Tales of Ancient Rome 2 Salidia and Lydia
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A Box For Lydia free porn video
Lydia stepped out of the shower cubicle, leaving the foaming traces of her day to drain and dissipate in the humid silence. She wound a wide, white towel tightly around herself and moved through to her living room, leaving glassy footprints behind her on the dark wood floor. The letting agency had described the apartment as ‘cosy’. Lydia would have described it as claustrophobic. She found it funny how two people could view the same space so differently, depending on perspective or, of course, motive. Lydia felt like she was a space.
Lydia’s parents would have described her as ‘responsible’. Her employer at the small firm of accountants where she had worked for the past eighteen months would describe her as ‘reliable’. Her college tutor had described her as ‘diligent’. Her friends describe her as ‘dependable’. Those who met her for the first time would probably have described her as ‘shy’. The pastor at her church once described her as ‘faithful’. Everyone had a box for Lydia.
She walked over to her walnut display cabinet, pulled open a drawer and removed a long box, the colour of cold coffee, which contained her CDs. Running her fingers purposefully over them for no other reason than she liked the small, rattling sound the slim plastic cases made as she did so, she then pulled out the one she had been looking for. She opened the thin, cracked case, took out the disc and slid it into the portable CD player that Michael had given her for her last birthday.
Lydia had that ‘bright red feeling’ as words and music began to fill space. Outside the window a heavy sheet of Pennsylvania night began to fill space. She left the curtains open to share the moment with the diaphanous ghost of herself which was held within a pane of glass. On the tenth floor nobody can see you. Someday, she thought, the thin, opaque reflection of the girl in the glass would be born.
Lydia returned the box of CDs to its space in the drawer. On a shelf above the drawer was another, much smaller, box. She had put it next to a photograph of her and Michael which was displayed tightly within the four corners of a plain, pine frame. It was taken at some church event or another when they were both eighteen. She picked the small box up and held it in her fingers for a moment before opening it carefully. Inside, she saw once again the diamond solitaire ring, held fast within a tight slit in a black, velvet-lined box. Michael had given it to her three months earlier when he had ‘proposed’.
“Do you like it?” he had asked. Lydia had nodded. “The thing is,” he continued, hesitantly, “we should probably wait a while to make it, well, public, don’t you think? I mean, not for very long, just until.....” His voice had drifted away into space.
It was Friday night again. Lydia went to her wardrobe and pulled out the black dress that she always wore on Friday nights when she visited Michael. ‘Puritan chic’, she would say to herself. She laid it on her bed, next to the letter with the Denver postmark which had arrived that morning. Opening her bedside drawer, she removed a brand new pair of sheer black hold-up stockings. Her fingers toyed for a moment with a pair of delicate black lace panties. She turned the soft corners of her mouth up slightly before dropping them off the end of her fingers and back into the drawer. Returning to her wardrobe, she then removed a black button-through blouse and black pencil skirt and laid those on the bed. She rolled the dress up into a ball and threw it into a space in the corner of the bedroom. Black will always fill a space.
Lydia left her apartment at just after seven in the evening, as she always did on a Friday night. She pushed the button to call the elevator. When it arrived she stepped inside and pushed the button for the ground floor. The doors closed behind her. The walls closed around her. There was the faintest smell of oil, rubber and body odour. ‘The slightest smells will always fill a small place,’ she thought to herself as the tight silver box rumbled and juddered its mechanical way down. Stepping out of the lift, she made her way to the bus stop outside the apartment block, as she always did every Friday night.
As she waited for the bus she thought of Michael. By now he would have cleaned his apartment and probably be making his way to the Chinese takeaway to collect their supper. She would arrive at his apartment, and they would kiss. They would then sit at his table and, by the yellow, waxy light of a solitary flickering candle, they would quietly eat the food he had bought. Then, they would watch a movie, perhaps, or just sit on his sofa and talk about their week. At just after half past ten he would walk her back to the bus stop in time for the last bus home. He would tell her he would see her on Sunday morning before waving her off. Lydia never stayed overnight. In fact, she and Michael had never had sex; he wanted to save that for after the marriage that both she and he knew would never take place. She used to wonder whether she ever aroused Michael at all. She had once kissed him and pressed herself close against him but had felt no urgent response. They would never marry and in her heart she knew why.
The bus turned the corner just down from the apartment block and began to slow as it approached the bus stop. Lydia began to wonder if he would be on the bus again. Every Friday, for the past two or three months, the bus had been practically empty apart from one man who sat near the back. He was habitually dressed in a smart black suit, with a black leather briefcase balanced on his knees. He was always studiously reading what appeared to be essay papers through round-lensed, rimless spectacles. Lydia referred to him in her mind as ‘The Professor’. Every Friday she would board the bus, walk to the back, and sit in the double-seat directly across the aisle from him. Occasionally, he would look up and smile somewhat nervously at her before returning his attention to the papers he was holding. Lydia would return his smile and then look away.
The bus stopped. Its silver door hissed open and Lydia boarded. As she began to walk down the aisle of the bus she could see that he was there. He was sat in his usual seat and was studying his papers. He lifted his eyes momentarily to meet hers as she walked towards him, offering her the faintest hint of a smile before lowering his gaze once more. As Lydia drew level to his seat, instead of sitting down on the seat across from him, she lowered herself into the seat right next to him, closing all the space between them.
He looked up and into her eyes. He smiled again. It was another nervous smile. It felt to Lydia as though he wanted to say something but could not find the words. The bus by now had set off. In those moments Lydia felt like all of space and time had closed around her. There were no gaps into which she could fall. She felt warm and comforted for a reason that she didn’t want to try to understand.
The motions of the bus, which lightly vibrated the seat Lydia was sat on, began to provoke a response between her legs. Something was rising within her and filling space. She reached over slowly and gently took hold of the papers the man by her side was holding. For whatever reason, he released them easily. With her other hand she opened the black leather briefcase that was balanced on his lap and slipped the papers inside. She then closed the briefcase and placed it carefully on the floor by his feet. He looked into her spacious eyes.
Slowly, Lydia moved her fingers onto the zipper of his trousers and began to lower it. Turning towards him slightly, she eased her slender fingers inside the opening. As they did so, they met a bulge that was gently twitching and hardening within his underpants. She continued to look into his eyes as she began to extend her fingers over a responsive cock that was now stiffening and straining against the fabric of his underpants with every passing second. His eyes were beginning to show his vulnerability, and his legs parted slightly as Lydia rubbed and caressed his growing length.
She slipped her fingers deftly under the elastic at the leg of his underpants and ran them up and over his hardening cock. It was warm and smooth. She allowed her fingers to run up and down it, thrilling at how strong, hard and hot it was to her touch. His eyes were becoming wide as she swam into them. She eased his length out of his trousers and looked down as it sprang angrily up at her. Her fingers were now able to move freely up and down the full extent of his arousal and encourage it until the faintest glimpse of pre-cum swam and shone from the small eye at the bulbous head. This was quickly followed by more of the warm, slick lubricant as she continued to tease and stroke him.
As her fingers became coated with the first flow of his desire, she moved her head down into his lap. Slowly she drew her tongue up his quivering length, from base to tip, leaving a trail of glistening saliva shining on it. Slowly, she parted her lips and allowed her mouth to open just enough to surround the head of his cock. He felt the warmth of her breath against him, and the moist softness of her mouth so close. He pushed upwards a little as if to encourage her but she kept her lips tight around the head. She then slid her tongue out and down against his frenulum and flicked the tip of her tongue against it provocatively and gently. Little moans escaped his mouth as her tongue continued to tease it.
Then, in one smooth move, she slowly lowered her lips over his swollen corona and enveloped it within the moist, velvet confines of her warm mouth. She took him deeper and deeper into her mouth until his length touched the back of her throat. Her fingers slipped back into the opening of his trousers and she began to lightly finger his full, firm balls. Slowly at first she began to move her mouth up and down on his rigid, smooth length, gradually building up the speed of her movement. Her mouth and tongue savoured how he felt and tasted, and she thrilled at how he responded to her mouth as it swallowed and fucked him. She could sense him lifting off his seat in order to try to control the rhythm a little, but Lydia knew she was in full control.
His pre-cum was now oozing sweet and warm into her mouth. Hot saliva was now gushing out of her mouth like a waterfall onto his cock, lubricating it further as her mouth began to fuck it faster and faster. His hands were now flat on the seat, on either side of him, and his hips bucking as far as they could to force his length deep into her mouth and throat. He could see that Lydia’s skirt had ridden up her thighs, revealing the lace tops of her stockings. Between his legs he felt her fingers, feathering his balls. He began to feel the surge of his cum rising quickly and uncontrollably up his shaft. Lydia sucked on his length, drenching it with her warm saliva and allowing her tongue to wrap around his now rigid cock as best she could. Within seconds she felt his entire body begin to tremble towards the inevitable climax. For the briefest second there was almost a pause between the last quiver of his body and then the first wave of his hot, creamy lust, which pumped deliciously into her mouth and throat. This was followed by wave after seemingly endless wave of sweet, hot cum pouring into her mouth, as his body went into multiple spasms of ecstasy.
‘The Professor’ was still breathing heavily and fastening the zipper on his trousers as Lydia walked down the aisle, stepped off the bus and walked the short distance to Michael’s apartment. Her cheeks were flushed and between her legs there was a heat and moisture of a kind that she had not felt in almost a million years. She knocked on the door. Within a short time Michael answered. He opened the door and she stepped inside.
“How are you, Lydia?” he asked, as he always did.
“I’m fine,” Lydia replied. She slipped her arms over his shoulders, brought her lips to his and kissed him. She felt his mouth, which so often was tight and rigid, begin to yield readily to her kiss. His slid his tongue into her mouth and moaned. His kiss grew deeper, more intense, and against her she felt the growing bulge in his trousers begin to press against her skirt. His tongue delved into her mouth, plundering her in a way which she had never experienced before. Within moments they were on his sofa, kissing deeply.
Lydia pulled the belt of his trousers and slipped it out of the buckle, before unfastening the button and lowering the zipper. His bottom lifted and he pulled his trousers over his waist and hips and lowered them to his thighs. His cock sprang free. It was hard and needy. Lydia moved her hand to it and surrounded his length with her fingers. Part of her still wanted it inside her. Within seconds, however, Michael had moved his own hand down onto his cock, and had replaced Lydia’s fingers with his own.
Michal continued to kiss Lydia in a way she had never been kissed by him before. His moans were those of someone in the deepest throes of lust. His fingers were wrapped around his cock and he began to lose himself as he fucked himself into frenzy. His moans became ever more intense as his arousal built to its inevitable crescendo. Suddenly, she saw hot cream flood in waves from his cock up and over his tummy as his tongue savoured the last of the taste from her mouth.
A few moments later Michael sank back into the sofa and within moments had fallen into a silent sleep. Lydia smiled. She put her hand in her pocket, pulled out the small box and placed it onto the coffee table. Kissing Michael gently on the forehead, she left.
Lydia went back to her apartment. Taking her suitcase from the wardrobe she began to fill the space within it. That night she had left the girl that she was supposed to be and had been born. She could finally be a teenager at age twenty-six. She was leaving Bethlehem.
Postscript:
This story was partly inspired by ‘Tiger’ from the album ‘This Fire’ by Paula Cole .
Lydia’s parents would have described her as ‘responsible’. Her employer at the small firm of accountants where she had worked for the past eighteen months would describe her as ‘reliable’. Her college tutor had described her as ‘diligent’. Her friends describe her as ‘dependable’. Those who met her for the first time would probably have described her as ‘shy’. The pastor at her church once described her as ‘faithful’. Everyone had a box for Lydia.
She walked over to her walnut display cabinet, pulled open a drawer and removed a long box, the colour of cold coffee, which contained her CDs. Running her fingers purposefully over them for no other reason than she liked the small, rattling sound the slim plastic cases made as she did so, she then pulled out the one she had been looking for. She opened the thin, cracked case, took out the disc and slid it into the portable CD player that Michael had given her for her last birthday.
Lydia had that ‘bright red feeling’ as words and music began to fill space. Outside the window a heavy sheet of Pennsylvania night began to fill space. She left the curtains open to share the moment with the diaphanous ghost of herself which was held within a pane of glass. On the tenth floor nobody can see you. Someday, she thought, the thin, opaque reflection of the girl in the glass would be born.
Lydia returned the box of CDs to its space in the drawer. On a shelf above the drawer was another, much smaller, box. She had put it next to a photograph of her and Michael which was displayed tightly within the four corners of a plain, pine frame. It was taken at some church event or another when they were both eighteen. She picked the small box up and held it in her fingers for a moment before opening it carefully. Inside, she saw once again the diamond solitaire ring, held fast within a tight slit in a black, velvet-lined box. Michael had given it to her three months earlier when he had ‘proposed’.
“Do you like it?” he had asked. Lydia had nodded. “The thing is,” he continued, hesitantly, “we should probably wait a while to make it, well, public, don’t you think? I mean, not for very long, just until.....” His voice had drifted away into space.
It was Friday night again. Lydia went to her wardrobe and pulled out the black dress that she always wore on Friday nights when she visited Michael. ‘Puritan chic’, she would say to herself. She laid it on her bed, next to the letter with the Denver postmark which had arrived that morning. Opening her bedside drawer, she removed a brand new pair of sheer black hold-up stockings. Her fingers toyed for a moment with a pair of delicate black lace panties. She turned the soft corners of her mouth up slightly before dropping them off the end of her fingers and back into the drawer. Returning to her wardrobe, she then removed a black button-through blouse and black pencil skirt and laid those on the bed. She rolled the dress up into a ball and threw it into a space in the corner of the bedroom. Black will always fill a space.
Lydia left her apartment at just after seven in the evening, as she always did on a Friday night. She pushed the button to call the elevator. When it arrived she stepped inside and pushed the button for the ground floor. The doors closed behind her. The walls closed around her. There was the faintest smell of oil, rubber and body odour. ‘The slightest smells will always fill a small place,’ she thought to herself as the tight silver box rumbled and juddered its mechanical way down. Stepping out of the lift, she made her way to the bus stop outside the apartment block, as she always did every Friday night.
As she waited for the bus she thought of Michael. By now he would have cleaned his apartment and probably be making his way to the Chinese takeaway to collect their supper. She would arrive at his apartment, and they would kiss. They would then sit at his table and, by the yellow, waxy light of a solitary flickering candle, they would quietly eat the food he had bought. Then, they would watch a movie, perhaps, or just sit on his sofa and talk about their week. At just after half past ten he would walk her back to the bus stop in time for the last bus home. He would tell her he would see her on Sunday morning before waving her off. Lydia never stayed overnight. In fact, she and Michael had never had sex; he wanted to save that for after the marriage that both she and he knew would never take place. She used to wonder whether she ever aroused Michael at all. She had once kissed him and pressed herself close against him but had felt no urgent response. They would never marry and in her heart she knew why.
The bus turned the corner just down from the apartment block and began to slow as it approached the bus stop. Lydia began to wonder if he would be on the bus again. Every Friday, for the past two or three months, the bus had been practically empty apart from one man who sat near the back. He was habitually dressed in a smart black suit, with a black leather briefcase balanced on his knees. He was always studiously reading what appeared to be essay papers through round-lensed, rimless spectacles. Lydia referred to him in her mind as ‘The Professor’. Every Friday she would board the bus, walk to the back, and sit in the double-seat directly across the aisle from him. Occasionally, he would look up and smile somewhat nervously at her before returning his attention to the papers he was holding. Lydia would return his smile and then look away.
The bus stopped. Its silver door hissed open and Lydia boarded. As she began to walk down the aisle of the bus she could see that he was there. He was sat in his usual seat and was studying his papers. He lifted his eyes momentarily to meet hers as she walked towards him, offering her the faintest hint of a smile before lowering his gaze once more. As Lydia drew level to his seat, instead of sitting down on the seat across from him, she lowered herself into the seat right next to him, closing all the space between them.
He looked up and into her eyes. He smiled again. It was another nervous smile. It felt to Lydia as though he wanted to say something but could not find the words. The bus by now had set off. In those moments Lydia felt like all of space and time had closed around her. There were no gaps into which she could fall. She felt warm and comforted for a reason that she didn’t want to try to understand.
The motions of the bus, which lightly vibrated the seat Lydia was sat on, began to provoke a response between her legs. Something was rising within her and filling space. She reached over slowly and gently took hold of the papers the man by her side was holding. For whatever reason, he released them easily. With her other hand she opened the black leather briefcase that was balanced on his lap and slipped the papers inside. She then closed the briefcase and placed it carefully on the floor by his feet. He looked into her spacious eyes.
Slowly, Lydia moved her fingers onto the zipper of his trousers and began to lower it. Turning towards him slightly, she eased her slender fingers inside the opening. As they did so, they met a bulge that was gently twitching and hardening within his underpants. She continued to look into his eyes as she began to extend her fingers over a responsive cock that was now stiffening and straining against the fabric of his underpants with every passing second. His eyes were beginning to show his vulnerability, and his legs parted slightly as Lydia rubbed and caressed his growing length.
She slipped her fingers deftly under the elastic at the leg of his underpants and ran them up and over his hardening cock. It was warm and smooth. She allowed her fingers to run up and down it, thrilling at how strong, hard and hot it was to her touch. His eyes were becoming wide as she swam into them. She eased his length out of his trousers and looked down as it sprang angrily up at her. Her fingers were now able to move freely up and down the full extent of his arousal and encourage it until the faintest glimpse of pre-cum swam and shone from the small eye at the bulbous head. This was quickly followed by more of the warm, slick lubricant as she continued to tease and stroke him.
As her fingers became coated with the first flow of his desire, she moved her head down into his lap. Slowly she drew her tongue up his quivering length, from base to tip, leaving a trail of glistening saliva shining on it. Slowly, she parted her lips and allowed her mouth to open just enough to surround the head of his cock. He felt the warmth of her breath against him, and the moist softness of her mouth so close. He pushed upwards a little as if to encourage her but she kept her lips tight around the head. She then slid her tongue out and down against his frenulum and flicked the tip of her tongue against it provocatively and gently. Little moans escaped his mouth as her tongue continued to tease it.
Then, in one smooth move, she slowly lowered her lips over his swollen corona and enveloped it within the moist, velvet confines of her warm mouth. She took him deeper and deeper into her mouth until his length touched the back of her throat. Her fingers slipped back into the opening of his trousers and she began to lightly finger his full, firm balls. Slowly at first she began to move her mouth up and down on his rigid, smooth length, gradually building up the speed of her movement. Her mouth and tongue savoured how he felt and tasted, and she thrilled at how he responded to her mouth as it swallowed and fucked him. She could sense him lifting off his seat in order to try to control the rhythm a little, but Lydia knew she was in full control.
His pre-cum was now oozing sweet and warm into her mouth. Hot saliva was now gushing out of her mouth like a waterfall onto his cock, lubricating it further as her mouth began to fuck it faster and faster. His hands were now flat on the seat, on either side of him, and his hips bucking as far as they could to force his length deep into her mouth and throat. He could see that Lydia’s skirt had ridden up her thighs, revealing the lace tops of her stockings. Between his legs he felt her fingers, feathering his balls. He began to feel the surge of his cum rising quickly and uncontrollably up his shaft. Lydia sucked on his length, drenching it with her warm saliva and allowing her tongue to wrap around his now rigid cock as best she could. Within seconds she felt his entire body begin to tremble towards the inevitable climax. For the briefest second there was almost a pause between the last quiver of his body and then the first wave of his hot, creamy lust, which pumped deliciously into her mouth and throat. This was followed by wave after seemingly endless wave of sweet, hot cum pouring into her mouth, as his body went into multiple spasms of ecstasy.
‘The Professor’ was still breathing heavily and fastening the zipper on his trousers as Lydia walked down the aisle, stepped off the bus and walked the short distance to Michael’s apartment. Her cheeks were flushed and between her legs there was a heat and moisture of a kind that she had not felt in almost a million years. She knocked on the door. Within a short time Michael answered. He opened the door and she stepped inside.
“How are you, Lydia?” he asked, as he always did.
“I’m fine,” Lydia replied. She slipped her arms over his shoulders, brought her lips to his and kissed him. She felt his mouth, which so often was tight and rigid, begin to yield readily to her kiss. His slid his tongue into her mouth and moaned. His kiss grew deeper, more intense, and against her she felt the growing bulge in his trousers begin to press against her skirt. His tongue delved into her mouth, plundering her in a way which she had never experienced before. Within moments they were on his sofa, kissing deeply.
Lydia pulled the belt of his trousers and slipped it out of the buckle, before unfastening the button and lowering the zipper. His bottom lifted and he pulled his trousers over his waist and hips and lowered them to his thighs. His cock sprang free. It was hard and needy. Lydia moved her hand to it and surrounded his length with her fingers. Part of her still wanted it inside her. Within seconds, however, Michael had moved his own hand down onto his cock, and had replaced Lydia’s fingers with his own.
Michal continued to kiss Lydia in a way she had never been kissed by him before. His moans were those of someone in the deepest throes of lust. His fingers were wrapped around his cock and he began to lose himself as he fucked himself into frenzy. His moans became ever more intense as his arousal built to its inevitable crescendo. Suddenly, she saw hot cream flood in waves from his cock up and over his tummy as his tongue savoured the last of the taste from her mouth.
A few moments later Michael sank back into the sofa and within moments had fallen into a silent sleep. Lydia smiled. She put her hand in her pocket, pulled out the small box and placed it onto the coffee table. Kissing Michael gently on the forehead, she left.
Lydia went back to her apartment. Taking her suitcase from the wardrobe she began to fill the space within it. That night she had left the girl that she was supposed to be and had been born. She could finally be a teenager at age twenty-six. She was leaving Bethlehem.
Postscript:
This story was partly inspired by ‘Tiger’ from the album ‘This Fire’ by Paula Cole .
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