Tag: #shortstories

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.

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.

Work in Progress

So this morning I finally sat down and began to work on something that may or may not be bigger than what I initially intended. I do not get to write/post the way I would like, but my mind is always coming up with new things to jot down.

Once I have gotten the main idea of this current piece I’m working on, I will share it with you all! Take care until then!

Affection

this is an excerpt from a larger piece I have been working on for some time now.

He wasn’t sure how this happened, or maybe he was, and he just didn’t want to acknowledge it.
She hungrily accepted his tongue dancing poetically with her most intimate place.

It was that red dress. The moment he saw her in it, his heart began racing. He wore a pair of fitted grey dress slacks and a button down that showed off his physique. She was impressed with the way his clothes fit, he had been talking about working out and dieting and she saw the fruits of his labor.
In a dark corner of Longhorn, they sat, both obviously a bit nervous. They had each made sure that their responsibilities were unaware and preoccupied.
His eyes ate her up. Her dress hugged every curve. It didn’t help he loved her eyes, and that smile. She had greeted him with a hug and felt the slightest impression of an erection to which she blushed.
After a dinner filled with laughter, they went to the waterfront.
She felt like a teenager, her heart was racing, his voice, dropping kind words and compliments kept her breathless. She had to keep it together.
“I know you say it’s not you I find beautiful, but you do not understand what or how i feel about you. I want as much of you as i can have, I would love to make love to you. I think highly of you and i have wanted to say these words for quite some time now. I am very much interested in that silky-smooth skin of yours, those lips,” he thought he’d explode right then and there as she turned into him and kissed him. Those lips, they were like a moist cloud, or a refreshing breeze against his own.

And so here they were, her hands clenching the sheets as his tongue dove into her, driving her over the edge yet again.
It was his turn, she pleasured him the way she knew he wanted, maybe even deserved. He watched as she took all of him into her mouth, making magic happen with her tongue. He panted and grunted as he held on for dear life.

They locked eyes as she lowered herself onto him. Instinctively he began kissing and sucking her breasts, something he fantasized about a thousand times over. She rocked and ground her pelvis into him, as he thrust upwards.
He wanted to change positions, but their lips locked in a fiery kiss and his hands slid down her back and caressed her backside. With eyes wide open she tightened, stiffened, her head back she let out a gasp of ecstasy as another orgasm ripped her body apart. Simultaneously she felt him convulse, he cried out her name as he released years of bottled up passion stored away just for her. He rested his face in the crest of her neck, hers in his, their breath ragged and warm.
BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! He awoke, startled by the aggravating sound of his alarm clock. Frustrated, he looked down and saw the affect the dream had on him. He got up, hoping he didn’t talk in his sleep, and prepared for another day working with this woman he loved… yes, he loved two women. He had admitted and accepted as much. She doubted he would ever act on an impulse, and he tried to reassure her that he would and could. Yet inside he had a deep level of respect and wished she would act on an impulse. So, he showered and replayed the images from his dream as he pleasures himself. He needed that release if he were to work near her and not try something stupid…. To be continued