In the death of sunlight….

  

It is easy enough to make the call and I do, for once, listen to my voice that tells me to make it. That you don’t mind the call, even if it is on the surface, something trite and often poked fun at, means perhaps you hear the underlying notes in my voice. The cell phone closes without a snap, but still rests in my palm, tucked neatly within my grip and its light fades after a moment, leaving me to the last of daylight with its orange and red hues.

The house is just as was when I returned home, silent, and I appreciate it at a level I can’t begin to embrace with words on paper. It is a balm. I move my foot off of the ottoman and push up from the chair where I hold my court with you. I am unbuttoning my shirt as I make my way up the staircase, its polished wood banister gleaming in the last struggling rays of sun. My feet whisper across the steps.

I feel the phone vibrate and glance at its display before tossing it onto the ‘pointless’ table, named so because I declared I’d never use it. My keys, wallet and everything else follow suit. Clothing drops from my body into rumpled piles that I will pick up later, but for now am content to leave where they fall. I sit on the edge of my bed and pull off my socks, tossing them amid the rest of my clothes in a sort of badly organized mess.

A moment later I am standing with my hands pressed against tile, sucking in my last comfortable breath before turning the water on full. I hiss as the cold water hits my skin and sucks away all the heat from it. My fingers curl into the tiles, my head bowing down into the spray. I watch the water as it snakes down my skin in odd paths until the view is blurred by the water that snakes around my face and distorts my vision.

The slow heat invading the water is welcome, my skin cold is and my nipples tight. I’m glad for the absence of cold, but my body still shivers with the goosebumps that erupt in sudden reaction to the burgeoning warmth. I can feel my cock stirring and reach down to lightly stroke it, willing myself content for the time being. The water begins the change sooner than I would will it, and soon my teeth grit to withstand the heat of the water which threatens to blister my skin. I finally reach down and turn the cold water on just a fraction and want to sigh in relief when it tempers the heat.

An image comes from somewhere in my unconscious mind, spilling over into my brain and flooding me with a sharply spiked lust. I groan, as weak to my own desires as I’ve ever been. Urgency is there, but I temper it, busying my hands with cleaning off my day, ignoring the demands that my cock, my brain, my entire body scream. Minutes pass, the air is fragrant with soap, shampoo and laden with thick clouds of steam that spill out of the top of the shower and down the outside of the glass.

I stand there for a long moment before turning off the water and reaching outside this warm cocoon for a towel which I use to brush away the water from my face and lashes. Cool air rushes over my skin as I finally step out. I can hear my cell buzzing against the wood on the pointless table and resist the urge to check it. I decide against shaving, standing there, the towel tossed over one of my shoulders, and walk into my bedroom, running the towel over my hair. I can feel water sliding down my back and legs.

The delicate clearing of your voice is the first indication I have of your presence. I lower the towel and glance at you. My lips curl slightly at the corner. ‘Pet.’ I acknowledge casually, as if I were dressed and the evidence of my eagerness to see you, not hugging my stomach. ‘You are earlier than I expected.’

‘Lucky for us both.’ You smile and come around the bed closer to me. I drop the towel on the floor and wrap my arms around you as you step in. Your fingers splay against the muscles on my chest, but soon slide between us and wrap around my cock, sliding the skin back and then forward over the head. I lean down to kiss you and you turn your head away, which gives me pause for only a moment as my lips, teeth and tongue find your neck. I hear your delicate intake of breath, which tightens your hold momentarily on me as I tug at your earlobe. My hands are pushing your jacket from your shoulders, one hand moves from me, then the other, each returning seconds later to keep the lazy rhythm of your fingers on my cock.

Your hands are so fucking soft, I think, and then whisper it in your ear. Mine are busy figuring out the top you are wearing, slowly unbuttoning the row of small pearl-shaped buttons along your back. I slide the straps from your shoulder and end up breaking on button off as I pull the shirt from you and toss it on the floor with the rest of the clothing. ‘Missed one.’ I growl as I cup your ass and pull you up against me. Your teasing hands finally rest on my shoulders, my cock pressed against the soft material of your slacks.

‘I liked that shirt.’ You make this pouting face, but then ruin it with a smile as you roll your hips against me and hear my rumble of pleasure.

‘Bitch.’

‘Your bitch.’

‘My bitch.’ I move to the bed and press you back against it, covering you with my weight. My lips move down and take one of your nipples in my mouth, sucking and then tugging on the tips with the edges of my teeth. I let out a satisfied sound as I watch a moment later, your nipples hard pointed, wet from my mouth. ‘Mine.’ I say.

‘Yours.’ The pants you wear unzip with little effort and are down at your feet before your hands even think to unwind from my wet hair. I bite the skin on your stomach and you twist slightly. I push you further onto the bed and slide my hands under your ass, my thumbs moving along the edge of the lace confection you wear. My lips hover just above your mound. I press a kiss there and you still, as if afraid to break the contact of my lips and your skin, hidden beneath the thin barrier of lace.

‘Mine.’ I say, my breath hot on you, my hands lifting you up to my mouth before sliding my hands around so that my thumbs can tease the outside of your sex. A ripple goes through your body and a moment later a long moan. My cock twitches at hearing it.

‘Yours, D. Yours.’ The voice is breathless. I can feel the muscles in your legs tensing and then releasing as you struggle not to move. My tongue presses against your weeping slit and you push your hips against me, tension making your body hum. ‘I want to fuck you, pet. Make you scream.’

‘Yes, D, Yes. Fuck me.’ You twist and for the first time I feel your hands tighten on my hair. My hands move to slowly start to remove your panties, but I only slide them down half way, leaving your legs bound by an insubstantial scrap of fabric. Your knees shift back and forth to try to move them down further, but stop the moment you feel my breath return to your now bare sex. My tongue flicks lightly and your legs part as much as they are able. I can feel your hands tighten, but I remain still, flicking lightly, sometimes sliding the barest of slick touches a little further in. ‘D….’ You say, the one letter coming out in a combination of a whine and a sigh.

(continued later perhaps…)

and tagged: .
 

Cost & Payments Due

Can you rent a person? A relationship?

I’ve done that all my life. Everything is temporary and I’ve cheated the system. The company that rents me this product is owned, operated and financed by me. The product this time? nm. I’ve rented her. I’ve taken all of the benefits of our previous relationship and removed the element of permanent - or at least, the potential for a future.

I’ve rented her. I can fuck her. I can dominate her. I can make her bleed. But not own her. Not be tied to her. Not be responsible for her.

Love wasn’t suppossed to be involved. Foolish me for thinking that I could swallow that emotion whole. Fuck. She is the only one that tears at me like this. I would and could have done it with anyone else. Anyone. Temporary. I’ve learned that lesson of come and go so effectively I could teach a course. Still, I lied and said I could.

I lied to her. I lied to myself. I know what it is I want. I know also that I don’t trust her enough to take it and not self destruct. I can’t buy this rental right now. Trust is fragile - on both sides.

So I rent. By doing so - I’ll never have the documents which will prove my ties with this woman. I’ve made her look like she is temporary. I’ve made her feel she is temporary. I’ve told myself she is temporary. But I can’t digest the lie. Years have passed - and still, here we are drawn together. In love with each other.

So everyday I make my payments in phone calls, glances, touches, kisses - a thousand different ways. Everyday. Without fail. I’m too far in to sever the ties without great personal loss.

Can the past be redone? Renewed?

Somedays, like today, I have hope that it can. I see the girl I knew in the face of the woman that haunts me. She knows everything - the sweet, the bitter - and embraces them when she kisses me good morning.

Can you rent a person? A relationship? Yes….I suppose you can. Now the question becomes…how long?

Last night’s tequila

[If you haven’t already, visit the website I posted Saturday. It’ll give you a visual]

It started out rather typically - a phone call and plans hastily scribbled on a note pad by his computer. Saturday night, dinner then a club afterwards. ‘Dress nicely,’ she advised him over the phone that afternoon, �this is a new place, you won’t get in wearing jeans.’

She smiled as she opened the door for him. There was that purely feminine twinkle of appreciation in her eyes. Then a kiss, hastily placed on a smoothly shaved cheek. Her fingers slid down his arm to his hand, and she gave it a slight squeeze, while his free hand lightly played with the spiky tips of her immaculately styled hair.

She had some sort of built in style. Her hair, her nails, the outfit, all seemed to work perfectly together to seem as if they belonged only on her. Perhaps they did. She was a free spirit, Anne, and seemed to be able to charm and beguile the masses into doing exactly what she wanted. They were quite the pair, matched opposites as they were. He was the embodiment of dark - black clothing, black hair, dark eyes, and even more so air around him carried an almost tangible weight to it. She was his opposite - petite, fair skinned, blue eyed and with silvery blonde hair that reflected light like a mirror.

Perhaps it was why they had remained friends for so long. They complimented each other - gave each other something that they both lacked - balance. He had never held the belief that opposites attract. In truth, he often sought people that were much like him - in personality at least. He could always understand his kind of people. There was never much mystery to them.

Dinner went by as almost any dinner would - food, drink, casual conversation. The list of people coming out with them kept growing with each phone call that punctuated dinner. She made the comment - ‘One couple, thirty people in it.’ It might have sounded petulant, had her mouth not had that upturned tilt she got when the excitement was beginning. He had seen it before when she spoke of new boyfriends or a new pet. It faded rather quickly, of course, once the excitement wore off, but it almost always lasted one evening of dancing or drinking.

It was also another stark difference between them.

It was 10 when they arrived at the club. The valet came around and almost snatched the keys out of his hand before he could speak. He pulled them back quickly and then stared at the man, who could not have been more than 22. It was a silent stare, but there was an exchange of information before he placed the keys into the young man’s palm. The ticket was tucked away inside his jacket as the car drove to some coned off area of the parking lot.

Anne just smiled at him. There was a line, but like any other time, Anne found a way around it. A smile, a number and shortly after, they were in for the evening.

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