Mme Moreau
- 2 years ago
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It wasn't just her warm, moist breath. She was nibbling on my ear in a full court press. Holy Smokes!
I'd known Kitty about 5 years, she was with Rick and I with Becky – It was a socially polite relationship. Kitty had always been a looker, but one bound up in slightly too much clothing. She didn't mind wearing a clingy skirt or blouse, but if she did, she would inevitably wear a jacket, scarf, or frilly something to obscure her form. She let it be known that she had the right curves; she just didn't let you appreciate them fully. Irritating, actually.
For that matter, she wore too much makeup. It's not like she was trying to portray the image of a very attractive but modest housewife; she fully succeeded in doing that, in style, all the time. Even at a pool party, she would wear a one piece, but cover herself with a wrap up until the exact moment she entered the pool. Or got out. But, always, there was something about the shape of her face, the depth of her blue eyes and her full bodied mid-length blonde hair that begged the notion of a tigress, regardless if she kept herself on a leash.
It is, of course, wrong to think that way about another person's wife, but with a teasing name like Kitty, and those looks, thinking of a hellcat in bed wasn't difficult. Add in good conversation and a quick wit, and she was enjoyable company at any function.
Advancing forward, I'm a widower, and she's fairly recently divorced. And as of 30 minutes ago, she's wearing a sleeveless blouse and assuming all sorts of cute poses in the seat above me as our group awaited a speaker in the auditorium.
Let me define "cute poses." She's smiling at me. She's wearing a skirt that cuts off above her knees, affording me gracious views of her impeccably tanned legs. And a bit of thigh. (Don't stare). Everyone knows that high-heeled shoes are back in vogue. Hers take the minimalist look, with only several wispy thin, black straps that suggest "It's a business function now, but you should see what else I wear with these shoes. " And I'm not "into" feet, but dang those are cute toes. And well manicured toenails, and soft arches, and ... well, naked begins at the tips of her toes and goes exactly how far into that skirt? It's just too impolite, at present, to fathom the depths of those shadows. And does she ever so slightly squeeze her arms inward when she's talking to me, just enough that her breasts swell against the form revealing cotton blouse? And those breasts are holding a beautiful position, casting a slight shadow over her tight abdomen even in a well lit room. "Cute poses."
And it's a Tuesday. Afternoon. I'm tiger bait, helpless in her domain.
Just as I had been thinking about how to set up a plan to have a discussion after the session ended, she had taken the lead. "I'm thirsty. Do you want to come get a drink with me?" I was spellbound. What else could I have done? Fortunately, none of our adjacent associates decided they were thirsty as well.
And so it was that she guided me to a stairwell to have a "quick personal conversation." Ultimately, as she drew closer where I could capture the smell of her, it was a personal proposition delivered in business form. "You're the one that I've wanted, for longer than you know. I know this is awkward, but I need to know if you're interested, now, because there is another opportunity, and I don't want to miss both."
Wow. Flattering. I think.
And in my vast experience in such instances, there are a flurry of possible responses. To wit:
1) I'm really not attracted to aggressive women.
2) Are you proposing a serious relationship that possibly ends in something permanent?
3) Kitty, as your friend, I think it's too soon after your divorce to jump into anything.
4) Why me?
5) Who is the other guy?
6) How long have you planned this?
7) Is modesty your true nature, or the more forward woman I see now?
And, with it being improper to ask all those questions, they're crossed off as follows:
1) I've actually never had a woman come on to me. I like it.
2) Obviously, yes. Or, I think obviously. She's not the type, I think, to be booking her bedtime plan for the evening. Or lunch.
3) It's long enough. Don't be a wuss.
4) Don't go there. It doesn't matter.
5) Don't go there. It doesn't matter.
6) At least as recently as she got dressed this morning, but possibly earlier. Likely earlier.
7) That is, indeed, the question. Proceed.
So, I gathered her in my arms, pulling her close, and began with a romantic kiss. I peeked. Her eyes were closed. And now, to see if she's still wrapped up in layers...
Yes, her body didn't just remain in an embrace, it adjusted for fuller body contact. There was a slight but noticeable periodic pressure against my groin. Nicely done. And her tongue became alive. I could, and probably should, fuck her right there. Which was at the forefront of my thoughts as she stretched her head upwards, and, as noted earlier, was making good work of my ear lobes.
But I'm not that kind of guy. I don't want to jump fully into a relationship, or a business proposition such as this, without the details of the contract. And, honestly, despite the thrill, I'm not so thrilled at the prospect of being found in the stairwell in a civic auditorium by the Police, ushers, or anyone else, which would be likely as I wouldn't want this particular experience to be a quiet one. Yet, my hands found themselves grasping a very firm butt as I pulled her even closer. Yet, as I was grasping her very taut hips which begun a circling motion, I wasn't in a hurry to end whatever this was. Tigress.
How could I possibly be a victim of too many thoughts with a raging hard on? Yet, not now and not here. I broke away.
I looked at her. She looked ready to eat me.
I had to take a few breaths to let thoughts form more fully into words.
"Kitty, I want you to come to my place at 7:00 tonight. I'll prepare dinner, but I want you bring with you three to five questions, at least one of which has to be about sex, written down, that you would want to know about me."
"You'll do the same?" she asked.
"Yes, of course." That was really my point, though she wouldn't know that.
"That should be interesting. And fun. Looking back, I definitely want to get things right next time."
Indeed. Maybe she understood my agenda after all.
I don't think either of us heard anything the speaker said that afternoon. Real Estate law updates are not exactly compelling, and, in fact, they turn to vapor given Kitty's toes periodically grazing my neck and ear. I couldn't look back, but I couldn't help but wonder if anyone noticed what she was doing to me. I tried to fashion how I might phrase questions for that evening, but the thought of twisting around to suck her toes there and then interfered.
Afterwards, departing pleasantries were exchanged by everyone except us. Her eyes, though. Her eyes ... I'm glad she didn't press to follow me home. I needed the time.
To vacuum, for one. And clean the bathroom. And change the sheets, and ... think. And think mostly of what I wanted sexually from a new partner, if not a new wife.
After my wife's passing two years earlier, I dated very little. I loved her deeply, but our sexual relationship was fiery at its beginning and settled into a very dreary world of vanilla, "that felt good," almost obligatory sex. Fantasies can sustain, but as rewarding as they may be, they're also a reminder of distant reality is. And some fantasies I certainly wanted to be a part of my reality, regardless of how tempting the dish. And Kitty was definitely dishy.
That afternoon notwithstanding, "Ms. Modesty" was my prevailing understanding of Kitty. She clearly had passion, but I had no idea whether she would revert to that in time, or whether she had a gravitation to kinks, for lack of a better word. It was a nervous endeavor to craft questions that met my needs, and speculating on her reaction was tortuous, never mind her doing those things that I so wanted her to do. So, as I prepped for dinner, I confined my thoughts on how she might dress for the evening. Patience.
She arrived on time. I had alerted the Concierge to notify me and send her up when she arrived, and I greeted her at the elevator lobby on my floor.
She stepped forward, raising an arm to lean against the open elevator door, stretching her opposite leg at an enticing angle.
"You like?" she asked.
I had expected thin, clingy party dress or dressy sophisticate would be her wardrobe. I had countered with black dress slacks and a short sleeve button up casual shirt with a casual jacket. Boring on my part, well-conceived on hers.
She arrived in a college T-shirt from my alma mater. She knew the team I loved, and she had apparently gone shopping for it. It wasn't particularly tight, but it's cut was short. Her particular position raised her shirt, where I could see a taut abdomen and a cute belly button, pierced with a small gold ball. That was fairly shocking, actually.
Almost neglected, but not quite, were the blue jean shorts, rather, the short blue jean shorts and her long, well defined legs. No high heels this time, but rather sandals, the sort you have around for comfort wear. A toe ring added balance to her navel piercing. The overnight bag behind her was an encouraging accessory. I now understood the uncertainty in the Concierge's voice when she had called to let me know Kitty was on her way up. Most residents and their guests dressed to impress. Obviously, that depends on the audience.
The elevator interrupted my thoughts with a loud "buzz."
"Well, I guess 'speechless' is a compliment then," she said.
"Actually, no, the word that came to me as soon as I saw you was 'delicious.' I'm just appreciating how delicious you look."
"Flattery will get you everywhere, buster."
I took her bag and offered my hand and we walked the short distance down the hall to my Condo. Had I ventured a kiss ... all the planning might be for naught.
The Condo life is not one that is common to my friends. But, after my wife's accident, I had wanted something different, away from suburbia without the headaches of many possessions, household maintenance, a lawn to care for ... in short, I wanted a new start. And the settlement from the drunk's insurance company had afforded me an 18th floor view of downtown Atlanta, plus savings.
She took in the main living area at a glance, pronouncing "It's very masculine" as she took in the darker tones of the flooring, fabrics and wood trim. Yes, it was, but certainly by no means glum. She ventured to the dining area, where a single spot shown on the center of the table, on which a tall red candle was burning. White table cloth, cloth napkins, elegant wine glasses, muted lighting, a single candle ... I can do romantic. Of course, the way she was dressed, a tailgate BBQ may have been better suited.
I gave her the quick tour, because there is no extended tour in high rise Condos. The kitchen, dining area and living area are all one room. Which leaves a bedroom converted to study/office, a bedroom for guests, a full bath, a hall closet and, of course, the master bedroom. Each bedroom had an exterior wall, and the master bedroom had an expansive view of the City from floor to ceiling. She said nothing, taking in the view. The pause was almost uncomfortable, but then I noticed her mouth had opened slightly and her nipples, if my mind wasn't playing tricks, had hardened. I made a movement, setting her bag at the foot of my bed.
Her trance apparently broken, she turned and smiled.
"You looked lost in thought," I said. Her face blossomed into a smile. "Yes, you have a beautiful view. My bedroom has windows, and I don't know if I've ever looked through them after the blinds and curtains were installed. This is so ... open."
"Well, that's true. But I don't have neighbors walking their dogs or UPS trucks making deliveries outside my window."
Kitty didn't say anything to this, but I could see her quickly scan the high rises in the not-too-distant distance. Interesting.
"I've had invitations to showings of condos, but my customer base isn't located here. I really like this; I should have taken advantage to see more." She turned to face me. "I suppose you never know what someone might like until you show them the options. You have very good tastes. I really like it here." Music to my ears. She briefly took in the art that I had chosen, some of the books that were lying around, and life with little storage space as we made our way back to the living area.
I slid open the door. "And then, there's the balcony."
"I've been waiting for this. It's gorgeous!"
This I knew from experience, just as I knew the sun would be setting in about 45 minutes. It was a fairly simple balcony, with a table, two chairs, and footrests. One plant was all that I could commit to watering. But my balcony was like the several above it and all the ones below. They were all placed at the narrow end of the building. They were therefore "private" except at the very ends, at least in reference to other residents within the building.
"Hungry?" I asked. Kitty grasped my hand and pulled close as we made our way back inside. I don't know perfumes. But hers was subdued, to the point where I wanted to get far too close too fast and inhale her scent.
Dinner was a salad, Penne with peppery broccoli and Morel sauce, and a side of asparagus, for a number of reasons. I'm good at preparing it, it goes well with wine, and it's not so loaded with protein that it puts me to sleep. Or, hopefully, her. I refrained from adding garlic to the bread. That was not how I wanted the evening to be remembered.
We caught up, awkwardly, actually. It was strange to talk about a period of time in which we were attached to others while beginning new possibilities. Still, conversation became pleasantly casual, during which she reminded me why I had always liked her. Or, more honestly put, why I maintained a curiosity about her even though we had been off-limits. It hadn't been a case of outright lust, back then. But my interest had certainly been with a clear recognition of the paths not taken in life.
Her eyes shine when she's talking about a subject that she's interested, she listens well and engages with good questions, and she transitions from one topic to another without having skipped past what was to be learned or slowing into tedium. She's a great conversationalist, and conversation is certainly something that, with a bowl of fruit, can be enjoyed on a balcony as the sun sets. Oh, yes, with the wine and the glasses.
Kitty seemed mesmerized as the sun settled between two buildings and dipped finally below the horizon. I hadn't paid much attention. The warm tones of the evening sun on her face had been much more remarkable. She turned toward me, a casual smile on her face, knowing.
"That was beautiful," she said.
"Yes, you are." I replied.
She gazed into my eyes. If either of us made a move, I could have her at that moment. But we both knew we were there for more than that. It was time.
I placed the table to the side for our wine and arranged the seats so that we were knee to knee. "It's time to find out a bit about ourselves. Do you want to go first, or me?"
"I will, she said. Ladies first, you know." She had no notes, but she didn't seem to be at any loss. "What do you think is the best way to keep a relationship alive, after the first couple years?"
I answered, "After the lust wears off? And you find that you live with someone who actually has flaws?"
"Exactly," she said.
"Love is a commitment, not a feeling. I read a book about that some years ago."
"Probably, the Five Love Languages."
"That was it. Communication is key, and you have to be intentional on making sure you're connected."
We talked about the love languages a bit, her primary one being words of affirmation, words that weren't known in her ex's vocabulary. Good to know.
It was my turn. "What turns you on the most?"
"If that's your first question, this is going to get real interesting fast," she teased. But, her answer was surprising. "I'm still waiting to find out." What followed was an explanation of how her ex had quickly gravitated towards sex when it suited his needs, and his detachment for long periods of time when he became jealous, rightly or wrongly, when other men looked at her or even talked with her at length. "It's fair to say that you've caused me to be deprived, by the way." I wasn't sure how to take that. "On several occasions, in fact. He was awful." It had led, gradually, for her to question whether each man really lusted after her, to dressing as conservatively as possible, to mild violence, which became enough for her to call it quits. This didn't answer my question, but it wasn't appropriate to press.
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After a really good night of sex the last thing I remember before I went to sleep was that my cock was hard from thinking about my wife and what we did all last night. Now it's morning and my cock is still hard. I wonder if it has it been that way all night?My wife is lying next to me, her naked body pressed to mine as we lay there with the early morning sunshine coming through the window. I listen to her breathing, feeling her warm breath in the back of my neck, very aware of her warm body...
The emails between Cheryl and me had dropped to a bare minimum in the last couple of weeks. We had established a pattern. When she could, Cheryl would appear in our apartment around ten in the morning on Mondays, Wednesdays and Thursdays. The only emails we exchanged came when there was some reason when she was unable to keep our arrangement. The ping I heard announced something in my inbox. I started to feel dejected. Cheryl couldn’t join me this particular Monday. “Family obligations,” the...
Straight SexThe flight from Heathrow to Newark was late; late enough that I missed my connecting flight to BWI and had to wait until after six pm for the “next available.” It was, after all, Christmas Eve. I was lucky to even get a seat. I called Marissa to give her the bad news. She took it in stride. “I’ll meet you at baggage claim, sweetie. Love you.” “Love you, too, babe.” Air kisses and I clicked off. I slept a little bit in the Presidents Club lounge, but an insistent buzzing from my phone finally...
Love Stories"And breakfast!" he replied, holding up a fast food bag. He looked at her as she reached out for the drink and bag. Her hair was pulled up into a messy bun and not one bit of makeup, but all he could think was, "Beautiful!" Her eyes didn't hide her happiness at seeing him. Those eyes! Like no color he'd ever seen before. Her smile lit up the room as much as his soul as he looked at her. Full, sensuous lips, the corners turned up in a perpetual half-smile, half-smirk. As she turned to...
Leaning back in the taxi, Olive tried to relax as the lazy spring evening sped past the windows. Magnolias, cherry blossoms, camellias. She was passing through the quiet side of the city now, houses with gardens and garages, the kind of upper class pristine suburbia that only seemed to exist in lifestyle magazines. The sky was deepening and traffic was quiet. His house was half a mile away. She’d never been there before. He didn’t even know she knew the address, let alone that she was on her...
MasturbationALEJANDRA’S VOICE WAS STEADY when she telephoned on a Friday about a month after that evening when she discovered me with her mother. “Michael, will you meet me for coffee?” “Sure.” It was a hesitant Alejandra who waited for me at the sidewalk bar near the plaza. She rose when I arrived and leaned forward for a hug. I kissed her cheek and held her face in my hands for a moment. “Thanks for coming, Michael.” I smiled. “My pleasure, Alex.” I ordered coffee for both of us. After it came I...
It took a while for sleep to leave him as he slowly opened his eyes. The sound of the sea, gently undulating in the near-distance, reached his ears. He stretched his worn muscles across the surface of the bed, the soft high-quality cotton sheets brushed against his skin, soothing his weary body and, finally, he smiled. The memories of the previous night jostled back into his consciousness as the sensation of sleep dwindled. He remembered the restaurant they’d visited, just off a beautiful...
Una missione come un'altra... Per Anna non fa alcuna differenza chi sia il suo obbiettivo siano questi uomo, donna, bambini non fa differenza. Con il tempo ha imparato a sopprimere il buon senso, se mai ne ha avuto, sviluppando anzi un certo sadismo per le sue... Imprese. Kazuya Mishima: capo di Anna e leader della G corporation, azienda biotecnologica, oltre la sua odiata famiglia ha diversi rivali che minano la sua industria. Uno di questi è un ricco e vecchio imprenditore giapponese,...
It took a while for sleep to leave him as he slowly opened his eyes. The sound of the sea, gently undulating in the near-distance, reached his ears. He stretched his worn muscles across the surface of the bed, the soft high-quality cotton sheets brushed against his skin, soothing his weary body and, finally, he smiled. The memories of the previous night jostled back into his consciousness as the sensation of sleep dwindled. He remembered the restaurant they’d visited, just off a beautiful...
Love StoriesPromises and Secrets: A Teenage Transsexual By Maria Ski Things changed for me after I was discovered trying on my sisters clothes. My mother had caught me. But there was no anger, no disgust, just a warm understanding smile and the love of a mother. From that day of being discovered, and after telling my sisters things seemed to change. Every weekend I became Maria. With a wardrobe of girls clothes of my own which I either bought myself or had bought for me. One thing led to...
Paul awoke with a jolt. He was naked, he was naked! The last thing he remembered was buying the girl at the bar a drink. She had been a beautiful raven haired girl with deep blue eyes. And so four women now surrounded him. Paul struggled in the restraints as they locked his wrists and ankles into the chair. He was naked and totally unaware he was being watched through a one way mirror. The technicians behind the glass gently typed commands on their keyboards. As they did the chair gently...
Promises and Secrets: Reunion Part 1: An Unexpected Surprise. A Cross-dressing tale by Maria Ski *Ten years earlier* "I really would like..." my forefinger gently touched her cheek I lifted her chin and our lips touched... I held Tina in my embrace it felt right. She rested her head against mine. "What would you really like to do?" she whispered. "To kiss you again Tina," I replied. She stepped back holding my hands leading me to her bed. "You can kiss me again my...
THE TENNIS MATCH and the evening with Aída and Alejandra apparently was my last major test before being admitted to the family circle, albeit as a very probationary member. Tonight I was stuffed after a full Sunday dinner at the main house. We’d left Monsieur M and his wife in the front room with a fire and their after-dinner drinks and headed for Alejandra’s little cottage in the far corner of the compound. “It was a dark and stormy night.” I couldn’t contain my laughter. “Seriously,...
The Kick Part 2 - As a Sophomore (Drew switches from Track and Cross Country to Soccer, is injured during a match, and begins to live with the consequences of his injury.) For my sophomore year I wanted to try a different sport. Like, Track and Cross Country were fun but, for Cross Country especially, they were more individual sports than team sports and I missed being part of a team where everyone depended upon everyone else if the team was to succeed. Jeff was on the soccer team...
Thank-you for taking the time to read another story from my often-wacky imagination. This started off as a one and done but I've been informed, that this isn't all of their story.As always please favorite, rate, comment, and send me some feedback.I love hearing from everyone!A shout out to my favorite 'editor' Thank-you for always pre-reading, giving me input and for just being a great friend!*The rain was lightly tapping on the roof of the new-to-me pop-up camper. It was far from fresh off the...
Short fiction seems particularly suited to the absence of resolution. Leaving us without the comfort of conclusion, or at least the sense of it, is often a story’s most effective tool for making sure it gets prime real estate inside our brains. Some of my favorite stories take particular delight in doing little more than drawing the reader in and engaging them, then walking away. Paolo Bacigalupi’s ‘The Fluted Girl,’ available online, is a great example of this. Even stories that present a...
Denise looked in on Sylvie while she was sleeping. Walking into the room, she brushed open the drapes, letting the sunshine flow over her uncovered body. Knowing that Sylvie would wake from the light, she turned and looked out onto the ocean. Sylvie spoke, "Good morning. God, I slept well. The sound of the ocean always does this to me." Denise looked at Sylvie stretching. "You are just as beautiful as ever. I was surprised when you called and said you were at the airport. You haven't...
Jim sat in the little club thinking. Why did Sylvie wish to speak to him after nearly nineteen years? She said when she called it was about a promise she had made to herself a long time ago. -- Older, much more mature and still attractive, she came up to the booth behind him. He stood and greeted her and when they sat down she said, "It has been a long time, Jim. I asked you to meet me here to give you some information. You know when I left that time so long ago I was falling in love with...
Compromise by Bleedingheartz Joseph Hart had just arrived at the luggage pickup area of the Port Orion airport. It wasn't that late, but he always got tired when he traveled by plane. He was anxious to get a rental car, check into his hotel room, and lie down to rest for awhile. He was planning a leisurely dinner and possibly some lounging outside the hotel restaurant that supposedly had an excellent view of the ocean. He was in Port Orion on business. Tomorrow, he would be meeting...
Chapter 8 Trial Day 6 These people honour me with their lips, but their hearts are far from me. They worship me in vain, their teachings are but rules taught by men.’ Isaiah 29:13, Mark 7:6-7 Cynthia Mayotte’s death dominated the news media. Speculation was rife that there was a connection between her death and the case in progress. Much was made of the fact that Mayotte and Janine had been alone in his office, and several attempts were made to contact him, before the police were dispatched...
Marilyn Grant missed Andy over the next weeks. She didn’t enjoy Hell Week as much as some of the other actives did, but she, they, and even the pledges, got through it. Then, right after the pledges got their badges, she got a little sister, Beverly. She had been one of the brighter pledges, and she’d done less complaining than most during the pledge period. They sat together during house meals for two days before she introduced Beverly to Natalie and Caitlin. They all knew each other, of...
In the middle of the week before Christmas, Andy’s Dad asked him whether he’d sent the Christmas packages to California. “Weeks ago. This would be too late.” “And did you get a present for your young lady?” “Dammit, no,” Andy said “Well, I know you think me an old fart, but I suggest you do so. Do you know her well enough to select a book?” “Not really.” Although that would be his first choice. But she didn’t read SF, and she had any literature that he knew would interest her. “I’d...
Deshawn told me to wait for him a small bar in a community far outside the city, and I sat there with a beer for a good 20 minutes before he walked up to my booth and sat down. He was muscular and wearing leather pants. I was so turned on and had difficulties hiding it. My eyes lingered on the bulge on the leather pants around his crotch. He saw it and sneered. - So. You’re the one desperate for black dick, huh? - Yes sir - And you’re willing to submit completely to get it? - I, ugh… yes....
There was supposed to be a wedding. A baby. Sex. Love. Ida McNown was supposed to trade her life, her name for fields full of deer, clouds, and a man who did not love her. But Ida’s mother was talking about lace and babies and uniting two clans. It was a dream. But it was not her dream. No, she dreamed of something else. XXX She pulled on his uniform, tugging the jacket off his shoulders. She untied his belt, pushed his shirt to the side. She watched his chest strain, as if his heart were...
Every time it happened, I was ashamed. I thought that he would be the first and the last of my unprofessional encounters but it seemed that more and more attractive and lonely men found their way into my studio and I was somehow always ready. I fucked two in the first week after Maxwell. One was built like a Greek god, his abs showed through his shirt. I knew what to do with him the moment he walked in. I didn't even charge him for the massage. What was happening to me? Was the stereotype...
FetishThey sit, one in each corner of the double closet, like two, squat, white, abstract pieces of art, open to whatever interpretation the viewer chooses to make of them. Only the sculptor can validate the interpretation of any observer. Even though I own them I have no intention of even confirming what they represent or why they stand, alone and abandoned, in the corner of my clothes closet. They are both my cross and my salvation, all in the same breath; my sole remaining link to the past and the...
EDITOR’S NOTE: This is one of a series of papers the Journal presents for scholars of pre-Conquest indigenous cultures and ceremonies in the Americas. Every effort has been made to verify the authenticity of alleged contemporary accounts. While the authenticity of the document itself presented here is not in doubt, i.e., that it was written at or around the date of the activities it describes, the events chronicled therein are at significant variance from other sources and contemporary...