To Be Titled

It’s been a long time since I had a first kiss. Longer still since I’ve been with two men with only a few hours of separation. And I can barely remember the last time I fucked in a truck. But on an evening a few nights ago I experienced all three.

From a distance he could almost pass for Ian. The height, build, close cropped dark hair, slightly crooked smile… they all have a close resemblance to the Australian. Except for the eyes. Where Ian’s twinkled blue, Joe’s are a deep brown. Almost black.

This is not a new revelation. I knew Joe before I met the Australian. And after, when our paths crossed, I couldn’t help but notice the similarity.

When we met almost a decade ago he was in the middle of a separation and I in a committed relationship. But there was a spark, a rich undercurrent, the velvety tease of desire. Witty banter lead to flirting laced with thick innuendo which gave way to long looks and intentional unnecessary brushes of skin.  Continue reading

What Ever Happened to That Girl?

Jake leaned back in his chair and scratched the back of his neck as had been his habit since he was a kid when he was trying really hard to remember something. He frowned.

Pete took another sip of his beer, watching his friend. He didn’t ask the question. Men just didn’t. If Jake wanted to tell him what he was trying to recall, he would. Simple as that. The two men had spent many hours in companionable silence. That’s what you did when you had a history. You didn’t have to fill it with small talk.

A fly buzzed around the bottle of hard cider near Jake’s hand. He watched it dip and dive in the fading evening light, dancing around the rim. Just as it prepared to land he exhaled with a whoosh, blowing the insect away.

“Rebecca. That was her name,” Jake said, no longer scratching the back of his neck.

“Rebecca who?” said Pete, who hadn’t been privy to Jake’s internal train of thought.

“You know, I don’t think I ever did get her last name. Just didn’t seem to matter much at the time.”

“What time?”

“August 16th, 1969,” Jake said with a twinkle in his eye.

“Ahhh,” said Pete, suddenly wise to Jake’s reminiscing, “You met her on the second day didn’t you.”

“Yeah, late in the afternoon when we went down to the pond to wash some of the mud off. She was just standin’ there. Short hair. Biting her bottom lip as she looked at me. Wearin’ nothing but some jean shorts. I’d never seen a pair of tits I wanted to touch more.”

“They were something,” Pete agreed, but now he had begun his own trip down memory lane. Those four days at Woodstock had been life changing for Pete. But not in the way you would expect.

“I wonder what ever happened to that girl,” Jake mused.

“No way to know,” Pete said, as he leaned back and closed his eyes, remembering.

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I Moaned in My Sleep

The hot shower water pelted by body, waking me up slowly, opening my pores and my mind. I ran the bar of fragrant soap over my skin… quickly. Efficiently. There’s been no time to linger over a shower in weeks. It’s become habit now. Get in. Get clean. Get out.

Nathan’s voice pierced the cloud of steam, “So, what did you dream last night?”

He never asked me about my dreams. Something had prompted his inquiry. I was instantly on guard. Had I talked in my sleep? What had I divulged?

“Why do you ask,” I responded.

“Well, why don’t you tell me what you dreamed,” he said, giving me no hint as to why he had asked. I racked my brain. And for the life of me I couldn’t remember dreaming of anything. That in itself was odd. I normally have a vidid dream life that I can recall without issue.

“Darling,” I said, “If I did dream last night, I don’t remember it.”

“Oh,” he said with a chuckle, “you dreamed all right.”

“Did I talk in my sleep,” I asked, trying to hide my alarm.

“No, you didn’t talk.”

“Well then, why on earth are you so sure I dreamed?”

“Because,” he said, coming to stand in the shower door way and watch me rinse off, “you moaned.”

“How do you mean?”

“You know how I mean. You moaned how you moan when you are…” his voice trailed off and his look became more knowing.

“No! I did not!” I said in shock.

“You did. You did so much it woke me up!”

“Well why didn’t you wake me up so we could enjoy my dream together?”

“Because you sounded like you were having a splendid time on your own. I didn’t want to wake you.”

“Hmmm,” I mused as I toweled off, “I wish I remembered.”

And I do wish I did. It’s been far to long since my back was arched an genuine moans were pouring from my mouth.

An Unexpected Turn

“What time tonight?” I texted Kevin.

He had sent me a good morning text and we both had full work days ahead so it was close to 4:00 when I realized we hadn’t set a time. A few minutes later he responded, “I’m pretty beat.”

“It’s been a day for sure. We can just relax and be tired together.” I texted.

“Can you do tomorrow?”

My eyebrows raised. Pretty beat? Tomorrow? Excuse me? Was he actually brushing me off? Many things ran through my mind but I chained them with a deep breath.

“Tomorrow won’t work at all for me. I have late meetings.”

“The we have a problem,” he responded.

I took another deep breath. And put my phone away. My pride had just been dealt a solid blow. Thank goodness my heart isn’t involved, I thought. Continue reading

Long Drives in the Night

“Damn,” he whispered, “I could make love to you.”

“Okay.”

I stood up and walked towards his bedroom.

“Where are you going?”

“To bed with you.”

He jumped up from the sofa and blocked my path with a kiss. Grasping my shoulders firmly he steered me away from the door.

“I’m confused,” I said. “Do you want me or not?” Continue reading

Talking in Circles

I parked on the street where Kevin had instructed and texted him that I had arrived. “I’m coming down,” he quickly wrote back.

I got out of my car and my phone rang. It was him.

“Turn around,” he said. I did. And I saw him walking to meet me.

He greeted me with a tight hug.

“You’re really here,” he said, smiling and taking my hand. “Come on up.”

I followed him up three flights of open air stairs, the city night swirling around us. Once at his door, he opened it and motioned for me to go in. Inside it was clean, modern and quiet. But it also felt a little bare. Like someone who kept their belongings to a minimum because it makes packing easier.

He gave me the 20 second tour, watching my reaction. It was underwhelming but the condo wasn’t why I was there. As he stood against the corner that separated the living room from the kitchen I walked up and placed my arms around his shoulders. His mouth found mine. Continue reading

And the World Fell Away – The Australian: Chapter 9

I could hear my heart thudding loudly in the silence of the room, the blood rushing to my face. Ian lay on his side in the bed, his head still cradled in his hands. A million thoughts raced through my mind. I remembered how careful I had been to avoid any questions that would lead to him having to tell me if he had a girlfriend, or worse, a wife. Maybe it was simply that I did not want to risk breaking the magic of the moment, of the meeting, of losing the possibility of making love. I knew, intellectually, that the question would come up, no matter how hard I tried to ignore the possibility. Looking back, I realised that he, too, had been stepping around that question. Neither of us wore rings, but in my case that certainly did not mean I was free and clear. Even though the man I had been seeing back home had not proposed, our relationship seemed to be heading in that direction. And then this day had happened. I was ready to abandon everything and everyone for Ian. But he still hadn’t looked up.

“Are you married,” I asked gently?

He finally met my gaze. Continue reading

Taken – The Australian: Chapter 8

“What?” Ian asked with a smile, his Australian accent making my world tilt violently.

“You’re beautiful,” I said, eyes wide, taking in the man before me.

“You’re gonna make me blush,” he chuckled, and closed the gap between us.

Carefully Ian bent and gathered the hem of my long, clinging black dress and lifted it up my body. I held my arms aloft as the fabric slid up and over my head. He knelt before me and lifted a foot, gently removing the black high heel encasing it before repeating with the other. Still kneeling, his hands began at my ankles and traced up the outside edges of my calves and thighs, under my black satin spaghetti-strapped slip to the waistband of my hose. Ever so slowly, he pulled them down, stripping me of the sheer black bindings. As I stood there, in just my slip, he wrapped his arm around my waist and rested his head on my abdomen. Tenderly I ran my fingers through his thick dark hair, massaging his temples. He looked up at me.  Continue reading

Unbuttoning and Unbuckling – The Australian: Chapter 7

The kiss deepened slowly, as if we both were savoring the moment, trying to lengthen each second. The feel, the scent, the touch of him, it was as if he had been designed especially for me. I knew his touch already, his taste. I remembered him. Something deep inside me responded at a level I was unfamiliar with, a level I was unaware even existed. The beautiful hotel surroundings ceased to exist. All that mattered in the universe was us.

When Ian lifted his head, I smiled up at him, and without reservation knew I would give him everything within me. No holding back. No games. I didn’t know what this was, but I knew it was a gift, one not to be squandered. Continue reading

Holy Roughnecks

In a land far from my own I pulled into a no-name gas station to fill up my rental. A Lincoln towncar that had seen better days backed up to the pump ahead of me. Not familiar with the area, I kept my focus on my car. Safety in not making eye contact and all that.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw the driver’s door open and a rugged, large, leather-skinned man emerged. I couldn’t help but look. The back door opened and a larger, muscle bound, jean clad man stepped out. I was openly staring.

They bore the marks of their trade. Oil men. Roughnecks. Dirty hands. Clear eyes. Smile lines etched on their faces.

The other back door opened. Yes. There was another. Blonde hair cropped close. Late 20s with the sun damage of 40+ year old man.

And then a last one hoisted himself up and out of the front passenger seat. His arms were as big as my thighs.

There were four of them. Four massive men.

They all looked my way in unison. Not of their world… And it showed. My skin is a pale gold, shielded every day with generous coatings of SPF. My white button front shirt was crisp and clean. Though I too wore jeans they were paired with brown leather four-inch heels.

Eyes met. They smiled. I allowed the corner of my mouth to lift. The driver nodded. I did the same. I’ve heard about roughnecks, but this was my first experience seeing them up closer.

My mind went to dark and dirty places. Their large, calloused hands on my soft, pale skin. Chapped mouths on my nipples.

And I got in my car and drove away.

He Had the Devil in His Eye

I perched on the pub stool, sipping my third bourbon, catching snippets of four different conversations around me and gently swaying to the 1970s era rock music that filled the bar. Work stress had cumulated to a beyond-reasonable point and, after a very long day, I decided to stop at this casual watering hole to unwind. The extrovert in me just needed to be around people for a little while. People I didn’t really know… just happy, warm bodies.

And the flirt in me needed to, well… flirt.

I recognized a couple of people from similar, previous evenings and was greeting as an old friend. So I settled in to soak up some some attention. I alternated between harmlessly flirting with men I had no interest in, and serving as several women’s new BFF, listening intently to their current troubles. And that’s how I happened to be surrounded by men and women, some I knew, some I didn’t, when a tall, clean-shaven man in a white button down shirt and gray slacks appeared at my shoulder. He had dark hair with silver at the temples which he wore slicked back. His voice stood apart from the others. It was brash. Abrupt. Northern.

Obviously a crony to the crowd I’d been welcomed to for the evening, he quickly immersed himself in the ongoing chatter. We were briefly introduced and I nodded and smiled, but kept my attention on a woman to my left who had had a rougher day than me. Not long after she called it a night.

The New Englander was still at my shoulder, but listening to the conversations now rather than joining in. I looked up and to my right and our eyes met. And held.

Have you ever had one of those moments where you make eye contact with someone and words simply weren’t necessary? It’s as if everything is just out there. And you both know it. And neither one of you care.

In those seconds when our eyes held I could see everything. I could see him crushing my mouth with his, demanding my lips to open. I knew how rough he would be, leaving bruises on my shoulders, my arms and my breasts. I could feel how he would suck at my nipples while thrusting his fingers in my jeans, moving my panties aside and forcefully bringing me to orgasm.

My eyes widened with the knowledge. And then narrowed. I would give as good as I got.

He saw the shift, the fire in my eyes and the challenge in them and smiled.

“You’re trouble,” he said softly.

“Mmmmhmmm,” I nodded, the corner of my mouth turning up slightly. He hadn’t dodged what had just happened. He accepted my instant awareness of his dominant nature and equally quick, I-dare-you-to-try-to-get-me-be-submissive attitude.

And heaven help me… I wanted him to try.

Feeling Down About Going Down

I’ve been in a bit of an emotional tailspin since my last post. I can’t lie. Reading the comments really left me heavyhearted. I began questioning if I should even attempt to get Nathan to add going down on me to our sexual mix. What if I tried and he refused? My optimism was dashed. I felt incredibly sad. Continue reading