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‘What if I were there?’

If you were here? I look around at my apartment. If you were here, I would take your hand and lead you into the bedroom and close the door and turn off the lights.

Your back against the wall and my hands on your soft t-shirt feeling heat of your skin seep through the cotton and warm my hands. I’d pause there for a second and look at your blue, blue eyes and sweep the bangs off your forehead and press my cheek against yours so I can feel your sexy, scratchy stubble. We would both blush from the excitement and anticipation and intensity. And then we would kiss.

Slow, slow, slow.

My hands would look for more warmth and reach under your shirt and skim over the smooth planes of your chest, and your hands would slide around my waist and up my back, firm and certain. You would leisurely twirl my curls around your fingers and I would lean into your taste and your smell and the softness of your lips, pressing my body against yours, my hands coming out from your shirt to go all in your hair.

My shirt off, your shirt off.

You would make some flirty comment about my bra, which is good because I would wear a sexy one just for you. I would tell you that. ‘I wore it just for you.’

Now you would turn us around so I’m against the wall and you’re pressing hard against me, I would feel you, hard, against me. Lips on my lips, lips on my neck, lips on my shoulder, so soft and so warm. Your stubble would rub against my skin and I would comment on how sexy it feels and you would say, ‘I wore it just for you.’ You would smile and I would feel the shape of your smile hot against my neck.

We would turn so we’re front to back, your front to my back, your back to the wall. Your lips would kiss softly down my neck, so tender that I swear my body is melting against yours. Your hands would touch my waist and my stomach, stroke the tops of my breasts following the gentle curving line of the top of my bra. Your hands would feel so good, and I would want them to feel more of me so I’d take off my bra. (You were never good at that.) I would drop it on the carpet and you would say ‘You know, it looked good on you, but it looks even better on the floor.’

We would stumble to the bed.

Your weight would feel good on top of me, and your mouth would feel so good tasting my collarbone and my nipples and my stomach. My skin would be warm where you kiss me and tingly where I would want you to kiss me. You would reach the waistband of my skirt and I’d whisper to you to take it off. Your tongue would skim the lacy edge of my panties and I’d stroke your hair while mouthing ‘Please…’

My legs would fall open like a flower for you and your hands would sit on the tops of my thighs while you kiss my center. I would be so wet—for this, for you. You know what I like, and you know how I like it and you’d go down on me until my eyes couldn’t roll back any further, until I couldn’t gasp anymore, until my heartbeat thudded so loud it practically echoed and all I could say was your name your name your name because I’d be dizzy and lost with pleasure.

And then I’d lay back in rhapsody and you’d unzip your jeans and slide them off. I’d pull you back to me because I would miss your warmth already and I’d push you on your back and straddle you, feeling your hardness press against me. I would kiss your perfect mouth softly and let my breasts press against your chest and I would feel the feverish warmth of your neck against my lips as I rocked back and forth on you with just one layer of cloth separating us.

I would slide down your body and pull of your boxers and then I’d be on you and around you and you’d be in me and under me. You’d hold my curving waist and I’d hold your muscular shoulders and our eyes would be closed but we’d be able to hear each other and feel each other, yes, yes, finding our rhythm, in and yes and out and yes, harder, our skin getting humid and flushed, our sighs getting urgent and rushed, and then we would finish, our cries harmonizing like sensual song and I would collapse on top of you, lying there as our breaths would slow down.

I would crawl off of you and curl into the space between your arm and your chest and put my hand on your chest to feel your heart. You would kiss the side of my mouth and sigh a sigh of contentment and I would kiss your eyelids and stroke your hair, until your skin had cooled down and your breathing was even and slow, and I would lie next to you, watching you dream until morning.

If you were here.

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IntroductionAt the edge of this galaxy, in the outer spiral arm there relatively few planets that are earth normal and those that are and occupied are known as rim worlds. There isolation over time, and distance from Imperial control had made rim worlds magnets for groups and cults that wished to make there own societies and one such world is known as Prophet.First settled many centuries ago it had been turned into every thing the ruling Elders had ever dreamed of, church and state in one; of...

Smithereens

SmithereensPage 1. She was the sweetest little number you would ever hope to see and she wasn't even young. I'd gotten to know her at the home decorating outlet she owned and she was forty two with two grown children. But man was she sweet, about five foot one and maybe a hundred and five pounds and almost no fucking tits, no bust at all. During the hot summer months, when I'd drop in more than necessary for her (un) needed expertise, she'd often wear a tank top under a...

The Making of A Little Heresy

Someone tried to unlock the apartment door. The key scratched against the lock time and time again. Amanda looked up from her laptop, then she rose and walked into the hallway. “Greg, is that you?” she called hesitantly through the door. A muffled grunt answered her. Calming her nerves, she opened the door a crack, only to be face to face with her husband. The stink of whiskey was heavy on his breath, his hair ruffled and his expensive suit crinkled. “Lemme in, that damn key’s not working,”...

Grandfathered

In 1983, John Smith took over Smith's Garage from his father. The business, including the building that housed it, had been in the family since 1949. His father, having taken over the gas station from his father in 1969, had converted the business from pumping gas to servicing cars after the gas crisis of the 1970s. It wasn't a big operation. There was an office, two primary work bays, and a third bay that was used for storage. It provided a livelihood for three people, John, his wife, Jane,...

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