Author: Charlie

About me sections give me writer's block. I never know what to say without sounding mechanical. I see myself as a regular sort of man. I am not into sports, so maybe I am a tad irregular in that regard. I love bookstores and libraries. Ever since my mom taught me to read and write I took both very seriously, and I have always had a love affair with the pen and pad. I was studying psychology online but recently I realized that my passion for writing outweighed counseling, so I dropped out. My goal is to get some of my best poems and short stories published. What inspires me? Life baby, life... I can write a short love story that hits home, I can write a poem that knocks around in your dome. I like challenging myself when I write. I strive to be different--I try to be real in sharing a bit of my worldview with the world. Stay tuned--my blog, SpKn (pronounced "Spoken") has a good deal in store, and hopefully it will move you.

Searching for a sensation,

something that will last- a warm memory

to withstand the cold distant past.

Yet this is the known;

warm bodies apart

fantasies unfulfilled

a jagged edge through

an already broken heart.

Self-pity evolved through

self pleasure, only

until the aching

realization of desperate loneliness

settles in

And the desire

to feel is starving

once again.

Grief Stricken Arousal

The knock at the door startled him. He was not expecting any visitors, especially not at this hour, and in this heat, who would want to be outside? 

Chris continued to sit there, on the side of the bed remembering the pain of the last seven months. The knocking continued before too long, so he got up and headed downstairs. Through the peephole he saw a face that made his heart smile, a warmth he had not felt in a very long time washed over him. 

Claire. His sweet, charming, Claire. Beautiful inside and out, so full of life and love. A piece of him died when he got a new job across town, making it harder for them to see each other, but they did their best through phone calls and text messages. 

Chris opened the door unable to hide the hurt, anger, and resentment that he had been dealing with the last several months. “Claire, wow! Hey, come on in! It’s been so long, too long. How are you?” Claire surveyed the mess that was his house. His kids had left their belongings about, even though there was no sign of them, dishes on the coffee table, trash overflowing. 

“I am doing well! The question is, how are you?” She went in for a hug, surprised that he still smelled as good as she remembered. His body was still firm, and his hugs still sent warmth to her nether regions. 

“I heard your…wife left you. I thought for certain you would, well you know, reach out since–ugh! I feel like I am being so selfish right now. I apologize! I bought you something to eat”. 

As they worked to clear off the kitchen table, Chris began explaining the last several months of hell that he was living, well rather existing through. His wife left without so much as a note saying goodbye. Left him with their two teenage daughters. Four months later, he gets a call from an out of state number, he was informed by the Virginia State Troopers that his wife had been in an accident. By the time he got there, she was gone. 

Claire listened to every word. She also noticed Chris’s eyes caressed her. She could not help but look at him with the same yearning, the same one from years ago when they first met. She immediately found him easy on the eyes, most of the women at their job did. He was light skin, 5’11, very quiet. As she got to know him, she learned that he loved working out, was very active in his church, loved his children–his wife, he never spoke much of her. That never stopped Claire from occasionally flirting with him. He admitted that he liked her hugs, and even warned her about the gentle caresses on his back that always sent blood rushing from his brain to his groin. 

Chris was forty-five years old, now a widower with two teens. Claire was twenty-eight. She had no children, lived by herself, and in the years he had known her, she never had a boyfriend–outside of him. They saw each casually over the years, although they did share a moment–a kiss that Chris would forever remember. Days later he asked her a question that still burned in his mind, especially now as she stood before him, preparing to leave. The way her white wife beater laid against her golden brown skin, the straps to her bra peeking out from underneath, the black shorts she had on exposing a pair of young, toned, legs. He licked his lips as he remembered asking her, “I am old, what is it that you want with me?” 

They hugged, and Chris fought back his arousal. Not here, not in the house he and his late wife tried to make home. But it was no use, the tension that had always been there snapped. Claire began to caress his back, just the way he liked, and she pulled away from him, looking up into his sad, hungry, brown eyes. “I know what you’re thinking love,” her breath heavy on his lips, “I want you, all of you.” Their lips met with a gentle urgency. She kissed differently than his wife. Not bad different, it was more sensual. He had forgotten how soft her lips were, and even though they just ate Chinese take-out, her mouth still tasted of cherries–like the first time they kissed. 

Claire’s mind went crazy. She was instantly wet. Chris picked her up off of her feet and carried her upstairs. Once in his room, their clothes were quickly shed and they took turns exploring each other’s bodies with fingertips and tongues. 

Chris was guilty of lusting after his friend, and now here he was tasting her, making her melt under his expert tongue as he drew figure eights on her clitoris, spelling her name, while he buried two fingers inside of her. Before she could climax, Chris stopped, rearranged himself on the bed. Having seen Claire’s breasts, he was instantly infatuated and wanted her in a position where she could feel every inch of him inside of her while he kissed and sucked on them. She straddles him, lowering herself onto his member, eyes rolling into the back of her head, she cried out in pleasure. Their arms locked around each other’s shoulders as she rocked back and forth, rubbing her clit up against the base of his cock. 

Neither cared about the fact this was the same mattress Chris once shared with a woman he tried to build a life with. Chris had put the thought out to pasture the second they were at the top of the stairs. He had his feelings for this younger woman long enough–tonight, even in grief, he would think of himself first, not of the woman who shattered his heart and life. 

Claire’s love for this man was real and unending. This moment was the culmination of what she felt for him. She knew Chris was unhappy at home, and she had promised to always be a shoulder for him, willfully putting aside her desire to take this man and make him her own, to rebuild and strengthen him. She knew there was an age difference, but God, the man looked twenty years younger than he was. 

Their orgasms collided–Claire whimpering and yelping as Chris grunted and gritted his teeth, murmuring her name, how beautiful she was, and to her utter amazement, that he loved her. 

Rain fell with a fury, causing Chris to stir. As his eyes fluttered open, he was utterly surprised to see Claire was still lying next to him fast asleep. He kissed her shoulder inhaling her fragrance, and that familiar rush of blood to his groin commenced. 

Claire rolled over lazily, her eyes bright. She felt for the first time ever content, her heart full, and her body satisfied. “I thought about your question.” Chris looked concerned, “What question?” She smiled. “Last night, you had that look in your eyes. You would get this look, I cannot describe, I just know it, and then you would ask me, ‘what do you want me? I am old, and I don’t have the stamina of a young man.’” 

Chris chuckled. He never could believe that Claire knew him so well, it kept him humble believing otherwise. “Well, sweet Claire, what is it that you want with me? After all, while I may not be old, I am almost twenty years older than you.”

Claire looked at him, sleep still in her eyes, and boldly admitted, “I am in love with you–but you’ve known that for some time. I’ll be honest, I have wanted to get in bed with you, last night was beyond amazing–better than my fantasies even. But honestly, I just enjoy being near you. I just want your time.”

Desperate

Josie waited anxiously as the phone rang. She hadn’t spoken to Cliff in several months, and she was beginning to have serious withdrawal. She loved her boyfriend George, but he lacked the fierce confidence that Cliff so naturally asserted in the bedroom, or wherever he took her. 

“Hello?” His deep voice rumbled through the airwaves, traveled through her ear and down her spine. “Hey Sleepy Head!! It’s me Josie! How are you? I haven’t heard from you in some time, thought I would reach out and see what you have been up to.” 

Cliff knew immediately that this was an invitation to rearrange her guts, which he used to thoroughly enjoy doing, until that compliment she took the wrong way. “Yeah, hey! I’ve been good. What’s up though?” Josie had to admit she was confused at the abrupt lack of fucking going on between them. At least three times a month she and Cliff would get together, but it had been well over four months, and her desires to feel him turned into aggravated cravings. 

“It’s been a while–since we saw each other. I miss–I miss–I really need to get fucked.” Cliff rolled over in his bed and peeked at his watch. It was two in the morning, she must really be desperate he thought. “Yeah well, after you took issue with me complimenting your picture online, I decided to fall back hard.” She jumped to interrupt, “I know, I know it was stupid, and…” Cliff spoke over her, commanding the conversation in such a gentle yet assertive way. 

“Look, I’ve been blowing your back out for years now, through at least two relationships. You’ve given yourself to me in ways you haven’t with your current boyfriend or the others. I felt like you caught a whole attitude with me for saying your picture was stunning. Like, I seriously did not know what to think, so I just cut you off.” 

“You know what Cliff, you’re right. I was being stupid, I dont know why I reacted that way. Really, Papi, I apologize.” Cliff was silent for a moment. “Tomorrow, eight o’clock. Meet me on the Schuykill.” He hung up the phone. 

Eight o’clock took an eternity to arrive, but here it was, finally. Josie jogged along, sweat running down her face and neck, glistening in the trail lights. She got to the benches by the river when she bumped into Cliff. 

He wasted no time, his kiss greeted her unsuspecting lips with such a passionate force Josie almost fell over. Cliff knew there would be passer-byers, but he was not concerned about them. He turned Josie around, her hands on the railing, looking across the river. She felt the cool summer air on her hot sweaty ass as her leggings were peeled down, and when Cliff began to insert himself, her eyes rolled into the back of her head. “Fuck, Papi,” she breathed. Cliff was not exceptionally long, in fact he was in the average range, but he was super thick, and Josie loved the feeling of being split wide open. 

Cliff took her there, on the Schuykill River banks, her hair wrapped around his fist, while the other teased a bare breast. Her whines turned into gutteral grunts of “Fuck, Papi,” as Cliff continued to pound away. 

Neither noticed the crowd that gathered. No one said a word, they just watched as this beautiful woman got her back blown out. No one even recorded. Josie was lost in oblivion, Cliff was focused on sending her to the moon. Their sweat poured down and met where thighs and hips collided. 

Josie lost count of how many times she came, but she knew she couldn’t last much longer. Her knees were beginning to grow weak. Cliff knew being out in the open they had to hurry. 

The trick was to bury himself deep, and begin to kiss the nape of her neck. Josie gasped, her walls closing in around his shaft. Cliff grunted and began to pump his friend full of his seed. The crowd quickly began to dissipate. As the two began adjusting their clothes, Cliff smirked at Josie, “Satisfied?” She turned, sweat pouring down her forehead, neck, and chest, still breathy from the run, the intense fucking, and orgasm overload. “Yes Papi, thank-you. And, again I’m sorry for getting all stupid about you commenting on my pictures, I be tripping sometimes.” Cliff shrugged his shoulders. He kissed her hard on the mouth, their tongues dancing for an intense but brief moment, and then they went their separate ways into the night, along the Schuykill River.

Urgent Yearning

I want to feel your breasts

Against my chest

While I’m deep inside you

Breath hot on my neck

As my member touches

That sweet spot deep inside of you

Hands clinched on ass, grinding teeth

Me telling you I dont think I’ll last

Sloppy wet sounds abound in our ears,

You moan and hold on, for you too

Are near.

And then when crash together like the

The thunderous rush of waves

Upon the seashore, calling each other’s name as the electricity drains from our core– and we’re left spent and sweaty,

Have refreshed our love once more.

I Had You

Sprawled across my bed,
Smothered in the serenity the secret of
Night provided.
Your knees craddlig your head
I slipped in and divided
Vertical lips so warm a soft
Pulsing pressure building, you arent able
To hide it–
Eyes closed but I can see youre excited.
Aloft in space and time, thighs slap against cheeks
Each deep stroke reminds you that I am
yours and you are mine.
Your pleasure unfolds, gurgling words
gushing from your mouth, as hand
works in sync with penis own south.
In unison our climaxes collide, eyes
locked in panting passion-we have
no reason to hide.

-Charlie

“Hi, how are you doing?”

A brief pause which appeared to last forever, and then, “I’m good I guess.” All the memories made couldn’t erase the hurt in his eyes. She studied them, looking for any sign of lingering love.

“So, what did you want to talk about?” Months had passed and she heard nothing from him.

He reflected back to that day he reached out. Somber, grey, cold, and wet. He had just buried his mother only a few hours earlier, another victim to cancer, but hers was a life well lived.

“You hurt me. You cut me to the core-” Her sin was too great to be relived, she interjected, “Jason, I know what I did was,” it was his turn to interrupt. “No! Just listen to me!” His gaze was enough to gouge her eyes out. “You’re a sick, twisted person. What you did was vile. Please understand that I will never trust you again. I forgive you, but I do not want you in my life. I’m leaving Lakeview, tomorrow. You’ve ruined me, and, well, staying here is just, I need to put distance between me and all that reminds me of you.”

Crushed. “Jason, I’m,” he looked at her with disgust, eyes averted she continued, ” What i did, it was selfish, but you shouldn’t feel like you have to leave.”

Jason stood up. He knew she would probably never truly accept what she had done, and that was what hurt the most. Their whole relationship was built around her lies and deceit, but this, this last act of hers brought him to his knees, so he turned his back on Caroline, confident in the power he reclaimed from the toxic mess that was her.

To the reader: What was her sin? What did Caroline do that was vile? Hint: read the 1st three paragraphs carefully

Simply Beautiful

I think of you,

and like a butterfly dancing

on the wings of the wind

my heart flutters.

Your face is a concoction

of beauty.

That girlish smile,

mixed with the twinkle in your eyes,

wrapped up in skin so silky,

those lips succulent and soft.

Your soul is so strong, confident, and gentle.

I think of you and

I am compelled to smile.

Early Morning Masturbation

That black bra strap. That’s all it took. As he stepped in the shower, his mind went back to the day before at the table. There were both silent as they ate, but his eyes, they roamed over every inch of her red-brown skin and landed on that strap.

He loved having sensitive nipples. He heard some men thought nipple play was feminine, but he loved how his responded to touch. He began to caress them as his mind took him on a journey. His right hand now stroking his cock, bringing him to an intense hard on.

Images of him kissing those lips he loved so much while freeing the two beautiful mounds of flesh constrained by that black bra.

He imagined laying her down, her legs up over his shoulders as he feasted, fingers exploring her orifices, tasting her creamy center as she panted his name.

The journey moved along, with him now standing over her, his hard cock ready to penetrate while he gazed at her breasts, his hands gently flicking her erect nipples.

As he stroked his cock, moaning her name, he grunted as he imagined push his full length into her, causing her to gasp and cling to him, their lips meeting again, then trailing kisses down her neck, to her collar bone, across her chest, to those nipples he was so ecstatic to see. With hunger, passion, and lust, his tongue tickled and sucked making her react as he continued sliding in and out of her.

She was close—he was close. With each spurt of his orgasm, he grunted through clenched teeth her name. Each burst brought him closer to the floor of the tub. His breaths were jagged and violent, he stopped playing with his nipples and gripped his thigh.

Fuck. That black bra strap. What a way to start his day.

Art’s Eternal Passion

I guess it had to be this way. Endings are rarely as beautiful as beginnings. Air whistled around the train, its passengers swaying to the rhythm as they sped along steel and timber to their various existences outside of corporate America. Darryl replayed memories over and over in his head.

He took note of the brunette staring his way. Her bright ruby red lipstick accentuated her almond eyes, and for a white girl, she had a wide nose. He saw her every day, and every day they locked eyes, smiled and nodded to each other.

He bit back tears. Beauty should never die. The brunette sat next to him. “Hi, I’m Gail.” She sat patiently, the scent of her perfume filled Darryl’s nostrils. He was instantly forced to look deep into the brown abyss of this gorgeous woman’s soul. “Darryl,” was all he could manage to get out. He was shocked. This gorgeous white woman, who no doubt probably worked as a lawyer, or in City Hall, was sitting here next to this big muscular black construction worker, wanting to get to know him. “What do you say we get off at the next stop?” Suddenly Darryl didn’t feel so sad anymore. “Yeah? Yeah, that sounds cool, Gail.” The way he said her name made her heart skip a beat.

Gail watched this man for months get on and off the train. They always locked eyes. They always smiled. For the first time today, she noticed there seemed to be no life in his face. She was curious as to why, she was curious to see if could change that.

Once of the train, they climbed out of the subway and out onto the street. “So, Darryl, what moves you?” Gail wasn’t going to waste this evening with pleasantries. A man she hardly knew looked as if he lost his best friend, and she wanted to help. 

Darryl looked up in surprise at the question, but he was ready with an answer, long before the question was ever asked, Darryl knew. He lived by this conviction, it motivated his movement, his speech, and despite being in a career he didn’t enjoy, it showed in his work. “Love, beauty, and art.” Gail couldn’t help getting turned on. They both sensed a sexual tension between them, but they both knew there were ingredients that needed to be mixed just right. “What about you, Gail? What drives you?” They arrived at a quaint neighborhood bar on Tenth street. The way her escaped from those beautiful succulent lips gave her goose bumps. Gail was a highly educated woman, but if she didn’t know any better, she’d swear she was falling in love. She knew it wasn’t lust—lust required different ingredients. A knowing of one’s person, but a disliking of the embodiment of their soul, yet a yearning for their touch.

When she smiled, her eyes squinted every so lightly, and the corners of her mouth turned up with great expression. “Art, love, both of which I find beautiful.” Two drinks were ordered. Gail turned and looked Darryl straight into his soul. “We’ve made eye contact on the blue line for over six months. I have dreamed about approaching you, but I had to feel you out. We’d always smile, then part ways. That was always the best part of my day. Your smile. Your eyes. I noticed something different about you today.”
Darryl stared straight back at her. He liked her style. “I don’t believe beauty should die, and today I got wind an old friend has moved on.” Gail took a seductive sip of her drink. She inhaled the stale air deeply, “My love, beauty can be created, but it cannot die.” Passion dripped from her every word. “Oh yeah?”

Leaning in and almost whispering, Gail said, “No my love, beauty will live on here,” tapping her temple, “and here,” placing her hand on his chest. “Who died?” “Not who. A guy who owned a small art studio, well he would display a lot of art in this shop of his. He closed it. Said some developers offered him a nice deal. It was the brightest spot in my childhood. But sitting here with you, hearing your words. You’re right, those memories will live forever in me.” Gail rested her hand on top of his. “We should leave.”

Back at his apartment, Gail made love to this man she only just met an hour ago. It was fierce, passionate, it was the realest thing she had ever experienced in twenty-nine years of existence. Every orgasm took her to a new height of pleasure and ecstasy. Theirs was a passionate love of art, filled with beauty. They regretted it deep inside, although the passion shared between them bordered a fierce, almost violent love.

Parent Teacher Conferences

Parent Teacher Conferences
The Steele Chronicles; Pt 1

Carla could not keep her hands off her husband, Dean. This was not unusual, as they shared a passionate bond that made their friends jealous. However; tonight, was parent teacher conferences and then they were off to dinner at one of their favorite upscale restaurants, and then a weekend in the mountains. It had been too long since they got away from their two teenage children.
“Come here,” Dean leaned over the console and met his bride halfway. Lips met and parted with a ferociousness that made him lightheaded. Her lips were thick, soft, and succulent. He was powerless against the rush of sexual energy racing from his lips to his manhood, where an almost painful erection begged to be free. Her mouth tasted sweet, like cherries, and the scent of her perfume—something he bought her, but he couldn’t pinpoint the fragrance molested his nostrils with a gentle whiff. Their eyes opened as tongues tickled one another—and Carla’s breath caught in her throat. Her husband’s hand reached up to touch her bare shoulder, then slowly slid down to her face, neck, then—Carla had to act fast, if he touched her breast they would not make it out of the car, so she playfully slapped his hand away, and broke the kiss. “Nope! Come on or we’ll be late!” she said jumping out of the car.
Walking the halls of her old high school brought back so many salacious memories. “It says here we have to meet with Dr. Kara, room 117,” Dean said as his hand grabbed a handful of Carla’s derriere. She turned around in front of him, almost making them both fall, peck kissed him and grabbed his package. “Hmm, or, you could just let me have a meeting with this,” she grinned.
“Hi neighbors!” The couple both made annoyed faces. Their neighbor, Kate, whose four bratty children also attended Joshtown High, stood in the hallway, gawking at what she considered to be inappropriate behavior. “Well Carla, you look awfully saucy this evening? I didn’t know architects could dress so—” she searched for the right word, but before finding it, Dean cut in. “She looks absolutely fabulous, doesn’t she?”20130914_193033 (2)3604573660549900812..jpg
“Oh, yes right! Of course, she does! Well you two go on your merry way now! I guess I should be getting on to my kids’ next teacher.”
Dean and Carla rolled their eyes as the continued flirting down the hall. Neither of them could stand Kate. She was a jealous woman who loved to start gossip. She was especially jealous of the Steele’s. Carla was a big name in the architect industry, holding two master’s degrees, she was highly sought after. Her husband was ex-military, and now he was a State Trooper, quickly working his way up the ranks. Rumor had it that Kate even hated how respectful and well behaved their children were.
Once inside room 117, Carla and Dean began to make out while waiting for their child’s teacher to come back. Dean wasted no time sliding a hand up his wife’s short dress, she gasped loudly. “Shhh!” Dean joked as his mouth nuzzled her ear then assaulted her neck.
The door creaked open and both parents jumped. “Ahem!” Dr. Kara was a little surprised to catch to adults making out in her classroom, but a quick once over and she understood. “I can see you two are anxious to get out of here, so I’ll make this quick.”
Carla squeezed her legs together as the meeting wore on. The heat radiating from between her thighs was making her uncomfortably horny. She could see her husband, sitting so erect, like something else in his pants. He was trying to keep his eyes away from her, but he kept glancing over, devouring her, making her hot and moist.
The bell rung sounding it was time for them to move on to the next classroom. Carla had other plans. She grabbed Dean’s hand and rushed down the hallway, knocking past the other parents who looked at the couple in bewilderment. They practically knocked Kate over as Carla led them to the teacher’s lounge, where she knew there was a restroom that would give them some privacy.
Once inside, they let their inhibitions go. Their hands groped with passionate hunger through clothes until they found the parts they so desperately needed. Carla freed her husband’s erection as he expertly removed her thong. He picked her up and sat her on the sink counter as she guided his heavy cock to her opening, filling her, stretching her. “Oooohhh gawd! Dean you feel so good!” Dean finally got to get his hands on his wife’s breast, kneading her nipples, squeezing just enough to make her wince, as he began to thrust. She wrapped her long brown legs around him, forcing him to impale her with every inch. Their mouths wrestled with one another; her hands gripped his ass as he began to drill her violently.
Dean couldn’t believe how wet Carla was. It took every bit of concentration not to explode. Even after two children, his wife was as tight as ever. Dean pulled out abruptly, turned Carla around and bent her over the sink counter. Her hands up on the mirror, he pushed back inside of her with a grunt. He pulled her dress up revealing her tattoo20190622_1153054571101334995578002.jpg which drove him wild, and he did a thing that caused her to squirt. Amid being pounded, Carla felt pressure on her asshole. Not that she wanted to protest, but before she knew it, a finger was inserted. To keep from screaming she used one hand to cover her mouth, but she was unable to control the orgasm that took over her body. His knees buckled and she dropped to the floor as her flower gushed.
During their frenzied fucking, they forgot to close the bathroom door, giving Kate a free peep show. Neither noticed until Dean came hard in Carla’s mouth. Kate gasped causing the couple to stare in disbelief. Kate had caught them before on multiple occasions, but never outside of their home. In fact, it was their belief that she spied on them.
Carla winked up at her husband, turned to Kate, and stuck her tongue out, showing her the contents.
Dean threw his head back and laughed as she stormed out. “Fuck! We I think we missed Mr. Hawthorne’s class! We better get cleaned—” Dean looked down at his trousers, “We better go.” They laughed as they ran from the building, hand in hand, off to fuck again in the restaurant parking lot as they waited for their table to be called.