Crimson Crossing – Stories in Erotica


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Walking Home

Your boss’ inability to self suffice has taken its toll on you, it’s made this the worse of many days; fortunately, the clock strikes time to go home. Before departing, you reflect on the decision to wear heels knowing that the walk home is not easy. But, ignoring your boss, work, and the heels is all too familiar once outside.

The pleasure of the autumn wind hitting your face can be antidote to any and all bad days. Ensuring to consume as much of it as possible, you look up allowing the breeze to hit your neck, to sip into the top of your chest, even further it’s directed by the neglect of a few top buttons to seal entry. It can only be made better by tossing your right hand over your head and releasing the obstacle tying your hair together. It’s allowed lose, to run about your face in any direction that the wind feels appropriate. Freedom at this time of the day can turn work into a forgettable sorrow, make it time for dusk to set in, and allow escapades through the dimness of the daylight.

The coolness of the air filtrating through the top opened buttons chills your body. Your chest reacts, it perks welcoming the dusk with crisp circles enunciating against your blouse. I too walk feeling the same breeze, picking up your scent carried by the breeze in my direction. I reason the sight that yields such delightful aroma is that of my companion each evening for thirty minutes. It is the time when small talk, smiles, and the presence of one another occupy early evening.

Today, however, I have grown ill of small talk and smiles. I make my presence known by grasping your long hair, pulling slowly towards my nose, and releasing it as it gets there. You respond by running your fingers through it, bringing it to the front, and while holding it over your left shoulder, welcome me. I ask you to follow me, don’t ask, just follow are my exact words. Maybe, with the aid of your left index on your bottom lip is your answer.

I make the customary left at my destination, but you go straight. I lose hope and continue onwards to my home. It’s normally a solitary walk up the steps, today, that hope wasn’t at all lost. I can hear high-heel echoing my steps up the stairway. I never look back, building the anticipation that it is indeed you, not the landlord. I walk up to the top stop, take a short stop to verify that the echoing is still following behind me. It has, no one has spoken to impede my advance into the apartment. The door is purposely left ajar, as it is my anticipation that the person behind me is you. You’ve been kept longer than it should have taken to reach the door. I wonder why, but minutes later I hear the door squeak, a purse hit the floor, and shoe-less footsteps are heard move towards the bathroom.

Upon your arrival to the dormitory, I am the presence you notice. Your eyes are fixated towards the bliss before you, towards my abdomen crafted as well as a detailed story of love and hate. I, after all, stand in your presence fully unclothed. Your approach is slow, begging of me to wonder about the hesitation. Without saying a word, I pull you towards me, place both hand against your chest, and tear your blouse apart; buttons scattered through the floor. I find your neck, suck, lick each side, move from your neck towards your ear, down to your breasts that have been exposed through a torn blouse. I grab your right breast and place my mouth on the very tip. I can tell just where you need me to explore by the quick buckle of your knees, the sinking of nails into my flesh. Uncaring that you’ve liked my lips upon your chest, I choose to travel down your stomach to the edge of the skirt still hiding my desire. My teeth pull slowly, very slowly exposing an undergarment less woman. She’s completely bare, every detail, every curve, all scent stands before me, engorged, moistened in anticipation. The warmth within her meets me, she exudes ecstasy, the aroma is of desire.

I tease by letting my tongue slip between engorged lips and quickly come up to a standing position with you in my arms. I walk towards, and place you on the sink counter, pulling each of your legs up to the counter-top spreading you to a totality, exposing her; I know she greets me, I can see all that she will tell me, but you must wait. I grab your face with both my hands, come close and I kiss you, you bite my tongue and laugh. I pull back and stare into your eyes, watching the reaction of your face as you feel the proximity of my masculinity to your allure. I take my time, gradually sliding him in while seeing the reaction in your face. You can feel his every feature, as I can feel your every muscle slowly molding onto him as I’m absorbed to entirety. You don’t move, you can’t move. The farther in I reach the more still you become, the louder the sigh. I’ve caused your body to answer my whim, the bounce of your breasts answer me as I rock your body back and fro, the humidity forming on your face and neck rolls down to your chest, trickling down to your belly in a race to join us farther down below, lubricating an area that needs none. I still stare at your face, your mouth, listening to every moan, your eyes facing up, teeth exposed by an open mouth.

Without retreating from inside of you, I lift you up, turn you around, place your left knee on the counter and release your right leg to touch the floor. Your are bent over the counter sink, staring at yourself in the mirror, feeling me pierce through you without mercy. In search for an object to hold on to, you slap the faucet fully opened, tossing water all about from the bouncing off from your left arm that’s fallen inside the sink. There you leave it, and place your free hand against the mirror to gather maneuverability to push against me. The harder I collide against you, the more forcefully you push back; the louder the meeting of our bodies sounds. I’m inside of you and unwilling to come out. Again and again you moan, you sigh, again and again I respond to your confirmation of bliss. I pull completely out from inside of you, and your heart stops, your outcry is of disbelief, beg of me to be merciful by asking of him to again take you, to punish you, to make you pay for all the times you weren’t willing to follow him home in the past. You are no longer an untouched lure, but a red-ish almost raw from the onslaught. You are eager to feel his form, his every detail, you are relentless in your plea to continue.

I grab your ass with both hands, spread it, and insert my desire again and again as far as you’ll allow me. You feel the pleasure and release the verbiage that describes what you want. You are sensitive, fully engorged, I sooth it with my hand while you hold on to my wrist, you can’t contain the need to scream. You do. Your butt is red from the pounding of our bodies, your breasts bouncing back and fro from each hit of our bodies, I grab your hair and force you to arch your back. Your mouth is open, it’s gaining strength, I speed up my insertions into you, your moaning gains luster. Your scream of me not to stop, not to stop, not to stop. Squeezing your butt-cheek with my right, pulling your hair with me left, your body is mine to have, mine to please, I begin to moan at the rate of our bouncing bodies, I can’t contain any longer, you scream that you are mine, that I am yours…


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Balcony

There was a moment when impossibility drowned my desires of bliss. Times, and many there were when I needed to unclothe my lady like mentality releasing all the reservations that kept me from become a woman popularized during late nights in dark streets. There I laid again, sure that his intent was to love, to sooth… For the love I hold for him, it’d become complaisant, all that yearning, I truly needed to be devoured, pushed, submitted to his will.

It happened as anticipated. We embraced, felt the nudity of lovemaking until rain drops hitting the zinc plates covering the house overcame the night, eventually giving way to sleep, then awaking to one another’s smile. However, I’m not here to relate that story, but the one from the subsequent night. He approached me, came close to my ear and spoke. I didn’t and couldn’t react. Was this him,? The man I know? Impossible! The words exiting his lips weakened me, they heated my body, my knees fought to keep me standing, my lips throbbed, my mouth salivated. Even if this was the limit of his malice, he’d captivated me! I will hang on to it and die knowing he spoke to me in ways that altered reality.

I had just finished cleansing my body, nothing covered my physique. I stood pondering in front of the mirror about a hair style for the evening. The highlight that evening was an event held by the high society to which we’d gotten invited way of an award for his efforts. He was already dressed and waited for me outside in the balcony while playing random songs that we had played for each other over the phone years prior. It was effortless knowing he desired me, his stare… his gaze created a tunnel where only he and I stood. The heat of this body radiated through it. I could feel his passion engulf my body. Riveting it was, it is…

I tensed when I heard him speak. It’d been years since his touch made me feel as if an inexperienced young woman. That night it happened. Upon hearing his words, his lips sank onto the back of my neck, my ear… before I rationalized his actions, the balcony became our pulpit. He was clothed, and I, unclothed. He held me off the floor with one arm, my legs wrapped around him, his shirt soaking in me. I managed to do nothing while his mouth consumed my chest. I struggled to keep my beating heart where nature intended each time he spoke, each time he told me what I so long wanted to hear.

He released me… with a continuous downward shove I was sitting on my heels feeling the speed of the wind rushing to taste me. No time passed before I had no choice, I didn’t want a choice. I was put there, all of this time desiring to be there just under this very role, and I almost didn’t respond. He didn’t allow me to freeze, his hand grasped my long curly hair, my mouth opened and he pressed in the back of my head. He gave orders, I felt obliged. He meticulously expressed his desires, I carved as if a chisel directed upon a stone by Picasso. I craved all of him; breathing became difficult at times, I felt exhausted, I needed him to continue pressing upon me. I refused to stop but the choice was not mine to have. I had set my mind to finish him, but allow me he refused. With the same fist-full of hair grasped in his hand, he pulled me up and shoved me against the balcony railing. I lost touch of the balcony floor but gained the bliss of my body. Had it rained that night it would have not been difficult to accuse the saturated state of my secret on it, but the dryness of the air around us pointed to my state of elation as the perpetrator!

I gasped for air, my nail sank onto his back, he continued to soil the English language, I’d had lost all properness because explicit I wanted to become. He didn’t let me, he covered my mouth and continued to relate the story as it was happening. I bounced, squeezed, bit his hand, and perspired all over his night’s attire. My back curved, my mouth opened, the lazy stare hinted I had fatigued, my body became limp, caring only to indulge in his whim. I didn’t notice she had form an audience… she had been watching, looking down upon us. I wonder for how long she’d been watching? What had she seen? A few floors up, a witness to the night’s events, no one would dare question the truth about the moment! How he treated me! How I became what I wanted to become even if for just one night! She also knew. Her mouth was opened, from time to time smiling at me. I bounced off his body effortlessly, my chest reacting. She smiled while stared at my body, at the exhaustion of my energy, at every moan I couldn’t hold back. I still don’t know how he managed, but I ignored the witness, my mouth and eyes opened, I moaned, I was his. My legs tightened, my body shook, I tried to pull away, he didn’t let me…


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Late Arrival

Considering I was already somewhat inebriated that night, it wasn’t all that late to visit her. She lived in a small apartment in a housing complex where all the houses appear similar. To reach her front door, there was small corridor which had to be traversed between two houses. Air found it difficult to reach her apartment. I often wonder how she slept in the heat of this tropical island.

I had just left a local establishment where I danced a few songs and drank a few martinis. Flavored martinis seem to be the latest fad, so I joined in and gulped a few. Never did I think they could be so strong tasting so amiable to the palate. Walking towards her apartment I could hear the shower already running. The front door was ajar, so I invited myself in. The kitchen greeted me, the stove was on and coffee intoxicated the place. The kitchen was in one room that also stood as a living-room, directly behind the kitchen was the only room of the house; extremely dark and hot back there. Quickly upon entry, to the left, the doorway leading to the bathroom was found.

Steam was coming out of the open bathroom door. It was insane, why would she bathe with such hot water in such a heat. I didn’t announce myself, so I decided to grab a drink, sit in the couch to wait for her to conclude her heated bath. Before I sat down, through the steam, the open door and the lights I could see her. She wasn’t alone. I hadn’t even noticed the gasps and moans coming from the same direction, it must have been my inebriated state hiding details of reality.

I stood for a while and watched. She was in bliss; truly loving him. The musculature of his strong arms lured my desires. The ease in which he handled her, it was astonishing. It was as if she were a doll made just for his every whim. It was then that I couldn’t contain myself. He had lifted her, sat her on his shoulders facing him. Her back was against the wall, steadying her body during this holy act. I knew she couldn’t have gathered enough strength to hold herself up during the act his tongue was committing. Her expressions haunted me. She was sweating, mouth opened, eyes rolled upwards, his hands against her gluteus, the strength of his arms holding her up, keeping her just where he wanted her. The sweat on her breasts dripped down onto him as if searching to cool an overheated body. I could imagine what he was doing to her and wanted it done onto me. The more I witnessed it, the more I wanted it to be me.

In a moment of lunacy, I walked towards them. I didn’t know what I was going to do, but there I wanted to be. I wanted it to be me, feeling him, his arms, chest, tongue, his blissful masculinity. She gasped for air, eyes opened, she saw me and smiled. I didn’t care to undress, I didn’t care for inhibitions, all I cared was to feel him. I approached them, she pulled me by the hair and pinned me against her thigh. I sucked, I bit it, she released me and I got on my knees underneath her and in front of him. I stared at it, seeing him in his most engorged state. Shiny, strong, the veins from the base to almost the very top throbbed. I had to go against all the wishes from my parents of me to be always be a lady, I had to disobey! I grabbed him caring little to be soft, to be a lady. My lips took him as I’ve never had another. I tried with all my yearnings to consume him whole. The more I tried, the more moistened I became.

He reached down with his left arm and pressed against my face. I would have hated it, had it not been him. It excited me further and fiercely devoured him, until he pulled me up by the hair, turned me around and pushed me against the wall. He tore my dress, I loved it. Left cheek pinned against the wall, I opened my mouth as if he’d done to me that which had yet to happen. I firmly pressed on my bottom lip with my teeth expecting the expected. I awaited, my friend still moaning, banging her back against the wall. I don’t know how he managed, but he spread me. I was exposed! I could feel her moisture meet that of the steamy room. I was in dying need of him to take my innocence, so much so that the steam of the room had a cold feeling when it came rushing to her when my legs were forced spread. My eyes popped opened, I couldn’t breathe… The more my body was pushed against the wall the more I idolized him. Hurt it did at first, I imagined never wanting be taken there. But he did, the more my breasts and face rubbed against the wall the harder I begged of him to thrust me.

At the top, she suffocated his face, strongly pressing it against her. She moaned I scream. The pain had turned into ecstasy, and I pushed back against him with all my might. If I failed to consume him with my lips, I sure wouldn’t fail this time. I clasped onto him with my gluteus as hard as I possibly could, I wanted to feel all of him rub against the inside of all of me. I wanted to be punished for arriving this late. I begged, I screamed, I moaned, I cried. He was in me and I never wanted him to stop. She soon screamed, I felt his knees buckle, my body shivered, I intensely bit my arm reaching a place I hope to never leave.


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Rain

It’s a joy watching the reaction in your eyes as they gaze at the shoreline, every so often looking my way, revealing that you are mine, that this moment is ours, of our hearts. I smile and reply that this moment, here and now, can only be this breathtaking because we are together. Hours pass by without a word interrupting our wordless dialog, yet I hear you as clear without words, as I do with them. Nothing else needs be said when there is so much to be felt.

The smell of the shore line this early during the sun’s decent announces its imminent disappearance. It’s that familiar smell of dusk, sand, and salty water before the horizon covers the sun, before the cold of the darkness is heated by our presence. Not long passes when I direct our vehicle towards a small winding descent to the right hand side of the roadway that eventually leads to a dirt path. At the end of the path stands an old lighthouse overlooking the majesty of the Caribbean Sea. The soul of the world opens up here, those lucky enough to have experienced it know that this is how heaven was intended to feel.

This time of the year only lightning bugs make it to the lighthouse. My wishes are to reach our destination before “it” arrives, stay while “it’s” alive, and leave when “it’s” long gone. You, my dear, notice our objective and sigh; looking up at the sky you wonder why head down when it’s evident that our vehicle won’t make it back up after “it’s” come. Still, you trust me, and squeeze my hands with your gentle touch.

We must park at the bottom of the path because only afoot the lighthouse can be reached. The smell of salt in the air intensifies, the wind escalates, we traverse the unpaved path up to the lighthouse… We’ve arrived! Stop just for a few seconds to feel the breeze that climbs up the side of the cliff to lay hands upon the lighthouse. It tells us to follow the path towards the exposed white bedrock. There we sit, where you cuddle up beside me, resting your head on my shoulder. The sun, as if aware of the reason for our visit, rushes down convincing the red sky for which the area is named to make its appearance. The white of the surrounding cliffs turns orange… I can’t help but to stare at your eyes.

Our lips come together, grasping onto one another as if long lost lovers. I feel your chest expand as if my lips retrieved your soul from within your body. Embraced in passion, our lips and tongues ignore the splendor around us to concentrate on one another. Little did we notice that the sun now stood covered behind clouds. The knowledge that the sun would soon depart into the night remained behind in the air. Quenched of satisfaction from your lips, I thirst for the touch of your skin. South, the journey commences. Not distant from lips your neck appears. There I rest, lips, teeth and tongue, taking all I want, all I desire, enticing your body to crave that which I long to give. Inevitably, droplets fall from the sky upon our bodies. They feel cool, very cool, perhaps cold enough to have caused a shiver had it not been for the antidote-filled warmth caused by my tongue upon your body.

My left hand gently places your body upon the rocks. I lean over and halfway rest upon you, holding my weight with my left hand to maneuver the endeavors of my right which seeks to unbutton the top of your sun-dress. Successful it has been, exposed stands the awe to opaque this very scenery. The falling droplets seek a taste of that which I relish, they begin to rush down seeking your body, but instead are halted by my body covering their destination. I feel them hit me, not just a few, but very many attempting to displace me from my position. I feel them in a scurry looking for a way to you. It is of no avail! That before my eyes is solely for me to behold.

Exposed, two sights of nurturing… You look at me, deep dark eyes, longing. Heavy is your breathing in anticipation of my touch. I come close, touch; your back curves… The pulsating of my lips is soothed by the touch of your bare chest. There I stay, my time taken to cherish the need of both bodies, soothing the left with liken desire as the right. Your hands scratching the rocks… The lucky droplets who noticed my absence of your lips come crashing onto them, exploding like detonating bombs. Their remains splatter all over your face, over my back, some even manage to come to rest upon your tongue. Unwilling to accept that I must share you, my lips retrace their journey back upwards to become wet by your lips, by your mouth. I’m here once again, seducing them, removing from them any residue left behind by the falling drops. All there will be to taste, all there is to feel, will be us. The knowledge that they are late to consume … you.

My right hand reaches behind your neck, presses forward as if wishing to squeeze out all that needn’t be between our lips. I attempt to take all I can from you, attempt to tire your need to taste me, anyone, anything if just for this one time. The droplets have matured, they aren’t small, rather, the heavy kind for which the tropics are known. I must depart the encounter of our lips, I must leave you unprotected. The rain takes advantage of my inability to remain at all places at all times, and consumes your face. I rejoice in the thought that while I must depart from your lips, rain has yet to touch the bareness I have thus far protected. I kneel over you, stare at your face, mouth opened, heart pounding, wet hair, wet dress, the perkiness of your womanhood now engulfed in rain. The heat rising from your body is untamed before the vast attack from the rain upon your body. It attacks your chest as if accepting that it is to wait until I deem acceptable to taste elsewhere. There I kneel, watching the rain bounce against your body.

The droplets run from my head to my face, down my neck onto my hands, the hands that work to unbutton my shirt; rain too runs through my chest. Slowly I remove my shirt and begin to unbutton the remaining safety objects hiding the-you I lust behind that garment. Bare to it all I find you, you’ve ignored to cover the world that entices both mortals and immortals. Your hands smear rain on your chest and stomach, I watch your hands approach my desires, and hold them back. Leaning over, my lips act likewise as once did onto your chest. Kissing your stomach, navel, biting each time your body jerks. Sounds emerging from your lips inform of what you expect; obliged, I continue south where I encounter the façade of desire, the embodiment that clenches any and all my needs.

Tracing the contours of her figure, I cannot stop. North, south, east and west, my lips and tongue massage and sooth. The jerks of your body indicate the direction which I need to outline: there I stay… My tongue meticulously pierces through you seeking to find your soul. Your hands reach my head, where you try to grasp a hairless head. Your back is forced to curve by every movement my tongue makes as it delves deeper into you; your lust sighs.

The feeling of rain drops being pushed aside with my lips assures me of a conquest. I can feel them rush amongst the you that too saturates my lips. But it’s too late to fight for reign, this battle they’ve lost. Times quickly approaches for me to fully act. Engorged you are, she is, all of you, the moistness here now is joined by the water falling from the sky that runs from our bodies as I’ve pulled away to stare at you from a slight distance. Attention from clouds, rain, lighthouse, me, all appear to center around you… my intentions, the aroma, your ecstasy, no longer will I keep you waiting, I press on, the roundness of your body presses against the rocks, my tongue follows your motion as if a well sailed ship through an oceanic storm. I find it difficult to breath, you press my head with all your might, your thighs too push against my face, water showers you, me, the lighthouse, a moan, your body shivers, jerks, shivers again, your body tenses…

Undeterred by your most recent emotional journey, I journey back north without stopping along the way eager to see you, eager to see your eyes open ever so small. I see them break open, unaffected by rain drops they stand still staring back at me. Your breathing is still heavy, your lower body still moving as if I were still present. Your hello smile welcomes me to push distance aside and softly taste your lips. The smell of electricity announces that our concentration on each other lacked the attention to notice the air filling with lightning. The bliss of your taste smothered on my tongue absorbed all possibility to notice anything else, I fear I did fail to see the continuous clearing and darkening of the sky as lightning traveled through the sky. Still ignoring the rain, the lightning, the wind rushing up the cliffs bellowing of lust, I gently touch your lips while managing to remove the remaining garments covering my body.

Your body is warm, plush, sensitive, intoxicating to the touch. I desire more from you than I have of life itself. I want to feel it all, live it all, this very moment. I place a kiss upon your lips, pull away, stare passionately into your dark eyes, you delve into mine, lightning consumes to sky, your womanhood is pushed aside by my most ardent intent, you fight the closing of your eyes just to stare back into my eyes. You refuse to forgo the sight in my eyes when we’ve become one. Your mouth opens, your sigh elongates as I travel within you. At last, pelvis to pelvis we are, profoundly gazing into one another, I wish to increase the speed in which I move, but can’t. Slow withdraws are followed by prolonged insertions… each time delving deeper and deeper than the previous. Your mouth denies not the emotions within you… the moans intensify as my pelvis reaches yours. Your body slightly curving upwards each time our bodies unite have now caused you to close your eyes. You’ve fallen pray to passion and have foregone the need to witness how my eyes absorb the presence before me. I refuse to release my sight from your face, from your mouth, from your wet hair. I look at you undeterred by the fight waged by this thunder storm to split us apart. It is by now not a foe, but part of what’s here going on.

The friction rising within our bodies heats us, brings us closer to one another. There you are, unrestrained, finally sinking your nails onto my back, begging of me to never let go. The nails tracing lines of lust upon my back are painful, yet lust is reluctant, I ask of you not to stop, to release all the passion, all the need, all the want found in desire… you begin to tense, there is aroma of electricity in the air, the wind is blowing, the lighthouse shines upon the shore, you are mine, I am yours, I’ll never let you go, roaring is the sky, your mouth opens, your eyes open wide, I’m here…


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Joy Ride

I find night time to be quite the appropriate canvas for mischievous play. It’s not that I reject the intricacies that can be better crafted with the aid of full light, but it’s that I was raised believing that nothing good happens after midnight. So, I set out to prove my parents incorrect.

For an entire two years, Monday to Friday at exactly 8PM, I had a nightly encounter with this unknown young lady who drove a high-end white convertible. The allure projected by wind blowing against long hair radiates as much as the morning sun after a good night of sleep; the type that makes you feel alive, forcing a deep breath upon sight. I can still see her hair waving in the wind as she sped away, thinking, wondering where she was going.

When driving at low speeds, I swear, I mean it, I could smell her perfume. It was a fruity scent, one more suited for day events such as work. She had to have been coming from her job, as was I. I always stayed late, working too hard for little pay too often. Because I don’t believe in randomness, I questioned whether she was a carjacker trying to steal my car. I quickly gave up on the idea that she was out to get me as she was the one who’d disappear into the night. I also drove a white convertible, what is known as an import tuner; nothing as seductive as she drove, nevertheless I found it intriguing that we drove similar vehicles.

It’s a sweet memory, that of how it all came to be. I am a sucker for cruising at low speeds, especially on this roadway that went some 30 miles with the Atlantic ocean on one side, and a Chanel on the other. The smell of the coast intertwined with the onset of nighttime was sensational. During the early spring even, though in the morning, flocks of Monarch butterflies migrated in land. They covered the entire horizon. It was because of the relative solitude of the roadway that the pavement wasn’t covered with them from collisions against passing traffic. Oh, but the nights, the memories that it brings.

I was traveling east, the sun was about to set. I was attentive more to the surroundings than I was to the roadway. That evening the vehicle behind me caught my attention. It was attractive automobile, and not many of those frequented this particular roadway. A two lane roadway on each direction almost flawlessly flat surface. The driver, a lovely young woman, flickered her lights asking of me to give way. I didn’t oblige as I was already on the left lane, and at well below the maximum speed of 55MPH. She should have passed me on the right… She flashed her beams again, I took no action. After some minutes she pulled to the right lane besides me, looked over, smiled and accelerated. She returned to the left lane ahead of me, raised her right hand, waved goodbye and disappeared into the distance.

As such were my Monday to Friday drives home for about three months when I decided to play games with her. I felt that with my tuner I should be able to keep her at bay. The next evening I saw her coming right behind me, but this time she came closer to my rear bumper than she normally would. When she tried to move to the right lane to come adjacent to my vehicle, I pressed firmly against the gas pedal. I sped away over twice the speed limit. The sound of tuners is quite annoying, and rather loud at that speed. That alone should have deterred her from keeping up. I thought she hadn’t a chance to catch up to me. But lo-and-behold, I saw her head lights coming closer to me to the point where I purposely decelerated to see her reaction. She pulled next to me, nodded in acknowledgment of my game, and slowly accelerated. I kept up with her for nearly 20 miles at high speed. She’d look at me, I would look at her; she’d smile, I’d smile; she’d blow kisses, I’d trap them. Just a few miles shy of the roadway coming to an end, that young lady would press heavily on the accelerator of her high-end automobile, and leave me smelling exhaust smog, staring at her taillights.

I was astonished that the young lady was capable of leaving me behind while traveling nearly three times the maximum speed. Yet, she did. I’d watch her hair beat all about behind her head, her hand raised high above waving goodbye. For the better part of a year I tunned my vehicle hoping to prevent the shame of losing to her every night. I never did win, she always managed to pull passed me. The nights she couldn’t play she’d rush passed me waving goodbye. There was no need chase on those days, I would have never caught up to her.

One night I was late, very late from work. And to my surprise guess what struck my fancy? Yes, that young lady was running late as well. It was nearly 11PM at night. I was cruising as I normally would have in her absence, suddenly a vehicle sped passed me, I knew it was her, but didn’t think she captured that it was I in the vehicle she just left behind. It took her seconds to figure out that it was me. I saw break lights shine bright in the distance. She had slowed down allowing me to catch up. This time our interactions were different. Instead of flirting, she called out to me to keep up regardless of what she did. I swore I would, I had just picked up my car from the last tune I swore to myself I would do. This time I believed I could keep up. We raced away, at our speed it was apparent that the roadway was not meant to be driven at such velocity, but we neglected the flaws of bad roadway craftsmanship, and pressed on beyond the location where in the past she’d wave and disappear into the night. This is the closest in distance to her vehicle that I had ever come, I was pushing my tuner beyond previous plateaus. It whined like a school kid being scolded, I feared it was going to stop me from catching up to her.

Just kilometers later, in the distance, the round-about at the end of the stretch was made visible by the tower light inside it. She continued speeding towards it, I became afraid. It was one thing to go fast in a straight line, but I anticipated that this young lady wanted to take a complete circle in the round-about. I surely was right! She slowed down enough to take a 360 degree circle around the tower, smoke from burning tires hitting my windshield, I pursued but wasn’t as successful. She sped right to the distance towards the same direction in which we just came. I got scared, turned the wheel the wrong way and went spinning into the grass area inside the round-about just feet from the tower. Not to look emasculated, I pressed hard on the accelerator tossing debris in all direction as I tailed-spun out of the round-about chasing after her. Not 2 miles into my pursue, she had come to full stop, and was standing on the side of the roadway. I hit on the breaks forcefully screeching passed her to a halt not a 100 feet away.

I reversed to her location, pulled my window down for absolutely no reason because I was driving a convertible, and smiled. She asked me to pull over on the grassy area to the right of her vehicle. I did, and proceeded to open my door. Before I had a moment to exit the vehicle she came running in, sat on my lap and began to passionately kiss me. We kissed for nearly a hour. Kiss and only kiss for that period of time until she asked me to peel away. My eyes opened wide, I asked her to move to the passenger’s seat, but she rejected the offer saying that she sat where she wanted.

I pulled out of the grassy area and sped to a law abiding speed. She laughed at me and asked me go accelerate if I didn’t want her to exit the vehicle. That I didn’t want, so I sped, faster and faster. The needle hit double the maximum speed for the roadway and she began kiss me again. It was so difficult to drive that fast while kissing, I swerved from side to side in futile attempts to stay steady. I just couldn’t see very well ahead of me. The faster we drove, the more passionately she kissed me, then it all turned. She removed her shirt and bra, which were flown away by the pressure of high wind. She just couldn’t hold on to them. She laughed, continued to kiss me, then somehow struggled my pants opened. She grabbed me, massaged me, and told me that high speeds in nights of bliss demanded naughty pleasures. She continued to run her hands on what was revealed through my open pants, faster, slower, while massaging her butt over my crotch.

What was going to happen I knew, I just didn’t think I’d survive. Her only rule was for me to reach top speed. At this point filled with lust I wasn’t thinking properly, I swore to reach it. The young lady reached down and moved her shorts aside freeing her fortitude. She looked at me and screamed out one more rule. She said that if I tried to look forward and keep steady, we’d inevitable sway and spin out of control, to look in the rear-view mirror and keep the passing lines at the very center of the rear view mirror. The rear lights were just enough to shine light to a few feet behind the vehicle. I did as she requested and was able to maintain a straight line. Unfortunately, it wasn’t for long.

Her hair beat on my face as if being whipped. It hurt but I became sickly pleasured by it. By the time she was able to push me deep in, my driving became ill advised. I swayed from left to right, the young lady screaming not to decelerate. She bounced one me uncontrollably; I fought to keep the car steady as much as I fought back climax in fear of being unable to be pleased and keep this from being the last time we consummated. She tore my button down shirt open, and ran her fingers up my chest leaving behind traces of good. I was scratched, scared, about to climax, and still pressing to hit top speed. I don’t know if I ever did reach top speed, she screamed louder than I have ever heard a pleasing woman scream. She tore flesh from my chest, and my face had taken the fury of hair strands against high wind.

I was victorious in many ways. She proved my parents that good things can happen after midnight. I didn’t climax which also proved to me that there was a God, had it not been for him, I would have peaked, lost control of my vehicle and taken a swim – hopefully to the Chanel because the Atlantic is no fun. And, she gave me memories that I here today still feel deep within me, scars too. The final victory was really the luck that the roadway that late at night is barren.

I drove her home that night. She was too tired to drive home. There was no kiss, no prolonged chat when we arrived at her house. She said “Goodbye, Stranger” and disappeared behind the front door to her house. She walked out of my tuner and into her house without a shirt, her shorts terrible adjusted around her body. That sight made me wished for day light to see what I hadn’t all this time. She didn’t care that her attire was missing, or malfunctioning. The front door to her home closed, then reopened, a hand popped out the door waving goodbye again.

I woke up early the next day to beat her to her vehicle. I thought I’d wait for her with coffee and a bagel. By the time I got there her automobile was gone. I nearly cried, looked around and only found tire marks from what was likely her vehicle. I left her cup of coffee along with the bagel in that very same spot where her vehicle had rested the night before. She truly was gone that morning, as was she at the end of my workdays, vanished as if we had never met. I still travel the roadway from time to time, refusing to discard my aging tuner in hopes we’ll stumble upon each other and go for one more joy ride.

Whoever you were, know that I still look for you in the same roadway at the same time.


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Café

Same Café, same time, different days. I sat on the last set of bench tables against the wall. I liked to sit on the same table – the third table from the main entrance to the Café. I felt it provided the best location to people watch. The sun coming through the windows behind me was memorable. The light rays came from up high, down to the floor in quite the acute angle. Anyone entering the shop had to walk through the sun rays. It really felt as if divinity looked down upon us, blessing each person who walked in.

I normally carried a paper pad to write random thoughts for nightly entries in my diary. For a long time they all started with the same thoughts. “There she was, sitting directly across from my table, smiling, flirting with me from the distance.” I’d ramble on about her for quite a few paragraphs before changing the subject.

The last sentence for tonights entry read: “Tomorrow I will speak to her.”. It was my way to workup the courage…

April 14th of today’s year

I wrote not a thing on my handy paper pad while at the Café. All there was written was today’s date followed by empty paper.

I couldn’t keep my eyes away from her. She walked in still dressed in exercise attire. Sort of lose, yet figure hugging white in colour sweat pants. These weren’t the thick type, they were those cotton sweat pants light in texture. A red spandex fitted mid drift shirt exposing her stomach. There was little left of me to imagine. The sweat pants revealed the contour of her figure that were hidden by clothing every other day I had seen her.

On the way to her usual table I saw all of her back. Sweat pants tracing inward informing the onlooker that underneath was covered by a very, very tiny garment. The light-textured sweat pants weren’t as kind as I selfishly desired. I had to imagine that her under garment was red in colour matching her shirt. I watched her gluteal muscles carry her from the door all the way to the table. She looked as delightful from the rear as she did from a profile view. Thoughts of guitars and old coca-cola bottles came to mind.

She sat looking my way as customary, placing an over-sized carry on bag to her left. She leaned against the column to her right, and yawned. She saw me smile. I motioned if she was sleepy. She shook her head in disagreement, then rubbed her belly indicating that she was hungry. The workout must have depleted all of her energy. I already knew what she was going to order…

The distance between our tables was close enough where details in her persona were visible rather than disguised by the distance. The field of vision was such that I could see below the table top down just below where her sweat pants ended.

The flirting began as usual, i’d smile, she’d respond. She’d trace her lips with her index finger and flicker it in my direction. I’d catch it, kiss it, and return it to her. This time, however, instead of just kissing my return kiss, she perked up her lips, traced them with my kiss, opened her mouth slightly, then allowed my kiss to travel downward from her lips, to the chin, between her bust down her belly leading up to her navel. There my kiss remained, her hand fondling her navel, smearing my kiss throughout it. She’d bite her lower lip informing me that my kiss was enticing her to want more from it. Whether it was to our advantage that just a few other customers were present is my mystery.

Dear diary, I don’t know if she was aroused by the idea of having me watch what she did with my kiss, or that others possibly witnessed her pleasure. But, what I’m about to reveal with this entry still has me aroused. I want you to keep it safe so that I can read it over and again when I want to think of her.

She wasn’t sitting as a lady would – legs together rejecting the advances from casual gazers. She was sitting such that it invited me to admire the work of mother nature present in her. She wasn’t the type where abundance in one area meant a lack of another. No, she was the type that was crafted properly. Plentiful was apparent by the contour marked on the front of her sweat pants. There was plenty to admire, plenty to dream about, plenty to long.

Not long after entertaining my kiss on her navel, she brought her index finger north bound, inserted it in her mouth, then winked at me. She looked into my eyes slowly lowering her finger past her navel all the way down to the white sweat pants. She ran her index finger from the side of her right thigh up and about to the point where her two thighs met. The shifting of the sweat pants side to side, up and down made me sweat. My short attention span didn’t falter, it remained fixated on that index finger. I knew that my kiss was there traveling places I wanted to see.

Her eyes never pulled away from me, it was if they were tied to me, preventing me from fleeing, as if only… This is where I was going to stay, watching her massage my kiss through a world foreign to me. She opened her hand, pushed it all the way down; I lost sight of her fingers, when they suddenly reappeared, middle finger traveling right on the seam of the sweats, pushed in just so deeper than the two at its side; the index and the ring finger running along adjacent tracing a suppleness that made this grown man beg. They took a pause and began to draw circles on the sweat pants. I couldn’t figure out how to sit down. I’d shift to my left, to my right, slouch, sat up erect, leaned forward, at times lifted my butt from the bench seat trying to come closer to her.

Then it happened, she used her left hand to raise the waist band of the sweat pants, allowing the right hand to enter. The movement of her hand was visible against the white fabric. It go north, south, east and west, more often than not centered in one location, not motionless, but motion filled. I could only wonder what my kiss was going through, what it was feeling, what it was tasting, what it thought of her actions… She bit her lip one more time, then ran her tongue, first against her upper lip, then the lower. Her hand stopped moving, and withdrew from her pants. She returned following the same path taken earlier on the way down. I could see traces of moisture left against the skin of her stomach.

When the right hand arrived at her mouth, she circled her lips and with her index finger signaled “no, no”. As if telling me that the journey of my kiss would be incomplete. She kissed her index and flicker towards me, sending a scent, a taste and traces of her in my direction. At least so was my desire for my kiss to be joined with that company. I too wanted to taste her intimacy. She stood up, never having ordered anything to eat, and headed towards the door. I couldn’t look at her eyes, I was bound to her lower body, the area that I believed to have indirectly enjoyed. I grabbed my kiss just flickered in return, and as she walked out the door, tossed it back her way, calling out to her to keep it and complete the journey at home.

Dear diary, that Café, I’ll never leave. I told you I’d speak to her today.


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Disagreement

Our disagreement days before created a palpable tension between us. He wasn’t happy that I had defied him. I regretted my actions, but refused to show it, let alone, apologize. I stood on swampy ground but didn’t care. He had been in my shoes in the past when I assured him that he hadn’t to worry. I came to expect the same from him, understanding of me during ill advise behavior; however, we were of different make up. He held grudges while I left uncomfortable situations behind.

That evening we had the third part from a series of documentaries about Latin Music during the first half of the century to attend. In attendance there would be collectors, historians, dancers, enthusiasts and us. I was his woman, and he was a poet looking for inspiration for his next series of poems centering around inner city Latino Community.

I tried to make small talk before departing, but it didn’t really lead anywhere. He barely answered, and when he finally did it wasn’t a thing related to the topic. He replied about being infuriated by my disrespect, that he would ensure it to be the last time I disregarded his will. I became testy, stood up for myself even if it were through a mere stare of disgust. He stared in returned, looking me up and down as if sizing a foe. He took a half turn, still staring at me, murmured some incoherent sentences and walked out the door. In his hand he carried a leather dopp kit. It was peculiar that he would bring it. He never brought it to any other event we’ve attended together. I imagined he had plans to send me back home after the event to enjoy a night on his own.

The car ride was quiet. Any attempts I made to lighten the mood were futile. He didn’t directly ignore me, but his answers were dismissive. I was left with little choice; I pulled the “Mad girlfriend” by leaning to my right as close as possible to the window, and stared out to the passing grass along the roadway.

This is my antic, it has always worked before when he’s been annoyed with me. I felt clever because he began to make small talk. I contained my excitement trying not to reveal my hoax. So, I continued to stare out the window, sometimes nodding, other times shaking my head. Not much time transpired when I noticed our vehicle reducing speed. There wasn’t a reason, other cars weren’t slowing down, it was only us.

I finally looked towards him; he was smiling; handsome smile he owns. I asked if the vehicle was experiencing mechanical problems.
He: No, I’m purposely slowing down, awaiting an apology.
Me: Don’t make me laugh, I haven’t a reason to apologize. Maybe you should return to being rude. I’ll look out the window for the duration of the trip.

The vehicle eased to a complete stop – the sound of the car tires over the gravel was distinct, almost soothing. We pulled over under an over pass, cars zooming on the highway by us in obvious hurry. He removed the key from the ignition, placed them on the dashboard, unbuckled his seatbelt, took a deep breadth and shifted his body to face me. Again he asked if I had reconsidered my stance on the apology. I hadn’t, nor would I, I said to him.

He leaned towards me, looked forwards towards the speeding cars, and faced me again, bit his lower lip, then in a low tone proceeded to tell me what he was about to do if I didn’t acknowledge my wrong doings. I didn’t know whether I should laugh, be shocked, or take him up on the offer. See, this was coming from a man who had been one way, a monotone one, since the very day we met. His intentions were a bluff at best, a dreadful one as well. He couldn’t, nor would behave such.

He came close to me, slide his left hand around my cheek behind my neck and grabbed a chunk of hair. He didn’t pull, he simply grabbed it. Gave me a look into the eyes, and I was overtaken by chills. I was beginning to think he was serious. I even considered apologizing, but the thought of daring him excited me. He asked again if I had anything to say. I didn’t even blink, I stayed looking at him thinking back to childhood memories of double dares.

He spoke sternly, I didn’t listen, I took no action. He leaned across my body, heading towards my lap, there he stopped, reached over with his left hand and moved my seat as far back as it allowed. He maneuvered to my seat, and believe me when I tell you this man is changed, he tore my blouse along with bra, buttons flew across the car hitting windows, windshield, and dashboard. He wrestled my slacks off my lower body, leaving my high heels on. He had undressed me in the bucket seat of that car. He couldn’t possibly go through with this. Though I was excited, I also wasn’t at ease, I had never seen him this way, nor had we ever acted out such a picture as he had just whispered into my ear.

He grabbed the dopp kit, and again asked if I would apologize. Again I replied as before, I stood in silence more attentive to the leather bag than I was to his words. I wanted to see if he had actually the stuff he claimed to have brought. He understood my silence as defiance once again. He opened the bag, asked me to reach in and pull the contents out. When I complied, my hands held handcuffs, and two tubes of some type of adult glide cream. My excitement at this point was both noticeable in my breathing as it was down below the navel. He asked me to unzip his slacks, I obliged. If my excitement was noticeable, it was his that was a sight worth admiring. I had really never before felt such solid state.

I was to proceed by opening the first tube, pouring a good amount on my hands, enough to engulf all of him, leaving no area untouched. I massaged it onto him, running my hands from the tip, slowly down the shaft, all the way to the base. I felt as if he had penetrated me, yet my hands were the ones doing the work. He stopped me from enjoying the moment more than he asked for. The second tube I opened, but didn’t use. I handed it back to him as requested. He swung the door open, exited the vehicle, and pulled me out. I could see his manhood glimmer when the lights of passing cars hit it.

The rush of air flying after speeding cars, coupled to the sound of high speed put me in heightened state of awareness. I was feeling exhilarated, ignoring the coolness of the autumn evening because my mind was unable to accept that he was going to culminate this event. Lights, high speed, bliss covered this mile of the highway. Even the smell of gas, and the honking of trucks pleased me. He walked me over to the rear of the vehicle. I walked ahead of him, my body in display to the oncoming traffic. Cars honked, flashed the high beams, even slowed down screaming obscenities. I didn’t blame them, I would have as well screamed a few selected indecencies had I seen a recently shaved delight with perky chest staring back at head-beams.

He turned me around, my palms flat against the trunk of the vehicle, face looking straight ahead, rear raised up with my legs tightly held together. I somehow managed to hear the noise expelled by the tube as he poured it right between, letting it drip from up high saturating all of my round and about. He massaged it for a while, between honks from vehicles he continuously asked if I was ready to apologize. I never answered him, never cared to, I wasn’t only saturated by the lotion spread throughout my backside, but by the attention my body was about to receive.

He massaged me, enticing my libido to accept his soothing. He pulled my hands behind my back, my torso quickly gave to gravity coming to a stop atop the trunk, he then pulled the handcuffs from his pocket and cuffed me. There I stood, bent over a car on the side of a highway with vehicles flashings lights, honking, squealing wheels from sudden stops. I didn’t care where I was, all that ran through my mind were the words he’d just spoken to me. Each and every one of them, I wondered how it would feel, how despicable he’d be to me, whether I would like it, hate it… Amidst all the thinking I felt his hardened state pierce me. My reaction was to raise my torso up and away from the trunk. This was the genesis of accepting pleasure where it would be impossible to bear children. Whether it was painful, or pleasurable wasn’t clear. The thrust of his pelvis colliding into my buttocks without thought of mercy caused me to scream, moan, and curse. He incessantly asked if I had changed my mind. I screamed out each and every time that I had not, I didn’t want it to end. The awareness of passing passengers seeing me vulnerable to him increased my desire to be subdued.

I could feel each collision throughout my body, breast bouncing, mouth speaking of pain, or was it glory, his fellows slapping against my womanhood as if punishing me to make me beg for mercy. He still spoke of lessons, of payment, of a woman resentful of her ill advise actions. I gave in, but not before my legs were spread far apart and an audience of vehicles around us, including lights of red, while, and blue accompanied by a siren. That was not part of his plan.