My Body Bathed in Moonlight

nudo-artistico2

It wasn’t long after I’d graduated from high school and broken things off with my first fiancé that I began to run a little wild. I met up with G. at a party but I’d known him since he was a freshman in high school. He was a senior and a jock so we really didn’t run in the same circles.  That’s not entirely true, I ran in any circle I wanted to, seeing as I was a chameleon and all.

G. brought me a drink, a cheap brand of beer most likely. We sat and chatted while other party goers took turns doing lines of cocaine off a huge mirror that had been placed on a dining room table. I’m not sure if G. was into coke or not, but that drug scared the hell out of me. Our poison of the evening was alcohol, though we didn’t begrudge anyone else for choosing to snort lines off a mirror for five bucks a pop.

One beer turned into three and our tongues loosened. The conversation turned dirty and I saw a glimmer of mischief in his eyes. I gladly returned a devilish look and answered yes to his request to take me to bed. Walking hand in hand we quietly retreated to a friend’s apartment just a few doors away. We wasted no more time with pleasantries and innuendo. He produced a condom and I grinned from ear to ear. I’m pretty sure I rolled that condom onto his cock with my mouth.

It was a long time ago so I don’t remember all of the details, but I do remember having a lot of fun. I don’t ever remember laughing so much and feeling such comfort while completely naked. His body was beautiful, athletic and lithe. I lay underneath him enjoying the weight of his body on mine. The outstanding feeling of his hardness moving in and out of me. I arched my hips up to meet his thrusts when he stopped suddenly, and rolled off of me. There I was splayed before him, completely naked and vulnerable. My breasts and midriff were lit faintly by the moonlight streaming in a nearby window.

‘Fuck, you’re body is beautiful’, he said.

I was tongue-tied by his comment. No man had ever looked at my naked body with such reverence before. All I could manage was a smile that I hoped he could see in the moonlight of his friend’s bedroom. I pushed him onto his back and straddled his waist as I guided his cock back into me. Sweet Jesus, how he filled me completely.

Our bodies spent, we laid in bed and cracked jokes. I think we might have even shared another beer. As we dressed, we heard his friend S. come home. The poor boy was so drunk, I think he banged his arms and torso on every wall as he stumbled to his bathroom. S. threw up into his garbage can as G. and I walked out of the bedroom.

‘Hey Renee, how the fuck are you?’,  he asked.

‘Better than you’, I giggled.

G. and I helped S. into bed, he whined incoherently about something and passed out almost as soon as his head hit the pillow. G. and I headed back to the party a few doors down. We didn’t exchange phone numbers and we never saw each other again. I can’t say I wasn’t a little disappointed, but sometimes sex is just that, sex. It was fulfilling and beautifully dirty.

I did see G. a few years later, at a little family restaurant in Saline. I walked in with my future husband and sat down in a booth. I looked up and there was G. grinning a devilish grin. The blood rushed to my cheeks and sex as I smiled back at him. I might have even said hello. I remember thinking what a delicious secret G. and I had.

I wonder, if I saw him now, would my body react the way it did 28 years ago? I’d like to think it would. I also wonder where he is now. I hope he’s happy. And I also hope he tells the woman he’s with now how beautiful she is.

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Friday Fictioneers-Everything Has A Price

fleeting-copyright-indira-mukherjee

Shrooms shared with strangers.

Rebellious young woman, aboard a technicolor bus.

Trees are blue.

Sky,  green.

Tasting colors and seeing sounds.

Voices come to Melanie like the droning of adults on Charlie Brown cartoons.

Wah, wah, wah, wah….

Nonsense.

Thought there’d be free love.

No such thing.

Everything has a price.

Even sex without that word.

Wanted to be enlightened; intellectual.

Have to get off this bus now.

To go home.

Covered in grime from days with strangers.

Will a hot shower remove the dirt?

Of past, present, future?

Melanie exits the bus.

Extends thumb, to begin her journey home.

100 words/Genre: General Fiction

Thank you Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for hosting Friday Fictioneers. Please be sure to go to her page and read the stories from other writers. We are a rather eclectic group. I welcome kudos and criticism. Bring it on!

At Last, My Lovely

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His name was Vertigo.
Her name was Dare.
“If you think adventure is dangerous, try routine; it is lethal.” ― Paulo Coelho

The Dark Haired Man places hands roughened by hard work, upon The Blonde Woman’s thighs. Her delicate hands strokes a cheek covered by five o’clock shadow. Leaning into the softness of it, a tiny sigh escapes his slightly parted lips. She drinks in his eyes the color of polished sapphires and slides her fingers into the V of an unbuttoned dress shirt. Her warm palm settles on the soft down of his chest hair. His heartbeat quickens and rouges his cheeks with desire. The blush transcends from his body and travels up her arm. He stares intently at her, watching the crimson appear on her cheeks. The Blonde Haired Woman feels her body awaken with a longing only he can evoke.

Closing the distance between them, he murmurs, “Half your problems would disappear if you were with me.”

Promises, lies, truths, endings and beginnings roar in their first kiss. Their hands grapple for purchase as they succumb to the dizzying dare they have chosen to act upon. The Dark Haired Man slides his hands up The Blonde Woman’s ebony skirt. Her body pitches backward, and she places her hands behind her on the velvet cushion. His tongue travels down her neck into the supple skin between her breasts. Kissing gently, he catches her left nipple that has carelessly slipped from the nest of her bodice. He cups the orb in his right hand and continues to suck.

The Blonde Haired Woman turns to look at their shadows projected on the empty wall. Their want has created a painting only they can see. A masterpiece. The Dark Haired Man sensing her hesitation, looks up.

Pointing to their shadows, she breathes, “My Darling, look at what we’ve painted.”

Smiling mischeviously, The Dark Haired Man lowers his mouth back to her chest. She sighs as he gives her a light kiss and continues his exploration. The Blonde Haired Woman lies flat on the velvet bench, wanting so badly to be selfish. To feel his seduction, while she does nothing but take pleasure in it. Her need for him wills her hands forward and she places them in his hair. Leaving it in disarray, but neither of them care. His mouth wanders to her waist as he pushes the raised skirt even higher. Opening his eyes wide, he sees her mound. The pink flesh made ripe with the influx of fresh blood.

“Tell me what you want.”

“I want you to taste what you do to me.”

His mouth possesses her sex, and their coupling becomes a religious experience. He drinks her like holy water, and she prays to gods not even born yet. All the while watching their shadows on a blank wall displaying their story. Their art. The sounds she makes while cumming are hymns that only he understands. Her body undulates and he holds her. With his mouth, tongue and arms. Even in his grip, she has never felt so free. So alive. The Blonde Haired Woman never wants The Dark Haired Man to stop, tasting or loving her.

She believes that he wants to consume her fire. He does everything possible to prove it. Exhausted, he finally draws away from the jewels between her thighs. As the last ripple of her orgasm subsides, he slides his body up the length of hers. They share space on the velvet cushion. He kisses her mouth and she smells her desire on his upper lip. She loves what he’s done to her. What he will continue to do. The Dark Haired Man catches The Blonde Haired Woman’s bottom lip playfully between his teeth, brushing tendrils of her hair away from corn flower blue eyes.

Teasingly she repeats his initial sentiment, “Half your problems would disappear if you were with me.”

Blue Sapphires and Salt of the Sea-Part III

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It is not sex that gives pleasure, but the lover.-Marge Piercy

Looking into her eyes, he asks, “Are you okay?”

She shyly replies, “Of course I am. Sometimes, I just lose myself though. It’s as if there’s some sort of “soul” to my orgasms, some other power besides mere pleasure.”

Holding her close, he breathes in the scent of her hair. She’s familiar. Warm. She cares. They have an undiscovered history. He wants her, and she, him. Why this insatiable desire? He’s not sure.

Sitting up, she grabs the discarded sheet, while making sure to put the comforter around him so that he isn’t chilled. “It is winter after all,” she thinks to herself as she wraps the sheet around herself and gets out of bed saying, “I’ve got to pee and grab something from the kitchen. I’ll be right back.”

He smiles contentedly at her when responding, “I’m not going anywhere love,, take your time.”

Smiling, she stumbles back to the bed to give him a quick kiss before heading to the bathroom. He hears the rush of water as she turns on the faucet to wash her hands. He laughs to himself because he can hear her humming. Then she starts outright singing. Hearing his laughter, she yells “Hey, don’t make fun of my singing! I used to be good, once upon a time,” as she grabs a bottle of wine from the fridge.

He responds with, “you still are good.”

Uncorking the bottle, she walks back to the bedroom and stands in the doorway for a moment. With the light hitting her just right, he suddenly sees her as she used to be when first they met. With his realization, she blushes.

“Come back to bed love,” he whispers.

“I would like nothing better than to do just that,” she responds urgently.

She slides in next to him, and hands him the bottle, a sweet red wine. Perfect. He drinks greedily and then holds the bottle to her mouth while carelessly wiping his chin. She swallows the nectar and swears she can feel the warmth of its buzz spread throughout her body almost instantly. He drinks again before she takes the bottle and places it on the nightstand, after another long pull herself.

Smiling at each other, they kiss and taste the wine on each other’s tongues. She feels his cock harden against her thigh. the kisses become deeper, longer. He places his hand on her left breast and dips his head to taste her erect nipple. She arches her back as her pussy begins to swell and dampen with desire.

Placing her mouth up against his ear, she whispers, “Fuck me.”

He places his mouth on hers and asks, “Why do you want me?”

In response she reaches down between his legs and roughly grabs his hardened organ while saying, “Because I can make you feel like this.”

Sitting up, he leans his back against the headboard as he replies, “You make me feel so much more than just that. You make me feel like I am more, can be more.”

She smiles as she places her legs on either side of his hips and hovers over him momentarily, slowly brushing her clit against his tip in invitation. She kisses him passionately as he enters her.

“I’m going to fuck you slow,” She grunts.

“I’ll let you, for now”, He moans in response.

Moving slowly back and forth, she places her right hand under his chin while almost jamming her tongue into his mouth. He sucks it, while trying to make her move faster. She resists and changes rhythm, starts sliding up and down on his cock.

“Fuck, you’re good,” he says.

“So are you,” she coyly says in rhythm to her motions.

Feeling her pulsing tightness slide up and down his shaft, he can’t stand it anymore, and flips her back onto the bed. He waits a moment before mounting her, thrusting hard, because he knows that’s this is the only way she can truly cum.

“I remember you now,” he pants, “Do you remember me?”

“Yes, I remember,” She says in between breaths, her breasts swaying with each hit, “I always loved fucking you.”

Feeling her orgasm crest, he slams into her with each word said, before leaning over and kissing her neck, just before she pulls his hair and screams his name. Her pussy clamps down and holds his cock inside of her as she writhes through another orgasm. He keeps up the constant stroking. In, out. In, out, as she makes sure to move her hips in time with his.

He implores, “Baby, slow down. You’ll make me cum.”

But she only responds with “I can’t help it. You feel so fucking good. I’m going to cum again.”

“Then cum for me love.”

And she does, while being paralyzed by the force of it. Tears leak from her eyes. Showing concern, he slows his movements.

“Don’t you dare stop, I’m not done yet,” she replies.

Her body relaxes as he keeps moving in and out of her. Pinching his nipples, she smiles as he lets out a gasp.

“Do you want to cum inside of me? Is that what you want?” She asks.

He can barely utter the word, “yes.”

“Then do it.”

Grabbing him, she lays him down and climbs back on top of him. She starts to move slowly again, placing her hands in her hair and leaning back while she grinds. He pushes her hips down as far he can, make her move faster. She reaches behind and begins to caress his balls, feeling that they are drawing up. Getting tighter. She smiles because she knows he is so damn close.

“Cum for me baby, cum for me,” She murmurs.

He lets out an intense sound of pleasure, like she has never heard before. It is like music and primal all at the same time. He shudders and releases his essence into her. Laying her body against his, he lazily wraps his arms around her, while caressing the length of her back. She rolls to one side and gently places her hand over his heart. She feels it begin to slow. Though it is warm, he picks up the bottle of wine, leans up and takes a drink. He holds it for her as she takes a sip as well. After he places it back on the nightstand, she leans up on one elbow. Looking him in the eyes, she smiles, while kissing his lips, cheek and forehead and touching his face.

“Can we do it again?” she asks.

He grins and tucks a piece of her hair behind her ear before saying, “again and again. For as long as you’d like, love.”

Blue Sapphires and Salt of the Sea-Part II


“We are each of us angels with only one wing, and we can fly only by embracing each other.” – Luciano De Crescenzo

He told her it was her turn to feel his hands on her body. To taste his kiss. And the warmth of his tongue on her breasts, stomach and clit. He held out his hand. She placed her smaller one in his. His palm felt rough; warm. She felt connection, protection, and want. She closed the gap between them and pressed her nakedness against his. She wrapped her arms around his body and looked up at him. Could feel his hardened cock pressed against her leg. He smiled and looked at her with eyes the color of the Caribbean Sea. It was time for her to swim. To feel the warmth of his sea wash over her. Again.

He spun her around and pushed her playfully toward the bedroom door. She placed her hands on either side of the door jamb,  forcing him to run into her. She released a deep, throaty laugh. He kissed her neck. Her body and sex trembled. That was it, she was his.

He laid her down on the bed.

She said, “love me.”

He kneels beside her and kisses her full scarlet lips. Slides his tongue in her mouth and can still taste his cum from their interlude moments before in the living room. He kisses her neck.

She breathlessly exclaims, “you kiss my neck, and were fucking. ”

He looks up at her and says, “I plan to do just that. First I’m going to taste you. I bet you’re as sweet as your heart.”

He continues kissing her. Her breasts first. She holds her breath. Releases it and sighs. He loves to hear her. She puts her hands in his hair. They travel down to his back and her nails scratch upwards lightly. As he sucks each breast the aureola tighten and the nipples peak. She digs her nails in harder. He bites her left nipple and she cries out. Not from pain, but pleasure and want.

He kisses her belly and she becomes apprehensive. Knows that her body isn’t perfect.

He feels her anxiety, looks up at her and says, “you are beauty personified.”

She relaxes, and all she can say is, “thank you”

His mouth finds her thighs. He kisses them. Licks. Bites. Tastes. Finds she is still the same.

As he gets closer to her sex, she moans and says, ” take me. Love me.”

His mouth covers her petal, and she is gone.

She lays there and feels his warm breath, and his tongue. He lets out little sighs as he eats her pussy.

Tells her, “you do taste sweet.”

She lets go and feels her first orgasm build.

He feels it too and says, “baby, let it come.”

She does. And cries out as her clit pulses. He can feel it on his tongue and he smiles. She becomes so wet and open. He wants to taste more. He doesn’t stop. She cums again. She pleads for him to slow down, but he won’t.

He looks up at her and says, “you are so beautiful when you cum. So beautiful.”

Her breathing is ragged and her mouth dry. All of the moisture in her body goes to her cunt.

She puts her hands on either side of his head as he rolls her hips toward her. Her knees are  close to her face. She can see his mouth on her pussy. Feel his warm and wet tongue.

He looks up from between her thighs and says, “cum for me again.”

As she holds his face in her hands, he kisses, licks, and bites. Her orgasm rises and she cums with such force she presses his mouth to her and screams his name. She doesn’t care who hears.

He lets go of her legs. She is shaking and purring like a kitten. He moves up and lays next to her. Holds her and kisses her forehead. Then pulls the blanket over them. She lays in his arms until the tremors subside.

Bring Me To Life

Now that I know what I’m without
You can’t just leave me
Breathe into me and make me real
Bring me to life

~Evanescence~

Maggie wonders how she got here. She feels Ian’s warm skin on hers. His breath in her ear and her neck. His hands are all over her, then settle between her legs. Ian strokes her gently, like a baby bird. She moves her body to feel his hands touch her. Make her open.

Maggie it is as beautiful as your face.”

She kisses Ian’s neck. Strokes his cheek and traces his lips with her finger tips. Maggie kisses him and licks his lips. Her mouth is dry but her pussy, wet. He gingerly but deliberately forces his tongue into her mouth. She tries not to resist, but her fear makes her anxious. Ian touches her breasts and tells her to relax and that he just wants to love her. Maggie smiles, breathes deeply and exhales slowly.

They put their hands all over each other. Feel raw emotion. Need and want. It feels so good to be wanted. To be touched. Ian wants to fuck her but she is so afraid. So green. Maggie tries to calm herself and savor every moment. She wonders, will this be our only time together?

Frozen inside without your touch
Without your love darling
Only you are the life among the dead

“Ian I am so scared.”

“Maggie, my love, it will be okay. Let me love you.”

She reaches for his cock. Puts her fingers around it and pulls gently. Ian moans her name. Maggie look into his blue eyes and drowns in them. Ian puts one hand on her breast and dips his head to taste the other. He touches her pussy with his other hand. She is wet and open. As she caresses Ian’s cock, pre-cum flows from the head. Maggie releases her grip and puts her hand to her mouth and licks it. He tastes salty but sweet too.

Ian rolls her over onto her back. Maggie opens her legs and he lays between them. She guides him into her. They gasp and shudder at the same time. He moves inside of her. This is Maggie’s first time. There’s pain and pleasure. Fear and euphoria. She moves to meet his thrusts. He kisses her lips. She opens her mouth and sucks his tongue.

Maggie, all I want is this.

Ian, I want it too.

They hold onto each other for dear life. She feels herself tremor and explode from the inside out. She is gasping for air. For more. Of him. Her orgasm vibrates her entire body and his. Ian bites her neck and then cums inside of her. She feels fulfilled. Ian pulls out of her. Maggie touches his face and says thank you. She inhales and all she can smell is the aroma of their lust.

All this time I can’t believe I couldn’t see
Kept in the dark but you were there in front of me
I’ve been sleeping a thousand years it seems
Got to open my eyes to everything
Without a thought without a voice without a soul
Don’t let me die here
There must be something more
Bring me to life

Lightning

She stands on the observation deck and sees the storm rolling in. From the corner of her eye, she can see him. He’s watching her. She smiles. As the wind begins to blow, he approaches her, yet feels no fear. She turns and looks directly at him as he walks toward her. Within seconds he is standing next to her. He drapes his arms on the railing of the observation deck right next to hers. Their elbows are barely touching. Her smile becomes more broad. He smiles too. They turn and look directly at each other. It’s as if he knows her, but they’ve never gazed at one another before. The rain has begun and there’s thunder too. She touches his arm and he grabs her hand in his. He pulls her to him, stares into her green eyes and kisses her passionately. She is the first to pull away, though she’s not sure why. They step back  from each other momentarily. All of a sudden he is behind her. He wraps his arms around her waist and begins furiously kissing her neck. She moans and arches body into his as the lightning explodes around and within them.

She turns around to face him. He’s handsome, but not overly so. He has this look on his face. It is ecstasy. They’ve not said a word. Not one word, but they haven’t needed to. Their bodies are speaking for them. He kisses her passionately on the mouth. Tongues intertwine. Hands grope for purchase. For skin. Even though they are fully clothed they want to touch skin. The warmth of it. The heat. He unzips his fly and she grabs his cock. He is so hard for her. She is so wet. He pulls her skirt up and she’s naked underneath. He thrusts himself into her. Lightning crashes with the rhythm of their fucking. She gasps at the size of him. At his prowess. She wonders, why me? He looks at her and sees nothing but beauty. More lightning, more rain, and more thunder. Her breath quickens with her approaching orgasm. He can sense it and fucks her more shallowly. To make her feel his cock on her clit. She screams and she cums and the thunder roars in time with it. He smiles a devilish grin. She reaches down and feels his balls. They are a drawn and tight. She asks, “do you want to cum inside?” He says, “oh yes please.” She says, “then please do.”

He’s not ready yet. He has her braced against the railing of the Eiffel Tower. There is thunder and lightning everywhere. Her hair is flowing in the wind. He leans in and kisses her neck as he’s fucking her. She moans in expectation of his orgasm. He grunts and says, “I’m going to fill you up. Fill you with my heat and my lust.” And then he does. She feels the pulse of him inside of her. Feels him fill her up. They look at each other, they smile and their breathing slows. She says, “this was not quite the welcome to Paris that I expected.” There is one more flash of lightning and the storm subsides. She lowers her dress, and he zips up his trousers. She says, “I think after that, we need lunch and a glass of wine.” He smiles devilishly and says, “you took the words right out of my mouth.” They leave the observation deck in search of a small cafe.

 

Alive With the Glory of Love and the Genius of Max Bemis

Today has been a shit day. I’m in a drug haze, in pain and exhausted. I can’t even put my thoughts together to write a love story. I have one noodling in my silly brain, but the words won’t come.

At work while I was sitting there staring at my gigantic monitors and getting nothing done, I decided that I needed to listen to a little Say Anything. Max Bemis’s lyrics bring me up or down. Depends on the song that comes up on my play list on Spotify. Imagine my joy when I heard the first line of the song,  Alive with the Glory of Love. The lyrics are simple, but they capture my soul and make me lose my breath.

He sings, When I watch you, wanna do you, right where you’re standing. Yes, it’s sexy and sultry, but as you listen to the song you realize it is so much deeper than the act of fucking. It’s about the intense love that a young man has for a young woman during the time of concentration camps, Jewish Ghettos, and being in hiding. I can’t imagine the fear they lived with. I just can’t fathom it. But these two people, though they felt fear, they felt love so deeply for one another that it kept them alive. Even in the Treblinka Concentration Camp.

Should they catch us and dispatch us to those separate work camps, yeah
I’ll think about you, I’ll dream about you
I will not doubt you, with the passing of time
Should they kill me, your love will fill me as warm as the bullets
I’ll know my purpose, this war was worth this, I won’t let you down

No I won’t, no I won’t, no I won’t

(Alive, alive, alive with love)
I won’t let them take you, won’t let them take you, hell no no

Max wrote the song about his great grandparents. They survived Treblinka. Through sheer luck? No, I do believe that their love saved them. I am a sappy romantic girl, so I will always believe that to be the case. Just like Max does. Max is a fucking bi-polar schizophrenic, but his lyrics feed my soul.  They speak of sex and want, but they soothe me. They make me believe in undying love. Even in a fucked up time in history and the need for a madman to exterminate an entire race of people. There were still love stories. There was still so much of life for these doomed people to live. How they made it through each day without losing their minds, I have no idea. I don’t think I could have.

It also reminds me of my kids. They’re both singers. Meggie is a classically trained opera singer and Adam Boy is a tenor with a falsetto that can still bring tears to my eyes. When they were teenagers, all their friends would come over on the weekends with acoustic guitars and sing their hearts out. Roger Darling and I would have to be right in the middle of it. To hear all of their voices convey the meaning of the lyrics they sang thrilled my soul and made Roger so proud.

I miss those days, night, weekends and impromptu concerts that took place in our living room. I miss every single one of those kids. They were my kids, even though I didn’t give birth to them. They were mine. Every one of them. They still are. When I see them, they still call me Momma Heath. Or Mom. In some way they complete me. In some way I still complete them.