This is a growing collection of my stories. I appear to favour writing about sex and death, not always together. I'm also writing two books. Some days it feels like most other people inhabit a world where you can aimlessly wander into vendor-created wonderlands and purchase things you never knew you needed - for entertainment. The mind boggles. I believe it's because I wasn't allowed to watch television as a child. I just don't get some things. I'm ok with that
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Nathan's a good looking man, tall and broad shouldered. Naturally blessed with lean, chiseled features, he's something of a small-time con artist. Nathan likes to rely on the kindness of strangers. He enjoys people's trust. His toffee coloured eyes give the impression of generosity and warmth. In his presence a person can be made to feel both interesting and appreciated. He's aware of the affect he sometimes has on strangers, making sure his self-effacing demeanor keeps his manners endearing and his tone sincere.
Nathan has experienced a string of bad luck lately. Somehow, he'll have to turn things around and get his act together. Something's got to change, and quickly, though he's not too sure where to start. Right now, in need of a coffee with no money to speak of - he rings a friend and arranges to meet her at a coffee shop.
He closes the front door of a mate's place, having spent a night on the couch. He marvels at a beautiful woman walking by, her heavy hair swishing at her back. He imagines the way it might smell. She stops, not far away and kisses another man on the street. Nathan sighs, making his way to the coffee shop, affected.
Over coffee with Carla he tries to play the caring friend, listening to her whinge about her estranged husband, her unmanageably large house and her recent foray back into the dating pool. He orders a toasted sandwich for himself and she helps him eat, breaking it into tiny pieces and slotting it into her mouth between sentences.
He's acutely conscious that he'll have to ask her for money, sooner or later. She pops broken pieces of a cold, toasted sandwich as if to punctuate her sentences and never once directs an inquiry his way. When he can take no more he gets up briskly, forgetting his mission as he pulls his backpack across his shoulders. The childish gesture shaves ten years off him. Carla blinks up at him, catapulted from her own discomfort.
“I have to catch a bus.” He kisses her warmly before lurching out of the coffee shop and off down the street. It doesn't occur to him to look back, saving himself from a view of her astonishment. Now, directionless and devoid of cash, Nathan assesses the day stretching before him.
On the train Nathan sits next to a ‘suit’. She smells of fresh grapefruit. A navy skirt hugs her well-proportioned lower body and across her lap the fabric stretches so tight it appears likely to split. Nathan tries very hard not to admire her openly, for fear she'll catch him looking. He wants badly to touch her. He lurches with the movement of the train and the effort of trying not to invade her personal space. They get up simultaneously for a stop, exchanging a glance. Each stares back into identical, honey-brown eyes. After she has gone, Nathan can still feel his heart running. He is still able to catch the faint scent of her perfume. An involuntary rush of blood to his groin forces him to shift his weight.
After the train he makes his way up the stairs into too-bright daylight and pounds the pavement, deep in thought. After a while it starts to rain and he's forced to search for somewhere to escape the weather. Before long Nathan finds himself in a library, attached to a shopping centre. At least here he can read, stay out of the rain for a while and work out how to face the rest of the week.
He choses a book from the shelves, lazily observing all the action around him. The amount of people coming and going increases through the lunch rush. His blood cools in his veins. At one point, Nathan notices a familiar body in the sea of people passing by. Appreciatively he takes in her shape and size, the Venus-like proportions of her figure and the faint lure of her perfume. He recognizes the woman from the train. Goose-bumps forming on his arms.
Nathan plays it cool, calming himself. She senses him staring, turns to look at him and a shock of recognition passes over her features. She smiles shyly and turns away, plonking herself into a comfortable chair adjacent to his, a magazine on her lap. Relaxing, she takes off her work jacket. Her expensive, cream blouse moves like liquid. The fabric is elegant and thin, pulled taut across her ample breasts. Her tanned arms are smooth and freckle-free. Nathan's feels his moment had arrived.
She looks up from her reading, cherub lips forming into a smile.
“I want you to blow me.” The words appear on his lips before he can vet them. Blood rages in his ears.
“Here?” Her tone is thick with disbelief.
"Can you think of somewhere better?”
"Well, as it happens I work here. I know somewhere...” Her tone is changing as she forms the words.
“Ok.” Already his erection strains the fabric of his jeans.
It seems so straight forward, imminently possible to snatch a few moments of unbridled passion in a council library facility. Adrenalin from his un-rejected proposal fuels his recklessness, increasing his hunger. Nathan wants to have this woman, is almost mad with it.
"Do you think we should?"
"I've always believed in the here and now," Nathan puts in dryly. He still can't quite believe his luck.
"You'll have to wait," she whispers, grinning, noting the crazy lustful expression.
"Whatever you say, babe." His voice is soft.
They get up and without preamble she leads him past the counter stuffed with staff, off into the bowels of the building. He notes the rustle of movement amongst some of the desk staff as they walk by but no one tries to stop them. As they weave through rooms and hallways she's light on her feet, padding softly just ahead. Nathan enjoys the enchanting view of her delectable rear leading him into mischief.
Eventually, she stops, satisfied with her choice. By now they are in an office, small and undoubtedly tucked away. She strides in, Nathan closes the door behind them.
“I hope this is okay for you?” Her tone is soft, confused. For a brief moment Nathan just stares in amazement, unable to say anything. In all his life he had never before known a situation to parallel this one.
He closes the distance between them until his body is close to hers. Too close. In order to look at him she must offer her face up and meet his eyes. Her moist lips will be just centimeters from his. In the silence, her breathing becomes rapid and shallow. Nathan chooses not to hesitate further, bringing a large hand up to the small of her back, propelling her forward. The pillows of her breasts crush on the wall of his chest. Her features are still expressionless, although from this distance Nathan can see the unmistakable dark hint of lust in her eyes.
It feels delicious, these first rushed steps of their courtship. It crosses her mind how strange it feels to be so coy. They are adult, with little time. As the outside world shrinks out of context, so the air between them thickens and heats. She can touch the fabric of his shirt, can see he hasn’t shaved today. She doesn’t kiss him and he makes no move to try. Instead she lowers her head and unbuttoning his shirt, brushes the material off his chest with trembling fingers.
She unbuckles his pants. She unbuttons his boxers and without removing his jeans or his underpants, pulls his cock free of his clothes. It's fully erect and big, more substantial than she would have predicted. Her lips curl with a hint of appreciation. She moistens them and ducks down before him, wasting no time slipping the tip of his cock in her mouth. Perhaps she expected stale and sour, Nathan's cock is smooth and flavour-less. He makes no sound.
She takes in more length, quickly, testing him. She wants to hear him give away some audible hint of enjoyment. She runs her tongue down to the base, where the hair protrudes from his jeans. She snakes the width of her tongue up his length, looking up through her lashes to see his reaction. She can read disbelief in his brown eyes. She greases his cock more with her saliva and her lithe tongue, little pains of pleasure rock through his body, turning his limbs to liquid.
He can think only of taking her, tearing her clothes and fucking her on the blandly organized carpet. The sensation is too much for him and Nathan closes his eyes as she slides her lips around the head of his penis, taking his entire length into her throat and mouth. Quite suddenly she stops.
“I think I should stop now.” She's still holding his cock in her petite hand, kneeling in front of him. He helps her to her feet, adjusts his achingly rigid member.
“I have to have you,” he says finally. “Here.”
Wordlessly she turns away from him and undoes the zipper of her skirt, sliding the material up over her hips so he can see her gorgeous, firm arse peeping out from under the ludicrously tight skirt. She bends forward over the desk and offers her sweetness to him. She looks over her shoulder suggestively and smiles. She notes that his eyes are glazed by lust.
Exposed to his view, poised for action, she wiggles her rump. His honey-brown eyes feast on her sex and she can feel her wetness increasing under his gaze. In an appreciative, reverential homage to her recent performance, he kneels behind her, kissing her folds and stroking her glistening sex with his tongue.
He snuffles in her slit, buries his face willingly in the warmth and sweetness of the most amazing pussy he has ever set his mind to. Ahead of him she reels, a mighty orgasm building, making her push back against the intrusion of his tongue. Desire causes her to whimper and taking the sound as encouragement he inserts a finger into her vagina.
Nathan begins to gently finger fuck her and she squirms.
“I want you to fuck me,” she whispers her request and he can't hear her. “Oooh my god.”
Helpfully, Nathan eases two fingers in and out of her sex. She grips the table. He takes a moment to allow himself a final taste of her tantalizing flesh, lapping his tongue along her exposed lips, before he stands.
“What did you say?”
“I...” She turns towards him, Nathan initiates the kiss, their first, it's wholly satisfying, hot, wet and drenched in passion.
Eventually she pulls away, they are both caught off balance, soaked in desire. A moment later she is rolling over to clutch the desk once more. Nathan gently slides two fingers back into her pussy. He can feel the damp heat and the slight contraction of the muscles at the continuation of his pleasurable touch. She whimpers and he can hear her sharp intake of air. His cock is rigid in his hand, harder than ever. Nathan's shaking hand guides the head of his penis into the pocket of her arse and she wriggles. He directs the head of his cock down and feels her flesh parting as he enters her.
Finally, now he allows himself to moan, ecstasy washing over his limbs. At the first stroke she pushes back into him, feeling his length stretching her soft folds. He repeats the pleasure, again and again. She starts to sigh and he reaches around, cupping one luxurious breast through her clothes. The action stills her body’s urgent fever, allowing him to set the rhythm. He picks up the pace and shortens his strokes. She goes mad for it and squirms in his arms.
After a moment he's slamming into her, releasing stroke after wild stroke as he drives them both forward. He can feel the spasms and the rush of heat as she cums for him, throwing her head back. Nathan lets himself go inside her too, in the aftershock, her pussy still convulsing from orgasm.
Warm and shocked, she turns to him and kisses him full on the mouth. His limbs are still liquid. Nathan returns her kiss, reluctantly releasing her lips. He picks up her delicate hand, brings it to his mouth in a laughable nod to gentlemanly behaviour, then swiftly, as the reality of the situation returns to him, he grabs his pants and starts to tidy himself.
She takes a moment to shuffle the creased fabric of her work skirt over the plump swell of her hips. She’s definitely titillated, mildly amused. Her knickers are saturated. Still shaking, she finds her jacket, taking care to button it before making her way back, cheeks aflame, through the labyrinth.
A moment later Nathan finds himself back out on the street, alone. The day continues to drizzle but perhaps things aren't so bad, he thinks. He'll probably never see her again, and probably just as well. How could they top a first encounter like that? One thing's for certain, his luck definitely appears to be turning.
Friday, November 5, 2010
There are certain things to be said for what dizzy-ing heights make people do. Isabelle didn’t know heights would make her pulse race and her skin tingle until she stood up there for the first time… The way the ground begged to be remembered by her feet. How the empty air seemed so appetizing. She resolved not to work at heights, for though she loved it, she feared that one day the temptation to fill that space might become too great.
Isabelle had a temp job at a marine outlet that left her answering phones and feeling dead at night. She journeyed to work on the train and had somehow taken a liking to the second carriage. It had never occurred to her to follow a pattern or establish a routine for herself but she liked the certainty that came with a feeling of knowing her destination.
Out walking one night, she took herself up eight flights of stairs in an abandoned factory near her flat. She climbed the pigeon-stained stairs to the very top and found a broken window to access the roof. As she stood up there on the certainty of concrete she thought about two things. She thought of how she wanted to talk to the man she had noticed catching her train from the same carriage every day too; and that being above the earth with the luxury of a birds-eye view was a pleasure she responded to with a passion.
Isabelle thrilled herself with the feel of the cold wind, the un-giving concrete and the view of streets and places. She pressed her breasts on the cold tiles as she stood in the shower at her flat later, recalling the wind. Under the warm buzz of the shower head she let her hand stray between her legs, gently bringing herself to orgasm dreaming of open spaces. She craved the hard feel of a lover’s hands and the warmth of passion but she excelled herself, caressing her slippery pussy and working her fingers into the warm flesh, gently and consistently at first and then with a desire to thrust into herself she pressed her thighs together and added pressure to her hand. Later as she towel-dried her blonde hair in the lounge, elated.
Mark turned out to be a less-than-averagely talkative train companion. She worked up the courage to approach him one morning and looked again for him that night, bursting with questions but he seemed overwhelmed. They lapsed into a silence punctuated by the movement of the train on the tracks. As he went to alight at his usual stop he said “I’ll take you to dinner. I’d like that.”and wrote his phone number on her arm like a school boy. Isabelle skipped home to her individual-portion-sized frozen meal.
Later, she allowed herself to daydream of him as she knelt on the floor in her lounge. She splashed baby oil on her breasts and attempted to rub each nipple dry with erotic slowness, feeling her juices begin to collect. Soon each pink nipple stood proudly to attention like firemen and she clipped one between her thumb and index finger, forcing a noise in her own throat. She heard her breathing change. As she sat on her haunches circling her ample breasts with the palm of one hand she thought of Mark’s body pressed against hers like it had never been, she felt her pussy grow lush and warm and ache for a release.
Frustrated that she should want to be caressed so much and distracted so often by fleeting passions she showered and slept. On the train the following morning Mark was nowhere to be found. He appeared as usual on the homeward journey and it was he that began the conversation. Mark stood beside her and closed the distance between them when he spoke, as though they were intimate friends.
“I couldn’t stop thinking about you” he said.
Isabelle’s mouth fell open a little. Brazenly she met his eyes
“I want you too” She said levelly, feeling the warm rush of desire through her body. His eyes darkened and all too soon he got off the train at his stop.
At home she ate a cold snack as she found the piece of paper where she had written down his number. “Mark” she said when he answered
“Yes hullo who’s this?”
Isabelle very nearly hung up.
“The girl from the train” He laughed lightly back into the receiver. She shivered with relief.
“Do you want to see me?” he asked
“Yes” said Isabelle.
“Let me take you somewhere special?”
She gave him her address and he turned up in a commodore. Mark drove them back into the city which was quieter now and parked easily on a street right downtown. He led her to a building nearby. Using his keys and a security pass he took her through the foyer and up the lift. They progressed to level 23. At a landing and they got out.
“We have to take the stairs from here” He grinned and took her by her hand. He led her up through endless stairwells and finally out onto a balcony that looked out over a tennis court, a freeway and the river. He smiled at her warmly and opened his jacket to cushion her from the wind.
“I like the wind” She said resisting his embrace and she felt his cold fingers touch the hem of her skirt.
She drew herself to him then and let him encircle her in his arms, they were warm and heavy and she reveled in the feeling of his tense skin beneath the cotton of his work shirt. He picked her up and placed her bum on the railing. She dared not look down but felt a shot of adrenaline that warmed her whole body.
She stuck a cold, brave hand down the front of his work trousers, keeping his eye contact all the while. She found the strength of his aching cock. It was hard as rock and smooth beneath her hand. He didn’t seem surprised though his expression clouded a little once she ran her hand the length of his shaft. She unbuttoned his pants, shuffled off the rail and eagerly met her hand with her mouth.
After too few wondrous strokes she got up to kiss him again. She knew she tasted of him, he returned the kiss, his mouth hot and sweet. She pressed her soft breasts against him. Mark instinctively kneaded her flesh, through her shirt and she strained against his touch. She remembered the pleasure of his cock and returned once more to caressing him with her tongue and her moistened lips. The wind picked up around them and Isabelle cried out with the pleasure that rocked through her before he even made a sound. She could feel herself creeping toward orgasm as she let herself get caught up in the urgency of the moment.
Finally, he plied her mouth away from his aching cock though his body shook with desire. He lifted her up on the rail; he pulled her knickers aside to make way for his large cock and accidentally ripped the fabric. She giggled and swallowed her laughter as he drove his length into her wetness. She inhaled with shock and pleasure and allowed her eyes to feast on his mouth, on the sensuous pleasure ripping through her and the tingle of awareness at their surrounds.
In a moment he was kissing her again, tasting the sweet change in her mouth as she came. Only then did he allow himself to relax into the warm pressure of her, driving his shaft home in a few solid strokes. She sighed with pleasure, riding the last waves of it before asking him quietly to put her down. He kissed her as he plucked her ripe arse from the barrier and set her feet firmly back on the concrete of the 30th level.
“Wow” she said and turned to admire the dizzy-ing view.
Monday, November 1, 2010
A warm breeze on her cool body, raking over naked, voluptuous breasts. Each is like a perfect jam bun, a perfect, perky nipple sits atop, budded in desire. She's lying on the bed, a sheet between her legs. The thin material offers a tantalising pressure, bringing pleasure to her freshly showered form. Excitement builds in her secret place, thanks to the whisper of fresh, cool sheets.
Perhaps the feeling of refreshment won't last long in the warmth of such an evening. Already night is pressing closer, teasing her nerve endings. Darkness closing in around her offers a seductive solitude, the chance to play. She flicks on the bedside lamp and plonks back onto the bed, smoothing her supple body against the satin sheets, curling a cushion towards herself, cat-like. After a minute of squirming she replaces the material between her legs with a finger.
Sighs, running a finger about her intimate curls. Her body's response is a silent plea. She can hear her breathe catching but resists the urge to delve into her own warmth. She aspires to keep the fire kindled, without a burst of flame, yet. She rubs her lips, wandering a finger over the fleshy planes. Reward is a glorious rush of desire, trickling through her limbs. It is building into a welcome wetness pooling just below her fingers, just outside her reach, luxuriant torment.
One, knowing hand seeks her breast, fondles the nipple and knows the quick joy of a pinch. She squirms, fondling a handful of softness, licks her finger and runs it across a rosy peak.
"Oh..." she says softly to no one.
Her sex must have called to him, somehow, in her desirous stupor. A door creaks on its hinges in their bedroom. Knees akimbo, a rumpled sheet still at work on the juncture between her thighs, she glances over her shoulder. He meets her eyes. She can hear the sound of his bag being dumped, the impatient thump of shoes onto floorboards, a zipper and the dull thud of cloth. In a moment, his arms are either side of her splayed form. Body heat reaches out to cover her, even before their skin can touch. She feels him radiating warmth.
He kisses her neck, a newly formed 5 'o'clock shadow makes prickles on the softness. She sighs. Squirms. He supports his own weight so as not to displace her, gently coaxing the sheet from between her thighs, replacing it with a head. In a sweet moment of recognition she feels the weight of his cock, pressing at her smooth, wet labia. A doorway to bliss. She finds his actions hot and forward. He reaches around to her hip, slides a warm, large palm over the flat of her stomach and into the folds of her pussy. He wants to know she wants this. She turns towards him for a kiss.
The bedside lamp is hidden by a cloth, bathing the room in a warm, red glow. The colour catches her imagination as she shuts her lids, feeling him enter her. She moans. He caresses her clitoris and she could die from it. So full. Still there is more pleasure to come. He drives her to distraction, with each stroke his thighs press her buttocks, and as there is no cause to rush he takes his exquisite time. A finger flutters at her budded nerves, over and over, pushing her towards orgasm. When at last she can feel him quicken their strokes and his glorious, digital stimulus, it's because she feels him engorge within her. It's hard to bear the fullness, in a moment without air or separateness.
He stiffens and they both fall from the precipice, into the magic of a selfish moment. Together.
In a further minute they will begin to feel the humid evening again. The stillness will be as pressing as the night air. For now, they breathe. Her damp hair sticks to her nape, and he has collapsed upon her. He kisses her shoulder and rolls onto the mattress, one arm still protectively splayed across her body.
She is still breathing hard.