Tag: #adult

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.”

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.