The Clink of Glasses

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Busy Friday night at the local pub. The patrons are packed in like sardines. Music fills the room, but all that can be discerned by the lovers is the bass beat. There’s conversation, the clink of glasses, and laughter. Tendrils of smoke rise from various locations in the bar. Maggie takes a drag on her smoke and the tip glows a brilliant red. She holds it to Ian’s lips, he takes a pull and blows the smoke above her head. Each take a sip of their drink. Vodka and tonics on a hot summer night. They feel so lucky to have gotten a corner booth.

They snuggle in close and finish their cigarette. Sip their ice cold beverages. Feel the gentle buzz of the alcohol. A blush comes to Maggie’s cheeks as Ian lazily kisses her neck.

“Woman, I could take you right here,” he whispers, “Do you think anyone would know?”

She turns and smiles slyly. “Why don’t you try it and see?”

Ian places his hand on her knee and lets it travel up her thigh. She hikes up her skirt.

“You are a devil, my love. A red-headed devil.”

His hand is underneath her skirt and he finds she doesn’t have on panties. He touches her with no restrictions. Or fear. He is so happy. Maggie touches Ian through his jeans, then unzips them. She traces his rigid cock through the fabric of his boxer briefs. Ian leans his head back and groans. Maggie looks around to see if anyone notices. No need to worry though, it’s so loud in the pub that no one can hear him. She keeps touching. Discovering. He slides two fingers in between her petals. She is wet, open, and ready.

Ian’s thumb finds her clit. Works it in a circular motion. Maggie pushes her lower body into his hand. She wants to feel, all of him. Her hand goes to her mouth to stifle her moans. Her body rocks back and forth. She leans forward and kisses his lips. Their tongues meet and she swears she sees stars. When she begins to ride the crest of her orgasm, she grabs a hold of his shirt. Her cry of pleasure fills his mouth. Ian grins and sucks her tongue.

“Cum for me baby. Cum.”

“I am. Don’t you dare stop those fingers of yours. Don’t you dare.”

He moves them faster and she explodes everywhere. It’s all she can do to keep from screaming. His hands are so gentle but knowing. Her nectar is all over his fingers. He withdraws his hand and places the tips of them to his lips. He sucks the sweetness of her. Then places the fingers in her mouth. They share her taste. The intimacy of the act excites him even more.

Will you fuck me Ian? Right here?
I don’t know if we can pull it off my love.
Try me.
Maggie slides the table forward a couple of inches. She leans up slightly and sits on Ian’s lap. As she nestles in, Ian places his cock inside of her. They move the table back, so Maggie has something to hold onto. He wraps his arms around her waist and they begin to move in tandem. She leans back against Ian’s chest and keeps up with his gentle rocking. He bites her neck. Leaves his mark. Calls her his whore. She smiles, because she knows she is. She feels no shame in it.
They move faster. Enjoying the moment. Their eyes dart around the bar to see if anyone know what they’re doing. The patrons don’t have a clue. It’s dark, smoky, and the music is still playing. Maggie and Ian keep fucking. She holds on to the table and their drinks slosh with their movement. It makes her giggle, but they don’t stop. Let the drinks spill. Let them.
Cum for me Maggie.
Make me, Ian. Make. Me. Cum.
He tells her to lean forward and she does. It’s then she feels her orgasm begin. Ian fingers her pretty pearl. With his fingers and cock he brings her to the edge and she falls over it. She puts her hand to her mouth to stifle the cry of pleasure. Plants her feet on the floor and pushes her pussy down onto him. His cock hardens even more.
Baby I am so damn close.

Please, cum inside of me. Empty yourself into me.

 

Maggie reaches down to feel Ian’s hand. To touch him. She caresses his balls and finds that they are tightening up. He pushes as hard as he can into her. Moving faster he begins to moan. Maggie looks around, they are still being completely ignored by the crowd. He pulls her against him and his body stills. The only thing she feels is the twitching of his cock inside of her. He fills her. Why she likes it so much, she has no idea.

As Ian’s dick softens and falls out of her, they catch their breath. Maggie doesn’t want to move. She wants to stay where they are. Even in the middle of a crowded bar she wants to bask in the afterglow. She shifts forward and puts his underwear back in place. Then turns sideways and lowers her skirt. She continues to sit on his lap. Leans forward and grabs his drink for him. He tastes it. It’s warm and wet. Like Maggie. But he drinks it anyway. With her still on his lap, he waves over a waitress and orders them another round. As she walks away, Maggie leans her head on Ian’s chest. She catches the aroma of their coupling. He brushes her forehead with a gentle kiss.

“I love you girl.”

“Love you too baby.”

Their next round of drinks are delivered. They clink glasses in a silent toast and drink in the coolness of the vodka with lime and tonic.

When You’re Lost and Alone

SPARKLE!

Carry on my friends. Carry on, carry on.

Well I woke up to the sound of silence
the cars were cutting like knives in a fist fight
and I found you with a bottle of wine
your head in the curtains
and heart like the fourth of July

You swore and said
We are not
We are not shining stars
This I know
Cause I never said we are

Though I’ve never been through hell like that
I’ve closed enough windows
to know you can never look back

If you’re lost and alone
Or you’re sinking like a stone
Carry on
May your past be the sound
Of your feet upon the ground
Carry on

Carry on, carry on

So I met up with some friends
at the edge of the night
At a bar off 75
And we talked and talked
about how our parents will die
All our neighbours and wives

But I like to think
I can cheat it all
To make up for the times I’ve been cheated on
And it’s nice to know
When I was left for dead
I was found and now I don’t roam these streets
I am not the ghost you want of me

If you’re lost and alone
Or you’re sinking like a stone
Carry on
May your past be the sound
Of your feet upon the ground
Carry on

Woah
My head is on fire
But my legs are fine
Cause after all they are mine
Lay your clothes down on the floor
Close the door
Hold the phone
Show me how
No one’s ever gonna stop us now

Cause we are
We are shining stars
We are invincible
We are who we are
On our darkest day
When we’re miles away
So we’ll come
We will find our way home

If you’re lost and alone
Or you’re sinking like a stone
Carry on
May your past be the sound
Of your feet upon the ground
Carry on

Carry on, carry on

I’m Auditioning for Blogger Idol!

 

BLOGGER IDOL ROCKS

Click on the link above

Because Writers are the New Rock Stars!

Good morning my sweet readers and followers. I wanted to let you all know that I’m auditioning for a groovy thing called Blogger Idol. I’ve only been writing since January 2012, but I decided what the hell. I might as well give a shot. My readership goes up every day and so does my follower count. You all complete my sparkly ass and make me feel my words matter.  You see my passion and feed it. For that I’m so grateful. The competition will be fierce I’m sure but it can’t hurt to try. Who knows maybe I’ll make the top 12 or maybe I won’t make shit.

I was talking to Vikki (The View Outside) and commented on her entry, You Know You’re a Writer When….. I told her I knew it when:

I knew it when I could look at a photo and see a whole story unfold before my eyes. I knew it when I could see a word or hear a phrase and write a whole page about it. I knew it when I saw a couple in an SUV arguing in my rear view mirror at a toll booth and I wrote a short story about them. I knew after realizing that I thrived on every written word that I had ever read. Whether it was a book, a letter, a card or an email from a dear friend. I knew it and I know it still. I hope and I pray that the words never stop coming. It is my passion, my life, my story. I never ever want it to stop.
  • Beautiful rheath40. I wish I’ve have expressed myself this well.
  • Wow honey, I am in awe…and so very very jealous! ;)

    Xx

    • No need for jealousy. We are both writers. We get better as we write. We get better as we read other writers. Isn’t this a great experience?
    • It certainly is honey! :)
      I’m excited about the competition. The prizes are pretty kick ass. A Samsung Galaxy Tablet 2 7.0 Student Edition. Blog2Print so you can make a book. God wouldn’t that be awesome???? The first runner up gets chocolate, Ghirardelli no less, and Dragon Naturally Speaking. Yeah that’s just what I need voice software so I can write more. Roger Darling will divorce me for sure, because I’ll never shut up! There’s organic foods, gourmet coffee and retail therapy prizes too. Because God knows after my weight loss I’ve become a clothes and shoes whore. By the way, I got a new pin up style mini skirt yesterday that I’m in fucking love with!!!
      There’s six weeks of assignments to do. I have no idea what they are yet but I’m sure it’ll entail writing. DUH! So hang in my readers, followers and friends. Vote for me please!!! Tell your friends and have them vote for me too. Even if they think I suck. Giggle. This is going to be the most  fun!
      Thanks my loves, from the bottom of my sparkly girl heart!

The Fear of Being Forgotten

I was speaking with a fellow blogger yesterday about a photograph and quote that he posted. It was a photo of one of my idols, Marilyn Monroe. I told him that I felt her pain. He then asked what emotion(s) do you feel when you look at it. All of a sudden this torrent of words flowed out of me. I was so floored by what I wrote and how I felt, I became exhausted in mind, body and spirit. I then thought more about it. What is my emotion when I look at that picture of Marilyn. It’s a simple photo. She, laying on a bed, reading a book. On thinking ability, no less.

That’s where my fears of inadequacy creep in. I think about not going to college, so I don’t feel smart enough to write well. Speak well. Act right. Be normal. What the fuck is normal anyway? As Salvadore Dali said, I am not strange, I am just not normal. On that thought, why be normal? I’m happy with my angst, my eccentricities, my stupid horse laugh, and my mannish sounding speaking voice.

I have this insatiable need for validation. To be told I’m smart, pretty, funny, loving, etc. I tell you all that I fear nothing, but I do. I fear being forgotten. Of being bi-polar. Of not doing everything that I want to do. Of getting fat again. Of not being enough. Of, of, of, of all of the above and more.

I fear the fact that I may get thousands of likes but that one dislike kills me. Why should I give a shit, really??? I’m good, I’m happy, I’m loving and I’m loved. What more could a silly blonde girl want?

I fear that I’m a narcissist, arrogant, and I fear being alone. I fear that I will drown in my own abyss of self-destruction. Of which I have control of right now, but what about tomorrow? I fear that the words within me will stop. That I won’t be able to find them. I fear that I will be exposed. That you will find out that I’m not what I say I am. That I’m not a sparkly girl. That I’m a moody girl that cuts herself metaphorically with music and the written word.

I don’t say these things to get you all to feel sorry for me. I say them because these feelings are real. My biggest fear is being forgotten. I think it’s why I act the way I do. So you don’t forget me. I’ve said before I’m like a cheap red wine. I’ll show you one hell of a good time, but you’ll feel like shit in the morning when the buzz has worn off.

I don’t want positive reinforcement from this post. I’m just saying what I feel. Bleeding as it were. I want to keep bleeding. I want to hemorrhage. Hemorrhage a fantastic novel, I hope. We’ll see.

I told all of this to my dear friend, the Biker Renaissance Man today. He looked into my eyes and said, you will never be forgotten. You are our Nae. We come to you to share our stories. Our sadness, and our joy, because you love us and you applaud us. You feel everything we feel. He took me in his arms, hugged me and then gave me a fist bump. He said, you will never be forgotten because of what you give us, and that is connection. I was so overwhelmed that I couldn’t speak. I just let him hold me, and in that hug I knew, I knew I would never, ever have to fear being forgotten.