There was a split second of illumination in the bedroom revealing a small television on a stand at the foot of the queen-sized bed, two small side tables on either side and a small pile of male and female clothes strewn across the floor, attesting to the earlier interactions of the two lightly covered figures in the bed, followed by an end-of-the-world crack of intense thunder that roared and bounced off the walls of the tiny hotel room, causing one of the figures to suddenly scream violently and throw back the covers as she snapped up, her hair over her face and breasts and look around in confusion and terror as she struggled to recognise her surroundings.
“What the fuck! What is it? What…” shouted the other figure, who had of course been woken by the hysterical reaction of the woman and sat up suddenly, grabbing her with one hand in worry.
There was another sudden flash of light and he briefly saw the frightened look in her face before another insensitive crack made her scream again and he felt her body leap impossibly into the air from a sitting position and he threw his arms around her protectively, as if to deny the God of Thunder and Lightning its coveted prize.
As he held her in his arms, he felt her heartbeat fluttering insanely like a sparrow heart in his hand. He pulled her to him and shushed her gently, petting her head, stroking her hair and whispering in her ear.
“It’s alright, it’s just a storm. It’s okay, I’m here. Shush. It’s alright” he repeated quietly, to placate her. She clung to him, her head in his chest, her hot breath issuing fast against him.
“I’m sorry,” she eventually said looking up at him and smiling, “Jesus, that scared the living hell out of me.” She reached up and kissed him softly, moving her arms around his waist and pressing her naked body against his. He felt her warmth soaking into him and her breasts were soft and sensuous on his skin. He felt the familiar heat in his loins as he started to harden and returned her kiss with interest. Now his heart was starting to quicken and they fell back together, lips locked and hands exploring for anything they may have missed last time. Her hand moved down the bisection of his torso scratching her nails over his tender skin as she went until finally wrapping her fingers around his erection, slowly starting to stroke him up and down. He ran his hand over her shoulders and down the curve of her back, luxuriating in her pampered and delicate skin, stroking the concave of her lower back before finally clasping a soft buttock and squeezing rhythmically in time to her own caress.
He strayed across her hip and, as she moved her leg open and up onto his leg, tenderly stroked the soft lips of her feminine core, feeling her moisten and open to him. Their breath was heavy in each other’s mouths as she pulled him by his root towards her, needing him inside her. She felt the end brush against her and moaned in expectance; he pushed his hip forward slightly and felt her parting as he entered her slightly. He rocked his hips a couple of times, feeling her wetness spread and wanting to push himself all the way in with one thrust. He restrained himself as he pulled back and lifted himself up over her, she opened herself up to him in complete surrender and he looked at her for a moment; this beautiful woman in the passion of lust and desire, wanting him desperately, as much as he wanted her at that moment.
Her arms and legs moved in accord and wrapped around him in an attempt to pull him into her. Her arms went around his neck and she reached up to kiss him and thrust her tongue like a dueling sword repeatedly into his mouth, in an oral battle of sensuosity. Her legs were locked in the small of his back, by the ankles and as her hips came up to greet him, he pushed forward and down in one smooth motion, his whole length sliding easily into her to the hilt. They both moaned in rapture at finally connecting and as he started to move in and out of her, their breathing became ragged and husky.
Their hips slapped against each other as they moved in unison, as if they had become one. He grabbed her hands and pulled them over her head, fingers locked together as his whole body pressed down on top of hers. She felt impaled over and over again by him and his hipbone was hitting her sensitive spot every time he dove into her.
“I’m almost there,” he whispered breathlessly into her ear. “Come with me,” he begged.
“I’m so close,” she cried. “Just a bit more, faster, faster,” she begged back.
His hips thrust into her over and over and he felt his own excitement almost reach its peak. He bit her neck, trying not to be too hard on her as he tried in desperation to push her over the edge. He finally felt her body start to stiffen and tense and her breath was held for painstaking seconds before she let out a rapturous cry of release and her body jerked and clenched. Her muscles deep inside squeezed him like a little hand and he finally let himself go and cried out with her as he spurted tandoğan escort his essence repeatedly into her, twitching spasmodically. She cried in excitement with him as he came in her and pulled him to her like a python, the heat of their bodies rising and smelling the sweet scent of sweat and sex. He fell against her in release and lay on top of her for a few seconds before rolling off to the side and they wrapped their arms around each other in passion-spent ecstasy.
They held each other tightly in the center of the bed; every inch of her body was touching him, from the crown of her head to her toes. She loved this feeling of warmth and security in his embrace and felt herself drifting off. He was trying to fight the waves of sleep, knowing the age-old cliché of rolling over and falling asleep, but the exertions of their passion had taken its toll and they both passed into the dream world, happy and spent.
I sat back and reread what I had just written, feeling more than a little aroused. Man, if only sex was that easy, I thought to myself. I remembered how much work it took to attain the one single simultaneous orgasm with a girlfriend I had ever achieved. Of course it was worth it though, but you had to be very focused about it. Timing was everything. I saved my work and closed Word, knowing that my boss could walk in on me any second. That would be a fun conversation, trying to explain why I’m writing pornography during work hours. I knew some of the other guys in the office had been extremely pissed off when the company had installed the new Internet tracker system that kept track of where everyone went online. That was the end of bobbysballers.com and the rest of them. Writing your own erotica out of sheer boredom was a pretty sad state of affairs; I had to admit to myself.
I decided to risk a phone call and dialed my girlfriend’s work number. I heard her answer the phone in her usual professional delivery and started to breath heavily into the handset.
“What are you wearing?” I whispered huskily and I heard her gasp in surprise.
“Robin, you naughty boy, what are you doing?” she answered in a low tone, wondering if anyone could hear her.
“I just wanted to know what you’re wearing, honey,” I explained, “did you forget to wear any panties, like I keep asking you to?”
“Sweetie, we can’t do this now. You know I can’t be on the phone for long and people can probably hear my conversations,” was her admonishment. “Are you coming to get me at five?” she asked, trying to change the subject.
“Of course I am honey, and if you’re really lucky I’ll give you a little surprise I’ve been saving for you,” I teased.
“I think I can guess what your little surprise is and you can just keep it where it is. I’ll see you at five okay?”
I replied okay and whispered I love you as she hung up. I felt a little despondent as I hung up my phone. We hadn’t had sex for almost a week now and I was hoping she might be missing it, not as much as myself though. I couldn’t believe it when she told me that she only masturbated once or twice a month, if she felt like it at all. I remembered how my jaw had hit the floor in shock; I couldn’t even grasp the concept of only getting off once or twice a week. I had realized after a while, that our libidos were almost diametrically opposed. I wanted it as much as she didn’t need it. Thank God we loved each other, I mused, otherwise we might be in trouble.
I raced out of work at five on the dot, eager to see her and kiss them her. I always missed her physically, needing to be able to touch her and hold her. It was harder for me when we were apart, I missed the feel of her near me and being able to reach out a hand and stroke her hair, hold her hand or put my arm around her slender waist. On the way up from Sixteenth Street to her work in the Fashion District, I stopped off and bought some flowers. I knew she hated red roses and got some pink and yellow ones instead. I knew that the sellers coloured them but they still looked beautiful.
Clutching my brightly flavoured gifts, I called the elevator at her work and waited for it to arrive. Three cars and it still took over five minutes sometimes to arrive. We could watch the numbers as they all raced for the first floor and no matter where each car was, they would always arrive at the same time. The door opened and a bunch of heads all reaching no higher than my chest bustled out as the workforce all exited another sweaty days shop work. I heard smatterings of Spanish and tried in vain to translate, my desire to learn the language not having progressed very well as of late. I entered the car and pressed the button for ten, feeling relieved that no one else had got on to slow me down.
As I exited the car on ten, I noticed everything was empty and quiet. I pushed through the glass doors and walked around towards my girl’s office. As I came around and walked through the door, my heart sank as she looked at me with red eyes and tunalı escort the tears suddenly flowed again and she rose and ran into my arms, sobbing and shaking with the intensity of her emotional outpouring.
“Oh my God honey, what is it? What’s wrong? You were fine half and hour ago,” I exclaimed in pity, throwing the flowers onto the desk behind her and wrapping my arms around her as she cried without restraint into my neck. I knew she had cried before at work from the boredom of the job and wanting something different in her life. Maybe she was having another of those life moments when we suddenly realise that this isn’t the job we want and our life isn’t the way we think it should be and we may never get all the things we want or even be happy with our life. God knows I got it a few times a year; that impact of depression when you suddenly take notice of your surroundings and what you have done with yourself so far and how you thought you would be somewhere completely different by the time you reached this age. Work was just a distraction from your life, being dragged down by the monotony of having to make money in order to keep living so that you can make money to live.
“I’m sorry I’m sorry,” she managed to cough out between sniffs. “I just can’t help it. I’m so scared.”
I was stroking the back of her head, smoothing down her hair and kissing her forehead, which was almost feverishly hot and sweaty. I noticed a pile of tissues on her table and made shushing noises to try and calm her down.
“Oh sweetie, what are you so scared of,” I asked her, feeling my heart pinging like a submarine sonar in sympathy and wanting to try and help but feeling too inadequate. We had joked once about how men always want to try and just fix a situation instead of getting to the root of it and healing it. We were direct and if there was a problem, we needed to identify it and find the solution; job done. She, on the other hand, had read somewhere once about creating hand signals so that a man knew the correct response to help in any given situation, depending on what was actually required by the woman. One signal meant ‘hold me and don’t say anything’, another one for ‘I need moral support and positive comments on me’ and one for ‘make suggestions to solve this problem of mine’. I had suggested one more for ‘change the light bulb please’ but she swiped me across the back of my head and told me to shut up sexist.
“I’m scared of us, I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” she sobbed into me as she blew her nose again. “I don’t want people to see us,” and she closed the door and sat down on the floor behind it. I knelt down in front of her and shuffled in close so I could rub her arms and lift the hair out of her face, that was sticky and wet, and tuck the loose strands behind her ears.
“I must look awful,” she stated looking at me and wiping her nose.
“Don’t be silly honey, you’re a beautiful girl,” I replied. “I love you,” I reminded her.
This just started her into another crying fit and I moved between her legs to hold her close to me, kneeling in front of her on the floor. I asked her if she wanted another tissue and she just nodded so I reached as far as I could to her desk and scrabbled for a couple of tissues without having to leave her. I wanted to take the old one away but she wouldn’t let me touch it as it was ‘disgusting’.
“It’s just that you’ve been with other girls and you’ve had more experience than me. I haven’t been with anyone else and sometimes I think I’m missing out.” She looked at me and saw the pain in my eyes and cried out ‘I love you’ and threw her arms around my neck and kissed my face repeatedly.
“I don’t want to hurt you honey, I don’t know why I get these feelings, they just appear and I can’t get rid of them. I love living with you and being you. You make me so happy and look after me when I break down like this and pick me up. ” She noticed the flowers on the table behind me and her face finally broke into a huge smile of tears. “And you bring me flowers when I need them most!”
We kissed several times and just sat on the floor for while. She was calming down a little and I pulled my legs out from under me and stretched a little to get the blood going again. We sat facing each other; our legs crossing over as I gently stroked her face and rubbed her neck, feeling the tension collecting there.
“I’ve tried thinking of things I can do to make myself feel better,” she continued. “Maybe go out more with other people and have fun out, but I want to come back to you though.” She held my cheek with one hand and looked at me intensely. “I don’t want to lose you sweetie, I love you too.”
I nodded and replied, “I know you do honey, but I just don’t understand what you are missing. You really aren’t missing out on anything you know. It just seems greener over there but it’s just as green as where we are now.”
She nodded in agreement but said, “I know but maybe I need to find that out for türbanlı escort myself. I’m not going to do anything that would hurt or upset you though.”
I knew she meant sleeping with other boys, and it upset me more than I wanted to let on. The thought of her with another guy made me want to cry as much as she already had. Sure, I had been with other girls but I didn’t care about that, it was just history. All I thought about was her, I didn’t care about anyone else. I couldn’t understand why she was working herself up like this over something so unnecessary.
“You know, I’m feeling so tense right now. Maybe I need a visit from Sven,” she murmured demurely, moving closer and kissing me again on the lips.
“Right here in your office?” I replied in mock shocked amazement.
“No silly, come on. Let’s go home.” She stood up and pulled my arm to get me up. I grabbed her and we hugged, in her office, squeezing the pain and tears out of each other, before grabbing the flowers and switching off the lights and heading for the elevator.
By the time we got home, with flowers and cookies from Mrs. Fields Bakery, it was dark and cold outside. She was already stripping off and jumping into the bath, the water running at full steam. I put away her clothes and sat on the floor, next to the tub as she slowly relaxed and I picked up where we had left off reading Lolita. We had started reading Nabokov’s classic on a road trip a few weeks ago and were ready for more.
“Frigid gentlewomen of the jury! I had thought that months, perhaps years, would elapse before I dared reveal myself to Dolores Haze; but by six she was wide awake, and by six fifteen we were technically lovers. I am going to tell you something very strange: it was she who seduced me.”
We laughed and talked a little about the book and wondered what it must have been like when it was first published and the impact it must have made and how difficult it may have made the author’s life. I ran my hand in the toasty water and stroked her neck and chest lightly, stroking her tummy, which she hated, and smoothing down her legs.
“How do you feel now,” I asked concernedly.
“Warmer,” she smiled back at me. Her face was relaxed and free of tension as she lay in the steam of the bath. “I’m sorry honey, I’m such a freak. I don’t know why I let these things get to me.”
“Because you feel that you need something,” was my answer. I stroked her forehead with my warm hand and rubbed her temples in rotating motion.
“Come on, out you come,” I decided. “Sven will be here any second now,” I teased.
I held her hands and pulled her up out of her watery bed, and threw a towel around her and toweled her down, paying close attention to certain areas more than others. I told her to go lay on the bed, where I had already lit a candle and put out the massage oil. As she lay down, I disrobed and waited for her to lay down on her stomach on the bed before sitting naked on top of her lower back. When I squeezed a little oil into my hand, I was greeted by the sweet scent of vanilla that I always associated with our massage time. I rubbed my hands together to warm the oil up and started rubbing her neck and upper back firmly.
“Oh my God, that feels fantastic,” she moaned distantly, her face in the pillow.
“Sven is very upset with Lady,” I said affecting my fake Swedish accent, “she has not been to see Sven for a very long time now.”
“Mmmm, Sven is very expensive, I have to save up for him.”
“Lady and Sven can always reach agreement,” I whispered starting to get into my massage, “Sven does not always need money for payment.”
She didn’t even answer to that and I carried on rubbing down her body, getting my fingers under the shoulder plates and squeezing the muscles on the top of her neck. I could feel my erection resting in the groove of her buttocks and moved down to finish my massage quicker. I kneaded her buttocks and gave her legs a rubdown, concentrating on her feet and using my thumb on the soles. I gave her big toe a suck and made her squeal in pleasure, and told her to roll over. She did so slowly, her body relaxed and happy. I started to kiss my way up the inside of her leg and lifted the knee to one side, opening her up before me. I moved passed the soft upper thigh until finally reaching my destination. I inhaled her scent before lowering my tongue and commencing a gentle lapping on her.
She breathed deeply and I knew she needed her release, the emotions and tensions of her day needing a final exorcism Her body stretched out above me as I became more localized and insistent, manipulating her to the point of no return. I loved this woman so much, I wanted to please her in any way I could; I knew this. Maybe we weren’t going to make the distance, I prayed for it to be so, but knew that nothing was permanent; everything changes. I remembered a letter to a magazine from a French woman in which she said, “You can’t judge how good something was by how long it lasted.” That seemed to make sense to me, no matter how hard it was to admit. I knew that I would gladly sell a few years of my life for our story to last forever, but all stories have an ending. I felt her body start to tense and her breath catch as her tummy sucked in and she burst on my mouth.