0 comments/ 8353 views/ 0 favorites Roses By: pedicur8her His beloved comes to him at dawn. Always an early riser, he is out in the greenhouse on this summer morning, tending the roses, her favorite pink ones that he grows especially for her. They have a special meaning for the two of them, he sent them to her after their first night together, and she has always remembered and loved him for that. It has been his pleasure to grow them for his beloved so she will always have them to remember him, even though he no longer has to leave her side. She quietly enters the greenhouse as the sun peers over the horizon, washing the land in golden light. He knows she is there; he always does, but pretends not to notice so it won't ruin the delight of her surprise. She steals up behind him, the scent of her perfume sweet in the morning air, her bare feet damp on the tiles. She puts her arms around him and gives him a playful hug, saying, "Good morning, my sweet love!" He turns in mock surprise, a freshly cut rose, petals glistening with dew, its fragrance as fine as any perfume offered out to her, smiling and says, "For you, my beloved." She smiles with delight as she takes it and reaches up on tiptoe to kiss him. He gathers her into his arms and kisses her tenderly, noting how lovely she looks, how her eyes sparkle in the morning light, and how much he loves her, after all this time. She still marvels at the intensity of love this man, her man feels for her, undimmed by the passage of time. They lose themselves in their embrace, each knowing the other's feelings, an intimate connection they have shared through the years, forged by time and love into an almost physical bond between them. They are never alone; even when separated by vast distances; they always feel together as one. Their kisses turn from gentle brushes to touches more passionate as the fire of their love blazes up. The rose falls to the bench as he sweeps her hair back and bends to kiss her neck. He knows his beloved well and she loves feeling this way. Her hands knot in his hair, sighing as delicious shivers pass through her, making her tremble in his arms. She whispers his name and her approval. He continues, hands combing her golden tresses as he returns to her lips briefly, and then down to the other side of her neck. She feels her knees weaken and she sags in his arms, almost in a swoon. He sweeps her up in his arms and sets her on the edge of the bench, taking her face in his hands and kissing her gently and tenderly, stroking her hair until her trembling eases. She wraps her arms around his neck and whispers, "I love you so much," into his ear. He smiles and whispers back, "My love, just hearing you say that makes my life complete," and kisses her again. He notices she is wearing her black silk cami, his favorite, under her gown. It's the same one she wore on their wedding night, long ago. "Are you trying to tell me something?" He asks, playfully eyeing her. She looks up at him, coyly, "I don't know what you're talking about, My Dear, I just came out to see the roses." He runs his fingers lightly down her spine, "I thought you might be sending me a message, dressed like that." She shivers delightedly, "what message would I be sending wearing this old thing?" She says in an innocent voice, as she holds her robe open for his gaze. She can see his desire building as his eyes take her in and she drops her robe, takes his face in her hands, and kisses him ardently. He responds, holding her to him as their mouths merge, tongues dancing and senses reeling in their passion. He feels her hands move to release him and he steps forward as she gently guides him and they slowly merge to become one. They hold each other in a fierce embrace, mouths locked together as they savor the delicious sensations. The sun warms her back and the scent of roses fills the air, their sweet fragrance an intoxicating aphrodisiac. He moves slowly, delighting in the sensual feeling of her silken embrace. He holds her on the edge of the bench as they move into a familiar rhythm. She gasps for air, releasing his mouth as she starts to lose herself in the delightful sensation of their lovemaking. He kisses her neck and throat as she throws her head back and wraps her legs around his waist. His tempo quickens as their fire builds, kindled by the heady perfume of the roses, mixed with their desire. Her hands tangle in his hair, her legs hold him to her tightly, and she feels the sensations rushing through them as they move urgently together. She feels him shudder as their passion courses through them and she feels as if she is falling forever through clouds of pink roses as her senses sweep her away. He hears her soft cry over the roaring in his ears as they climax together. His voice softly repeats his love for her as they hold each other as they shiver together, hearts racing, trembling, slowly returning to earth as the glorious sensations fade to a warm glow. They hold each other closely, rocking slowly back and forth, her head pillowed on his shoulder, his hands gently stroking her back and hair as the fragrant roses sway in the light breeze. Their breathing slows and they share another long tender kiss as they reluctantly part. He picks her up and stands her before him, looking down at her, his eyes softly reflecting the love in he sees in her eyes. She reaches up a finger and catches a tear from the corner of his eye, still amazed at the way he feels for her, how much he loves her. Still amazed that it moves her man to tears just to see her happy and full of love for him, she glances down, picks up the rose and looks at him, smiling over its fragrant petals. Even after all these years he is still the only man she has ever truly loved and she knows by the way he looks at her, that he feels exactly the same way about her. He kisses her softly and takes her hand. Together, they walk out into their garden to greet the morning. The roses sway gently in the breeze almost as if laughing and singing with joy. They live, nurtured by more than just sun and rain, but also the love shared by these two. They know... Roses You come home from class sore, tired and miserable. Your boyfriend has been gone for weeks on a trip, and today was your two year anniversary. You open the door, and almost drop your bags. There is a light trail of petals on the floor, you bend down to inspect them, and you see they're rose petals - thousands of them in all the colors of the rainbow - beautiful reds, pinks, light blues, and brilliant yellows and whites... They adorn the floor like jewels, and you gently step around them, closing the door tenderly to not disturb their slumber. Gathering your ice cream, you quickly bring it to your kitchen - shoving the bags entirely into the freezer, forgetting that your movie "Sleepless in Seattle" is also in the bag. Your mind is on the trail, and where it could lead.... You return to the hall, and slowly follow the roses. You smell their faint fragrances in the air, and become mesmerized by the colors in their random patterns and the alluring scents. Following the fragrance unwittingly into the bathroom you find the lights don't work... You flick the switch once or twice, and finally give up on it. The path leads right to the tub, which is covered in the flowers petals, and is lighted by the many candles adorning the sides. You slowly undress and sink into the tub, feeling the jets lightly massage your sore muscles as you watch floating candles scented of lilac vie for position with the piles of bubbles. You sigh and slip deeper into the warm water, feeling luxurious in it. As you begin to slowly relax, you feel a pair of hands slowly pour water over your head. You shake your hair out, letting it cascade out, shimmering in the candlelight, you jerk in surprise as you feel the blindfold cover your eyes yet I whisper gently in your ear, and you relax again, leaning forward a little to allow me in. I make sure your blindfold is snugly secure, and begin scrubbing your back gently, moving around your body gently massaging your arms, back, neck, working my way down to your beautiful legs. You move gently under my questing fingertips, squirming a little as I tickle you lightly. Turning around you try to remove the blindfold, but I stop your hands, and place them on the sides of the tub. I move around in front of you and begin washing your front with as much gentleness and care as I did your back. I wipe the suds off your shimmering body, slowly planting light kisses from your exquisite mouth to your neck, and down your chest; lightly tickling you w/ my tongue, making you twitch even more, arching your back, trying to get my tongue to touch you more, and all you succeed in doing is putting you legs up out of the water. I catch your legs, and begin rubbing and massaging each one, paying perfect attention to each piece of those amazing legs. You slip down as I lift your legs higher, almost dropping into the tub. You laugh lightly as I let go and quickly grab for your head to save you from going under. We catch each other in a wave of foam, and laughingly embrace. You tear the blindfold off and grasp my head - staring me in the eyes and whispering "I love you, I'm glad you came back." I laugh gently and pull you toward me; we sit in the middle of the tub and begin gently kissing and washing each others bodies, our loving embrace keeping us warm long after the water cools. I gentle carry you to our bed, laying you down in the middle of it, and I return to your massage. Rubbing my way up your legs, I reach your love canal, and amid the scent of the roses strewn around and the candles lighting every corner of the room, I can smell your sweet scent. I gently rub between your legs, making you sigh lightly as I begin rubbing your clit. You reach to cradle my head, but I pull back, and slowly I lower myself down, kissing and licking my way to your center. At my first contact you jump, and get into the rhythm of my tongue and fingers. I work you toward orgasm again and again - only to back off at the last second, sitting on my heels to simply admire your beauty. The light beads of sweat trickling down your chest, your still damp hair spread like a fan against the soft sheets, and as I back off for a third time you groan and declare "Thomas please.... please don't ...." I climb on top of you, lowering my body onto yours, and kiss away your last words. You suddenly come alive -rolling me over and scratching my chest with your nails. "If you won't do it, I will" and with that you slowly settle yourself over my hips, lining yourself up with my attentive soldier. You lean down to kiss me, then drop onto my cock, slamming it home in one motion That initial entry gives you the orgasm I had refused you for so long, and you let out a long groan of pleasure. Slowly you begin riding me, flexing your hips, and driving me home again and again. I find your pace and begin thrusting in time, slowly helping you to a second climax. I reach out one hand, to hold your waist, and you suddenly slap it away, pushing my hand to where our bodies meet, forcing me to play with your clit, urging me to help you have a second orgasm. My other hand snakes its way up your side, finding your breast and nipples. between my finger's attentively pleasuring you, and my diamond hard cock driving into you again and again, you are overwhelmed by a second orgasm, the force of this climax pushing me over the edge, launching my load on my final push, rolling us over again. We fall asleep in each others arms. The next morning, the sun shines into the room, lighting it fully and exposing your beauty to the world. The birds sing you awake, and you sit up looking around for me - the only evidence of last night's adventure is a bouquet of blood red roses sitting on your night stand with a single white rose as the twelfth. Roses Helen sat on the swing in the center of the garden. Her legs drifted back and forth slowly as she listlessly looked up at the clouds in the grey thick opaque sky. A glimmer of light flashed in her pale blue eyes and she turned her head, suddenly alive as something rustled in the rose bush. Out pranced her rotund calico cat, proudly displaying a small bird in its jaws. She smiled, but the brightness in her pupils faded. She stood from the swing and took a few steps towards the rose bush, kneeling to smell a huge red rose. The moss carpet covering the ground felt soft underfoot. When a breeze drifted by, she shivered as it penetrated through her thin pink silk slip. The slip covered her body but revealed the outline of all her curves: the swell of her ample breasts with her pointed nipples, the wave of her back turning into a firm perky butt. The cat wandered away and she turned to bury her nose into another rose. So intoxicated by its scent, Helen did not notice the other woman come up behind her to embrace her body and plant a soft warm kiss on her neck. Helen burst into movement, turning around and returning the embrace. She had planned this outing for their Valentine's Day. Her beautiful girlfriend, Chris, wore fitted pale khaki slacks and loose-fitting white v-neck. On her way in she had set down the picnic basket and blanket Helen had asked her to bring. The hugs turned into kisses. They took pleasure in the feel of each other's bodies, pressed together, but soon Helen pulled them apart. "Isn't this garden amazing?!" Helen exclaimed. "My sister and I used to come here all the time." "It really is," Chris remarked, looking around. Helen noticed a Chris' expression hardened a bit at the mention of her sister. She probably shouldn't have told her about how close she and her sister used to be. It made Chris jealous and uneasy thinking about that. Trying to change the subject, Helen skipped over to the picnic basket and began to spread the blanket on the moss in front of the swing. "What did you bring?" she asked. "Oh. Something special for you of course," Chris smiled and leaned to open the basket. Her tight pants showed off her long legs and when Chris leaned over Helen could see a small lacy bra under her white tee. Chris brought out a bottle of wine and corkscrew and handed them to Helen. "Mmmm! Thank you so much!" Helen gasped. "It's an expensive one!" She began to open it. Chris held out two glasses and Helen poured them full. Setting the bottle on the top of the basket, Helen took her glass and cuddled into Chris' lap, her head on her chest, and sighed deeply. They both drank and watched the bees buzzing and butterflies fluttering about the radiant flowers. Bounding out of the bushes after a squirrel, the calico ran into Chris' arm, spilling the entire contents of her wine glass onto Helen. "Behave kitty!" Helen shouted angrily, sitting up straight. A dark red stain began to spread on the front of her dress, the fabric clinging to her breast where it was moistened. Helen looked down at her ruined dress angrily. "I got this just for today, for Valentine's Day, for us..." She shouldn't have been in a bad mood, but she felt as though there was hardly anything to get excited about anymore. She had loved the feel of the silk on her body and thought that it flattered her well and that Chris definitely noticed it. "Here, let me help," Chris got a towel out of the basket and reached to mop up the mess on Helen's chest. The blot grew larger and soon the towel was soaked as well. "Here," Chris grabbed onto the hem of the dress and lifted it up over Helen's head. Besides her long brown wavy locks of hair, Helen sat completely nude in front of Chris. Her skin prickled at the contact with the cold air. The dress and the spill and the task at hand forgotten, Helen felt Chris lightly kiss the top of her breast. She moaned softly as Chris kissed the top of the other and then wrapped her mouth around Helen's left nipple. Chris' soft tongue lapped and sucked on the nipple until it stood pointed hard. She took the other nipple now, sucking, her hand cupping Helen's breast. Helen began to breathe hard, feeling herself getting wet between her legs. Chris paused, lifting her face from Helen's chest to sit back and pull off her top and slide out of her pants. They kissed: Helen naked and Chris in her white bra and tiny panties. Chris pushed Helen onto her back, straddling to lay over her. They each reached a hand to arch to the other's pubic mound. Helen began to rub softly then circled her fingers focusing on Chris' clit. Chris followed her movements and they both began to breathe hard and grind their hips against each other. Helen slid her hand down to feel Chris' wet opening, slipping a finger in and then slipping it out to again press on the clit. She heard Chris gasp with pleasure and continued faster. She was getting close, her hips bucking against Chris' hand. Moving together, neither noticed they had moved towards the rose bush. Helen stuck her fingers in Chris again, hard, and Chris moaned, leaning up, coming hard. Her back arched into the bush, pricking her skin with a dozen tiny thorns. Breathing, coming down from the orgasm, Chris gained control of her hand again and thrust it hard, deep into Helen. Helen cried out, her legs spread wide. Drips of blood tickled from Chris' back onto Helen's stomach. Chris pounded hard, rough and fast into Helen. Helen's hands clung down behind her, gripping moss in her fists. As Chris thrust deep again, Helen could not control herself anymore and came. Juices covered Chris' hand and Helen screamed out, shuddering and shaking. Chris pulled her fingers out of Helen and their lips met in a passionate kiss. Their tongues fought for space and control, their mouths working on each other, their breaths hot from the exertions. Helen and Chris' bodies pressed together, wrapping around each other, the blood that had dripped down smearing between them, messy and slick and red. So close to the bushes they could both smell the fragrance of the roses wafting around their bodies. They lay intertwined, sleepy, and the blood on them dried into a dark brown. Roses and a Massage I knew he had something planned for me the minute I walked into the house, this last work day of a very long and trying week. The beginning of this particular weekend shows great promise. I drop my purse and keys to the table that stands just inside the front door before turning to close and lock the door of our house. A slight grin/smile crosses my lips as I spy the short, sheer, pink robe that I have never seen before, hanging on the inside of the door. The note is short, but I do as told. I slowly remove my blouse. I take one button at a time from its hole then let it slide down my arms to the floor. I carefully remove my heels, and then unfasten the closure of my skirt so that it slides to the floor to lie atop my blouse. I turn to check my hair and make up in the mirror on the wall above the table as I reach to my back to unfasten my bra and my eyes collide with his in the mirror. I have spotted him watching me from his semi-hidden spot across the room behind me. I hold his eye, smiling more fully as my bra joins the rest of my clothing on the floor at my feet, watching him in the mirror as he licks his lips. I reach up with both hands and run my fingers through my hair, shaking it loose. His eyes widen as he sees my nipples hardening in their reflection of the mirror. I break the hold of our eyes so that I can put the sheer cover up on. The rose blushes of my nipples peek through the sheer pink fabric of the robe. I turn to him as I finish tying the belt and smile a most mischievous smile seeing how his body is reacting to seeing my pleasure in the plans he has for me; for us. He crooks his finger at me, urging me to come to him. As I nearly get to him, he turns and starts to walk down the hall to our room, knowing that my curiosity will have me following him. My surprise is heightened as the lights are dim and rose scented candles are placed throughout the room. I inhale the intoxicating aroma. He walks through our room, going into the connecting bathroom, with me close on his heels, where I find more candles and the relaxing scent of roses. But the scent of roses in the air comes from the yellow roses placed around the room. It's warm and damp in here, steam rising from the oversized tub that easily fits two. When he turns to face me, he is pleased to see the pleasure written on my face due to his efforts. My love for him is clearly seen in the shimmer of my eyes. I mouth the words to him. He walks back to me since I stopped in awe just inside the door to the bathroom. His arms go around my waist, mine around his shoulders, in a tight embrace; our first since I have arrived home. "Hi you," he whispers in my ear as he kisses my temple. "Hi back," I whisper smiling into his eyes. A simple "Thank you" isn't quite enough for me to express myself to him, so I take his face between my hands and thank him from the bottom of my heart in the tongue searing kiss I give him. He reluctantly pulls away slightly, keeping his hands on my hips with my hands on his arms. Then he lightly tugs on one end of the tie around my waist, putting a hand on each side of the opening of my robe he runs his hands down the valley of my breasts, separating the robe to completely reveal my nude body, up over my shoulders to take the robe over my shoulders so that it slides down my arms and falls to the floor. He steps back to me and takes my face in his hands for another deep kiss. Our bare chests touch; I feel his arousal jerk against my stomach with the feel of my hard nipples against his chest. While we kiss, I unfasten the front of his shorts and slide them down over his hips and he is quickly undressed as the shorts were the only clothing he'd been wearing. His hard cock is hot against the skin of my belly and I take it in my hand to stroke it as we continue to kiss. But he doesn't allow me much time to caress him because he is intent upon continuing his plans to pleasure me tonight. The kiss is mutually broken as he takes my hand in his so he can lead me to the tub of still steaming water. As I carefully step in to the deep bath, I feel the silkiness of the water and notice for the first time the rose petals floating on the water and the rose scent of the oil in the water. He sits down behind me and pulls me to the juncture of his legs, being pulled back gently by my shoulders to lean my back on his chest. His hands are warm and soft as they begin to caress my shoulders while his lips kiss my ears. I sigh and relax deeper as my eyes close to luxuriate in the senses screaming out the pleasure in my body. His tongue licks just under my ear, his teeth nibble my ear lobe. Shivers run down my spine and I moan my pleasure to him. His lips leave my ear and kiss along my jaw line around to my mouth; he takes it for a deep kiss. After a moment, he breaks the kiss, and puts his arms around me under my arms so he can soap a pouffie to wash me with. The soap is smooth and slippery under the pouffie as it circles my breasts. Each nipple hardens as it receives attention in turn. He runs his hands across my slick skin, stroking away the day's cares. I lean back into him and let him have his way. Gently, and slowly he laves my body. I can feel myself relaxing, sinking into the heat and the scent and the attentions. When he gets to my groin, he hesitates – until I open for him to continue. He washes me with deep affection, paying careful attention to my most intimate folds and creases. I can feel myself begin to shiver again, but not with cold. He carefully places the cloth on the side of the tub. "Time for your hair," he whispers into my ear; smiling. He reaches for the hose, turns the dial to a hard spray, and leans me back onto his chest. With the spray in one hand, he begins to soap my hair with the other, taking care not to get the lather on my face. When the foam is dripping, he shuts off the spray and begins to use his wonderful fingers to massage my hair and scalp. He knows where each muscle begins and ends and manages to stretch each one until it relaxes. His kneading makes the roots of my hair tingle, and I love him even more for taking the time for this special treat. Before long, he reaches for the hose again, and with equal care, rinses the lather from my hair. Not a drop even got close to my eyes, and my ears remained dry. How does he do that? Gently he lifts me as he stands. He continues rinsing with the hose, chasing the lather down my glowing body with the stream of warm water. With equal attentiveness, he uses the streaming water to rinse under my breasts and between my legs. I can feel the water play around my clit and I almost sag back into the bath with the pleasure. Then he turns the spray on my little brown hole, which puckers at the unexpected assault. The sensations there are almost as intense as when on my clit, and I surprise myself with a moan of pleasure. Too soon the stream of water is turned off. I open my eyes to see him smiling and holding a large cotton bath sheet. He approaches and wraps me in it and in his arms at the same time – I am surprised to find that the towel is warm and snuggly soft. We step from the bath onto the soft mat at the base of the tub. He uses the towel as a venue for running his hands over my tingling body - yes, drying, but not in any way I have ever dried myself after a shower. Each stroke holds hidden sensuality. He spends extra time holding and squeezing the soft, moist flesh, now quivering with desire. With long swipes he towels my arms and back, drying and playing at the same time. He fondles my breasts, being sure to dry under beneath them. He kneels to dry my lower body. He strokes my pussy, again paying special attention to the creases outside my labia. His towel covered hand slows as it dries my ass, nudging, pushing and then is gone. Again the long strokes taking the water from my legs, drying my feet, and then back up my legs to where they join at my fuzzy thatch. He leads me to the bedroom, and sits me on the side of the bed. A fresh towel is used to dry my hair. Again, he takes time to make sure the job is done right. So gentle, so thorough. He loves me, and I him. After several long delicious minutes, he wraps the towel around my head turban style and urges me to lie on the bed. I sprawl face down, relaxed, glowing and squeaky clean. Some soft instrumental music floats across the room from some where; the smell of the rose petals on the bed makes me dizzy with delight. I feel his weight join me on the mattress. He covers my exposed flesh with a light sheet. "It is important that you do not chill," he whispers hoarsely. His oiled hands gently touch me on the nape of the neck. The oil is warm and soothing as he begins to knead out the bunched up muscles, to stretch the tension out of them. He works my neck and all I can do is moan my pleasure. There is a slight pause to pour on some more warm oil. His hands turn to one shoulder, making sure that each muscle gets adequate treatment, not moving on until the objective is reached and the muscle is soft and pliant. He continues down my arm with the same methodical treatment – find a muscle, stretch and knead it until it is soft and pliable as wet spaghetti. Then move on to the next. When he finishes a part, he makes sure it is covered with the sheet. When he gets to my hands, he continues – kneading and stretching the muscles in the palm, and across the back of my hand. He even works each finger down to the very tips. Flexing, extending, massaging. When he finished every finger, he covered that arm and began on the other. When finished with that arm, and it is modestly covered, he begins anew between my shoulder blades. I had not known there were so many spots needing to be touched, so many touches to be had. His smooth, warmed and oiled hands kneading away cares, relaxing tensions and causing me to sink into a warm rose scented euphoric glow. Carefully he covers my shoulders and back and begins on my butt. I have anticipated this moment, expecting to be roused again and finish with some good sex. But he surprises me. Instead of grabbing with one hand on each cheek, he concentrates on one at a time. Again, he can find muscles in my hip and buttock that I did not know were there. Again, each is stretched, teased, massaged and relaxed until I am a puddle of flesh, unable to move. When that cheek is finished and covered, he continues down the leg – much as he did my arms. Then the ankle and the foot. Running his thumbs from ball of foot to heel, a tingle courses up my legs. It is not pain, but a sharp, electric jolt that awakens me, yet calms me at the same time. He spends equal time on my toes as he did with my fingers. When that leg is done and draped, he returns to the other buttock and begins again. Minutes and years later, he has finished. I am rubbed and oiled from nape to toe, muscles like jelly and just moments from sleep. "Flip over," his voice sinks in from far away. "I can't," I mumble into the bed sheets – at least I think I actually say it. I felt him bring my outstretched arms back down to my sides. He crossed my ankles and with a flick of his wrist I found myself on my back. He carefully placed my hands across my belly and draped me again. He moved up toward my head and knelt there, with one knee by each ear. I looked up at him upside down. I couldn't help but notice that he was still naked (and apparently not chilled). His cock was at full attention, hovering just over my forehead. Gently he placed one thumb above each of my eyebrows and began a gentle kneading motion. My eyes closed of their own accord. Again, he found each muscle in my skull and face and convinced them to relax. His hands worked down my neck to one until he was just above my breast. He gently stretched my pectoral muscle, seeming to ignore the throbbing nipple just south of there. Then the other muscle. His warm hands circled around under the curve of my breast, gently teasing, and began working on the muscles of my belly. As he continued down, he was reaching over my supine body. I could feel the heat of him on my face. The lower he got, the more aroused I became. Finally I opened my eyes and found I was 'face to face' with his erection. I could see the pre-cum glistening on the tip of him. Spontaneously I raised my tongue to taste the gleaming diamond of his desire. He twitched, but did not stop his work on me. He had reached my groin area. I spread my legs ever so slightly to give him room to work. He continued with the massage, focusing on the muscles of my upper thigh, beginning with the outside ones. His warm, slick hands glided over my flesh. I could still taste him on my tongue when his fingers brushed over my clit. They did not stay long, just grazed over on the way to the other thigh. The throb that hit me was almost an orgasm of its own. It certainly predicted what was about to happen. He finished the other outside thigh at the knee and began working his way back up my inner thigh. I felt myself beginning to get wet in anticipation. When he arrived at my lips, he tarried around the outside corners. Tickling, probing, and teasing. My thighs parted even further, begging him to continue. His fingers darted across the opening, dipping into the sauce, then using it to massage more, getting closer to my clit. I was squirming and whining by this time, and realized that he had pinned me to the bed with his legs. I opened my eyes and was rewarded by the other end of him, his ass, his balls and the base of his straining cock. Quickly my eyes shut again as he got to work on my clit, this time in earnest. His fingers plunged into me and found my g-spot, at the same time that his tongue found my clit. I wrapped my arms around his legs and began to shiver with a building orgasm. He set the pace, thrust; lick, thrust, lick and I bucked once and plunged over the edge – riding him as wave upon wave of pleasure crashed over me. He kept time with me; never letting me hit bottom, but not keeping me too long at the top. After what seemed like an eternity of bliss, he finally let me slow down; easing me to a soft landing and caressing me into a state of relative calm. I whimpered as he took his weight off of me, to reverse his position. Then sighed as he lay with me again, covering me with his warmth and kisses. Just when I thought I could go no more, I found myself responding to those kisses. My breathing got faster, my heart was pounding. I reached for him and found him hard and as ready to enter me as I was ready to have him in me. He kissed me deeply and lovingly as he positioned himself. I acted as guide (as if he needed one) and placed him at the entrance to my dripping pussy. He moved forward slowly and I could feel him stretch the tissues in passing. He only entered a short way, but it brought a gasp to my lips, and my back arched to receive more. But he waited – when I eased down again, he began a slow, deep thrust – from tip to base. And just as slowly withdrew until his head was all that remained in me. Again the slow thrust, and again the slow withdrawal until I thought I could not stand it any more. I opened my eyes and found him looking at me. He must have seen the pleading in my eyes (or he could feel his own eruption building) because he began to move a little faster. He varied the strokes, some deep and some shallow, but always with that relentless tide building in both of us. After a bit, I could see his passion in his eyes. He began thrusting deeply with every move, and it drove me over my own brink. "Oh, Yesssss! I'm cumminnng!" was all I could scream. And as my spasm started, I could hear him groaning my name and feel his cock stiffen. He slammed it into me deeply and I could feel his cum spurting deep into me. And that made me cum harder. We shuddered together, frozen into the timeless posture of love. As our spasms subsided, we both managed to breathe again. He looked into my eyes and whispered, "Missy, I love you." My only response to him as I curled into his body with a smile still on my face, putting my head on his shoulder as his arm went around me, and I drifted off to sleep was "Ditto." Roses and a Stranger She's already bound to the plain wooden chair, a harness of hemp rope criss-crossing her body, when the soft knock comes, so gentle it's almost inaudible. She might have thought she was imagining it, but for the sweep of headlights that had preceded it, the "shush" of tires over gravel. He emerges from the shadows, checking her gag before opening the door. "I hope you found the house okay," he murmurs as he takes her coat. The woman comes into view, shaking droplets of rain off her short hair and looking around the living room curiously, eyes dancing over the bound and seated figure. She's compact, curvy, and moves with efficient competence, and her short dress hints tantalizingly at what lies just a few inches up her creamy thighs, fabric snug enough that she can see the lace of the woman's bra. "No trouble," she says, her voice low and cultured. Something about it makes her feel slightly hot and she squirms in the chair, feeling the hemp tighten against her panties. The woman laughs in a short, breathy way. "Is that her?" "Yes," he says, twisting his wedding ring nervously. "She really is quite naughty. I can see why you'd like to punish her." The woman walks over, feet catlike on the hard wooden floors, and walks around the seated figure, taking her time. It feels like being x-rayed, and she suddenly feels very vulnerable, nipples hardening between the criss-cross of rope, panties moist. The woman's cool, soft hands brush against her skin as she tests the bonds, makes sure the gag is tight, and when she makes n involuntary noise, the woman pulls back, picks up a rose from the spray on the table, slashes across her chest with it. The move catches her by surprise, the supple stem whipping her flesh between the lines of rope, and a thorn catches the edge of her nipple, bringing up a single drop of blood. The woman strikes her again, and one more time, before putting the bloom down. A few petals have scattered across the floor and her spiked heels crush them as she leans in, whispering in her ear, too low for her husband to hear. "I think we understand each other now," she says. Her husband watches, wide-eyed, as the woman picks up another rose, kicking off her heels and crossing the floor. She runs the bloom along his jaw before pulling him closer, saying something the seated woman can't hear, and the two laugh quietly as they pull away. She skims his chest with her hands, pulling his shirt up and over his shoulders, tossing it away somewhere behind him. The woman sighs as she brushes the rose across his chest, watching his nipples slowly grow taut and swell at the sensation and in the slightly cool breeze of the living room. She smiles as she pushes him back onto the couch, straddling him and leaning forward to kiss him in a confident, controlling way that makes the seated woman squirm in her bonds again. The woman turns, giving her a long look, and she tries to control herself, clenching her fingers into her palms, knowing she's leaving little half-moon marks behind. The woman kisses him again, trailing down the length of his jaw, his chest, pausing to nibble at his nipple, making him gasp. Her hands trace along with his mouth, lightly and then more firmly at first, nails leaving delicate marks behind him. She knows he must be getting hard, but the woman doesn't betray it if she's noticed. He moves his hands towards her short hem but she brushes them away, forcing them onto the couch beside him and holding them with her own while she leans forward again, moving her mouth against his, brushing her lips against his ear, making him shift uncomfortably under her weight and her careful, deliberate attention. "You like this?" She asks. He groans, and she smiles, turning triumphantly to his wife. She picks up the rose again as she stands and returns to the chair, standing for a moment in front of the seated figure, watching as she trembles before unexpectedly striking out with the flower, this time across her left thigh, the blossom just barely skimming the complex knots that weave around her panties. She jerks, and the woman frowns. "I thought you were learning," she said, striking her on the other thigh, and again, bringing it closer and closer to her pussy. Her eyes are wide above the gag and she makes a small noise, the woman leaning forward to sharply twist her nipple. "Silence," she says, bringing the stem across her breasts. Spent, it fractures across them, thorns digging at her skin. The woman turns, slowly, and unzips her dress, letting it pool on the floor around her as it reveals her lacy deep red undergarments. She steps out of the dress, kicking it aside as she crosses the room again, straddling him, and this time she doesn't protest as he undoes her bra, letting her full breasts swing free for a moment. He greedily sucks on one and then the other as she arches her back, moaning, and the woman in the chair feels herself getting wet as she watches. The woman is breathing heavily now as she turns, making sure the woman in the chair can see as she unzips her husband's pants. He raises his hips, making it easier for her to tug them off, making the bulge in his boxer-briefs visible. The woman smiles, cupping it with her hand before turning to his wife. "You like to watch? You want to see how a real woman pleases your man?" The woman doesn't move, uncertain. "Answer me," the woman says, in a low, dangerous voice. She nods, feeling the rasp of the rope against her, and the woman narrows her eyes, pulling his underwear away so his cock can spring free. She thoughtfully runs her hand along it, rolling her palm across the tip for a moment before gracefully folding her legs under her so she's kneeling in a seated position in front of him. She takes up another rose and runs the silky flower along his shaft. When he twitches, she brings it down sharply across his stomach, leaving a welt, and he gasps. "You're as naughty as she is," she says. She leans forward, gently brushing his cock with her lips, bringing him so close to the edge that he almost bursts, and then leans away. He brings his hands down to her head and runs his fingers through her hair, trying to pull her forward again, but she shakes him off. "You're too impatient." She stands and then straddles him again. His cock strains against her but she ignores it as she kisses him, letting him taste his precum as she runs her hands down his chest, gently brushes his cock with the very tips of her fingers. He takes her breasts in his hands, rolling her nipples in his fingers. "Good," she breathes, before guiding one of his hands into her lace panties. He looks at his wife uncertainly, and then moves one finger, then another, fluttering them carefully like he's afraid the woman will pull away again. "Gentle," she says, as she kisses him and pulls away, standing to pace the room back to his wife. He moves to grab his aching shaft, but she turns, shaking her head. "Ah ah," she says. "That's for me." "You're not going to speak if I take this off, are you?" She shakes her head, and the woman gently undoes the silk ties, letting her breasts brush forward as she does. Her panties get even damper as the silky skin brushes against her own, and the woman dips a finger into her lacy briefs before brushing it against her lips. "Taste," she says. "You like the taste of his hands on me?" "Y-yes," she stutters. "Look at him." She obeys. "You see how hot he is for me?" "Y-yes." "Good," she says, retying the gag and carefully checking her bonds again. Once she's satisfied, she pulls a clamp off the table behind her, gently lowers it over her nipple, releases. The woman in the chair arches her back against her bonds as the sweet sting floods across her, and the woman attaches another, linking them by a fine chain and running it down her chest to her aching pussy. Her lips are so swollen that they're pushing against the rope, and the woman smirks. "Don't move," she advises, and the woman sees why when even the slight movement of attaching the chain pulls at the clamps, making her spasm with exquisite agony. The movement pulls at them again, and this time she tries to force herself to hold still, but the woman gently brushes against the skin around her nipple and it's like an electric shock, making her twitch again. This time it's a blaze across her body, and she feels something come loose in her cunt, a burst of wetness. It makes her feel like she's floating for a moment, and by the time she looks back up, the woman has crossed the floor again, kneeled. "Let's see if we can take care of that, shall we? She seems to be a little tied up." She brings her tongue to the tip of his glistening cock, runs it thoughtfully across it and down the shaft before closing her lips around it, gently bringing her mouth down and back up, teasing his balls with her hands. He groans and runs his fingers through her hair, but every time he's about to come, she pulls back. The woman in the chair watches as his cock seems to get harder and harder, and finally the woman plunges her head, holding nearly his whole cock in her mouth, and he groans, coming hard and fast, his face contorted. The woman in the chair wonders if he's ever looked like that fucking her, and the woman in the red panties seems to sense it as she stands, walking back across the floor. The woman doesn't need to ask if she'll be quiet before she takes the gag off this time. She pulls slyly at one of the nipple clamps as she leans forward, giving her a lingering kiss. She can feel the taste of her husband on the woman's lips, dripping down the back of her throat, and she bucks under the woman's hands, but the woman doesn't relent. She squirms and moans, making the woman tug the delicate silver chain, and the woman skims her hand into the rope around her pussy, soaked through with her cum. "You do like to watch," she says, glancing over her shoulder at the man, who lies spent on the couch. She unclips one nipple and then the other, and the sudden rush of blood makes her shudder as another flood of cum soaks the rope. "You can untie her long enough to service me," the woman says in her silky, deep voice, and the man rises slowly, his cock already rising again. He unwraps his wife slowly, carefully, like a package, and when the woman loses patience and slaps him with another rose, he picks up the pace. Finally she's loose, trembling in the chair with loops of rope scattered across the floor, and the woman pulls her upright. "Restrain her," the woman says, and he does, pulling her arms behind her back and locking them in leather cuffs. The woman sits in the chair, surveying them for a moment. "Make her kneel," she says, and he pushes her down so she's kneeling between the woman's thighs while he stands behind her. His cock is rock-hard again, and it brushes against her as he moves. "Take these off," she says gesturing at her panties, and he moves forward obediently, reaching out. "Not you. Her." He steps back, and his hand strays to his cock as she leans forward, grasping the edge of the woman's underwear in her teeth, preparing to pull them down. "Stop that," the woman says, reaching behind her for a rose and whacking him so quickly that the movement is almost instantaneous. He lowers his hands. "Go sit down," she says. His wife has pulled the woman's underwear down, tasting the slightly spicy scent of her, and the woman steps out of them, pushing them aside with a delicate foot. She guides her hands behind her head, pulling it forward, and the woman darts her tongue out carefully, running it along her lips, feeling her move under her mouth. She twists and winds her tongue around the woman's clit, which is hardening under her attentions, and smiles to herself. "Don't be smug," the woman says, lashing her across the back with one of the flowers. The woman tastes like cinnamon and apricots and honey, filling quickly with cream, but her body remains nearly motionless. It becomes almost a challenge, a game, trying to get her to make a move or a sound that wasn't deliberately, carefully planned. Finally, the wife succeeds, the woman jolting across the chair, a gush of cum streaming across it and trickling onto the floor. "Good," she hisses, standing. "Now clear up your mess." She watches as the wife licks the chair, tapping her foot against the floor until it's clean again, and then the woman undoes her hands, forces her to sit again, ties her smoothly and efficiently. This harness is much simpler, a series of delicate crosses to keep her bound to the chair while leaving her tits and cunt exposed. The woman steps back for a moment to look her over, and seems indecisive for a moment. "Hmm," she says. "Can you be a good girl for me?" The woman nods, the taste of cum still filling her mouth. "I wonder," the woman says, thoughtfully. She turns to the table again, picking up the clamps and reattaching them, but this time she has another pair, and she stations them carefully along the lips of her pussy, smiling to herself when she's rewarded by a jerk and a sudden intake of breath. "Please," the seated woman says. "I told you to be a good girl," she says. "Good girls don't speak unless spoken to." She gags her again and then attaches the silver chain, watching the wife twist under her fingers. "That should keep her busy for a while," she says, turning back to the man on the couch. She picks up an object from the table and kneels in front of him, slipping it carefully over his cock and securing it. His dick quickly engorges, pulling away from his body, and the woman smiles as she carefully lowers herself onto it, moving slowly at first, and then more quickly, stopping when she senses that he's about to come. He's groaning and she breathes heavily as the woman in the chair watches, tears of pain springing to her eyes every time she moves. She stands, and he groans with frustration as the woman looks at him, smiling. Her cum drips across the floor and finally he rises, unable to take it anymore, kissing her fiercely, hands running along her body as he pushes her across the room, slams her into the wall, takes her in a few hard, sharp thrusts. She screams, guttural, and he shouts as he comes, but when he tries to pull out, she holds him there, digging her nails into his back, pulling them both to the floor in a tangle of limbs. They breathe heavily there, the smell of sex and sweat filling the room as the woman in the chair moans with need. Finally the woman lets him go, and he stands up, his softened cock already stirring again. He brushes her breasts with his hands as she stands on tiptoes to murmur something into his ear, laughing, and brings her hands expertly down to his cock, coaxing it into hardness again. His wife watches as they cross the room to stand in front of her, and the woman leans down to pull gently at the chain. "You liked watching that, didn't you? You wish that was you, against the wall?" She nods, and the woman twists the chain in her hand. She squirts, the fluid spattering across the floor as her body strains against the chair and then collapses again. The woman reaches down, flicking a finger against her clit, feeling it swell, and even though it's so sensitive that she almost can't bear it, the woman still moves her hand against it, clearly pleased by how slick she is. "You're a naughty girl," she said. "You're supposed to save yourself for your husband." The woman in the chair twists, and she reaches to the table again, pulling out a vibrator, which buzzes menacingly as she lowers it, teases it along the length of her dripping cunt, pushes it against her throbbing clit. It makes the chain jangle, pulling at her nipples, and she can see her husband getting hard as he watches, finally leaning forward to run his hands along her exposed skin, leaving a trail like fire behind. She cums again and again against the vibrator — she can't help herself — and each time, the woman scolds her. Finally she puts the vibrator away, but when she turns back, she's holding a huge dildo. The woman in the chair makes a small noise and the woman leans forward to unclip one nipple and then the other, then her lips, making her groan against the gag. "Good girls doesn't need to be punished," she says, as she slides the dildo in, making her feel painfully full, and then anchors it in place with a new tie, leaving the woman impaled on its shaft. The woman smirks as she pulls her husband back to the couch and sits, leaning back. "Fuck me," she says, "and let your little wife see how it's really done." He sinks the whole of his cock into her and she moans, telling him to go harder, faster, as the two shudder and groan on the couch. The cock ring forces him to stay hard for far longer than he's ever kept it up for her, and the woman seems to relish her pounding, running her hands down his back, leaving gouges with her nails. She comes again and again, in waves, and finally they both come together, lying entwined on the couch. She kisses his lazily and he runs a hand along her spine, grasping her ass tightly for a moment. Her nipples are hard and her cunt is, unbelievably, still trickling cum. Eventually she stands up, crosses the room to pull the dildo out of the woman on the chair but leaving her tied in place, helpless. She puts her bra back on, tucking her perfect breasts away again although her nipples are still hard through the fabric, and she steps back into the dress and her heels. "She's all opened up for you," the woman says, "and I think she learned her lesson." He was too exhausted to move, so he watched her mutely as she crossed the room, carefully picked her coat off the rack, opened the door, leaving the wife fully visible to anyone who might be passing by. "Happy Valentine's Day," she said, slipping out and quietly closing it behind her. It's only later that they realize she left her panties behind. Roses and Ropes, I Love Your Friend This is a Valentine's Day contest story. Please vote. * A wife makes a Valentine Day deal with her husband never believing that he'd go through with it. Today was the day. It was Valentine's Day. Even though I knew Jason wouldn't, couldn't possibly do it, knowing him, I knew he would do it. Over the years, he had grown sick, twisted, and perverted enough to do it. I wouldn't put it past him to do it, only I hoped to God he didn't do it. A bet is a bet and if he did do it, I was fucked and I'd have to keep my end of the bargain, otherwise, he'd make my life holy Hell and I'd never hear the end of it. I never should have married him, especially after meeting his best friend Tom. If I could change any one thing in my life, it would be marrying Tom, the best man at our wedding, instead of Jason. Yet, before we married, Jason was different back then. So loving and caring, he adored me and I loved him, I truly did. Now, believing that I want every man, jealousy has twisted him. So insecure, if only he'd stop all the nonsense about asking me if I liked this friend or that friend, which one of his friends would I have sex with if I were cheating on him, and if he were dead, which one of his friends would I marry. "Stop! Just stop! Enough. None of them! I'd have sex with and/or marry none of your friends because they are all fucked in the head and as twisted and perverted as you are. I'd become a Nun or a lesbian, before I allowed any of your friends to touch me." I was so nervous walking up to the house. I looked to see if I could see anything in the windows, but all the drapes were drawn. Loving how the sun lights up and warms my little house, I never pull the drapes close. Seeing the drapes pulled shut caused my stomach to sink and I knew something was amiss. With a heavy heart, as if going to my own execution or funeral, I walked up the front porch steps with dread and anxiety. As soon as I walked up to the door, I could smell the floral scent. Fearing the worst, I inserted my key in the lock, turned the key one way and the doorknob in the other, and pushed the door open. Then, as soon as I opened the door, with the whole house colored in red, the fragrance was overwhelming. It's a good thing I'm not allergic to flowers because I would have died in a fit of sneezing at the front door. Bathed in the color crimson that even made the white walls appear tinted red, there were red roses everywhere. Instead of wondering where he got all the roses, I wondered, instead, where he got all the vases for so many flowers. He must have bought every vase in Wal-Mart. There were fresh roses everywhere, in the reception hall, the dining room, the living room, the kitchen, and even in the downstairs bathroom. I was shaking with dread of what was to come and with remorse for making the bet with my husband in the first place. Then, I followed the trail of rose petals that littered the hall floor and up the stairs. Once upstairs there were even more roses. Roses were everywhere, in the hall, in my office, in the bathroom, and in the guest bedroom. I couldn't look anywhere without seeing dozens of roses. The trail of rose petals stopped at my bed. In the way that they were arranged, I could tell that he had fun with roses and rose petals. My bed was filled with rose petals fashioned in the shape of a giant Valentine's Day heart the size of the bed with more rose petals forming more hearts inside the big heart and with one rose in the middle. He won the bet and I knew when I saw all those roses that I'd have to relent and give him what he wanted for Valentine's Day. I was in big trouble. No doubt, today could possibly be the worst day of my life. As soon as I saw all those flowers, I knew I was in for it. Jason entered the house a few minutes behind me. I heard him bounding up the stairs. As if turning to give him my final good-bye before facing a firing squad, I turned to greet him with a blush, a smile, and a kiss. "Hi honey," I said giving him a nervous smile and a big hug. "Thank you for the flowers," I said with a laugh. "Did you like my red rose surprise, Susan?" I didn't dare tell him my favorite color roses were white. Had I known what he had planned, a technicality, as my way to weasel out of the deal that I made with my husband, the Devil, I would have told him that because he used red roses instead of white roses, his Valentine's Day surprise doesn't count. Only, knowing him, he'd dump all these flowers and go out and return with white roses. "I did, I think. Thank you. The roses are all so beautiful," I said. Now that he met his part of the bargain, fearing what was in store for me, I was hoping he wasn't serious. Only, after seeing all these roses and knowing him in the way that I do, I knew he was. "What did you do hi-jack a funeral flower car?" "Nah, I have a buddy who works at the flower mart. They throw out and give away more flowers than they sell, it seems, sometimes. These are some of their rejects. I bought them for three bucks a dozen. In case you're curious, there are one hundred dozen roses, twelve hundred flowers," he said with a laugh. "That's a rose for every square foot of this house. I think I overwhelmed the house with roses," he said with a gloat. "Well, they don't look like rejects to me. There's a few droopy ones and some that haven't opened, but they all look pretty good, beautiful, actually, especially seeing them all together like this. I feel as if I died and went to rose Heaven," I said looking at him and giving him another hug and kiss. "You've made me feel so special. Thank you, Jason, for the nice Valentine's Day surprise." "Roses for my blonde haired, blue eyed honey, they pale in comparison to your beauty," he said returning my hug and kiss, while cupping both my ass cheeks in his hands and pushing me forward by my ass to hump me. Subtlety was never his strong suit and he always makes me feel dirty when he grabs my ass like that and slutty when he humps me like that. Why can't he just hug me, in the way he used to do, when we were dating? Now, he treats me, as if he owns me, as if I'm his whore. I hate feeling that I totally belong to him, body and soul, for him to use me and abuse me, however he wishes, to love, honor, and obey, until death do you part. Wondering how long I'd serve for justifiable homicide, I suddenly wished I were dead. No matter, at the very least, I wish he'd respect me more as a person, instead of a sex object and even though I told him that, he doesn't understand how I feel. Jason loves my ass, his favorite part of my body and he's always trying to coerce me to have anal sex with him, something that just doesn't appeal to me. Sorry, but that onramp is just an off ramp. Closed to incoming traffic, that exit is just a one way off my poop highway. That road is closed to thruway traffic. Sorry, I guess you can tell that I'm a traffic cop. "Thank you, sweetie. Happy Valentine's Day," I said giving him a kiss and a hug. "Happy Valentine's Day, doll," he said reaching in his pocket and pulling out red ropes, while giving me a lecherous smile. "You're not serious," I said looking at him, as if he was crazy or hopefully just kidding. "You are serious," I said giving him a stunned look. "You're really going to do this?" "After you said, when Hell freezes over, you relented and said that I can tie you to the bed and have my wicked way with you, if I overwhelmed the house with roses on Valentine's Day." Hoping to wiggle out of our agreement, I was so tempted to say white roses and not red roses, but I couldn't be like that. He went through so much trouble buying one hundred dozen roses, one thousand, two hundred flowers. Between the flowers and the vases, he spent several hundred dollars. How could I disappoint him now? He did it and that was the deal we made. He overwhelmed the house with roses on Valentine's day. If this was his fantasy to tie me to the bed, what's the big deal? "Jason, baby, you don't have to tie me up to have your wicked way with me," I said stepping closer to him and giving him a long, wet kiss, while fondling the bulge in his pants. "I'm agreeable to anything you want to do to my naked body, baby, that is, so long as it's not anal sex." I've learned to be legally exacting with Jason, otherwise, he'd turn and twist my words to coerce and force me to do sexual things that I don't want to do to, while satisfying his sexual perversions. "That's just it, Susan," he said. "I don't want you naked." "You don't want me naked?" I just looked at him, as if he was out of his mind, which I was beginning to think that he was. "How do you want me?" Now, I figured, I hoped, that he just wanted me on my knees to give him a face fucking, head banging blowjob. Maybe he changed his mind and decided not to tie to the bed, after all. "I want you fully dressed," he said with a shit eating grin. If he wants me fully dressed, then definitely, he just wants a blowjob. That's fine by me. I can do that, so long as he doesn't fuck my face as hard as he did the last time. He nearly knocked my teeth out. I'll give him one Hell of a blowjob for Valentine's Day and for all that he did in decorating the house with roses. "Don't you want me to have some fun, too? Don't you want to give me pleasure, too? You can't take care of me, if I'm fully dressed, baby," I said kissing him again, while groping his package. "Don't worry about your clothes. I'll take care of your clothes," he said pulling out a pair of shears from his cargo pant pocket. "Jason, are you insane? You're actually going to cut off my clothes?" I looked at him trying to read if he was serious and he was. "Yeah, so you'd better wear something that's old and clothes you don't care about, like those clothes you wear when painting." "What did you always have a secret fantasy of working in the hospital emergency room and cutting off people's clothes?" "Nah, just your clothes," he said with a laugh. "It would excite me to think that I was forcing you." "Raping me? You want to pretend you're raping me? Eww, I don't know about that, Jason. Sorry, but I'm not into that. Your rape fantasy is not a turn on for me." "It's just a fantasy, Susan. My fantasy is with you and not with anyone else. Don't worry. You're safe with me." Safe with him? I'm beginning not to feel safe with him, especially if he tied me to the bed. Trusting him was my first mistake. "You're really seriously going through with this, aren't you?" "I am," he said holding up the scissors, while opening and closing them, as if he was Jason Scissorhands, instead of Edward Scissorhands. "I'm telling you right now, Jason, if I agree to do this, if I agree to have you tie me to the bed, no anal sex." "I just thought, if you were tied, that we could--" "No and I mean it, Jason. I'm not into that shit." "Okay, then if you won't have anal sex with me, can I blindfold you?" "Blindfold me? Sure, I guess," I said with a shrug, "but why?" "I, uhm, was hoping to invite a few of the guys over to watch, when I--." "To watch? To watch what? To watch you strip me naked? No fucking way. Absolutely not. What the Hell is wrong with you" "C'mon, Susan, it's just some innocent fun." "Jason, no. What has gotten into you? You need to stop watching porn videos on the Internet. I'm not one of those sluts you watch on screen. I'm your wife." "C'mon, don't be like that, Susan. A deal is a deal. You said I could tie you to the bed and--" "I didn't say anything about exposing me to your friends. Have you so little respect for me that you'd have your friends ogle my naked body? I could never face your friends again. I'd be so embarrassed. No one is going to see me naked, but you, buddy, you dig?" I punctuated my personal protest by poking my fingernail in his chest. "And keep this shit up and you'll never see me naked again." "Ergo the blindfold, sweetie," he said stepping closer to kiss me, but I stepped back and pushed him away. "Just because I'll be blindfolded, doesn't mean I wouldn't be embarrassed," I said looking at him and trying to read him, but I couldn't anymore. He was lost in his brain crazed maze of pornography. "Seriously, Jason, you don't think I'd be embarrassed naked in front of all your psycho friends, even if I was blindfolded?" "Well, I just thought that the blindfold would save you some embarrassment in not knowing who was in the room." "Jason, no, that's so nasty. I don't want your friends seeing me naked. My naked body is for you to see and no one else, honey," I said hoping to reach him and pull him off the ledge before he jumped off the cliff and immersed himself in abyss of debauchery. "What if I only had one of my friends in the room?" "No, Jason," I said whacking him in the shoulder. "Keep this up and I won't allow you to tie me to the bed and blindfold me for fear you'll have the room full of your perverted friends watching you strip me naked, before forcing me to have anal sex with you and all of them." "Nah, I'd never have you pull an anal gangbang, that is, unless you wanted to pull a train." "Fuck you, Jason." "Just let me have one friend watch me strip you naked. Okay?" "No Jason. You did a nice thing with all those roses and now you're ruining Valentine's Day for me. First you do something really nice and loving by filling the house with roses and now you're ruining everything." "You can even pick which one of my friends you'd want to watch me strip you." Of course, when he said that, I thought of Tom in the room watching him strip me naked. Even before the wedding, from the first day I met him, I've always had a secret crush on Tom. He's the type of guy that I could never be left in a room alone with because there's just something about him that gives me butterflies. "I don't know about this, Jason. It's Valentine's Day, after all, can't it just be about me and you?" "C'mon, Susan, just pick one of my friends. Do it for me and I'll give you the best sex you ever had." "Eww, you'd have your friend actually watch us having sex?" "Well, he could participate if you're agreeable to--" "Jason! No! It's not bad enough you want to tie me to the bed, which I finally relented and agreed to do. Then, you want to blindfold me, so that you can invite your friends to see me naked and maybe even gangbang me. Now, you want one of your friends to have sex with me." "C'mon, Susan. Please?" "No, Jason, I won't do it." "What if he just watches me strip you naked and doesn't touch you, that is, unless you want him to touch you." "Jason, no, and I mean it." "C'mon, Susan, just pick one friend and I'll never ask you to do anything like this ever again. I just wanted something to spice up our love life." "Okay, okay, Tom, but I'm not having sex with him. He's the only normal friend you have. He can watch you strip me, but I don't want him touching me, that is, unless I say it's okay. Okay?" My brain was wild and I was on fire thinking of Tom there in the room watching Jason strip me naked. It wouldn't matter if I was blindfolded, the fact that knowing Tom was there would make that the best Valentine's Day and the best erotic experience I ever had. "Okay, I'll go down and get him." "Go down and get him? What do you mean, go down and get him? He's already here?" "Yeah. He's in the car. I knew if I said I wanted all my friends to watch me strip you, you'd agree to just one, so long as you could pick which one and I knew you'd pick Tom," he said with a wry smile. "Oh," I said stunned that I was so predictable and embarrassed that I was so transparent. I guess it was no secret to Jason that I was attracted to Tom. Jason went downstairs and returned with Tom. Where Jason was short and chubby, Tom wasn't. Our friends always kidded with us saying that we could be Billy Joel and Christie Brinkley impersonators. Tom was a Rob Lowe look alike and I was so very sexually attracted to him. "Hi Susan," he said coming in my bedroom. Watching him walk in my bedroom was a sexual fantasy that I had countless of times before. Masturbating to the scenario of him giving me a ride home and, after making some small talk over a couple of drinks, he kisses me as he feels me everywhere, before stripping me naked, and fucking me, while Jason is at work. It always gets me off, when rubbing my bean, while imagining blowing him, really sucking him, until he unloads in my mouth and I swallow him. Only, it's just a sexual fantasy and nothing more, that is, until now. Now here he is in my bedroom about to watch Jason strip me naked. I'll be masturbating over this for the rest of my life. When seeing him standing beside Jason, I know it was awful of me to think it, especially since it's Valentine's Day, but I wished Tom was my husband, instead of Jason. A gentleman, Tom was more of a man's man. Tom had class where Jason was crass. Tom could seduce me with just a look, where Jason was always begging me for sex, mostly blowjobs. It was then that I wished Jason wasn't even there in the room with us. I might even consider having anal sex with Tom, if he wanted, something I'd never do with Jason. He's such an animal. "Hi Tom," I said already blushing. "I'm going to get changed into my grubby clothes," I said excusing myself from the room to grab my clothes and change in the bathroom. Why I changed in the bathroom was beyond me, when Tom was going to see me naked anyway. I could have had some control over the situation, by giving Tom a slow, sexy, seductive, striptease show. A few minutes later, except for my hair and makeup, I came out looking like a homeless woman. "Great, this is great," said Jason rubbing his hands together, as if he was a fly about to land on food or in his case, a piece of shit. "Just let me put the blindfold on you, before you get on the bed." I was glad he blindfolded me because I was wide-eyed with sexual anticipation. I was shaking. I couldn't believe I agreed to this. Never having been tied to the bed before, I couldn't believe Tom, of all people, was going to see me naked. I wondered if he was just as excited as I was. I wondered if he had or was getting an erection. I wondered what his cock looked like. I wondered if he was going to touch me. I swear, if he put his cock by my mouth, while I was blindfolded and naked, I'd suck it. Only, if I was having sex with Tom, I'd want to see him and I certainly wouldn't want Jason to be there in the room with us. God, I'm making myself crazy. "Oh, my God. I can't believe I agreed to this, Jason. I feel sick to my stomach," I said and I did, but not for the reason that Jason, no doubt, thought. I was sick with lust for Tom. Jason tied my wrists and my ankles to the bedposts. Lying on my back spread eagled like a starfish, I heard the snip, snip, snip of the scissors and with every snip, I knew Tom was seeing more of me. First Jason cut the buttons off my blouse and then flayed it open. It excited me to think that Tom was seeing me in my bra. I was so nervous and so sexually excited that for the life of me, I couldn't even remember which bra I was wearing. My nipples were already erect and I could feel them pushing against my bra cups. Then, I felt a tug by my ankle and Jason was cutting my pants, first one leg all the way up to my waistband and then the other. Wishing he would take it slower, he was stripping me too fast. I wished it was Tom doing the stripping and not Jason. If it was Tom with the scissors, I'm sure he would have taken his time to enjoy what he was seeing, before revealing more. As if removing the skin from a fish, Jason peeled off the whole front of my cotton pants. I was wet knowing that Tom was looking at me lying there in my panty and bra. Then, he cut off the rest of my blouse and pulled out the excess material of my blouse and my pants from beneath me. Roses and Ropes, I Love Your Friend "Doesn't Susan have a great body, Tom?" "She does," said Tom with both of them talking about me, as if I wasn't even in the room. "You have a beautiful body, Susan," said Tom, the gentleman that he is to address me, instead of ignoring me in the way that Jason has a habit of doing. Now, I wished I wasn't wearing a blindfold, so that I could see Tom's reaction to seeing what he was seeing of me in my underwear. I remembered now. I was wearing my powder blue bikini panties and matching blue bra, the one with the pink flowers. I'm glad I wore that today. I like how I look in that. Feeling faint, I couldn't believe I was there before Tom in my panty and bra. Oh, my God. I remember when he danced with me at my wedding and for a second, I wished I could have run off with him, instead of going on a Honeymoon with Jason to the cabin in the mountains. Knowing Tom, he would have taken me some place more romantic than a hunting lodge. If Jason thought this was his fantasy for me to be tied to the bed and blindfolded, he was wrong. This was my fantasy to be tied to a bed and blindfolded in my panty and bra with Tom in the room. Okay, maybe being tied to the bed and blindfolded wasn't part of my fantasy, but any way that I could have Tom in the room with me, while I was in my underwear and about to be stripped naked was okay with me. "Jason, are you sure about this? There's no returning, once you cross this line. Knowing how jealous you are, do you really want Tom to see me naked?" I was so nervous, I was so excited, that my voice was shaking. Breathing shallowly, I could hardly speak. "Are you kidding? Yeah, I'm sure, Susan. This is so hot having you helplessly tied to the bed, while I strip you naked in front of another guy." "Tom," I said. "Yes, Susan." "How do you feel about seeing me naked?" "Honestly, Susan, I'm excited, but if you were my wife, I'd never embarrass you in this way, that is, unless it was your idea and we both agreed to it. Still, it's exciting just seeing you in your panty and bra. You have such a beautiful body." "Thank you, Tom," I said realizing that because one of my senses was blocked, I was over compensating by talking louder than necessary, while wearing the blindfold. "How you ended up with this guy, instead of someone like me, is beyond me," he said with a laugh. My heart skipped a beat when Tom said that. "Thanks a lot, buddy," said Jason laughing, too. Only, Jason had no idea that Tom was poking fun of him, instead of joking with him. If only Tom was serious about wanting to be with me, I'd dump Jason in a heartbeat, especially after going through this episode of embarrassment and humiliation. Okay, I'm not totally embarrassed and humiliated because it's Tom in the room and not one of his equally as perverted friends. Yet, there's been a laundry list of me having to pander to Jason's sexual peccadilloes over the years and I'm tired of feeling so sexually used and emotionally abused. Moreover, I just know that this latest thing of tying me to the bed and stripping me in front of Tom is Jason's Pandora's Box. With this just the beginning, it's not going to end here. Next, he'll be inviting all his friends to see me naked, while hoping I'll have sex with them, as he videotapes all the sordid sexual behavior, before playing it on the Internet. I know him like a book. He loved to watch me have a gangbang. Starting with making me flash his friends up skirts and down blouses, to answering the door to the pizza guy wearing just a towel and dropping it. He's had me flash my panty to the shoe store salesman and forced me not to wear panties in public, while going up an escalator and bending over in front of a couple of guys behind me. He's had me get out of the car with my legs spread to flash a man passing by my pussy. He's even talked me into flashing my tits to truckers on the highway. Enough already. I'm done. This carnival ride of carnal, deviant lust has already sickened me one too many times. Yeah, sure, some of it was fun, especially in the beginning, when I thought I was doing it for him, but now it's all the time. He's not able to get aroused, unless he has me doing something that's so sexually inappropriate. As a married couple and as a man who should respect his wife by never asking her, coercing her, and forcing her to do such nasty things, I fear, it's only going to get worse. He coerced me to have sex with him in public places hoping that someone was watching us. He wanted me to blow him in an elevator, but I wouldn't. He also wanted me to serve his poker buddies topless, but I wouldn't do that either. He even wanted me to attend a swingers' dance, but I put my foot down, stood my ground, and told him no. I wasn't about to have sex with a bunch of swingers. He's such a sleaze. He always wanted me to go to a nude beach with him and when I finally relented and did, it was all gay guys. I was the only topless woman on the beach. Now, here I am tied to the bed and blindfolded. His latest thing is wanting to have anal sex with me. That's all he nags me about. He begs me to have anal sex with him and I won't do it. That just doesn't appeal to me. What's next? A gangbang? When will this end? Why can't he be satisfied with just me? Why must he flash my body to every guy he knows, especially when he's so jealous? I don't understand. It doesn't make any sense to me. I felt Jason lift the front edge of my bra and I held my breath, when I felt the cold metal of the scissor blade against my skin. Tom was about to see my tits. I was glad that I was wearing my most comfortable bra, one that doesn't leave bra marks. I was nervous. I was excited. I wish I wasn't wearing the blindfold. I'd love to see the look on his face, when he sees my breasts. For me to be denied that one erotic thing was a real tragedy. "Wait Jason. Stop. Please don't. This is nuts. This is really embarrassing for me. I don't like this. I'm feeling a little used and abused. At least remove the blindfold," I said not so much hoping that he'd stop and not cut off my bra, but because I wanted to see Tom's reaction to seeing my tits. A memory that comes to my mind because it was the only time he held me and held my hand, perhaps, but I remembered dancing with him at my wedding again. With him being so tall and my wedding dress being so low cut and open at the top, I knew he had a good view down my wedding dress at my breasts and, after I married Jason, that was one of the favorite fantasies to masturbate about, when in the bathtub, Tom seeing my tits. He was going to see them for real now and not just in my mind. "No sorry, but the blindfold is part of your Valentine's Day surprise. It will be okay, Susan. Really, it will," he said cutting the front of my bra in two with one snip. "I could feel that I was already wet with the thought of Jason peeling off my bra and exposing my tits to Tom." "Fuck, Jason! Whatever? Okay, I'm ready," I said taking a big breath. "I don't give a shit. Go ahead, show Tom my tits, if that's what you really want to do," I said making my feigned protest, so that I could throw all of this shit back in his face, when he goes off on a jealous rage over something imagined and/or stupid. I felt Jason peeling off one cup and then removing the other. I was topless in front of Tom. I couldn't believe it. Tom was seeing my tits. Oh, my God. The fact that Jason was orchestrating all of this and was in the room with me, too, had nothing whatsoever to do with how I felt or didn't feel about him. It was all about Tom, now. Jason was already in my past. He crossed the line by tying me to the bed and stripping me and, as far as I was concerned, I was done with him. This relationship, effective, now, is over and if it wasn't Tom who was in the room, I would have put a stop this charade long before this. Tom was the one who excited me, especially now that I was topless in front of him. Now, it was more than just a fantasy that I occasionally masturbated over, when I was horny and thinking about Tom having sex with me. This was the real deal and Jason is already my history and my unpleasant past. My nipples came alive, as soon as the cold air hit them and I felt Jason's hands feeling my tits and fingering my nipples to coax them out even more. Then, he leaned down and sucked them, first one and then the other. Now, they were really erect. "Go ahead, Tom, grab a handful. Have a feel. You don't mind if Tom feels your tits, do you Susan?" "You keep changing the rules, Jason. First you said you wanted to tie me to the bed. Then, you said you wanted all your friends in the room to watch you strip me. Then, you pleaded with me to just agree to one of your friends watching you strip me naked. Now, you invite Tom to touch me, even though you said no one would touch me. What's next, Jason? Sex? Is it your plan for Tom to have sex with me? "What's the big deal, Susan? It's just your tits. It's nothing Tom hasn't seen before, after dancing with you at our wedding, while looking down your wedding dress. Right Susan?" I was sick. I couldn't believe it. I thought I was going to puke right then and there. "You read my diary, Jason?" "You left it out." "Asshole. That was private, Jason. That was just my thoughts, desires, and fantasies. I can't believe you violated me by reading my diary." Just as I couldn't believe he read my diary, I couldn't believe it when he invited Tom to touch me. I was starting to understand where this is going now. He knows all my secret thoughts. Why I married this guy, I'll never know? He's such a foul man. Yet, I was so excited with the thought of Tom touching me that I was literally shaking. "So, is it okay for Tom to feel your tits, Susan?" At least he asked me. I wanted and was hoping Tom would feel them anyway. "Sure, what the Hell, Jason, we've gone this far. So, long as you promise me, Tom, that you won't tell anyone else about this, you may go ahead and feel my tits." "I promise," he said with a nervous laugh. Then I felt his big hand feeling my breast, first one and then the other, and I quivered with his touch. Tom was feeling my tits. Tom was fingering my nipples. Tom was cupping and caressing my breasts. His hands were so much bigger than Jason's hands and if his hands were bigger, I imagined his cock would be, too. I closed my eyes and imagined Tom kissing me, while feeling my breasts. "Go ahead, suck them Tom. It's okay. Right Susan? You don't mind if Tom sucks your nipples, do you?" "Is it okay, Susan, if I suck your nipples?" Be still my heart. Whereas Jason has become such a foul, little man, Tom was such a gentleman asking my permission to suck my tits. "Yeah, sure, Tom, it's okay. We've gone this far with Jason's little game, why not continue?" Dying to see how far Jason would take this sexual game, I held my breath while waiting for Tom's mouth to engulf my nipple and when he did, I let out a breath of passion. Oh, my God. Tom, my fantasy man was feeling my tits, while sucking my nipples. I couldn't believe all this was happening. I was delirious with the erotic excitement and sexual passion for Tom that I could never feel and muster for Jason. Having sex with Jason, was just going through the motions and faking my orgasm, before giving him what he really wanted, a blowjob, so that I could be done with it and with him. It felt so good for Tom to touch me in this way and I so wanted him to kiss me, while he felt my tits. "You can't just feel her tits without kissing her Tom. You don't mind if Tom kisses you, do you Susan?" As if he could read my mind, of course, now knowing that he read my diary, with me just thinking that, I couldn't believe when Jason said just that. Even while blindfolded, did I show it on my face that I wanted Tom to kiss me? A dream come true, I was finally going to know what it's like to kiss Tom. "Sure, it's just a kiss between friends," I said. "I don't mind, Tom, if you don't," I said dying for him to kiss me. I couldn't wait to masturbate over all of this later. After living out my sexual fantasy with Tom, I'll never have sex with Jason again. "It's okay by me," said Tom. As soon as Tom's lips touched mine, I buried my tongue in his mouth. I wanted him to know that I wanted him, really wanted him and, I swear to God, that if Jason asked him to put his cock by my mouth, I'd suck it, until he exploded in my mouth and I swallowed every drop of him. I was so hot for Tom. Without Jason even realizing it, with him thinking that this was his fantasy, this was my fantasy and my serendipitous way to have sex with Tom. Oh, my God. He blanked my mind with his kiss and I didn't want the kiss to end. Keeping my tongue in his mouth, I kept kissing and kissing and kissing him, until I felt the cold blade of the scissor against the top of my thigh. Snip! Snip and Jason cut off my underwear. I was naked. Tom was seeing me naked. Tom could see my trimmed, blonde pussy. Now he knew that I was really a blonde. "Susan, you don't mind if Tom gets naked, do you?" "Why would I mind that? I can't see anything." I couldn't believe Tom was actually getting naked. Was he going to have sex with me? Was Jason going to have me blow him? Was he going to have Tom fuck me? Oh, my God. This is the best Valentine's Day gift Jason could have ever given me. I tried to remember what I wrote about Tom in my diary. Of course, it was all there, my fantasy of fucking and sucking Tom. No doubt, Jason knew everything about his loving wife, some loving wife I am, lusting over another man, his best friend and our best man at our wedding. Only, I never should have married Jason. He changed for the worse. He's a pervert now. He doesn't care about me. It's all about him. He cares more about showing off my body, so that I'll give him pillow talk later, while sucking his cock. I know his game now. It's not about love and caring, it's about perversion and debauchery. All this time I thought it was about Jason having his wicked way with me. Instead it was about Tom having his wicked way with me. That's when I heard it. With Jason standing by my feet and Tom standing on my left side, by my head, I heard the sound of a zipper to my left, then a belt buckle and the snap of a jean button on my left. Tom was removing his pants. With my eyes covered, my hearing was heightened and I could even hear him removing his underwear. Oh, my God. Tom was naked. I wished I could see his big cock. "How do you feel now, Susan?" Jason had a bit of anger in his voice. "How do I feel? What do you mean, how do I feel? This is your game, Jason, not mine. I don't understand your question. If you want the truth, I feel naked and vulnerable. I feel embarrassed, Jason. I feel humiliated. I feel used and abused, but a deal is a deal and one that you wouldn't allow me to back out of, even though you changed the agreement by introducing Tom into your perversion. Is this your plan now for Tom to have sex with me?" "Well, that's too bad," said Jason with a bit more anger to his voice. "Now you know how I feel, in the way you look at Tom, when you don't think that I see. Whenever Tom is around, I'm invisible. I don't exist." "That's not true and I'm sorry you feel that way, Jason." "Sorry my ass. It's too late for sorry, Susan. I read all that you wrote about Tom in your diary, you slut. I even found your notebook, the one with Tom's named doodled in it a thousand times, his name instead of my name. How do you think I felt, when I saw that, Susan? I'll tell you how I felt, I felt betrayed. I felt unloved." "Maybe I should leave," said Tom. "No," we both said at the same time. "I'm sorry, Jason," I said feeling the color drain from my face, not so much about Jason's feelings but about the thought of Tom leaving, before I could hopefully suck him and he could fuck me. Fuck, then when I thought about it, I can't believe he found my notebook. I can't believe he went snooping through my stuff and read my diary. "I'm the one who feels embarrassed, humiliated, used, and abused, after I've been nothing but good to you," said Jason. "Jason, I--" "I did this Susan, brought Tom here today to show you that it's not so much the outside package, as more what's inside a man. I love you, Susan, really I do and for me to give you to another man is my desperate way to show you that Tom is not all what you think he is. Your place is with me and not with him." "I love you, too, Jason, but--" "Go ahead, Tom." "Wait, what are you doing? Jason?" I felt Tom's cock touch my lips and I rejected him by turning my head away, but he persisted and put a hand to the back of my head and stuffed his cock in my face. Then, when, I still refused to open my mouth, I felt Jason's fingers pinch shut my nostrils and when I opened my mouth to breath, Tom filled my mouth with his cock. Oh, my God, as if Jason wasn't even in the room, I started sucking Tom, as if I were a porn star. At this point, I didn't care. I didn't give a shit about Jason's feelings anymore. For him to do this to me was wrong, but I'm glad he did. All I knew was that I had Tom's cock in my mouth and I was going to make the most of it. At the very least, if nothing was to ever come of this, it would give me something to masturbate over later, while taking a hot bath. "Suck him, Susan. That's right, blow your fantasy man. Suck his big cock. Gees, you do have a big cock, Tom, much bigger than mine but it's not the size that matters," said Jason. "Right Susan? What matters more is the man and not the cock. Okay, that's enough Tom. Fuck her now." "Hold on, Jason. Don't I get a say in this? It's one thing for Tom to see me naked and to suck my tits and it's another thing for me to blow him, but him fucking me is something else. That's more personal. My pussy is only for you, Jason and not for Tom." "Duly noted, Susan, duly note. Now, go ahead and fuck her, Tom." "Susan, never mind what Jason says. Is it okay with you if I--" "Sure, why not? Fuck me, Tom. This is what Jason wants, so I'll complete his Valentine's Day fantasy," I said. "We've already gone past the point of no return. Only, do me a favor and untie me, please, so that I can enjoy this, too. Besides my arms hurt. And one last request," I said whispering in Tom's ear. "What is it, Susan?" "It's Valentine's Day, the day of love and romance. Don't just fuck me. Make love to me and whisper in my ear that you love me." "I do and always have, Susan." Oh, my God, Tom loves me. He's always loved me. In the way he said I do, I imagined us standing at the altar taking our marriage vows, that is, after I divorced Jason's ass. Tom removed the blindfold and Jason untied the ropes. Finally, I was free to see and to touch my new lover, my fantasy man. "Go ahead, Tom, fuck her," said Jason. "Really fuck her. Bang my wife, Tom. Give it to her good, really good. I want to hear her cum, if you can, in the way that I always am able to do." I so wanted to tell Jason that he never gave me an orgasm and that I faked every one of them, but I didn't. I was afraid he'd pull the plug and tell Tom to leave. Better that Jason believes his fantasy that he gives me an orgasm. "Wait," I said. "I want to see and feel what I was sucking before. Let me see your cock, before you bury that in me, Tom." Tom walked closer to me and I took him in my hand and stroked him, before taking him in my mouth again, while looking at Jason. Now a slut for Tom's big cock, I wanted to hurt my husband for all that he did to me. "C'mon, c'mon," said Jason. "Let's get this over with, so that I can have my wife back without you in the picture," he said pushing Tom. I felt the weight of Tom's muscular body and when he stuck his big prick in my wet pussy, it was as if I was plugged into a wall outlet. Suddenly, my body came alive with energy and I tingled everywhere. Never have I felt such pleasure with Jason, as I was feeling now with Tom. Then, when we kissed, French kissed, while his cock was buried deep inside of me, it was as if Jason wasn't even there in the room. Roses and Ropes, I Love Your Friend Slow at first, Tom was rhythmic in his movements. Just as I had asked, he was making love to me. Then faster, more deliberate and steady, when I started responding more to his movements by returning his humps, he started to pound my pussy and really fuck me. He was giving me the fuck of my life. "I love you, Susan," he said whispering in my ear. "I love you, Tom," I said returning his whisper. Tom wasn't just making love to me, he was fucking me, too. Something that Jason never did. Jason worshipped me and worshipped my body, but Tom was fucking me, really fucking me, and pounding me, while still making love to me, something that I have longed to have for so very long. I felt real lust from Tom that I never felt from Jason. I only felt perversion from Jason. The lust that Tom had for me, I had for him. The only lust that Jason had for me was perverted lust, especially when he was showing my body to other men. "Fuck me, Tom, fuck me," I whispered in his ear and he drove his cock in my pussy faster and deeper for a solid fifteen or twenty minutes, until I just exploded with the biggest and best orgasm I've had in my life. "Oh, my God! Oh, my God! Holy shit! Oh, my God!" Never have I experienced an orgasm during sexual intercourse with Jason. Always, I faked it, relieved that I could stop the facade and give Jason what he wanted anyway, a blowjob, so that he could turn over and go to sleep. It was then that I realized that I didn't love Jason. I never loved Jason. I always loved Tom. "I love you, Tom," I whispered knowing full well that this would be the last time I'd see Tom. Tom looked at me and gave me a wry smile, before giving me a deep, wet kiss. It was so long ago, a lifetime ago, when Jason tied me to the bed and gave me all that I wanted and hoped to have as a special Valentine's Day present. Today, Valentine's Day, is our fifteenth anniversary that Tom and I have been together. Happily married, Jason is but a distant and bitter memory. * Please don't forget to vote, make a comment, and/or add me and this story to your favorite lists. Thank you for reading my story. Roses Are Red He brought his head down, resting his head between her knees, peering up at her exposed pussy. She undid the gag, easing it out from his mouth. He licked his lips and looked up at her, having a good idea what she would tell him to do next. He was not disappointed; she held the gag out to him, and unclipped the leash. “Go put it in the toy box, pet.” Blair took the strap carefully in his mouth, not touching her hand, and crawled to the enormous cedar chest at the foot of the bed. Still holding onto the ball gag, he seized the jutting handle of the top of the trunk and pulled it open, his broad, muscular shoulders straining. And, unfortunately for him, he dropped the gag. Blair didn’t dare apologize then, for that would have meant losing his hold on the trunk’s handle. However, once he got the trunk all the way open, he had risked a quick glance at his mistress. Her eyes looked like they could freeze fire: he had failed. Immediately, he began to apologize. “I’m sorry, mistress. It was an accident, mistress, I—” Sonya cut him off with a stare. “Put the gag in the toy box and bring me the black paddle.” She ordered. Blair shivered like the rabbit before the fox, letting out a low whimper. “Mistress, please, it was a mistake…” she cut him off again, this time with the tip of her crop against his nose. He gulped, and became silent. “If I have to ask you one more time, the results will not be to your liking.” His mistress warned. He swallowed and wriggled back on his knees, then bent low and picked up the gag between his teeth, and neatly deposited it in the “toy box”. This chest contained most of their ‘toys’ and other items. Already imagining the pain that the ‘black paddle’ was going to bring, he nosed through the pile of equipment, and came out with her chosen tool. Blair crawled back to where Sonya waited on the bed, the paddle in his mouth. He deposited in her lap and looked down. The paddle had a broad surface, and holes in it to decrease the air resistance. Made of polished mahogany, it was used rather sparingly. But judging from her expression, Blair was going to taste it tonight. She shoved her boot into his face. “Remove my boots.” She ordered him. Gulping, Blair seized the toe of Sonya’s boot gently in his teeth, and began to work it off, having to pause and pull on the heel every so often, so the work was slow going. Her paddle she patted her hand with, watching, a small smile playing on her lips, waiting. Some time later, he’d managed to get the leather boots off, and kissed the tops of her feet, then looked up at her again. “Face the door and stand.” He nodded comprehension, and faced the door on his knees, then stood up, careful to obey her orders to the letter. She leaned back on her elbows again, and raised her long leg, and eased it into the waistband of his thong, and pulled it down sharply, yanking it painfully past his swollen cock, which sprang to attention, now free of the burdensome cloth that held it prisoner. He gasped, and let out a soft groan. “Get on the bed, pet. Face down.” He complied immediately; well aware his punishment would be harsher for hesitation. He suppressed another groan as he lay down on his hard cock, his head to the side. She raised the paddle, and brought it down, hard, on his bare ass. He jumped, but didn’t scream. “One, thank you mistress.” She paddled him again. “Two, thank you mistress.” And this went on for a while, until his ass was as red as a cherry, and the lightest touch brought sparks of pain to his mind. Once she gave him a slap with her palm, he knew she was done punishing her with the paddle. “Thank you mistress. I won’t do it again.” “See that you don’t. Put my paddle away.” She put it near his head and he crawled off the bed with it in his mouth, and put it away carefully, his ass aching with every move he made. Paddle back in its place, he carefully closed the trunk, not using his hands, only his mouth. Then he returned to her, kneeling before her. “Undress me.” She commanded next, and, feverish with excitement now, forgetting the pain that practically blistered his behind, rose up on his feet, hands still cuffed behind him, and seized the zipper in his mouth, slowly peeling it down, being careful not to catch it on anything. As it was strapless, once it was unzipped it dropped to the ground. Now Blair could not stop a moan, seeing her naked revived his lust. She hooked a finger into a ring on his collar, and lay down on the bed, pulling him up over top of her, shifting beneath him, spreading her legs, arching up just a bit beneath him. “Enter me, pet.” It was a simple command, yet had so much meaning. Carefully, he pressed forward with his hips, and she brought hers up to meet him, guiding his erect cock into her tight, wet slit. This was his reward, and between the two of them a Valentine’s gift shared between them. Blair moaned as he finally entered her, gasping at her tightness, at the wetness that she managed to produce. No matter how many times he slammed that meat into her, she was always tight, hot, and ready for more. Incredible. Sonya arched her toned body up against his, pushing him in, molding her body to his. He kissed her passionately, pushing his tongue into her mouth, finding hers, and began to tease it. She took up her boyfriend’s challenge quite readily, and began to suck on his tongue while he moaned into her mouth, rising up against her, his chest pressed to hers, joined as one. Breaking the kiss, he pulled nearly all the way out, so that only the head remained trapped in her tight folds, and then pushed forward, the pain in his ass forgotten. Sonya arched sharply, her breasts pushing against his, her hands coming up to dig her nails into his back, and raked them down. Blair gasped, and thrust forward sharply, again and again, producing loud moans or gasps from his mistress each time. Her breathing sharpened, and she clenched her vaginal muscles around him tightly, trails of blood running down his back, and the two of them moaned in unison, and he pushed his lips to hers once more. Sonya’s head rolled on her shoulders, and she still managed to bring her hips up. Soon he was really packing it in, and his cock started to pulsate. “Mistress, I…please mistress, please let me cum!” he begged, trying to hold it off. “I’m going to…please!” “Cum, pet,” she pleaded, “cum with me. Ohh!” He exploded as she did, his thick shaft sending spurts of seed into her, and he held her tightly, his face buried between her breasts as she came after him, her face pressed between his neck and shoulder, sucking wetly on a patch of skin as she moaned with pleasure. Slowly, Sonya eased her nails out of his back, and kissed his neck tenderly. He kissed first one nipple, and the other, tonguing the areola, the pain in his ass slowly returning, but he paid it no mind, there was so much more to concentrate on, so much that was more important. “Happy Valentine’s, Blair…” she whispered to him, kissing his throat gently, and then looked into his eyes. “Happy Valentine’s, Sonya.” They kissed again, rolling to their side, limbs locking them together, as one. Roses are Red "There is a striking resemblance between the act of love and the ministrations of a torturer." -Angela Carter *** "Why does the wolf eat Grandma first?" The question floated out of Angela's mouth before she realized what she was saying and hung in the air, pregnant with possibilities. Nicolas wiped his mouth with a red-checked napkin and raised an eyebrow to indicate she should go on. "Think about it: The Big Bad Wolf meets Little Red Riding Hood in the forest and wants to eat her. So why not just eat Little Red then? Why bother running ahead and impersonating Grandma and the whole thing? It doesn't make sense." The café was crowded and they sat almost shoulder-to-shoulder with the next table. Angela pushed her salad plate away and picked up her almost empty glass of red wine. Nicolas shoveled a bite of meaty lasagna into his mouth, staining his lips tomato-red. He had a way of talking with his mouth full that somehow never showed what he was chewing and never seemed rude. "Some people would tell you it's because the story is about sex." "I've heard that. I never picked up on it myself." She noticed that the people at the next table were listening in. "Grandma has to go first because if a sexually predatory male like the one the wolf represents wants to take advantage of a girl he has to make sure there are no maternal figures around to warn Little Red about guys like him. That's one reading, anyway. And of course there's the red hood. All that blood imagery: menstruation, womanhood." "And red is a warning color. And a color of passion, emotion, carnality..." "Red is the color of sin. That's why Little Red dies in some of the stories: She's sinful. A scarlet woman." "Little Red Riding Hood dies?" "Oh sure." Nicolas fumbled in his briefcase and brought up a dog-eared paperback book. She skimmed the back. "You carry around books of fairy tales in your briefcase?" "What do you think the class I teach is about?" She read the pages he indicated: Meanwhile, the wolf arrived at Grandmother's, killed her, put some of her flesh into the pantry and some of her blood into a bottle, then put on her clothes and climbed into bed. When Little Red Riding Hood arrived the wolf bid her eat and drink some of whatever she found in the pantry. When the little cat who lived in the cottage saw the girl eating the flesh of her own grandmother it screamed and ran away. Angela made a face. "Charming." "If you think that's bad, you won't like the ending." She kept reading: "And Grandmother, what big teeth you have!" Little Red Riding Hood said. "All the better to eat you with!" said the wolf. And with that he grabbed Little Red Riding Hood and ate her one bite at a time. The End." Angela put the book down. "I guess I'd have liked that ending better when I was a kid." "It wasn't always a kid's story," said Nicolas, shrugging. "But I guess kids have got to learn to stay away from wolves sometime. Now, if you didn't like that, you should try this one instead." He handed her a different book, with a faded cover of red leather. At first it looked like another book of fairy tales, but these were different, and she saw it had only been written 20 years ago. Nicolas had again marked one for her to read, but before she could begin she realized what time it was. "I have to get back to Anna," she said. "My mother is watching her, but she has night classes." She tried to give the book back, but Nicolas declined. "Keep it," he said. "I have others. You'll like this one. Trust me." He tried to pay for her but they ended up splitting it. He cleaned his glasses on his shirt, and a few seconds passed. "It was really nice seeing you," he said. "I wish we could more often." He paused. "Do you think —?" Angela stood. "I have to go. I'll miss my bus." "I can give you a ride?" "That's all right," she said, faster than she'd wanted to. He watched her leave. Outside it was gray and blustery. She saw the Number 44 retreating from the curb, red taillights blinking at her, and she ran after it, cursing. It was already out of sight by the time she got to the corner. Sighing, she sat on the plastic bench, reading the book Nicolas lent her while she waited for the next one: The forest is full of dangers, from pernicious goblins who twist off little boy's toes and gobble them like candy to red-eyed witches who flay the hides off young girls and sew curtains out of them. But wolves are the worst of all, because the wolf is the only creature whose hunger is never satisfied. In the truly dark, cold days of winter, nothing is more terrifying than the howling of a wolf. He'll eat you up, one-two, one-two, and be hungry again before you're swallowed. Angela giggled. She realized someone else had come into the bus shelter, sitting on the other end of the bench. He looked her up and down, smirking. She ignored him and kept reading: The girl was too young to be alone in the forest. Too young to know the difference between men and wolves. But she was not so young as to really be called a girl anymore. She was almost a woman, and that put her in even more danger. She was in full bloom, like the bobbing red blossoms of the roses that grew along the path. The handsome stranger she met seemed like any common hunter to her. She did not spot the feral gleam in his eyes or detect the telltale rumbling of his ever-hungry stomach. He hid the bloody red stains on his teeth well. The man in the bus stop was barely more than a teenager. He sat sunk over in his puffy red jacket and wouldn't stop staring at her legs. He might as well have licked his lips. He coughed and said, "Where you going?" "Home," she said, without looking up from the book. "To my daughter," she added, putting as much emphasis on the word as she could. "I'm going to visit my grandmother," the girl said. The hunter smiled. "What a sweet little girl you are," he said. "Red-cheeked, and as toothsome a morsel as any." The girl blushed bright red and looked away. She did not see him lick the saliva off his long teeth. The young man seemed briefly taken aback at the mention of her daughter. Then said, "How old? Maybe I should meet her?" Angela glared. The young man's grin wilted and he stood up straight, even taking a few steps away. She put the book back in her purse and shoved her hands in her coat pockets to hide their trembling. He stammered something like an apology. Angela took a step toward him and then, thinking better of it, walked away. She followed Crossover Drive south, deciding she would cut through Golden Gate Park on foot. Probably faster than waiting anyway. She would have to hurry though; it was getting dark, and the clouds were threatening rain. Stands of huge trees sprang up around her. The words of Nicolas' book ran through her mind: Talking with the young man had made the girl late. She stayed on the path and tried to hurry. The woods were no place for her at night, and she was alone again now. The man had offered to come with her, but she said no. She hadn't been walking for more than five minutes when the rain started. At first she ran but then she realized she'd be soaked by the time she got home no matter what. She kept to the side of the road, near the treeline, hoping to be spared the worst of it. The park was mostly empty, though every now and then the wind stirred the trees or the underbrush and gave the impression of movement. Only the occasional car passed. The girl did not realize that the man was following her. He had slipped off the path and slipped out of his clothes, trading his naked hide for the mangy pelt of a half-starved wolf. He loped on all fours, a red tongue lolling while his tail brushed the bobbing branches of the smallest trees and, beneath him, his long red prick bobbed with each step. Angela thought about the kid back at the bus stop and saw red. It was his fault she was stuck walking in this. She should have given him a piece of her mind. No, more than that; she should have torn him a new— A car pulled up, an old clunker of indeterminate make and model and a faded reddish paintjob. The passenger window had been repaired with duct tape and couldn't roll down, so the driver had to open the door and lean over in order to talk to her. "Do you need a lift?" he said. The girl tapped on the cottage door. The wolf hid the old woman's gnawed bones and the red-stained sheets and then slid under the blanket, hiding his hairy body and enormous prick. He raised his voice into a frail-sounding falsetto and said, "Come in, my lovely!" Angela hesitated. She was soaked already and it would take at least another half an hour to get home on foot. But if she really wanted a ride she could just call Nicolas, and she wasn't sure she liked the look of this car... "No, but thank you," she said. Or at least, that's what she tried to say. Her teeth were chattering too badly to form words, and only then did she realize how cold she really was. The driver pushed the door open more and she climbed in, holding her pale, shaking hands to heater vents until the numbness faded. The girl came into the cottage and set her basket down. The air was thick with a scent she did not know, but it was warm and there was a fire on, red flames licking old blackened logs. Once Angela was warmed a bit she took a closer look at the driver. He was somewhere in his fifties, his graying hair and beard still touched with ginger. When her teeth finally stopped chattering Angela cleared her throat and said, "Thank you." "Not a problem," said the driver. They stopped at a red light. "You heading toward Lincoln Avenue?" "Yes." "Me too. Name's Charles." "Angela." "Pleasure to meet you. Boy, isn't this a day? What's a little lady like you doing out all by herself on a day like this?" "Going home to my daughter." "A daughter? Isn't that nice. She a little one? Pretty, like her mother? You know you don't look old enough to have kids." The wolf, still speaking in Grandmother's voice, welcomed the girl. "Hello my darling," he said. "Don't you look lovely?" Angela turned to the window. "She's my youngest," she said, and then, "Do you have anything I can dry off with? I'm dripping all over." "Water can hardly hurt this old heap now, but there's some napkins in the glove box. Don't mind the mess." "Thank you," said Angela. She opened the glove box, paused for a moment when she looked inside, then did her best to towel off. She realized that her purse was soaked too, and with alarm she saw the wrinkled pages of Nicolas' book. She pulled it out, fretting, trying to dry it on the heater vent. "What's that?" said Charles. "A book that my—a friend lent me." The pages riffled open, and her eyes fell across one: The wolf is hungry forever. The scrawny, gamey flesh of the old woman had not satisfied him. The pink, virginal flesh of this girl would fill his belly no better, for a wolf's hunger is as much a part of him as the yellow eyes in his head or the withered red heart in his sunken chest or the black hairs on his backside, but his tongue lapped at his jaws anyway as he looked her up and down. "Guess your purse couldn't stand up to the rain," said Charles. "You should get something like my messenger bag. It's waterproof." He indicated the bag in the back seat. "Handy thing to have with a kid around, I'd think. Who's looking after her while you're out?" "My mother," said Angela. "We moved into her place a while ago." "I love kids," Charles said. "Always wanted some." "I'm so hungry, my darling," said the wolf. "I've brought you food," said the girl. The wolf eyed her tender young breasts as they glanced against the fabric of her blouse. "Yes," he said, "you have." "She's all I have in the world," said Angela, still barely paying attention. "What about your other ones? You said she's the youngest." The rain was coming down in sheets now and Charles slowed the car to a crawl, almost blinded as the flimsy wipers failed to fight off the deluge. Angela's vision tunneled down onto a blank spot on the page in front of her, a space between two words. "I had another daughter," she said. "But she died." Charles started. "I'm sorry! I had no idea." "She was murdered," said Angela. "The man I was dating killed her." "Jesus Christ!" said Charles. He looked at her, looked away, then looked at her again. "I didn't—" The wolf is always hungry. "We'd been going out for a month and he still hadn't tried to sleep with me," Angela said. The words were tumbling out and she couldn't stop. "I wondered why, but he told he was waiting for the right time. Turns out he meant a time I wasn't home..." Charles stopped the car and tried to put a hand on her shoulder. "I'm so sorry," he said. "That kind of thing...it's so awful I just can't even bear to think about it." Always. "Yeah, it's hard to think about," said Angela. Then she looked at him. "But it's easy to do, right? Easy, because you don't think about it when you do it. Not even when you're planning it, like now?" "Grandmother, what big ears you have!" Charles looked at her, bewildered. "What the hell are you talking about?" "You pick up a woman walking alone. You make conversation and find out where she's going, how many people are in the house, how many kids she has. Everything you want to know." "Grandmother, what big eyes you have!" Charles blinked, disbelieving. "I don't —" "And then there's these." She took the little red pill bottle out of the glove compartment and shook it. "Tell me, have you had that for more than four hours?" She indicated his lap. "Because if you have you should call a doctor." Charles shifted in his seat. The car was stark still in the middle of the lane, but there was no traffic now, nothing outside except the wind and the rain and the trees. "Not that it's any of your business, but I was on my way to a date. At my age you have to think ahead about these things." "And the gloves, and the rope, and the folding knife in the glove box? Those all for your 'date' too?" "They're useful things to have around. Look, I understand that with all that you've been through it'd be hard to trust people, but I promise I was just offering you a ride because of the rain, nothing sinister about it. I wouldn't lay a finger on you or your daughter." He paused. "In fact, I'm gay." "Grandmother, what big hands you have!" "You have a wedding ring." "Read the news: That's legal these days." "You're married, but you have a date?" His face turned red. "I don't have to explain myself to you. Now, if you don't trust me for whatever reason, fine. Here." He reached out and she shrank away, but all he did was open the door. The wind blew the rain in, soaking her again. "Grandmother..." "Go ahead," he said. "Walk. I won't stop you." "That's not what I want," Angela said, closing the door. "Then I'll give you a lift to the edge of the park," said Charles, putting the car in gear again. "What big..." "That's not what I want either," said Angela. She put her hand on his knee. He started. "What I want..." She undid her seatbelt, then his, and whispered in his ear: "...is to bite your fucking head off and spit out the bones." His jaw dropped. Thunder rolled. "Lady," he said, voice quavering, "that's not funny." "I'm not joking," said Angela. "I'm going to kill you." Charles stuck a finger in her face. "All right, little miss, I've had enough—" Angela reached out and snapped the gear shift off in her hand. The metal and thick red plastic splintered like it was nothing. Then she wrapped one hand around the steering wheel and pulled it off too, throwing it into the back seat. Her hands had become gnarled paws. Her eyes were yellow. She watched his red face go pale, and when she saw the first indications of shock she grabbed him and pulled him in close, growling. "...TEETH you have!" "Sit still," she said, reaching down into his lap. He tried to stop her and she belted him across the mouth. She unzipped his pants and slid a hand inside. The pills were still working. She pulled him out and squeezed while at the same time showing him her teeth, which had become impossibly long and sharp. Normally they wouldn't have fit into her mouth, but the shape of her face and head had changed too, although not completely. She thumbed the head of his prick as he huddled on one side of the car, too scared to move. "Don't think that because I'm doing this that I'm not going to kill you," she said, squeezing him again and beginning to jack him off. "This is just to give you time to think about it. I want for the last time you ever get your rocks off to be while you think about dying. Remember all those women you hurt just so you could feel this? This will be a little bit like that." "I never hurt anyone," he said. His mouth was bleeding little red drops. She licked them up. She moved over now, sitting on him as much as the confines of the car would allow. His seat leaned back. She kept a death grip on his cock so that he wouldn't get any smart ideas about running. The marvels of modern pharmaceuticals kept him at attention even while the rest of him shrank away. It was funny, actually. His swollen red cock was bobbing up and down, like a dog too stupid to know it was about to be put down. "Here's how it's going to happen," she said. "As soon as you're done, I'm going to count to 20. You can stay here in the car and make it easy, or you can try to run. It's going to end the same no matter what." She kept jerking him. His cock warmed her hand. "You think that if you can hold it back that means I won't be able to go on, but that won't work. For one thing, most guys can't hold it no matter what. That's biology for you; she's a bitch. Second, even if you did, I'd lose my patience eventually and skip that part. But then I'd be real mad, and it would be even worse for you. So don't get smart about it." She sped up. He was sweating and so was she. His was the sweat of fear, hers arousal. It filled the car. She smiled wider, showing him a red tongue. Maybe she ought to go down on him and speed things up even more? He'd really panic then, when her sharp teeth came within grazing distance of his pathetically eager erection. But that was too much trouble. "Maybe I'll start counting even before you're done. Would that be fair? A little motivation might do you good. Let's try it: One." He cried out. She squeezed harder. His little cock spasmed. "Two." A wet, hot smear dribbled down her fingers, then a little more. He was gushing in spurts, a look of singular horror on his face. She thought he might die of fear on the spot or at least faint, but he didn't'. She wiped the hand on his trouser and then held it up so that he could see the claws. "Three. You'd better start running." She opened the door and kicked him out. He landed on the side of the road, half-naked in the rain. "Four. Five." He wasted a few seconds crawling before getting smart enough to stand, redo his pants, and then run. Angela watched him blunder off into the bushes. Had he stayed on the road, there was a small chance someone driving by would have stopped to help. But traipsing through the park, in the storm, he would be alone. No help was coming. "Seven. Eight. Nine." She shed her clothes. The rain felt good on her naked body now. She dropped to all fours when it became more comfortable. Cold droplets decorated her sleek pelt as she loped to the trees. "Fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen..." When she reached 20 she took off. Even in the rain his scent was strong, and he was making enough noise for two. He half-ran, half-stumbled, slipping and skidding in the mud. He was out of shape, and Angela, running on all fours, her tail swatting branches with each step, could have overtaken him immediately, but she waited to see what he would do instead. He came to a place where the rain pooled at the base of a great tree, the exposed roots forming the banks of a puddle so deep it was almost a pond. Charles fell into it and started wading. On the opposite side, at the top of the hill, two homeless men huddled under a red tarp for shelter. Charles began to wave and shout and they looked at him. Angela waited until he had slogged halfway and then threw her head back and howled, louder than the wind, louder than the rain, louder than the thunder. Charles covered his ears. The men on the hill scrambled to their feet and ran. Roses are Red Once they were out of sight she slid down the embankment and waded to him. The mud sucked at their feet, pulling them down. She had to walk upright again to keep above the surface. Charles backed against a hollow formed by tree roots. He whimpered. "I wasn't going to do anything," he said, tears running down his mud-streaked face, mingling with the rain. "I wasn't going to hurt you, I swear." "Of course," said Angela, dragging him to dryer land. She sat down on his chest and ran her fingers through his hair gently, almost lovingly. "Please don't kill me," said Charles, wincing as one of her claws glanced against his neck. "When I found my daughter, she was all red." "What?" said Charles, blinking, bewildered. "Sarah. My oldest daughter. I came home after work and couldn't find her. I looked all over. I asked my boyfriend where she was, and he wouldn't answer. And that's when I saw that his hands were red." She gripped his shoulders tighter. "I found her in the bathtub. Red everywhere. Red inside the tub. Red all in her hair. I couldn't wash the red out no matter how hard I tried. By the time I was done I had red all over my hands and it wouldn't come off." Charles closed his eyes "I'm so sorry," he said. "I am too," said Angela. They were concealed in a copse of bushes at the bottom of a small ravine. It was a good place. Burgundy-red roses sprouted nearby. "I don't deserve this." Angela hesitated. "Maybe," she said, turning her head a little. "I can't know for sure, ever. But..." She grabbed him by the throat. "I do have mouths to feed." She held him under the water until the thrashing stopped. Rain ran in streamers down her pelt and the length of her muzzle. When she felt the body stop moving, she waited, counting to herself. When enough time had passed, she pulled him up again. He flopped around, limp. Satisfied, she dragged him to where the water lapped against the land, and there she bared her claws. Over the rain, there was a ripping sound. The water turned red. *** "I'm home," Angela said, closing the door behind her. She took off her wet coat and shouldered Charles' messenger bag. Her mother looked at her, blinking. "You're soaked!" she said. "I got caught in the rain. I'm sorry I'm late. I had to stop and get dinner." She put the bag on the table. She looked in on Anna, asleep in bed. Then she showered, taking time to scrub the red crust out from under her nails. When she was done she dried Nicolas' book by the heater and read the last page of the story she'd started: "All the better to eat you with!" the wolf said, but the girl was not impressed. She kissed the wolf on his muzzle and made him sit on the floor, putting a leash and collar around his neck. That night he slept at the foot of her bed, snoring gently. Because she knew she was no one's meat. Angela laughed, then called Nicolas. "Did you make it home okay?" he said. "Yes," she said, "but your book got a little wet. I can buy you a new one." "Don't bother, I have lots more. I wrote it, you know." She looked at the cover. "Your name isn't on it." "A pen name." He paused. "Did you like it?" "Very much," she said, and she was about to say more but then Anna came in. Angela told Nicolas goodbye and set her daughter on her lap. "Did you have a good nap sweetheart?" she said. Anna nodded and smiled. Her little blue eyes glimmered and her red curls bounced. Then she said, "I'm hungry." "Me too." Angela reached into the messenger bag. She took out something red and dripping, and held it to her daughter's mouth. "Now eat up," she said. "While it's still fresh." Roses are Red Summary: Emily Rose is a young and upcoming star in one of the biggest financial firms in the country. All her life she has been the best at everything, because she has always been hungry. However, she also held a hunger that she herself was not aware of, until now. Room 221 The Grand Hotel, Brazil: "I hate this FUCKING heat!!" Emily exclaimed and began unpacking her clothes. The trip to Brazil was a spur of the moment thing; decided while she was having lunch with her boss. She had literally nothing to wear that would suit the tropical climate and furthermore her smooth and silky complexion for which she had garnered much praise was now sticky and oily due to the humidity. She took a break from unpacking and let out a long sigh. She had to admit to herself that the heat was a small price to pay in return for the experience she was currently gaining. A small town girl all her life and now she had been elevated to the position of a senior Accounts Executive & Personal Assistant to a senior partner in one of the most prestigious financial firms in the country. Thinking this always brought a smile to her face and she resumed her unpacking without much distress. The next moment, her room phone rang and she picked it up and immediately stiffened at the voice of her boss Ms. Joanne Walters. "Emily where the fuck are you?" Joanne said in a rather exasperated tone. Emily had long understood that her boss' use of explicit language was simply a function of her character and not her mood. "I just finished unpacking ma'am. Was there anything you required?" "Yes, we are meeting the clients tonight. There's a party organized by one of those old bastards and I want you looking stunning..." "Ma'am am afraid I haven't got anything..." Emily began.. "I know you don't dear which is why I've sent something to your room. I don't wanna hear any complaints just wear the dress and look fucking beautiful, you hear?" and with that the line went dead. Emily kept the receiver with a sigh of surrender. Trying to change her boss' mind was like pushing a boulder up a steep hill that is covered in grease. She shook her head and waited for the dress to arrive, and after 5 minutes it did. She received it at the door and was immediately shocked at its appearance. It was elegant and beautiful and simple too, however it was not the kind of dress Emily would usually wear. It was a long flowing gown till her ankles that shrunk into a funnel at her waist and ended in a tube top just above her breasts. She wore the dress and looked at herself in the mirror and was surprised to see a totally different person staring back at her. Her skin, which a moment ago seemed "oily" now, looked "exotic" to her, the neckline that a moment ago was very risque now seemed "rather exciting". Her lips spread into a smile on their own and for a moment Emily had an out of body experience in which she saw a glimpse of a woman who apparently was always inside her, but had never come out. The Four Seasons Garden restaurant, Grand Hotel: Joanne Walters fiddled with her cutlery rather nervously; she always fiddled when she was either excited or angry and tonight's sudden change of events had certainly given her much cause for both. The party she was planning on meeting two days from now suddenly decided on meeting her tonight, and this threw her off her game somewhat because she wanted to take the two days to prep both Emily and herself to face the questions that would be asked by their prospective client and she really could not afford to screw this up. She kept the cutlery aside and opened the thin file kept beside her and studied the clients' history once again. Jerome Taylor was one of the youngest and wealthiest businessmen in these parts. An American by birth he soon took over his fathers business interests in Hotels and Casinos in Latin America and was single handedly responsible for expanding the family business into Clothing, Catering and Event management. He currently was worth an obscene amount of money and Joanne was planning on making him spend some of that money on her firm by hiring them to handle their offshore accounts. After reading a brief about Jerome's company she went on to read about Jerome himself; apparently he was quite the athlete in high school and received a full sports scholarship to college. Even in academics he was always on top of his game however his extra curricular activities had earned him the reputation of being a bit of a wild card. Drugs, booze and sex were an apparent main stay in his life back then and this led to several disciplinary actions against him. Joanne could not help but smile at the similarities of Jerome and her own academic years. After graduating he immediately went to work for his father and soon took control of the whole operation by forcing his father out of the company and into a figurative exile. "Ruthless bastard", Joanne murmured in her breath. Her train of thought was interrupted by the early arrival of two gentlemen. She closed her file and rose to greet them, (Where the fuck is Emily??), she thought to herself. "Good evening Ms. Walters", the elder of the two said and extended his hand "Good evening gentlemen, good evening." Joanne shook hands with both of them and she couldn't help but sound a little disappointed and surprised since Jerome himself was nowhere to be seen. (These guys look like lawyers) she mused glancing over their professional attire and stern gazes. After being seated Joanne began by playing the proper host and stalls them till Emily arrived, "So gentleman, what shall be your poison for the evening? I am told the local wine here is quite popular..." her dialogue was cut short by one of the men as he raised a hand in dismissal "Sorry Ms. Walters, we have actually come here for a quick chat. We shan't be a moment." He glanced at his partner who gave a nervous laugh. Joanne however was not pleased, "Gentlemen I was led to believe that we would be discussing Mr. Taylor's interest in our firm." "Yes, and we still are interested Ms. Walters however we regret to inform you that Mr. Taylor was not available this evening. We came to tell you that the meeting shall take place two days from now as previously planned." Joanne tried to muster as much calm as she was capable of, under normal circumstances Emily would take control of the discussion knowing full well Joanne's short temper and sharp tongue. "This is...well..." "We realize that this is highly irregular and we apologize for the inconvenience on Mr. Taylor's behalf" put in the second lawyer and continued "we shall proceed with the meeting as planned and we look forward to doing business with you." And with that, they both stood up shook Joanne's hand and departed. Joanne had finished her second glass of wine when Emily arrived. She was on time for the scheduled meeting, but was hopelessly late for the one that took place prematurely. Joanne glanced up at her with slightly drunk and irritated eyes. "You're late." "Ma'am I thought the meeting was..." began Emily "Meeting is over, or more accurately the meeting never began." Joanne ordered another wine for Emily and filled her in on all the details. "So...what now?" Emily inquired. "Now nothing, we enjoy the booze, the sand, the suntanned bootys of all these Latino men.." Joanne let out a wild laugh and continued, "When the bastards left I was furious but after some wine, I realized it's for the best, better to face the client with all the cards in the deck." She rose from her seat with a slight wobble and looked at Emily with a more softer gaze "You look fuckin beautiful." Joanne said with a genuine smile, "Do me a favor and get laid while you're here, these men know how to fuck." Emily blushed a deep shade of red as she heard this and let out a nervous "Y...Yes" "My god Emily have you never been laid?" Joanne asked exasperated. Emily could only look at her with a gaze that said "none of your business". Joanne simply shook her head and picked up her things. "Well I am gonna get laid...so, call me in the morning..." She walked a couple of paces then turned around "...actually make that the afternoon" and gave a mischievous giggle and walked away. The wine arrived and Emily took a deep breath and sipped it slowly. It was bitter and yet Emily couldn't help but take a sip, and she looked out over the beautiful beach illuminated by the lights of the restaurant. Just then a waiter arrived and placed on her table a small but stylish eye mask and an invitation card. Emily opened the invitation and read that there was a masquerade that evening in the Hacienda just up the beach, and all guests were welcome. She kept the invitation aside and decided that it would be better if she finished her wine and went back to her room to prepare for the meeting. There was much to do. Her eyes went to the black eye mask once again and she sipped the last of her wine. The Hacienda: Emily walked up the beach and entered the veranda with small nervous steps. Her eyes immediately took in the ambiance that could only be described as decadent. There were authentic fire torches on every wall, the slow rhythmic playing of drums, men and women dressed in masks and some in very imaginative and very revealing clothes. Emily stood at the entrance and didn't know what to expect or what to do, something like this was totally out of character for her. Nevertheless her footsteps took her to the bar and she took her seat and ordered a Lime Soda in fluent but accented Portuguese. A man had been watching her the entire time. From the moment she entered he could not help but let out a gasp from his mouth as if the wind had been knocked out of him. He saw her through his own mask stand at the entrance like a proud aristocrat surveying the surroundings as if she owned the place and then witnessed at how she took a few nervous steps into the veranda and headed towards the bar. (She looks a little light for a Latina), the man thought. He got up and buttoned his khaki jacket and approached the bar. His eyes gazing over her bare shoulders and back, noticing a black mole on one of her shoulder blades, he imagined how it would taste in his mouth. Her skin was glazed with sweat as was his, the heat in the area was only enhanced with the presence of the torches. He sat next to her and looked at her angelic face "Hi..." he began She looked at him through her catlike mask and simply stared into his blue eyes. "So uhhh...what're you havin?" the man pressed on... The barman came back with her drink and she thanked him "Gracias". "Oh you a native? Damn you don't look like a native." The man gazed over her body as if she were a food item and continued, "Uhhh...listen I don't really speak much Portuguese but, when a girl looking like you comes to a place like this its usually a sign that you are looking for a good time...right?" Emily could merely stare back at him. It was not as if she didn't want to reply but she was petrified. Here she was in a new country, wearing a dress she would neither wear nor could she afford and was being chatted up by a lecherous albeit attractive man. "You know, why don't you hang around with me for the next few days?" The man said with confidence, his tone now softer and almost velvety. He took off his mask and showed his lean, strong and attractive face. "We could sleep in the rooms with the best views...taste the best wine and food...you could sleep late...shop all day..." His eyes now took on a more feral nature, like a predator when he is about to lunge for a kill. "But to do all that...you just have to take that hand off the counter and put it in my lap." And he reached towards Emily's hand but stopped as Emily slammed her glass on the counter and almost ran away from the bar. She walked fast and with urgency as if a lion were chasing her but then her feet stopped. She turned around to look at the man sitting calmly at the bar with a smirk on his face. He got up and paid her bill and strode confidently towards her with her unfinished drink. Emily wanted nothing more than to just run away from him but something cemented her feet to the floor, "Take your time and think it over." He whispered as he drew close and handed her the glass. "I am in Room 402" he continued "Right up there" he pointed to the window just above them overlooking the veranda. The bars made it look like a prison cage. "I'll be waiting" he whispered in her ear and left her standing in the veranda with her drink in her hand. She looked at the contents of the glass and steadied her breathing and took another sip. Just then her mind and body were jolted by the sudden sound of a woman screaming in a rather shrill voice a native language. Apparently a show was about to begin. A few torchlight's were extinguished to give the atmosphere a more dark and mysterious mood, the woman in some sort of ritualistic garb was speaking a dialect Emily could not understand. Something about "The night of the Rose". She motioned for the patrons to gather on the dance floor as the drummers began playing a faster beat, every note of the drums making Emily's heart rate accelerate another notch, she began sipping her drink in copious amounts since she was thirsty, her brow was covered in sweat as her breathing became more heavy and labored. The crowd began dancing to the tune...men and women wearing masks slowly grinding up against one another with a practiced grace and elegance and yet there was something more raw and animalistic about their movements. She saw the women loop their hands around the necks of the men as the men raised their dresses and ran their hands over their thighs and butt cheeks in a brazen manner. They enjoyed it, laughed at the gesture and encouraged them to do more, much more. As she watched, men lost their blazers, women their panties and some their entire ensemble; the night slowly degenerated into an orgy of sweaty bodies and loud music. Emily kept looking at the scene before her and clasped her mouth with her hand as she let out an involuntary yelp. Her body was shivering, although the air was hot and heavy, a sensation swept within her like a forest fire which seemed to tighten her stomach into a knot. She had known arousal before, she had even experienced sex -though it was merely fumbling around without any clue- but this sense of arousal was new, more primal, something totally strange to Emily, in the same way as the reflection in the mirror this evening. She kept her glass on a nearby table and left the veranda. Her head bowed she stepped towards the exit, determined to leave this place of decadence and perversion. (How could I have been so stupid), she chastised herself; she thought of all the sacrifices she had made to get to where she was in life. All those years denying herself the simplest pleasures of life just so that she could one day know how the other half of the world lives. She could not afford to lose focus, she cannot lose focus and then her train of thought was interrupted by the sudden realization that she was not outside the hacienda but in a corridor at the end of which stood room 402. Room 863 The Grand Hotel: "Argghhh argghhhh naggggghhhh nggggghhhh aaaunnnnnhhh" Joanne screamed as her body shivered and entered into a spasm for the 4th time during the night and she crashed against the hairy chest of a very young and very gifted Brazilian bar manager "Oh meu Deus" the man exclaimed and held onto Joanne with sweat dripping off his brow and breathing heavily as she rolled off him. "Foi realmente incrível", he muttered as he saw Joanne's slick ass cheeks shine in the dim light of the room as she leaned over the side of the bed and opened the bedside drawer. "Yes, it sure was." Joanne replied with a heavy breath as she pulled out a cigarette and lit it leaning back against the soft bed cushions. She let out a stream of smoke and handed the stick over to her lover and decided to make a call to Emily's room. She dialed the number and waited but no one picked up. Intrigued she then called up the restaurant and found out that Emily was seen walking out onto the beach an hour ago; she hung up and lay in bed thinking and gave a smile, "Well well Emily, out on an adventure are we?." Her lover handed her the stick back and sliding down the bed he spread her thighs and lowered his tongue with a chuckle, inciting a sharp intake of breath from Joanne which enabled her to finish the remainder of the stick in a single drag. Room 402 The Hacienda The door was left open and it creaked loudly as Emily entered the room. Her steps were measured and fluid and yet her breathing and heart rate were like that of a rabbi being pursued by a snake. She saw that the room was spartan with several candles having been lit around the space, giving it a much more rustic feel, there was an metal frame bed in the center and a fan that seemed to have stopped working at the end of the century and was left there only to enhance the old world look of the room, there was the steady sound of a shower being run inside the bathroom where more candles adorned the space by the sink. The candles only served to increase Emily's perspiration as she was practically drenched in sweat by the time she reached the window with the vertical bars that overlooked the veranda; the same window that she saw only a few moments ago from down there. The sight in the veranda was something out a decadent Roman mosaic, men and women engrossed in a frantic orgy and yet there seemed order in all this chaos as a lot of the participants were timing their strokes to the rhythm of the drums. Emily held onto the bars, her mask now soaked in sweat as she gazed out into the proceedings and suddenly felt the touch of a fingertip on her back and twitched. "I knew you'd come." The man whispered in her ear and began by opening the small knot at the back of the dress that held it together in place. Gently he slid the straps off her shoulders as they rose and fell along with her heavy breaths. The dress slid down to the floor to reveal only a black lace pantie and nothing more. His hands gently caressed her hips as he drew her close to him, at which Emily lunged forward and gripped the bars with a whimper. He slid his arms across hers and held her hands on the bars, "Come now my dear" he whispered again and kissed her cheek from the side and pulled her arms away from the bars and led her into his lair. He nudged her onto the bed and she fell back with her arms cocked at the elbows and her fingers nervously twirling locks of her hair. Her toned belly fluttered and her chest heaved offering up her plump pink nipples that began to harden gradually. Emily noticed that the man himself was naked covered in a layer of humidity and bath water. His hair still dripping as he came over her. She tried to push him aside and flee yet he held her down and resting his palm between her breasts he silenced her with a hush. "I am not going to hurt you." He said in a soothing voice and gently lifted her mask over her head and caressed her cheek. "You are so beautiful." He bent down and gently kissed her upper lip. Emily's body began reacting out of instinct more than anything and she kissed him back slowly, then the lower lip was also met with a kiss and the kiss was reciprocated. His fingers slithered down her side and gently tugged the panties off. His lips began caressing her soft belly and licked the beads of sweat that lay there gently kissing his way to her silk smooth thighs and then kissing back up. Her leg curled up and the other lay straight because it was the one that he was kissing, his eyes met hers and in that moment he saw both her fear and excitement at being here. He crawled up slowly, his tongue tip leaving a wet trail that ran from her belly to her breasts. He took in one of her areolas and applied suction on it, making her arch and moan slowly. Her eyes rolling back and half closing and then opening again. Her tongue gently gliding over her dry lips a fraction before her teeth bit down on it and she let out a groan of pleasure feeling the tug of the mans lips on her nipples. Roses are Red He came up to her neck and nuzzled her slowly before looking at her face and kissing her lips again; this time the response came much quicker as Emily reciprocated the soft kiss with pecks of her own. His hand trailed down and slowly caresses her soft mound and applied the gentlest of pressure which resulted in a sharp arch of her back and a groan into his mouth. Usually the man required copious amounts of stimulation before he even contemplated any penetration, however the angel before him succeeded in arousing him to full erection with just her eyes and soft moans. As he glided his fingertips up and down the sides of her mound he sensed that the woman was inexperienced in the art of proper sexual intercourse, therefore it was imperative that he take advantage of her excitement and his to take this to the next level before fear overtook her arousal. He slid expertly between her thighs and gently nudged her sex with his throbbing cock head. Emily gasped at the sensation and her breathing came in large gulps of air. His sweat dripped onto her neck as he slid his hips forward and penetrated her pussy, which was not only sensitive but tight as it clung onto his mushroom tip like a leech. The man bit his lip and thrust forward with greater force making Emily arch up and open her mouth in a silent scream as she gripped his wrists till her knuckles turned white. Instinctively her legs wrapped around his muscular waist and her thighs tightened from the pressure exerted on her pussy. "Huuummmphhh" the man grunted and slid forward till he was completely inside her and held himself inside feeling her vaginal walls shiver and clamp down his cock. He stirred his hips in order to stretch her from the inside. "Aaannhh...AAAANnnnnnhhh" Emily gave a girlish gasp and dug her head into his neck. Her lips quivering and her eyes tearing up as she had never felt anything so painful and yet so pleasurable. She gripped his shoulders as he folded his legs and mounted her onto his lap, cushioning her ass cheeks on his shins. From afar they looked like lovers on a Lotus flower; his hands slid down to caress her soft cheeks as he rocked her back and forth on his cock. Emily looked into his eyes with an expression that was a mix of fear and delight as she felt him take control, then she heard it, the rhythm of the drums and a tidal wave of images flooded her eyes as she recalled how the men and women in the veranda used these drums to guide them. By now her pussy was lubed sufficiently to allow easy ingress and egress, so she decided to take some control for herself and began weaving her hips in and out on his lap. The man chuckled and stopped rocking her hips and merely held onto them, "There we go." he muttered with a grin and closed his eyes leaning back slightly, "Oh my godddd...uhmmmmhh...hmmmmmhhh...uhmmmmhhh" His hands groped her soft ass cheeks and played with them as she danced on his shaft. He slid onto his knees and as if on cue Emily planted her legs on either side of him and held onto his shoulders while she rocked her hips back and forth slowly as if sitting on an invisible chair. In response her lover swiveled his hips side to side as their gentle penetration now began picking up pace. His face now buried in her breasts as he suckled her tits while she rocked her hips. "Ayyeeehhh...awuuuhhhh" Emily let out a yelp with a ghost of a smile on her lips as her fingers slid into his hair as his head was bowed in her breasts. He gave her a playful spank which brought out a grunt from her and a sharp stroke of her hips. He did it again and Emily reciprocated in kind, as she dug her fingers into his back and bit the side of his neck with a feral growl. "AAAAAHhhhhh" the man arched and yelled out in pleasure and decided to give his reply. He threw her onto her back and entered her again with a forceful thrust. Her legs wrapped around his hips as he began to work his hips in and out of her. His body timing his strokes to the beat of the drums outside. The room quickly filled with sounds of their collective moans and grunts and the smell of their sweat and musk. Among the various echos there was also the sound of a steady fapping noise as their slick and wet thighs clashed together after every movement of the mans hips. Emilys toes dug into the small of his back and then slid down to his toned buttcheeks as they clenched and relaxed with every thrust. He looked down at her face and saw him looking up at him, her cheeks now rosy and her pupils dilated he slowed his pace and took a moment to admire her features and then gave three strong strokes inside her and began to shiver "Haauuuh...ahuuuhhh...aaaahaauuhhh...AAAAAUhhhhhhhh...FFFfffffffff" his face twisted into a grimace as his cock spewed out his spunk inside her body. Her nails dragged on his shoulder blades and left long thin streaks of blood. "HUuuuunnnnnnnnnnn nnngggggghhhhhhh" Emily let out a long shrill scream as her body arched and toes curled and shivered. Their bodies shivered and enters spasm together and their moans overlapped until finally they crashed onto the bed with a loud clunk. Breathing heavily and covered in each others sweat. The man looked at Emily's face and found her staring blankly at the ceiling taking in large gulps of air. He curled an arm around her and brought her close...slowly stroking her back and letting her breathing calm down. He looked down at her and saw that she dozed off into a deep sleep already. Her soft cheek resting on his sweaty chest and a serene expression on her face. The man smiled warmly at her, and perhaps one of the few times he actually felt warmth towards a woman. He pulled the sheet over them and lay back and slept peacefully. The Grand Hotel Emily ran towards the elevator holding her heels in her hands and her hair bouncing side to side with every stride. She caught the elevator and headed up to her room where she proceeded to quickly bathe and get dressed. In the shower she took a moment to calm herself and not think too much about what had occurred the previous night, or early this morning. He could still feel his hands around her waist and his breath upon her neck. She scrubbed herself furiously with soap and water as if trying to remove the sensation of his body from hers. She stepped out of the shower and began drying herself, twirling around in front of the mirror and checking for any distinguishing marks and/or love bites. She found that her ass cheeks looked rosy red as if they had been spanked all too often. She blushed at the memory and now her face matched her ass cheeks. She took a deep breath and looked in the mirror once again and found that she was smirking while trying to get her breath back; the smirk disappeared and was replaced by an expression of shock as she whispered to her reflection, "Who are you?" The phone rang and broke her moment of introspection. She rushed towards the sound making an educated guess as to who might be calling, "Where the fuck are you?" Joanne said in a quiet and menacing voice. "I...uhmm...I uhhh slept in a bit and..." "Dont gimme that girl..." Joanne cut in with a giggle, "You did what I asked you to didn't you?" "Ummm...am not sure what you..." Emily tried in vain to sound ignorant. "How was he?" Joanne cut in again. All she could hear was Emily's labored breaths, "Oh...that good huh?" she chuckled and took on a softer tone, "Well am happy for you sweetheart, and I'd love to let you get some rest but money never sleeps. I just got a call from those lawyers, apparently his highness Jerome The-Fucking-Great wants to conduct his meeting in a few hours. So here's what I want you to do..." Emily only half listened to all the instructions that Joanne gave. Her mind wandered between trying to understand what happened last night and also this new found urge she was having to go back to that room. Nevertheless Emily got the papers in order and showed up at the Four Seasons hotel and sat next to Joanne and prepared for the meeting. Emily was going over the final few papers when they arrived. The two lawyers from the day before and Jerome Taylor dressed impeccably in a grey suit. He shook Joanne's hand and gave her body a quick look over with a smirk before turning his attention to her companion who had her back to him as she studied the papers in front of her. Emily got up and froze as soon as she laid her eyes on Jerome. Jerome smiled and gently rubbed the side of his neck where a band-aid was placed. Joanne stepped in and filled in the awkward silence, "Mr. Taylor this is my associate Emily and I can assure you although she is young, she is talented enough to handle your account." Jerome drew up a chair and sat down with a smirk, looking at Emily's blushing face, "I have no doubt Ms. Walters...no doubt." Joanne sat down with a confused expression on her face as she looked from Jerome to Emily and then back to Jerome who was all but grinning. "I have a feeling we shall be seeing more of each other Ms. Walters...a lot more." Without another word, Jerome drew the papers towards himself and opened his Pen to sign the documents. Roses are Red, Spinach is Green She started to cry, and I thought she was crying because she was happy. I tried to make a joke to get her to stop. "Gee, if I'd have known you were going to do that, I wouldn't have asked you." "It's not you. It's me." "Well?" "Well, what?" "Will you marry me?" Christa wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, then pulled a tissue from the box on the end table and blew her nose. She'd stopped sobbing, but her shoulders still shook and she wouldn't look at me. "I told you I don't know. I need to think about it?" "That's it? You need to think about it? Is that all you can say?" "Stop it! I don't know what's wrong. If I knew, I wouldn't need to think about it." She started to cry again. I tried to hug her, but she just stood there with tears streaming down her face. She started to sob when I put on my coat and walked toward the door, but she didn't try to stop me. How the hell could I have read things so wrong? We'd been seeing each other for a little over a year, and I loved her for everything she was. I loved her for the sappy way she talked to kids and dogs and cats. I loved her for the way she could light up a room just by entering it. I loved her just because she was her. Sex had nothing to do with it. We'd hadn't slept together until a couple of months before that night. Christa had wanted it that way, and I didn't need to have her body to love her. When she went to Atlanta with me just after New Years, the sex was great, but it was even better having her to come back to every night. It was great watching her get ready for dinner. It was great telling her what happened at my business conference and knowing she understood. We'd talked a little about what lay in the future and I thought she'd agreed we would be together. Everything seemed great, so great in fact, that I'd decided to ask her to marry me. Three weeks later, when I did, she said she wasn't sure. I don't remember much about the drive home. My mind went on autopilot, and I thought more than I watched the road. Funny how you can do that, isn't it? You drive somewhere and don't remember how you got there. I made it to work the next morning by the skin of my teeth. I felt like crap. I must have looked like crap to Donna, our HR manager, too. "Walt, you look like death warmed over. You OK?" "Yeah, Donna, I'm all right. Just didn't sleep much last night. Anything new happening this morning?" "Our boss is on the rampage about this year's budget. I guess that's not new, is it?" "Nope. I'm going to get a cup of coffee, and then I'll have another look at the numbers. Maybe if I change some accruals, he'll be happier." Every year it was like this. The year-end numbers had been good, but the budget for this year wasn't aggressive, at least in Carl's eyes. If profits weren't going to exceed last year's business plan, he was worried. He was worried every year in January, and stayed that way until the year-end numbers showed we'd made it. Then, he was happy and took everybody to lunch. I guess that's his management style, but to me, he seems like a heart attack waiting to happen. "So, how'd it go?" "How'd what go?" "Last Friday, you told me you were going to propose to Christa on the weekend. Did she accept?" "Oh, that. I wish I hadn't told you." "Walt, sometimes, I think we're closer than I was to my ex. We've worked together for six years. If you can't tell me, who can you tell? …Oh, my God. She didn't say no, did she?" "No, she didn't, but she didn't say yes either. She says she has to think about it." "Walt, I ought to tell you…, that's not good. Women don't usually have to think about things like that. We know if we'd marry a guy after the first couple of dates. That's not to say we'd want to marry him, you understand, but we know if we would or not." "I don't know what's wrong. I thought everything was going in that direction, and then when I asked her…." Donna touched my shoulder. "Call her this afternoon and see what she says. She's probably just nervous. Marriage is a big decision for a woman. Christa's thirty-four, like you, right?" "Thirty-four this month." "She probably doesn't want to make the mistake of marrying the wrong man. We don't have forever like you men, you know. I'm thirty-six, and I'm starting to worry a lot." "I know. I would have understood if she'd told me that. We could have talked it out, and I could have told her how much I needed her. She wouldn't even talk about it. I don't know what I'll do if she does say no." "It'll hurt like hell, but it won't hurt as bad as if she married you and it ended in divorce. Believe me, I know. If she says no, you just have to get on with your life. There's someone out there who's right for you." Donna looked at me and winked. "She might even be closer than you think. Maybe you ought to get your head out of your books and look around once in a while." Christa wouldn't answer my call that day, or the three I made on Tuesday. I just kept getting her answering machine. I stopped calling after Wednesday and drove to her apartment after work. If she was home, she wouldn't answer the door. I spent the rest of the week feeling sorry for myself. On Friday, Carl was at least tolerant when I showed him the revised numbers. He sent me back to my office for a few minor changes and left for lunch with some clients. I tried to get in touch with Christa all weekend, but didn't have any luck. On Sunday evening, I realized I'd probably seen the last of her. Donna was right. It did hurt like hell. The alarm woke me in plenty of time to get to the office, but I didn't feel much like hurrying. Donna glanced at her watch when I walked past her office and raised her eyebrows. I shook my head and unlocked my door. When I flipped the switch and lit the room the little envelope caught my eye. It was sitting in the middle of my desk, and I didn't remember it being there when I left on Friday. I always locked my office when I left for the night, or thought I did, but there it was. Then I realized it must be a note from the cleaning service. The guards open all the offices in the building for the cleaning crew after working hours. It was probably notification of a carpet scrubbing over the next weekend or something like that. I'd have to pile my chair, wastebasket and shredder on top of my desk before I left on Friday. I'd never understood why they couldn't do that. I guess moving wastebaskets and chairs falls outside the scope of their contract. I hung up my coat and sat down. It was just a small plain envelope like the ones for thank-you notes, but he note inside wasn't from the cleaners. Instead, I found a computer generated Valentine's Day card. It had a heart with an arrow going through it, and to one side was an impish looking Cupid holding his bow. I opened the heart and found a poem written in a bold, script font. Roses are red, Violets are blue, Sugar is sweet I really love you There was no name or anything else to tell me who put it on my desk. I took it to Donna. I had confidential company information in my files about salaries and bonus payments. The files were always locked unless I was using them, but it was still a little disturbing that someone could get into my office over the weekend. "Well, I have no idea who put it there. I got here at eight, and nobody's been near your office since then. You sure it wasn't there on Friday?" "Yes, I'm sure. I always clean my desk on Friday. You know that. I'd have seen it." Donna chuckled. "Maybe the cleaning lady's after your body. Ever think of that?" "I've seen the cleaning lady. She's over sixty and she's married. Besides, she didn't dump my shredder last Thursday, and I left her a note complaining about it. I don't exactly think she'd say she loved me." "I don't know who else would have a key except Carl." She looked at me and giggled. "You don't suppose…? I mean, he is awfully neat about his clothes and hair and everything, and he's not married. Doesn't even have a girlfriend that I know of." "Donna, come on. This is a serious breech of security. Security reports to you. Shouldn't we be doing something about it?" "OK, I'll check with the guard captain to see who came in over the weekend and let you know. Don't worry so much. Remember, I said the woman for you might be right under your nose. Maybe she is, and she's decided to tell you how she feels." She brought me the list after lunch. Several of our management trainees had checked in on Saturday or Sunday and stayed a few hours. That was nothing odd. I'd done that on more than one occasion when the workload was too much for five days. In light of what Donna had told me, though, some of the names were interesting. Tracy was a few years younger than I, but I'd always liked her and she seemed like she'd be fun to be with. Gwen…, well Gwen was really young, and a lot too racy for me. She wore very short skirts and low-cut sweaters, and seemed to enjoy all the looks she got. Then there was Kimberly. She was about my age, and was very attractive. I'd tried to date Kimberly a couple of times before I met Christa, but she'd always turned me down. Maybe she'd changed her mind. I wasn't ready to jump back into the dating pool just yet. I had to come to grips with Christa's rejection before I did that. Still, it was nice to know that somebody thought I was worth a Valentine. On Tuesday morning, I felt a little better about things and made it to my office at seven-thirty. I was surprised by another small envelope in the middle of my desk. The Valentine was the same, but the poem was different. Roses are red Marigolds are yellow I've loved you since we met You're such a great fellow Donna checked the after hours list again and brought me the names. Tracy went home at seven, and Kimberly hung around until eight. The other names on the list were new. Both Tracy and Kimberly would have been there when the cleaning lady came by to do my office. They could have put the card on my desk before she locked my door, or they might have seen someone else do it. Maybe it was just a prank. The life of a management trainee is a pretty stressful, and once in a while, they have to relieve that stress somehow. Harold, the Operations Manager, has a passion for sticky notes, and uses them all over the place. One night during a push to get some reports done, they took a break and papered Harold's entire door with sticky notes. I know they did it, because I worked late that night, too, and I helped them. We thought it was hilarious, and they all thought it was great that I was in on it. Carl didn't have quite the same appreciation for the joke and issued a memo to the effect that any other horseplay would be severely dealt with. Tracy and Kimberly didn't work for me, so unless one of them was responsible, I thought they might tell me what was going on. I felt like a police detective when I talked to them. "Uh, Tracy, how're we treating you these days? We keeping you busy?" "Busy isn't the word I'd use. Terminal overload is more like it. You managers have a life outside of here. I'm lucky to get home before I have to turn around and start back." "Well, we're just doing our part to keep you out of trouble at night. Uh, many of you stay late?" "Yeah. At least you guys are fair. You give everybody more than they can do. Several of us stay late, but thankfully, not every night." "You guys aren't playing anymore tricks, are you? Remember Harold's door? I thought it was funny, but you need to watch it. Carl will only let that stuff go so far." "Nope, not that I know of. Well, there was this one thing we were going to do." She leaned toward me and giggled. "You know how Jerry's always so finicky about his desk. Well, we talked about filling his cube with those little foam peanuts, but he stays late too, so we never got the chance. You won't tell anybody I told you that, will you, Mr. Hodges?" I laughed with her. Jerry was fanatical about his cubicle and even dusted it every night before he left. The peanuts would have been funny. Seeing Jerry's face would have been funnier. "No, I won't say anything. If it should happen, though, don't be surprised if I go back to my office and shut the door. Wouldn't want Carl to see me laughing that much." Kimberly didn't know anything, either, but she did bat her eyelashes at me. Maybe it was her. That wouldn't be all that bad. The next morning there was another envelope on my desk. Again the card was the same, and the words were different. Roses are red Pine trees are sappy If you love me too It would sure make me happy "OK, Donna. Is security doing anything around here or not? This is the third day somebody's left a card on my desk, and your people don't know anything?" "Well, we don't pay them just to guard your office, you know. We pay them to watch the doors and patrol for fires and break-ins, stuff like that. I take it you didn't have any luck with Tracy or Kimberly?" "They don't know anything. I'm getting worried. If somebody can just waltz in here and get into my office, how much else could they do?" "OK, tell you what I'll do. I'll have security check every hour tonight to see if anybody's been in your office. That make you happy?" Donna met me at my office door the next morning with the guard report. As I was unlocking my door, she read it to me. "Eighteen-hundred – no sign of entry. Nineteen hundred – no sign of entry. Twenty hundred – it reads the same for every hour until seven this morning. I couldn't have them check after that. They have to be at the main entrance logging people in." I didn't have to look to know it was there. I just picked up the envelope and handed it to Donna. She glanced at the card for a second and then laughed. "Well, you've made an impression on somebody. Believe me, I understand your concern, but I don't know what else to do." She chuckled. "It is a cute poem, though, don't you think?" I read the familiar script font. Roses are red And get darker when dry If we don't get together soon I think I will die "OK, so it's cute. We still don't know who's leaving them." "Walt, calm down. Whoever it is doesn't seem to be doing anything except getting under your skin. Maybe you ought to just sit back and see what happens. Never know what you might find out." Donna flashed me a big smile. "You might even like it." Friday's Valentine was a little more to the point than the others. Roses are red Pickles are sour I'd like us to meet For a few little hours So, she wanted to meet me. I didn't know what I should do so I went to Donna again. "There's no company policy about dating between employees unless she works for you. Does she work for you? Oh, I guess you don't know that. Well, you won't know unless you take her up on her offer, now will you?" I tried calling Christa again on Saturday, but got her machine again. I knew she was gone, but I had to try at least one more time before…. Well, it would have felt like cheating if I hadn't tried to call her. On Monday, I had three Valentines. The first was about like the others. Roses make perfume Long grass makes hay Just wanted you to know I'm thinking about you today The second made me wonder again about who was giving them to me. If she really liked me that much, why was she trying so hard to keep her identity a secret? Roses are solid Pansies have spots I might as well tell you, You give me the hots My jaw dropped when I read the third. Christa had been pretty open about things after we started sleeping together, but she had never said anything to me like this poem. Roses have petals Cowbells have ringers When I think of you I get wandering fingers I didn't show them to Donna. Whoever my secret love was, she had, so far, avoided detection. There was no reason to believe security had any better idea now than last week. I spent the entire day thinking about that last poem. I was becoming interested, not necessarily in pursuing the relationship, but in just finding out who she was. Tuesday's Valentine made me think I might be able to do just that. Roses are flashy Violets are meek I'll make some arrangements For later this week Wednesday's made the possibility almost certain, at least if I decided to go through with it. Roses are fat Violets are thin Please meet me on Friday At the Paradise Inn I'd heard of the Paradise Inn, although I'd never been there. Some of our most afluent clients stayed at the Paradise when they visited our office. It was the most expensive hotel in the city, and the rooms were supposed to be pretty luxurious. By the end of the day, I was looking forward to Friday. My Thursday Valentine only heightened my anticipation. I wasn't sure what "something special" meant, but I was going to find out. Roses are beautiful Carnations are great I'll wear something special Please be there at eight I arrived at the office on Friday morning and grabbed the envelope from my desk. Roses don't have teeth But thistles can bite I'll be waiting there for you Tonight is the night Those words, "Tonight is the night", reminded me of an old joke, and I had to chuckle. I was as happy as the guy in that joke, and I didn't even know who I was meeting. "You're in good spirits this morning. What's so funny?" "Oh, hi, Donna. Well, I guess I'm going to find out who my secret admirer is. I'm supposed to meet her at the Paradise, tonight." Donna whistled. "I love that place. My ex took me there once and I'd give anything to spend another night there. The suites on the top floor are fabulous. The bedroom's separate from the living area and each suite has a jacuzzi. It's really romantic. Just one little question, though. Since you don't know who she is, how in the world are you going to find her?" "I don't know. I suppose she'll find me." Donna chuckled. "I guess you could wear a big heart that says 'I'm your Valentine. Come get me.'" "Now, that would look really cute, wouldn't it? No, I think I'll just go hang out in the lobby until she shows. Want to come with me?" "I really wish I had time. It'd be fun watching, but I have to leave early today." "Oh…. You never leave early on Friday. Hot date or something?" "Don't I wish. No, I'm just taking some time off for me. Tomorrow is Valentine's Day and I'm uh, I'm going to go out tonight and have a drink to the valentine I won't get. Speaking of going out, you doing anything for lunch? I need a couple of minutes to talk with you about the salary plan." "Afraid not. Today's my command performance with Carl. We're going to the Belmont for lunch and his monthly inquisition about the balance sheet." Lunch with Carl wasn't something I considered fun, because he used it as an opportunity to question me and I couldn't enjoy the meal. Thankfully, he got an urgent call and I got to finish by myself. I was too nervous to talk about finances anyway. When I got back to my desk, there was another envelope. Roses cost money Violets are free Say your name at the desk They'll give you a key. At four, I gave up trying to find the six thousand dollars and change in the supply accounts and went home. After dinner, and then a shower and a fresh shave, I drove to the Paradise and walked up to the desk a little before eight. "May I help you, Sir?" "Yes, I was told to give you my name and you'd have a key for me. I'm Walt Hodges." "Ah, yes. Here's the note. Um, Sir, would you have some identification? Security for our guests, you understand." I gave him my driver's license. After a careful inspection, he handed it back to me along with the credit card type room key. "It's suite eleven-ten. Just put the card in the slot on the elevator panel and it'll let you go up. The refrigerator is stocked, but if you need anything else, just call room service or the desk. Have an enjoyable stay with us." Roses are Red, Spinach is Green "If I might ask, who reserved the room?" "Um, Sir, the note says I'm not supposed to tell you. It was a special request. I'm sorry." There was a familiar envelope taped to the door of suite eleven-ten. I opened the card and read the inscription. Roses are pretty Of that all will vouch Come in, lock the door And sit on the couch The room was spacious, and the single lamp on the desk cast a warm glow on the tan wallpaper and massive leather couch. A glass-topped coffee table sat in front of the couch and I saw an ice bucket with a bottle of champagne and one crystal flute sitting on one end. There was also another envelope. Some roses are yellows And some come in blacks I'll be there in a minute Have some champagne and relax The bottle had been opened and some of the bubbling pale champagne was gone. I filled the flute and settled into the couch to await whatever was going to happen. To say I was nervous would be an understatement. My hands were shaking when I lifted the glass to my lips. The champagne was excellent so I refilled the flute. She walked into the room and sat in the chair on the other side of the coffee table just as I was in the middle of a sip. I nearly choked and had to cough a lot before I could say anything. "Christa! It was you?" Her smile was a little weak, but it was a smile. Christa shrugged, then sat her half-empty flute on the table, reached between the lapels of her clingy, black blouse, and leaned over to hand me an envelope. When she leaned back, she looked a little worried. "Christa, what – " "Shhh." She pointed to the envelope. Roses are red Spinach is green Please let me be part of us I don't want to be just me I looked across the table. Christa was wringing her hands and tears streamed down each cheek. I tried to sound serious, but it was difficult to keep from jumping over the table and hugging her. "Christa, I don't know. Over the last couple weeks…. Well, it's like this. Any wife of mine would have to write a lot better poems than these." I grinned, she grinned back, sniffed and wiped her eyes. We met in an embrace at the end of the coffee table. I lifted her off her feet and hugged her until she groaned. "Why didn't you answer my calls? I went insane that first week trying to talk to you." Christa pushed back, sniffed and wiped her eyes again. "Because I'm stupid. I love you more than anything, but I got so scared. My sister thought she loved her husband, but she just finished getting a divorce. She'd been telling me how things changed after they got married, how she started to hate him for all kinds of reasons. I wanted to say yes that night, but I kept thinking about my sister. I didn't want to end up like her, all bitter and spiteful about what happened. "It killed me not to answer your calls, but I couldn't. I couldn't say yes when you asked me, like a normal woman, and if I'd said yes after a day or two, you'd have thought I was some crazy lady who couldn't make up her mind. How would you know I wouldn't change it again after we were married?" "You're not stupid, and I think you're pretty normal. If I thought you were crazy, I wouldn't have asked you. I wouldn't give you any reason to change your mind, either." "That's what Donna said, too." "Donna? M y Donna, from work?" "Uh-huh. I called her that Wednesday. You said she was divorced, so she could tell me why she stopped loving her husband. I also knew you were close, that you trusted her. I thought maybe she could help me decide." "What'd she tell you?" "Well, she wouldn't tell what to do. She said I'd have to make up my own mind about that, and that I shouldn't let my sister do it for me. She told me she thought you loved me a lot, because you were really unhappy." "I wasn't unhappy. I was miserable." Christa started to sob. "I feel terrible that I did that to you. I just…, well it's a really big thing and I didn't want to screw it up. I really, really want to have some kids, and if it didn't work out…. If we got divorced…. They either wouldn't have a daddy or they wouldn't have a mommy…. Oh, Walt, I got all mixed up and I didn't know what to do." I held her until she stopped crying and then gave her my handkerchief so she could blow her nose. "Tell you what. Let's just take it in little steps, OK? And no more Valentines, at least no more instead of talking. By the way, whose idea was it to send me those Valentines, yours or Donna's?" "Mine. Well, Donna's too, in a way. She said I should talk to you and tell you how I felt. I couldn't do that, not after I wouldn't answer your calls. I asked her if she'd put my envelopes on your desk for me. I gave them all to her that Sunday night." I pushed her to arm's length and looked into her eyes. "Well, from now on, we talk to each other about things, OK. I don't want my wife thinking the only way she can tell me something is by writing little poems about flowers." "Could there be just one more? It's the last one, I promise." Without waiting for an answer, Christa stepped back and unbuttoned her blouse. I'd never seen the black, long-line bra before. She must have bought it just for tonight, and it was sexy as hell. Her breasts swelled sensually from the half-cups and I saw the pale blue veins that traced the paths to her nipples. She unzipped her short skirt and let it fall around her black high-heels. I had to whistle softly. The black nylons encased her slender legs all the way up to the lace bands at the top. Her soft, white skin went from there up to black lace panties. The garters that held the stockings were something else too. They stood away from the little hollow between her thighs and tummy, and clung to the curves of her hips. Christa reached beneath the waistband of the lace garterbelt and extracted another envelope. It was warm to the touch and slightly curved from the swell of her belly. Roses are red As are asters and such I need to make love with you I'll show you how much "Please, Walt, sit back down on the couch." I dropped the card to the table as Christa sat down on the chair. Her red-tipped fingers slowly caressed the tops of her breasts. Christa licked her lips and scooped her right breast from its lacy cup, then ran her finger over the nipple and shivered. "I've thought about making love with you for the whole three weeks. I need you to do this to me tonight." She lifted her left breast and stroked that nipple into a taut little bud. Her eyes were wide with passion and sparkled in the light from the single lamp as she covered both breasts with her palms, rubbed in circles and then squeezed. Christa's pert nipples pushed out between her fingers, and she moaned when she closed her hands and pinched them. It took her only a few seconds to unfasten the garter clasps and drop the garterbelt at her feet. She lifted her hips slightly and rolled the panties over her hips, then down her thighs, and finally over the gleaming leather of her heels. Her hands stroked back up the inside of her calves, then over her open thighs, and came to rest at the fine curls that fringed her sex. "I need you to do this, too." One hand continued to caress the inside of her thigh; the other stroked over the tangle of curls on her mound, then down over the slender lips that peeked from beneath the curls. I held my breath and watched her finger disappear between those lips and then trace their length up to the start of the cleft. Christa moaned again, and her head fell back. The finger disappeared again, then was followed by a second. They slowly reappeared, then spread her sex to reveal the glistening wet, pink ripples of the secret folds inside. Christa brought her fingers to the little fold of skin at the top and rubbed gently. I heard her gasp, but couldn't take my eyes away from her hands. I'd never seen anything so erotic in my life. The hand that had caressed her thigh slid slowly up her side to her breast and squeezed. Christa moaned again. Her breath came in slow gasps, and her voice was throaty. "I thought about you…. You and me…. Three weeks…. You touching me here…. Feeling you again…. Feeling you….Oh, God…." Christa's head lolled to the side and her hips lifted off the chair. A cry slipped through her parted lips, she pinched her nipple and pulled, then cried out again before sagging back into the chair. For a few seconds, she slumped there, sighing and stroking the curls between her thighs. Then, she looked at me and smiled. "I need you to do that with me, over and over and over until I beg you to stop. Then I want you to do it again. We have the room until Sunday. We have lots of time." Christa walked around the table, took my hand and led me into the bedroom. The blankets were already turned down to the foot of the king-size bed. She unhooked the bra and tossed it into a chair, lay on the bed and stretched out her hands. I slipped off my clothes and joined her. Christa kissed me softly and stroked my back. "I love you so much, Walt. I want to be yours forever. I need to show you how much." She pulled my hand to her breast. Before, in Atlanta, we'd had sex. That night, we made love. Christa's breasts were warm and full under my palm, and her nipples quickly swelled again as I lightly brushed them. Her arm tightened around my back and she arched her chest toward my fingers. Her small hand searched down my belly, gently groping for me. She lifted her thigh and threw it over mine. I felt the silky hair on her mound pressing into my leg and I reached down. Christa was still wet and slippery. I gently stroked over her inner lips. She pressed into my hand and moaned. I felt her finger lightly rubbing the underside of my shaft. She grasped me with her soft hand, and it was my turn to groan. Christa was soft little gasps and gentle caresses as my fingers roamed over her lush body. After three weeks without her, I was savoring every inch of that body, gently stroking and caressing every curve and hollow. When I slipped my finger into her passage she pulled my face to hers and inhaled me with her kiss. Her tongue circled my lips and then pressed inside. The soft wet caress against mine was wonderful and sent a jolt all the way to my toes. My fingertip found her swollen button and I caressed it's wet surface with little circles. Christa cried out and arched her back. I slowly rubbed over the tip and she cried out again. Her hand began to pull at the head of my cock. She kissed me again, then breathed, "I need you, Walt. I need you now." Christa rolled on top of me and kissed me again. She dragged her nipples through the hair on my chest and then flattened them into me. I felt her reach between us, lift my cock to her lips, and rub the head over their wet satin surface. She pushed my shaft between them and rode up and down. I felt her little button rubbing over the surface. Christa shuddered and guided me to her entrance. She sank over me with agonizing slowness, as if she wanted to feel every inch as she took it into her body. It was all I could do to not lunge up and bury myself deep inside her, but I could tell she wanted to control this. I gently rubbed the sides of her breasts and let her do as she wished. At last, with a little moan, she sank down on my belly and lay still. I felt small contractions as she squeezed me with her inner muscles. Christa kissed me again, then pushed herself up and began to rock over me. With each stroke, she rocked her hips back, and her little button raked my shaft. I lifted her breasts, then rubbed my fingertips over the wrinkled, bumpy skin around her nipples. She looked down at me and smiled, then made a little circle with her hips, and sank down again. I felt the end of her passage press against the head of my cock. She began to rock up and down a little faster. I rolled her nipples between my fingers and tugged gently. Christa shuddered and a low moan slipped from her open lips. She threw her head back, then down, and her long hair fell in waves over my face. She had used a scented shampoo, and the fragrance was intoxicating. I brushed the waves back over her shoulders and slipped my hands down her sides. With one fingertip, I traced around the curve of her hip and thigh to the soft curls on her mound. I slipped my finger between her lips and rubbed little circles around her button. Christa cried out and put her hands on my chest. I felt her nails dig in slightly as she clenched her fingers and pushed down over me hard. She lifted herself, then buried me deep inside her body again. I felt wet warmth flow around me. Christa groaned, then gasped, and her body began to shake. The first spurt shot from my loins just as she quickly rocked her hips and cried, "Now, oh please, now." She collapsed on my chest and nestled her face against my neck. Little contractions squeezed me as she slowly recovered from the orgasm. When I slipped from her velvet embrace, she kissed my shoulder, then rolled to my side and stroked my chest and belly. We fell asleep with her cheek on my chest and her hand in mine. The next morning, I stroked her thigh and watched her eyes flutter open. Christa pulled me to her mouth and kissed me softly. "Today is Valentine's Day. I'm sorry, Walt, but I didn't get you a card." "That's all right. I already got a bunch from a beautiful woman I'm going to love forever." "If you love her that much, hadn't you better show her?" That weekend was unbelievable. On that weekend, we became one. We were still separate people, but we were bound together by something bigger than either of us. I'd known three weeks before that I wanted to marry her. Now, I knew I'd never be able to live without her. She'd given herself to me, totally, willingly and without question. I had given myself to her in the same way. We left the Paradise Inn at noon and spent Sunday night at my apartment. It was so hard to leave her for work the next morning. "Well, how'd it go? You meet your mystery woman?" "Donna, my deceiving, conniving friend, you know very well I did." "She told you, huh? We had you going there, didn't we? Just consider it my contribution to employee morale. Well, what happened?" "Let's just say I'm unbelievably happy, totally exhausted, and we're going to a jewelry store tonight." "You set a date yet?" "No, but soon, I think. We're taking it one step at a time." "You won't forget to invite me, will you?" "You'll be the first name on the list." We set the date for June sixth, the same day as her parent's anniversary. The ceremony and reception were nice. Donna cried through the whole thing and gave me a big kiss when we left the reception. We honeymooned in Gatlinburg, Tennessee for one wonderful week. Christa still has trouble talking about some things, but we're working on it. After being married for a little over a year, she only has to write about the really big things, like the Valentine I found on my pillow last night. She watched me read it with a big grin on her face. Roses are red And give me a thrill You're going to be a Daddy In the middle of next April I kind of like it that she always uses Valentines, even though her poems are silly and it's usually not Valentine's Day. They remind me of the time I almost lost the most precious thing in my life, and about how those silly little Valentines brought us back together. I keep them all, because those little Valentines tell a nice story. The best part is, the story doesn't have an end. Our Valentine's Day has been every day since the Paridise. It happens over and over and over, and then happens again. We have a life together until forever. We have lots of time. * * * * * Thanks for reading this work. Please vote to indicate how much you enjoyed it, and send comments or feedback if you can spare the time. Your votes and feedback are the only way I will know how much you enjoyed my effort, and furnish the only means to improve my writing. Thanks again, Ronde.