Michael s Weekend of Destiny
- 2 years ago
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Michael Or The…Mist? free porn video
One recent summer evening, on my way home after a long client meeting, I scanned radio stations hoping to find some music to lift my mood, or at least keep me awake. The Public Radio station’s current events program might have held my interest any other evening, but my tired mind merged the voices into one monotonous drone. Jazz? ‘Classic’ rock? Ah, classical. No that might be too relaxing. Okay. Rock. Loud!
It was just after 6:00 p.m. when I parked in my driveway. The earliest I had been home in ages.
When I opened the car door, I was smothered by the muggy heat of the day and blinded by the sun, still blazing in the evening sky.
Fatigued by a stressful Monday and sleep deprived from a week of insomnia, I leaned my head back against the neck rest, slammed the door shut again, turned up the air conditioner, and switched the dial to classical music.
I’ll just rest my eyes for a few minutes before I go in. The seat felt so comfortable, the car was still cool and I just didn’t seem to have even enough energy to climb my front steps to go inside. Besides, what had I to look forward to at home anyway? Michael was away at a conference all week and, with the way things were between us right now, who could say whether he would have come over tonight anyway.
As the music played in the background, I began to doze.
When I awakened, I felt a cool breeze against my skin and, as my eyes slowly opened, a bright mist surrounded me. The sun filtered through the mist causing each tiny droplet to reflect glints of sparkling gold and sky blue light.
I was lying there, draped over the front steps of the house where my lover had been staying after he left his wife. My head gently resting on my crossed arms perched at the top of the steps. Instead of the business suit I had worn all day, I was wrapped in a long, sheer, pale, rose skirt tied just above my hip. My left leg exposed, bare from my waist. A scarf, of the same fabric, was wrapped around my breasts and held by a single knot.
My legs extended, down, across the steps. I was wearing a single pale, rose satin slipper on my left foot. The right shoe was missing. I gently rubbed my bare toes against the other slipper to make sure that I felt a sensation. This couldn’t be real.
The mist surrounding me covered the lawn all the way to the sidewalk. I could see no pedestrians and, likely, no one could see me.
As I glanced around, I realized that no one was home. The house was quiet and dark. When I raised myself up, back against the stairs, I realized that my arms had been resting on the spot where I had dropped my lace panties, for my lover to find, that special evening I surprised him on the porch.
Despite having responsibility for millions of dollars and large staffs during most of my career, I had never before felt safe enough and loved enough to express my sexuality so boldly. On that evening, I had waited for Michael there, on his brother’s porch. His brother had taken his family away on vacation, so we would have the house to ourselves. Michael had recently left his wife, after years of putting up with her infidelities, and had not yet decided whether to move in with me or get a place of his own.
That night I had told Michael he needed to be at his brother’s place by 7:00 p.m. I told him that dinner was being delivered from a new café that I had just discovered and that I would be late because of a last minute client demand. In fact, I was waiting for him on the porch swing, wearing only the sundress he liked so much. When he arrived, I sat there on the porch swing, my right leg bent, my foot resting on the bench, my other leg extended onto the porch where my toes pushed gently against the wood to keep the swing moving slowly.
As Michael stepped onto the porch, he found the panties, at first thinking that someone had dropped a handkerchief. But when he saw me, he raised the lace up to his face to smell my scent as he walked toward me. I had placed pillows at my feet so that he could comfortably kneel.
Within moments, he began tasting the sweet nectar that was already flowing from me.
That was the first time I had ever opened myself completely to someone. After Michael left his wife and moved in with his brother, we had finally begun to explore the true feelings we had for each other. But knowing the trauma I had experienced earlier in life and the caution with which I approached every relationship, he had said we could take things as slowly as I needed. We would spend hours together touching, tasting and caressing. My first, gentle orgasms arose from his sweet lips and moist tongue making love to my sensitive breasts.
That night, when we went inside from the porch, he filled me completely for the first time.
Michael and I had known each other for more than 6 years and had been friends most of that time, having met while serving together on a committee for a charity we both support. He was on the faculty of a local university’s Business School and, given that I practiced in his field, we quickly developed both a professional and personal relationship.
When we first met, he and his wife were going through some initial strain in their marriage so, as I always did with my married friends, I acted as the supportive comforter. Never allowing myself to cross any sexual boundaries with him. Not even a kiss.
Eventually those initial marital problems seemed to have worked themselves out. But, in recent years, she had returned to her unfaithful ways. This time he moved out.
We had been together romantically for only a few weeks when she had begged him to give her another chance. So now, away at the conference, he was presumably making his decision.
And here I was sitting on his brother’s porch steps surrounded by a surreal fog of mist not knowing whether Michael would ever return to me as a lover.
Looking down the path, again, I saw the figure of a man amid the mist. He appeared to be about 6 feet tall, wearing an attractive business suit. There was something in his hand but I couldn’t quite make it out since the mist was so thick even as he approached.
Is it Michael? Home early! Had he made his decision and chosen me?
When the man emerged from the mist at the bottom of the stairs, I could see the object in his hand. It was my right slipper. I must have lost it on the sidewalk.
I still couldn’t make out his face since the cloud of mist seemed heavier around his head. And I couldn’t quite tell from his torso whether it was, in fact, Michael. The suit looked exactly like one Michael wore but the physique outlined beneath the suit seemed a bit more trim. I remember Michael joking about needing to spend less time in boardrooms and classrooms and more time in the gym.
He kneeled down on one knee, as if to propose, and I expected him to place the slipper on my bare foot. I felt like an aging Cinderella. But, instead, he placed the slipper that was in his hand on the bottom step and gently removed my other slipper, raising it slowly up to his face as if to take in my scent.
Momentarily, the mist grew dense around us as I felt him gently massaging my feet, then my calves, slowly moving up to caress my thighs. When the mist cleared a bit, I looked down to see that my skirt now lay open as he began to gently kiss my inner thighs. Soon I could feel his nose nuzzling and combing my pubic hair as his mouth began to explore my sex, tasting my feminine juices. His tongue reached deep inside me to my very core.
How I wanted to run my fingers through his hair, massage his scalp, but I needed to keep my elbows back against the top step to keep myself propped up. His strong arms were already holding my back and bottom so that I would not injure my spine as I began writhing and quivering with passion as a cascade of orgasms flowed through me.
My back arched and my head swung back as I cried out in ecstasy as this visitor from the mist continued
to make love to me with his mouth.
As my trembling began to subside, I could feel him gently lifting me from the steps and laying me down on the cool grass. Looking up at him, I could see that his suit, all of his clothing, had evaporated. It was not Michael’s body, it was a runner’s body but the soft charcoal and gray chest hair belonged to my sweet Michael. The face, clearer now, looked like Michael with traits of other men I had liked or loved during my life. And his eyes, one moment appeared blue-gray like Michael’s and at other times brown or hazel.
I no longer had a sense of what was real.
He knelt down, straddling my hips, and reached to untie the knot holding the scarf around my bodice as I reached up to caress his face. After a moment, he took my hands in his and kissed each palm, then, moving my arms to my sides, he bent down to kiss my chest. His firm, gentle hands cupped and caressed my breasts, I could feel his warm breath on me as he began to suckle them. His tongue, circling my full, hard nipples, as I massaged his back, his hips, then, kneading his bottom, pulled him down onto me. I begged him to kiss me as I reached down to caress and guide his erect penis.
My limited vocabulary cannot express how I felt as he thrust himself deep inside me, my hips thrashing forward to meet his, my muscles reflexively tightening around him as he reached those parts of me no one had ever touched. Tensing at his final thrust, my body exploded in orgasm as the sun, piercing through the bright blue mist, blinded me.
Tremors continued through my body as he filled me, our juices combining within me as rivulets of our sweet cocktail flowed down my thighs.
This man of the mist held me so closely as our spent bodies, entwined, relaxed into one another’s arms.
Gazing deeply into his eyes, at last, we kissed, my mouth opened slightly, the tip of my tongue outlining his lower lip. His tongue slowly entered my mouth as I began to suck gently. When I released him from our deep kiss, I covered his face with soft kisses as I traced every inch of his profile with my fingers so never to forget this sweet visitor from the mist.
And then, as his lips brushed against my ear, I heard him whisper, ‘I love you and I will always be here for you when you need me.’
The mist surrounded us again as we fell asleep in each other’s arms.
Later. Groggy. Drenched with perspiration, I awakened.
The gentle breeze and cool mist had evaporated, replaced by the sticky heat, which still hung in the air. As my eyes squinted open, the last few rays of the setting sun managed to momentarily blind me again.
I could hear a string quartet in the distance and then brief applause. Parked a few feet away, in the driveway, I saw my car with the driver’s side door still open. The announcer broke in with the classical station’s call letters followed by a weather report. ‘Today has certainly been steamy, and with temperatures close to 100 degrees, a high for this day, I hope all of you out there have stayed cool and are drinking plenty of water. Now, we’ll return to the concert.’
I was sitting, slightly sideways, on the porch steps. My head had been resting on my folded arms on the porch, my porch, not the porch where I had made love with Michael just a few weeks ago.
As I became fully present to my surroundings, I realized that my blouse was wet with perspiration, my linen suit crumpled, with the skirt pulled up almost to my waist. I hastily smoothed it down, hoping that none of the neighbors had seen me lying there that way.
Then, looking down at my legs, extended, resting against the bottom step, I noticed that my right pump had fallen from my foot and was in the driveway at the bottom of the steps.
I sat up and examined my legs. I saw nothing more than a small run in my stocking.
As I stood up, I had to steady myself, woozy from the heat and dehydration.
I walked to the car, turned off the ignition, grabbed my keys, shut the door, and left my briefcase in the car. No work tonight.
As I went inside to my lonely house, I promised myself all of the ice water I could drink, a light supper, cool shower and sleep.
I managed the meal and the shower but, again, no sleep. Only the artificial light from the computer monitor staring back at me as I typed my story. Better a night of writing than another spent alone in bed staring at the pillow that was once his.
Hortense
- 21.07.2020
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