she knew her jeans were less snug. A smile lifted from her lips as she thought of how fun it had been that morning when she slipped the notch on her belt tighter. "So Tom, where were you headed?" Tom blinked away the sleepiness and answered Constance's question. "I have a meeting up in Hampshire tomorrow morning and I was trying to make the hotel on time. I'm a stickler for time and I was running late, so I was fighting sleep. I really am sorry about almost running you over." Constance reached over and gently squeezed her traveling companion's leg. "No worries. I'm fine; you're somewhat fine and tomorrow you'll make your meeting. I'll drive you up there, unless it looks like your too injured to go. Then you're stuck at my place till you're all better." Tom stared down at the firm grip on his leg and licked his lips. He coughed gently and glanced at Constance. "Sorry," she whispered, pulling her hand away. Tom smiled but said nothing else. They drove in silence, Tom lost in his own thoughts, still feeling the warmth of Constance's hand on his leg and wishing he'd not coughed and brought attention to her personal space invasion. Constance chewed nervously on her lower lip, wondering why she'd reached out and touched the man beside her. It'd been a long time since she'd been with a man. The farm she ran, she ran alone, her father having passed a few months ago, had willed it to her and her mother had refused to return to the place where her life had been horrid (according to her). Constance left her friends behind, including an ex-lover, and she'd made a new life for herself in the thick woods of her Daddy's land. "Yes," she told herself, "you've just been without for too long." Constance made the final turn down a long gravel drive. "I've got several guest rooms. I inherited this place from my Dad. He passed a few months ago." "I'm sorry," Tom answered back, surprised by the sincerity in his voice. He didn't know this woman, but he generally felt empathy for her. She'd been kind to him, taking him in, not screaming her lungs out for his inept driving ability and he could tell in her voice and the quietness in the air that she had cared for the man who had deeded her this land. "Thank you," she replied. Her hand came up and Tom watched her push a button on the visor. Light flooded the front of the car. Tom winced from the invasion and watched as the door to a garage rose up and Constance drove her car into the structure. Soon the door was closing behind them and the sound of beating rain was drowned out by the protection they were surrounded in. Simultaneously they both sighed then glanced at each other. "Let's get you inside and let me take a look at your injuries." Constance opened her door and walked around to Tom's side, where he had already climbed out. She watched him cautiously, to make sure he was steady on his feet. He smiled shyly and waved her away. "Just be careful, these steps are steep." Tom assured her he would and Constance frowned but turned and made her way toward the connecting door that led up to the main part of the house. She unlocked the steel structure, pulled it open and stepped in. Tom followed, his arm brushed casually and innocently across her chest. "Sorry," he muttered and quickened his step to make his way past her. Constance chuckled softly as she watched him nervously scurry into her kitchen. She closed the door, locked it, pulled off her wet jacket, and kicked her muddy and soaked tennis shoes off. "Tom, come back over here and take off those wet clothes. I don't want you tracking mud and water through the house." Tom's eyes grew wide and he shuffled back to her. He pulled the blanket off; Constance took it and sniffed. "Oh, wow... I'm sorry I gave this too you." Tom laughed. "It wasn't that bad," he told her as he took off his shoes and then peeled off his socks. He stood there, in a wet shirt and soaked slacks. Constance stepped back and lifted a brow. "Tom... the laundry room is right there. You're not tracking through this house in those clothes, so strip." "But... right here?" he asked, still not quite believing this woman was expecting him to disrobe in her entryway. "Yes," Constance rolled her eyes and turned around. "There is that better?" she asked. "I'm forty years old, for God's sake. I've seen men in all shapes and sizes." She heard Tom shuffling back and forth and knew he was finally disrobing. "Keep your boxers on if it makes ya feel better," she added, knowing in a way in made her feel better too. She had seen naked men before, after all her profession before taking over her father's little horse farm had been in nursing. There was something about Tom though, she wasn't sure what it was, but she desperately wanted to turn around and get a good look at the man behind her. "Umm... you can turn around now," Tom whispered, coughing quietly to clear his throat. He knew he was being foolish. The woman in front of him was not going to harm him, or attack his lanky form. He wouldn't mind if she did, but realistically he knew it wasn't going to happen. Now that they were in a place where light was ample he could tell the woman before him was not your everyday run of the mill dame. Constance seemed to carry herself with determination and confidence, something Tom had noted earlier in the car. Constance studied the young man before her, tilting her head one way then another as she walked around him. "Just checking for bruises," she told him as she ran her gaze down his form. She let her eyes rest on his chest, before sweeping her gaze down his hips, across his groin and then his legs. Her inquisitive stare moved back up and she took in his wet hair, plastered to his head and then she caught his questioning eyes staring back at her. She felt herself blush as their gazes held for several seconds. "Do you hurt anywhere?" she asked, stepping back and putting some distance between them. "I banged my head pretty good, but all in all that's it." "Oh, yeah, I asked you that already. Let me show you up to a guest room, find you some warm and dry clothes, then I'll take a look at your head." Tom followed her through the kitchen, a dining room, and a well furnished den, before they took the stairs up to the second floor. His eyes wandered from the various pictures that littered the walls, to the antique furnishings. Tom forced himself to concentrate on the scent of the wood that made up Constance's home instead of the scent and sight of the woman that walked in front of him. Her perfume was light, something he hadn't noticed in the car, and the way she moved made his body respond instinctively. He groaned as he took in the gentle sway of her hips. His stomach muscles tightened and he felt his sex thicken slightly. "Great," he thought to himself, "she sees that, she'll kick you out and you'll be walkin' back to the car naked." Constance suddenly stopped and Tom brought himself to a halt. "I think you'll like this room. I just aired it out a couple days ago. Dad never used it after he and mom split up. That was over twenty-two years ago." She opened the door and walked in. Tom followed. "They stayed together until I was eighteen. Then mom took off; I went with her since she was moving to the same city I was going to go to nursing school in." Constance blushed, suddenly realizing she was divulging more of her personal life to the stranger than she had meant to. "Well, anyway, you wait here and I'll go find you something to wear. My dad was a slim man too, so I'm sure I've got something of his you can have. There is a connecting bathroom, if you want to get the chill out of your bones with a hot shower." Tom thanked her and then realized he was cold. Being around Constance, watching her, listening to her, had made him focus on something besides his own discomfort. A shiver suddenly rolled through him and he shut the door behind her before turning to take in the room. It was a simple place in a simple home. The furnishings were old and he would bet a year's wages that the quilt on the bed was handmade. He walked over to what he assumed was the door to the bathroom, opened it and was rewarded with exactly what he wanted, a welcoming room with running water. By the time Constance returned to Tom's room, she was chastising herself for taking her time in finding just the right clothes for her houseguest. "He's probably still standing in his wet boxers and shivering to death," she muttered to herself. She knocked softly on the door, but no answer came to her from the other side. Constance frowned, fearful the young man had lain down and fallen asleep, something that wasn't wise if he suffered from a concussion. She opened the door and stepped in, clutching the clothes against her. The sound of rushing water filtering in from the bathroom, brought a sigh of relief from her parted lips. Constance placed the clothes on the bed and stepped over to the bathroom. "Tom," she called out. "Yes?" his voice came to her muffled by the water that was spraying from the shower nozzle. "I put some clothes on the bed for you. I'm going to be downstairs warming up coffee and something for supper. I don't want you falling asleep until I look at your head, so please come downstairs after you get dressed." "Sounds good," Tom answered back. Constance left and hurried down to the kitchen where she quickly started a fresh pot of coffee and rummaged in her fridge for whatever easy leftovers she had available. When Tom presented himself to her, he was greeted with the rich aroma of coffee and the mouth watering essence of beef stew. His stomach growled loud enough to alert his hostess of his arrival. Constance turned from the sink and smiled. "Have a seat," she said, nodding her head toward the small table in the center of the room. Tom took a seat and waited patiently as Constance presented him with a steaming bowl of soup and a large mug of black liquid. He took a deep breath, enjoying the mingling aromas that greeted him. "This looks and smells wonderful," he said as he lifted his spoon and took a bite of the thick stew. "Tastes good too," he replied then shoveled in more. Constance grinned as Tom devoured the first bowl and didn't balk at being served a second. She was also surprised at the pleasure she was receiving by serving him and seeing him enjoy her cooking. It had been sometime since she'd cooked for a man; she'd forgotten how pleasurable it was to be praised for her culinary skills.