Tales of Ancient Rome 3 Lions in the Valley
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Something breaks in me when I watch you sleep. I know I shouldn't think about, but I'm in that crucial moment. Go or stay. I should hold you even closer. Underneath the blanket, bodies curved together as spoons of bare warm flesh, we can forget for a while. Neither of us has to remember that this pocket of time, however beautiful, is always fleeting.
I'll go back to my little apartment, that tiny anonymous building where I don't know anyone.
You'll go back home, that big house nestled above the valley that overlooks our city. From there, the city lights below and stars in the vast above are almost exact mirrors of one another in their distant glittering beauty. How they look so distant from one another but also seem to meet and fold together in the dark horizon always reminds me of us.
I remember the view there so many so many times with you. The sky was always a raw dark blue there, almost the specific color of your name on some nights. We would either sit in my car or smoke outside and look skyward. Your hand slipped into mine the last time we were there, damp with the evening air and our own heat.
Little squeezes every now and then. I'd squeeze back each time, certain we communicated through some Morse code of touch, our bodies acting as conduits able to decode such signals.
I also remember the first time. It was summer, the night when everyone is drinking and setting off fireworks. We met miles away from your house, parked in the dark. From that high point, you can see the valley's horizon where the city ends, where mountains begin. They look like mysterious, sleeping stone giants at night, ancient and towering.
I don't remember what we were talking about or if we even actually spoke. I remember perfume, the warm rush of air as you leaned in. I remember your kiss, redolent of sweet wine, growing more urgent by the second.
The memory of your scent and more would linger upon my lips all night. Bare thighs slowly parting, skin aglow with clear moonlight.
Making love as bursts of light began to explode in beautiful temporary rainbows. Your moans muffled from the random concussive blasts.
Everything that had been held back by us before coming out in the ways our bodies spoke to one another. How you clamp around when I'm inside, the most primal and possessive of embraces. How we held each other after, like some shift in gravity pushed us as close together as humanly possible. Without words, telling me I belong to you.
We're far past that night.
And right now, in this late hour, is often when one of us goes as the other remains asleep. It's never been a spoken agreement. It's like we both know leaving that way is easier than trying to say goodbye and promising we'll meet up here again.
Something wants to break in me as I watch you, something I don't have a name for. It's not my heart. That's been broken before. This runs through there and travels deeper. It's the part of me that wants to soothe you no matter how much we hurt each other.
I've seen countless slivers, sides of you over time. Good and bad. The opaque territories that lie in between. Since they are each one of the many puzzle pieces that make you, they are beautiful to me. You've shown me anger and tenderness. Fragility and strength. The possessive and cold. The vulnerable and the vindictive. The close and the painful distant.
I've only seen you cry once, though. Naked, spooning face to face. I always hold you close. The calm, beautiful aftermath of consuming each other. There were very few words between us, but I knew something was wrong. Something you wouldn't get specific about.
Your features suddenly softening, lips trembling, hand squeezing mine as I held you tighter. Face burying into my shoulder, I could warm droplets on my skin before hearing you cry.
I could feel your heart's erratic drumming, like the beating wings of a small, terrified bird. You whispered things that painted enough of a picture. About feeling alone at home. Hurt. And never being enough.
I know those things all too well.
Beyond there, the words are mostly unintelligible sobs. I'll never repeat any of the other snippets I caught. One thing we've always had in common is knowing how to keep the other's secrets closely guarded. Despite the pain we've inflicted at times, we never turn secrets into ammunition or blades.
I've never been very good with people. I see too many things in numbers, quantifiable and tangible measurements. Telling you or anyone else how I feel has never come easy. Such exposure has often terrified me. I mean, is there anything more vulnerable than granting another access to your every weakness? It leaves us naked in ways that bare skin never could.
That sector of me shuts down with most people. It's the reason why I've been called (even by you) cold and closed off.
But I still knew more than enough to just hold you tight then. Anchor you to some semblance of safety, tether you to something real that would never flee from you. Just hold you and say nothing because there were no words that could break through and mend whatever gulf of pain you were feeling.
That moment alone was almost enough to make me forget that you would leave an hour later, placed a soft kiss above my temple first. You love me. But, there's also more that you need.
It was the first time in my life I realized, despite what everything in me screams, that love may not be enough sometimes. You never knew I cried after you left. I could never tell you or anyone else. It belongs to me.
And now, I take note of the things I'll miss by leaving. They are countless and immeasurable, all bearing entwined nuances that I can't quite wrap words around. That's how I know they mean something. I think of earlier tonight...
I could describe how every peak and valley of your bare skin is rippled with gooseflesh before any contact. It's as if your body is sensing moments that have yet to take place, reacting to a premonition of my knowing touch.
I could describe the quiet gasp that escapes when the pads of my thumbs circle your nipples, beautiful buds responsive, immediately hardening. Or how your legs part so slowly when my fingers travel inside. Slow, even though the rest of your body trembles with need as fingers pump velvety depths.
I could describe the teeth that sink into your lower lip in that magnified moment when I slip inside you. The following kiss, warm and sweet. The taste of an extravagant wine I could never name.
Or how my every nerve ending flares, surrenders in supernova, when your nails rake my back. How the map of scratches you leave only burn, later on, a delicious sting awakened to tell me that I'm beyond marked. That, no matter what, a part of me is yours, forever claimed.
Your legs becoming a tight lock around me, pulling harder with each deep, quickening thrust. Eyes locked together while our vocal chords failed to form words, reduced to grunts, moans, and whimpers. The body's universal language that needs no translation.
The moment when space and time contract to a fine pinpoint, a singularity. There is no you and me. We're replaced by some mixed entity made up of our every primal need that had to crash and fuse in order to find rapture.
Or the seconds where an inevitable swell overtakes us. Our pulses and throbs racing towards what feels like mutual oblivion. The sudden clasping around me in the few final thrusts, on the verge of exploding. Legs squeeze tighter, a lock that will not allow escape.
The eruption as you also flood around me, a new wave of intense slick heat to summon my seed. Filling you, pushing in deeper, the clenches making me tremble helplessly on top of you. It's proof that no matter how much you want to be taken, there's always an exchange of power in that moment, in releasing a part of myself inside of you.
The slight collapse after where your arms encircle and hold me close. Nuzzling your neck, my lips feeling your pulse race, but calming by the moment. How your hands, only minutes before, gripped and clawed. Here, though, the immediate aftermath, your hands revert to gentle caresses along my back. Territory, already marked, now soothed.
Those more quiet instances bear their own unique intensity and also stay with me.
Those silent moments you never knew I saw because you believed I was asleep. Your fingertips stroking my cheek, the patterns random and intricate like my skin was made of braille that your fingertips were trying to memorize.
Lying on your side later, fragrant locks spilled across the pillow like dark and tangled auburn silk plumes. Bright wintergreen orbs fixed on me. Sometimes they shift between blue and grey as well, but they were green then. You looked at me like I was actually beautiful.
I saw love there. Something so tender ingrained in you for me that I couldn't speak and ruin the moment. Even I know that some things between people should just exist entirely without being disturbed.
You turn to me in the near dark, sleepy eyes now reflecting a blue-grey shade. Locks partially cover your face, but I can still see your faint smile. Mouth slightly open, each exhale sends a slight gust of heated air across my chest.
Your fingertips softly caress the side of my face, a feathery light touch traveling along the contrast of my dark stubble. It's always been soothing, but even more so after making love. Every touch seems magnified a potent shared intimacy.
I've yet to find a way to tell you how much something that simple means to me. Maybe I'll be able to one day. It will probably be said in the same way we say many things, without words. Some nights we only have enough time to speak that way.
Little messages exchanged with lips and hands searching. Entire conversations exchanged with clinging bodies in motion, with locked limbs safely cradled.
You smile, the pink bow of your lips letting words flow. You say I'm too good for you. That I'm sweet. But that's never what you really want. Some sector of you will always crave more.
I'm sweet...
The words hang there, echo through to the nameless place inside that you've always been able to reach. Where I hurt the most. Your presence will keep humming through me.
Your locks almost tickle my face with their silken softness as I breathe the scent in. That's why jasmine, gardenias, and violets remind me of you. That, and rain in autumn. The subtle sweetness of wet leaves scattered over the damp earth. Dusk and storms. Summer heat lighting, blinding and beautiful. All things nocturnal. They are all you to me.
But we'll go back to our lives from here. To continue what we have, some things have to be kept separate, parts of us always remaining a mystery to one another.
Yet, wherever we are during our days and nights apart, a part of us always stays with the other, the aftermath's echoes rippling through our steps once our masks are slipped back on.
It's an equally beautiful and painful thing, being so totally twined to someone. It makes every second spent together more intense, a concentrated bliss beyond any narcotic. But it also makes other times hurt, cut deep in ways that make me I wish I had the proper language to shape.
I know you have to go soon. I would wrap us up here together for all time if I could. I would keep you safe. Loved.
I finally respond to being told I'm sweet. I smile and wink, saying that maybe you don't know me as well you think.
A giggle escapes because of my cheesy joke, and your eyes light up. They're a vibrant wintergreen again. I close my eyes for a moment and just take in the music of your laughter.
Stay or go.
I know the answer. To be honest, I'm almost never the first one to leave.
I'll cling to ghosts after you leave, the tangible ones first because their tactile existence is temporary. Mutual body heat still trapped beneath an ocean of blankets. A body's slight indentation imprinted into the mattress and pillows. A few stray locks of hair that summon memories of my fingers running through them so patiently, like I was just beginning to learn the subtleties of an intricate and mysterious instrument.
My arm will reach over and my palms will lightly trace the imprints your body created, absorb the fleeting pockets of warmth left behind.
I'll still be able to breathe you in. Your hair, perfume, skin, the aroma created when our bodies joined in the dark. I'll breathe us in, even though it's almost too much for me to take in sometimes.
I'll cling to the intangible ghosts between us. The things we can't seem to say. How lonely I always am. How we've hurt each other before. How even though I do love you, a part of me is terrified that this is as far as you can ever let things go, that you can't be what I need. That I can't be what you want.
And even with that knowledge, I refuse to let you go.
After the giggling dies down, your eyes flutter back to sleep for a little while. We've shifted positions, as we often do in bed. Your head on my chest. You once said it's the best pillow in the world, that you love listening to the rhythm within because it changes for you. Sometimes it's a calm drum. Sometimes it's a furious storm. Always a soundtrack for you.
The beat is steady right now, relaxed. Maybe scared. I wonder if you can feel that. If it even matters.
Something wants to break in me, but not right now. As your breathing slows down and sleep overtakes you, I just caress your back as I grow drowsy. It doesn't matter that you'll go soon. We have now. We'll have that again.
Before sleep's tide lulls me under, your arm lazily stretches out to my free one, fingers interlacing naturally. As if you're aware of everything I'm thinking, you squeeze tight.
Saying what words never will.
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‘But some are definitely too big,’ Sara added, seemingly trying to reassure me. ‘My previous boyfriend was huge. It was way too much for me. It actually hurt sometimes with him.’Ape to Angel oozed in the background with a melodic, hypnotic hum. I was stoned, which was impairing my attempts to trace back to when and why we’d begun talking about cock size. I definitely hadn’t brought it up. In truth I’d never thought about it until Sara had started off on one. Was she wasted? Should I even be...
CuckoldVelvet rode the daylights out of her stallion. The red sun hung in the air a long, tenuous moment. Then it fell from the horizon and just as quickly it was night time. An eerie purple permeated the ranch. The cool fragrance of the prairie wind filled her nostrils. Velvet nose flared up like a horse. Her stallion was used to every maneuver his rider was able to engineer. They took to one another like they had been made especially for that purpose. Velvet made sure that she rubbed her cunt...
I found out after getting married Nance had been fucking her, now 14yo Son since he was 12. This is sometthing that happened with her p*****n neice.It was Saturday and we had agreed to watch her sister's girl for the weekend while she went away after getting divorced 6 months ago. We always go nude at the house and in the backyard (8' privacy fence) unless we have company that we don't know well. anyway, we'd been working in the yard and I came in to get a beer and take a short rest, as her...
She lay for a moment with her eyes closed, feeling fresh and alive, with the whole world opening out before her as though for the taking. Her first thought was, "It must be Spring! Pretty soon now, school will be out for the summer..." She yawned and stretched and turned in the bed, enjoying the smell of fresh linen, the feel of smooth clean sheets against her bare legs, and opened her eyes. She wasn't in her little upstairs room that she had all to herself now that her big sisters were...
For me, this was the first day of school. I pulled up just as Mike did. I thought about sitting in my car until he went in, but decided I might as well tackle this now. He didn’t see me until I was right next to him. “Oh, shit!” he said as he jumped when he saw me. “Relax.” We walked in without saying a word to each other. Mike kept glancing at me, as did half the people who hung around the front of the school. I think we disappointed them when we didn’t throw down right there. Pam saw us...
The next seven months were very busy for the people living in Tah’s house. Prue worked on the business side as required. For the most part, she left it up to the team she had put together to get things up and running. It was their town and their people, so they knew who was who, where the best places to build were and where to get the resources that they need. Lyle had turned out a godsend, and he ran the office. Tah and Raghu looked after everything that needed to happen out of the office....
Reg got up and went to find Frances and return her phone to her. “Thanks, pet. That was interesting. He has opened two more boxes and found one box full of knives and daggers, and a box of pistols. It is looking like all these boxes were stashes of negotiable future assets for when the house owner retired as a drugs baron. Most of them will have appreciated in value, except for the uranium. His early death left all his stashes in limbo, and your Dad is getting the benefit; quite right...
Guys! To understand this New Fictional Story of mine, U must know the meaning of few Indian words, which will be constantly used herein:-'Mangalsutra'- A necklace worn by women as symbol of her marriage.'Saree'- A Beautiful Dress, which a majority of Indian Women wear.'Blouse'- A Sexy Bra, worn with 'Saree'.'Pallu'- A piece of cloth from 'Saree', to cover blouse.'tilak'- A Red Colored circle, made from powdery stuff and applied right above forehead.(Here it Goes)This is sameer and my mom is...
A Cast Party is what they call it, when after any kind of performance (Concert or Theatrical), everybody (the cast and crew) from the show goes somewhere and has a party. It may be at a business, like a nearby pizzeria that is going to stay open late because of you! Actors love pizza and beer! It could even be at the theater itself, if there was room to bring in some food and give everybody a chance to talk about their favorite moments. Or it could be at somebody’s home, typically someone...
Author’s note: My uncle Ron died recently. While sifting through his files, I found journal folders marked MY STORY, writings about his life. I have edited these accounts and will post them when I can. These stories include bisexuality, incest, interracial and mature and group sex, etc. All sexual activity depicted here involves persons at least 18 years old. This piece can be appreciated without having read all the previous chapters. But read them anyway. ******************** 7A: Fucking in...
Tiffany's Deal By Michele Nylons Chapter Two - The Flop Tiffany's earliest memories are of her as a young boy growing up in the Midwest. To say that her upbringing was difficult would be an understatement. Although not particularly small for his age Tom Robinson was very lithe and almost effeminate in manner. From the outset Tom knew he was different. He began to feel trapped in a body in which he just didn't belong, so he tried his best to make himself look like what he...
There wasn’t much to show Adele about his condo, but she appreciated that John had his own home. Rita opened the patio door and leaning to the railing, glanced up expecting to see Carrie. Jackie led her mom onto the balcony. “You do have a nice view from up here.” Adele observed the marina off to the left. John cracked open a large bottle of wine and poured each a glass. “To our Jackie and keeping her leg, may it forever stay healthy!” They toasted. Rita downed her glass then grabbed the...
Note : This story is completely fictional! It was Friday evening. Mum had just arrived home from work & had gone into her bedroom. I happened to be walking past when i looked in. There,standing in front of her dressing table mum was changing out of her work clothes. I don't know why,but i could not help but watch as she unbuttoned her white silk,long sleeve blouse revealing a black lace bra. Her DD breasts looked incredible squashed into the sexy material. Nesting snuggly in her enourmous...
IncestFinally, Julia Benson, the late Professor Mockson's girl, said, "A couple of the guys became worked up and came after one of the girls. She pointed and Emma, the youngest girl on the trip, was curled in a ball crying. Nola disconnected from me. She and Andrea went to her. Nola asked, "What happened, Em? Are you hurt?" "N-no. Jeremy and Mark tried to-to hurt me. They were going to force me! I had even liked Jeremy!" She sobbed more. Jeremy had a reputation as a ladies' man, at least...
As he walked into the cafeteria, that’s when he saw her. Not Jasmine. Not Mikki. Not the Principle. But her. Mason had never actually asked her for her name, but had known her since middle school. He hadn’t seen her since he had left, but he still recognized her. Mason gathered his courage to talk to her but at that exact moment when he had been prepared to approach her, someone called her name and she turned to see who it was. For a moment while she stood and scanned the masses, she looked...
ReluctanceAll Saturdays are exiting for me since Sunday was a holiday and I knew it was a workout day for me as a slave! It was a Saturday night. Pritika had already planned my Sunday.. So she herself had nice sleep during the Saturday afternoon while I was busy with my college. I came back at about 6 pm only to (surprisingly) find pritika already fast asleep and left a note of instruction on my table. The instruction I got form her were Drink 2 liters of water! 2. Strip completely (except panty – any...
LesbianA Stitch in Time By Bill Hart Chris Williams lay quietly on the bed in his old bedroom listening, although not really wanting to listen, as his parents' argued again. He'd had to move back in with them after his own wife Laura had asked him to leave. But, even if his own marital circumstances now seemed similar, they were not quite the same as his parents. His parents' disagreements were long-term; he couldn't remember many times they'd gone as long as a week without fighting...