"Well, looks like I'm out of here." Amy said to the night shift manager while clocking out for the day. Just as she finished punching out her cell phone buzzed in her pocket. WHEN U OFF? Was the message from him. NOW she typed back while walking to her truck. She hit send button and proceeded to unlock the driver's side door to her truck. By the time she'd gotten it started and her favorite CD in the player her phone buzzed again. I'M HERE, BE CAREFUL.
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It had been a long morning. Meetings, calls, and dealing with indecisiveness. I was more than ready for a soothing cup of coffee and a few moments of peace and quiet. The familiar coffee shop was a welcome sight. I ordered my usual and found a secluded table in the corner near the window. Taking a notepad out, I decided to try to make some sense from the happenings of the morning so far. While taking a sip of my coffee, I glanced up and saw an older gentleman looking in my direction. Not wanting to seem rude, I smiled, and he returned the gesture. Passing it off as just a gesture of politeness, I went back to my task. All the while, I felt like someone was right behind me.
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Summer vacation with Uncle Gus was a flavor, a spice that seasoned my sense of time and place. A woman taught me this, a tall, dark-haired gal who took me on a tour around the Mediterranean one night in her kitchen. Some say vacation is a dimension of leisure, a filter through which our lives look softer, shinier, more brilliant; but Veronica Watson convinced me that all those appearances can be translated into taste and swallowed. Easier than being transported in a plane or aboard a ship, with customs, passports and all that. "Believe your stomach boy, more than your eyes," she would say with a sultry Southern draw. Damn if she didn't blindfold me and prove the point every time.
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That whole next week I was in a pretty bad mood. I stayed away from people outside of work. At the office I tried to be my cheerful, smiling self, but people could tell I was unhappy. Jennifer, my assistant as well as a confidant, talked to me about it on two different days. "It's obvious something is bothering you," she told me in private. "I'm okay," I told her. "Just a lot of things hitting me at once, but I'll be fine.""We should talk. You'd feel better if you got it off your chest," Jennifer responded. "No, I really don't think so. I'd rather not talk about it. It'll be better in a few days."She was a good friend and didn't force me to talk.
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After our quick - and separate - showers, we dressed hurriedly and emerged from our rooms just about on time. No-one could guess that I had just woken Tom with a sensuous blowjob. But I had slept in his bed after a great evening of sex. So far it was looking like a nice business trip. We were working with different groups at this company, so we weren't together all morning. I was just finishing lunch in the company cafeteria when Tom came in to eat. We found a chance to talk alone, but tried not to act like lovers. "You certainly are looking radiant," he told me. "You just think that because you've had great sex," I said, teasing. "That is certainly true," he answered.
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Doug and I had sex two more times, the first times for me since my husband had passed two years before. I loved it. It was great, I felt so alive again, and now I knew I was fully recovered from my grief. I would never forget, but I was now ready to return to a full life. I also knew I didn't want to stay with Doug permanently. As nice as he was, as good as he had been to me, and as much as I had liked having sex with him, he wasn't the person I wanted to settle down with. Perhaps no-one was. That was something I was still unsure about. I also started to realize I wasn't a prude. I had always thought of myself as a little bit of a prude, except when I was in the bedroom with my husband.
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My third date with Doug had been quite exciting, as we both had performed oral sex on the other. That was the first sex I had with another person since my husband had passed away more than two years before, but I was ready for more. Doug knew I was ready for more. Well, I had told him. Before we had oral sex I had surprised myself by telling him that I wanted him inside me, but without a condom I wouldn't do it. I was afraid of disease. Pregnancy didn't bother me. I had learned long ago that I was unable to have children. But disease is always a possibility. So it was that on our next date, I knew Doug would come prepared.
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Your room is softly lit by dozens of flickering candles. Their flames cast ever-changing shadows against the walls. Open French doors to the balcony allow the gentle night breeze to stir the curtains and bring the fresh scent of confederate jasmine inside. The stars are shining and the silvery moon is full. Night sounds create a background of harmony and peacefulness. Half submerged in your Victorian bath, frothy bubbles overflowing, you sigh contentedly as you dream of my touch. Sprinkled rose petals outline your breasts and mingle with the scented oils you liberally added before you began.
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It was a summer day much like any other, I was hanging out at my friend Chelsea's house, where she lived with her older sister, Jessie. We were talking about her current boyfriend, who I happened to have known longer than she did, and I didn't like him. I joked about how he was gonna do her like he did all his other girlfriends, and she started to get upset with me. So she jokingly said "Your just jealous he got to me before you could," and I accidentally blurted out, "Hella jealous."
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Her hand so smooth ran over his face, in a sweet caress. Passing over his ear he shivered in delight. Tingling down his back. He kissed her, smoothly rubbing his tongue over the seam of her lips. Hands running over her back and lifting her shirt so slightly feeling her skin so soft beneath his finger tips. Slowly lifting the shirt higher and finally above her head, her body looked great, her blond hair glimmering in the moonlight. He kissed down her neck to her chest as her unhooked her bra letting it fall off her shoulders.
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