Crimson Crossing – Stories in Erotica

No Chance Encounter

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Lovers at a distanceSometimes “tele-ship” other times “virtual-ship”, that’s how the long distance lovers came to know it. Not once had they met in person. Their relationship was built upon emails and texts… through time learning unverifiable truths about one another. Initially it was nothing more than meaningless chatter, but eventually, conversations became solely about meeting for the first time. Each text message, each email was more of the same fantasies and unrealistic union.

The virtual contents didn’t depict the usual giggles and laughter that arise when catching up face-to-face. No! The messages were detailed sexual fantasies; from teen-like shy engagements to sadistic alternative means. Thanks to distance and modern technology, the fear accompanied with interpersonal relationships hid not a thing. Candid emails, and text messages more so, stenched of sex; sexting as it has come to be known to popular culture was their favorite pass-time. It almost appeared that the two had forged the most of beloved physical relationships.

Unexpected in content, one day she received the following text message: “Luqa Airport. 22:15 hour. July 12th. I expect you to be there, unaccompanied, dress accordingly, ready and willing. I don’t feel much like a shy man. Goodbye until then.”

She frantically attempted to contact him. Text messages, emails, even pondered if she should call, breaking the agreement to only hear one another’s voice upon physically meeting. She nearly called, but her desire to abide by the rules kept her from doing so. She understood that it was up to her to accept or not, the arrangement. Just three days from receiving the text they were to meet. Just three days…

He had purposely discontinued contact in hopes to affect her delight enough to welcome his aspirations. He believed that three days of avoidance would devastate her nerves, just as it would her imagination enough to stow away any and all inhibitions. All of her contact attempts came and went unanswered, he didn’t even entertain browsing them.

Carrying out the plan wasn’t much of a joy for him, either. He had no recourse to confirm that either it, or her would turn out as expected. He was going to blindly fly to a foreign country without any guarantees, not that he would have had it any other way. The nerves kept hunger, work, even sleep hidden behind thoughts of her. She was the one subject not escaping his concentration. A devout man hasn’t prayed as much as he did asking for divine intervention. If he wasn’t magical enough to alter the results in his favor, perhaps the creator of it all was.

They were one and the same, he and she, of course.

She spent the days leading up to his arrival bouncing around travel agencies looking for a flight of her own. The flight had to arrive before his, not just arrive with a few minutes to scurry over to him, but with enough time for her to freshen up, find a suitable place to greet, and let it all happen. After All, where in the world was Luqa Airport!

Vintage Floral DressBetween travel agencies, in and out boutiques she came, aimlessly looking for an outfit to reveal her acceptance upon sight. From dresses to sweat suits to jeans, shorts, jumpers, she changed until finally settling in a vintage floral dress, flat-heel-lace-up mid-shin-high boots, and a six inch brim southern United States sun hat. If that didn’t divulge her thoughts, then he wasn’t to have her.

She was to arrive at Luqa Airport at 20:00 the very same date as he. The duration of her flight was a fraction of his. There was ample time after her arrival to ease the nerves and seek out an appropriate encounter location.

The date of the flight came with much anticipation. He went about calming down by jogging for too long a distance that a taxicab had to be hailed to bring him back to his flat. She, on the other hand, baked chocolate muffins — too many of them — just for herself.

She wore the outfit specifically purchased for the occasion. But he, he wore a hat, shorts, dress socks and shoes with a t-shirt. A small bag not two by two feet was brought as a carry on.

The anxiousness made him forget a small dosage of sleeping aid. It was meant to knock him out for at least three quarters of the flight. But now the torture from the slow passage of time in a long flight had to be endured. He decided to use the time to prepare for any and all results by thinking about every feasible and unfeasible scenario. Were it not for the captains voice notifying about the commence of the final descent, he wouldn’t have been prepared at all.

He quickly rose from the seat and rushed towards the bathroom where the A380 plane presents the comfort of showers. He bathed for about 20 minutes, dried, and got dressed; pressed, charcoal in colour, hip-bone-low-slacks; fitted charcoal shirt — two top buttons undone — and a body-tight-dark-gray-vest; at the back, a white waistband accentuated the vest. The hat, well, it would have been suiting even without the dress socks and t-shirt.

Not soon after he finished grooming, the announcement asking of everyone to be seated for ladning approach came in. He headed back to his seat fearing that been standing could increase the chance of any mishap, possibly sending him straight out of the plane into a local hospital. He buckled tightly into the seat, then picked at his nails until the familiar sound of screeching wheels on pavement reached his ears. He was the very last person to disembark; not purposely meaning to be cool, but that the fear of failure refused management until every last person had left the plane. He had to somehow look enticing, convincing, and in control. A cracking voice and sweaty palms don’t exactly strike confidence… He thought back at the many explicit emails and, between the physical reaction, and thoughts of her scent upon the male anatomy, he found the vigor to carry on as a man with a purpose does.

Meanwhile, she had already located, perhaps not exactly the most private or proper, accommodations. She stood at the entrance of the room looking down at the floor, tapping her right foot uncontrollably. There she waited for him until suddenly realizing that he would have to search the entire airport to find her– not a half bad idea considering the reward. Angels on a ceilingShe toyed with the thought of making him wait to claim the price; however, she was as anxious as he. Out went the text message: “Angels in the sky are to witness turmoil down below.”

Meanwhile, midway down the electric escalator his stoic demeanor faltered. The realization came that her whereabouts were not precisely known. How was the encounter going to take place with out that tidbit of neglected information? All of that thinking during the flight yet, he never once thought about a meeting location. She is clever and playful! He hesitated thinking that she would force a search of the entire airport. But, as their relationship had it, the mobile device alerts of her incoming message cluing him in of her location.

He smiled immediately. “Angles in the sky can only be found by the entrance to paradise, now… where is my Garden of Eden,” thought he.

At the bottom of the electric escalator, just east of the baggage claim carousels, two wall paintings hung from each side of a very wide entrance; one of a red and luscious apple, the other of a hand reaching toward it. A long corridor displayed photos and paintings of gardens from all different parts of the world, each with a writing elaborating on the art work. At the opposite end it opened-up to an angel-covered-dome-ceiling room.

Oh… but just at the end of the corridor, a few steps inside the large domed-room, stood a feminine figure wearing a flowered-vintage dress with laced up boots and a wide-brim sun-hat. He walked steadily towards her, saying not a word, hesitating not for a moment. When he got close enough to come into her field of vision with her head looking down at the floor, she looked up. She didn’t get a chance to greet him, not a chance to smile. His right hand shot forward grasping her by the nape of the neck, thrusting them into locking lips. With the left hand he raised her by the thighs and walked towards the wall at the back end of the room crashing against it.

The collision against the wall while kissing caused them to bump teeth, cutting his lower lip; still, they battled one another’s desire to devour first, fast and furiously. The kissing lasted for quite some time. He kissed her, she kissed him. He journeyed her neck and earlobes, she scratched his shoulders over the vest, and pressed her pelvis hard against him. She attempted to push him away trying to create space between them. The desire was to grasp his vest and tear it open, exposing his chest to her nails awaiting to imprint on him.

It was to no avail, he pressed harder against her, striking her back against the wall as if they were completely naked and he was invading her body. They burned for one another as if being fueled, making it impossible to resist their wants. All of that, and they had yet to lock eyes.

He grounded her feet firmly against the floor, shoved her by the shoulders flat against the wall, then turned her around to face against the wall. He fisted both sides of her undergarment that covered her harvest– one of those “time-matching” pieces to complete her vintage outfit: a pink in colour and ruffled pair of undies — then tugged and tugged but impatience prevented him from tearing it as he’d hoped. So he pulled it down over the boots, removed it completely and tossed it aside.

Grabbing her by the waist, away from the wall her waist came arching her lower back into a fine view of her ass. He lifted the dress with his left hand and while holding it in place the right hand spanked her mightily. The sound generated by the hit against her butt cheek rang through the terminal as if a flight delay announcement. Unequivocally, those remaining in the terminal heard her pleasure. The strike was so violent that it was felt down to her vagina. The saturation was immediate and evident. She didn’t whimper, no, she didn’t; rather, she took a deep breath and licked her lips. He bit her butt cheeks for the mere joy of having them against his mouth, then spanked her once and again.

She swayed her butt begging for more, begging to receive more than hand slaps. Out of his pocket comes a leather strap “ye” long. Instead of using it for what it was invented, he slid it through the middle of her crotch trapping wet residue, up her butt, up to his nostrils and placed it in her mouth to clench between the teeth.

He pulled back, slid his ego out through the zipper, then traced the outer and inner labia soaking the head nice and sweetly… now and then sliding right down the middle of her vagina almost penetrating it. The thought was to slip it between her legs, not go inside, but have him become covered by the secreting lust to a glistening sigh. As he did…

She moved back and forth ensuring that she had adjusted herself enough to feel his entire shaft slide through the middle of her open persona. The outer labia held onto him as if cupped hands receiving the wafer of God while the inner labia stroked him warmly. They had steadily increased thrust speed until a simultaneous release of one another. Swiftly she was turned to face him. Barely having time to get a good look at what stuck out of his zipper, she was lifted and mounted on him. She slid with no effort at all; slid all the way down, too. Had it not been for the slacks covering him at the very base, her saturation would have spilled farther than the pants. She bounced like a well gripped bull-rider.

During one of the moments when he leveraged his torso backwards to bounce her with ease, she took the clear path to rip apart the buttons from both his shirt and vest in a modest display of savagery. She grabbed the leather strap clenched between her teeth, put a hand against his face and swung it playfully but, with the full intention of hurting him. It landed just where their teeth collided moments ago cutting his lip. She kissed him while he bled from the small wound. The kissing continued even after she placed the leather apparatus back in her teeth. The awkward kisses accompanied by blood drops lead to the sinking of nails into his chest. Ten freshly manicured nails left marks down from his upper chest to mid abdomen. The most severe of them were the index, heart, and ring finger marks; that made her eyes glow. He was overtaken by the sick pleasure received from watching her nails slowly drive down his chest.

The taste of his blood, her saliva, her scent aroma-zing the domed-room cordially lured his instinct to control.

He reached up and over behind her neck grasping hair under the wide-brim hat. He pulled down a fist-full of hair until her mouth found it difficult to grasp the leather strap… as she was about to release it from her clench, he shook his head “no”. She held onto it preventing it from going anywhere. He moved his hand lower on her butt, and using the wall to maneuver, he forced himself inside her anus. She slapped his chest, his face repeatedly but, never released the strap from her teeth. He bounced her up with blows from his thighs, then pulled her fully down against his whim with tugs of her hair.

After becoming painfully acquainted with the penetrations, her hands came down to her butt spreading the cheeks apart, slapping herself red as teasing him about the need for more. He tried to concentrate on it all, the sight of nail marks against his chest, the bloody lip, the sound created by each of her very own slaps, yet the feeling of being squeezed tightly inside of her opaqued even the knowledge that it was she who rested between his arms.

She had reached the moment between pain and pleasure that enables a body to receive more than capable. She wanted to scream but knew that doing so would cause the strap to fall onto the ground. That she didn’t want, neither did he as the purpose was to keep from informing the airport of their rendezvous, and not hearing her voice until their next encounter.

She didn’t noticed he’d climax. He rejected the idea of verbalizing it simply because he had waited this long and stopping now wasn’t option. He was sipping out of her and the sight of sperm traveling down his shaft while he went in and out of her butt was incomparable to any. The man, versed as he was, swung her upwards to his chest where he manage to land the back of her knees onto each of his shoulders. He brought her torso down to where her engorged vulva looked straight into his eyes, and it took no more than a few tongue suggestions to spill her into her very own climax. He sucked gently and slowly, more so to savor her long enough to perpetually remember why they met.

Still, he was aroused! Unwilling to stop, he put her on her knees, took the strap from her clench, asked to open her mouth, then traced her lips with his penis… righteously watching his penis slide into her mouth ever so slowly as she looked up at him, watching as she playfully bit down on it… watching as his residue marked the areas he’d been. She was good, bad, mean, heartwarming, and savvy enough to unbuckle his pants, let them fall on the floor, grab his glutes, and gently force him down her throat. She cared not whether she vomited from the gag reaction, nor if the cameras captured that she was willing to do more than take it in the butt.

She shoved him in a few times… leading the oral assault by maneuvering his glutes. Her nails sank into them enticing a quick thrust forward of his hips. Her face luckily stopped the forward momentum when he slipped completely inside her mouth. He removed her hat to grasp chunks of her hair, her head. There she stayed hoping to make him climax, but it didn’t yield the expected result because he pushed her away, and removed her dress. He laid down face up on the floor; vest and shirt open, slacks down at his ankles. She sat on him, leaned forward grinding against him while clawing his chest as if a feline. Hands separating in goodbyeHer hair falling over her face, beating about in pleasure. She came atop of him just as she’d texted: with the Angels in the sky witnessing the turmoil down below.

At the end, a long kiss… she kept his vest and hat; he kept her hat and ruffled undies. They never did hear each other’s voice that night; upon finishing their no chance encounter, he paid for her and his return flight to their respective homes. They still contact one another through mail and texts, still living fantasies as if never having met. Still hoping to meet again.

Author: jibarican

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