Weeping Willow
- 2 years ago
- 28
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Trudie lay in bed with me. I told her all about you and watched for any signs of unfettered jealousy. I watched her as I told her, how I had taken your present to your workplace. It must have been so obvious that I had been overwhelmed with joy when you had greeted me at the door.
Knowing how easy it is lose touch with special people, I had been lamenting that I was not going to see you again, for the days leading up to my visit to your work. As I explained to Trudie I had been so shocked to see you, and such was my unease I had almost not known what to do or how to respond to your presence. Luckily your face said so much to me for it told me how happy you were to see me.
And as I melted into our embrace I could feel myself drifting to that place where lovers pleasure is pain that comes with love. Where love grabs hold of your heart and the pain of that love takes you to a depth of passionate feeling that no-one who has not been there can ever imagine. I stayed in our embrace for as long as I could, never wanting to let you go, but knowing that a time must come that would break the spell.
I wanted to kiss you, to melt into your lips again, to feel those wonderful lips once again, knowing that if your lips touched mine they would lift me into a feeling of floating in melted butter. The richness of those lips, like god had made me just to kiss them, and knowing within me, that they were the only perfect lips that I would every kiss.
Honestly I didn’t think Trudie would understand just how much I needed to kiss those lips, and the sadness that filled my heart when I felt myself held back from that passionate melting moment that was just us, in each other’s arms. I want her to tell me what a fool I was for not looking for an opportunity to kiss your lips, but I know that having patience can sometimes be more rewarding in time.
I can understand that Trudie might also think that I chose the best path, by not trying to kiss you. For at that stage how was I to know what had happened to you, between our last meeting and this one, to impinge upon on how you might have felt about me and us.
And as I had previously related to Trudie, you are such a secretive person I could never know exactly how you felt. Perhaps you are the only person I have ever met whose body has told me more about the true, than your words ever did. But perhaps you don’t know that about yourself anyway. Do you ever tell yourself the truth about how you feel?
For stencilled in my mind was our last goodbye in the carpark underneath the motel. How I stood there kissing you, feeling like heaven had made me such a fortunate man, to spend even a minute in your arms was something I had ungifted gratitude for, and I must be thankful for it occurring in my life.
And whenever I thought you might release me in that carpark, you invited me back again into an embrace and kiss that was us, but it was sometimes too much to bear. That time I cried so many times inside my heart that I might never have you in my arms again. Yet why did you continue to hold me? It told me something about how you felt but I believed your broken heart held you back from taking any risks with being with me.
Why doesn’t Trudie cry with me, why can’t she understand that my parting from you was the hardest thing I had done for many years. I think Trudie must have known my pain, for who would willingly bear so much pain and not know its impact? I would! And just for another minute in your arms, in your tender embrace, our lips locked together, I would bear that pain again without hesitation. The pleasure of a minute in your arms was worth an eternity of the pain of separation that must come afterwards with it.
And now back in your company again, with my heart in my hand, I looked to you to guide me about how you felt about us. Your smile fills me with such hope and longing. Your body tells me silently that you feel something for me.
You invite me in, and I decline the invitation to join you in the physical activity of pleasures efforts to bliss (my viral illness is my excuse). I request my life-long totem, a cup of tea, and sit down to partake of the music videos on the television. I watch as Pink tells me all about the pain of love, and I smile to myself as you approach me with our cups of tea.
It is so sublime to be sitting with you as I sip my tea, to look upon that face, to watch those dancing sparkling eyes that I have lost myself in so many times. Your expression tells me that you have happy news for me. That whatever has happened between us, to your heart, has lead you to a place of happiness.
How could I ever explain to Trudie that I know that, in the end, what else should we care about other than that the ones we love? For they have our happiness in their hearts? You tell me about your work, your life decisions, and about the special man in your life, I do not cry although it is not me. For my happiness is to see you happy.
There is no jealousy in my heart. I had worked through the jealousy I might feel so long ago, when I first found myself captivated by you but not the only man who shared your world with you. For in your world, yes it is a world that so many share with you.
So few people know that jealously is a prison, and that setting the people you love free is the ultimate release for yourself. For your own heart is yours to handle with loving care, and another’s heart belongs only to them.
As I stressed to Trudie, it is sadness that filled my heart (when I look inside my own heart), but that joy also filled my heart. For your happiness was a gift to overcome the imbedded sadness I recognise as your own locked ward to bury life’s demons of pain.
Our previous conversations to a build deeper connection had illustrated your paths and life choices, so I recognised the suffering of love that you have endured. It is true that I long for your life to be filled with the passionate sharing of the lovers’ path, and that is what you tell me you desire so much to attain with your new man.
Trudie looks at me without any expression of compassion as I explain this to her. Does she feel the pain and joy in my voice as I relate my feelings about your choice to share your heart with another to her? Why doesn’t she understand just what this will mean to you, if you can make it work.
As someone who cares so much for you, it is easy to share the joy and trepidation that you feel in making that choice. Life is full of risks when it comes to our hearts, risks that can tear our dreams and desires apart if we stand alone surrounded by solitude.
I am so sure Trudie is just pretending that she does not understand why I want your dreams to come true for you. Why I would give up my opportunity to share my love for you with you always, just so I could be sure you would be happy in your love with another.
I caress Trudie as I relate to her how I sat passively drinking my tea and talking with you, about your hopes and dreams for your life together with your new man.
I did not tell Trudie about my desires for you, how could I? And though I know I should not, I watch every movement of your magnificently wonderful body, on that couch we share.
Knowing, in my heart, that your body has brought me such ecstasy, that body of yours that I have caressed and kissed without hesitation all over. That body that belongs to you. You who fill my heart with the joy of life-long love.
It is a body that was made for loving, and that seemed unbelievably matched so perfectly to mine, like no others in this world. Love of one’s children is so simply absolute but you make my love of you so deliciously complicated and serine. As I now cuddle my Trudie in my bed, I know that it was wrong of me to watch your body move and to want so much to caress and kiss every part of it. For you had told me that you had committed it to be with another man that filled your heart with love.
Desire drove my min
d and my rationality was lost, or was my heart lost somewhere and it could not be my guide? I was captivated by your unfathomable beauty and lost in my mind’s trapped desire for you.
You touched me. How would I live through that? With your hand reaching out and caressing my knee during our conversation, and when this happened all I could feel was myself floating away. Later I place my hand on your foot and squeeze it playfully, how much I wanted to do so much more.
Would Trudie understand when I told her that I smiled at you and told you how much I want to be your friend. Friendship offers a chance to remain connected to you. Such friendship, offers intermittent chances to be in your presence, it is a gift that is impossible to reject, and yet it is accepted knowing full well that it is bound to offer such lasting pleasure and pain.
For while life is so short, it is long enough to perhaps offer me another opportunity to spend more intimate time with you. And any time with you is time to be treasured. I look at Trudie’s eyes when I explain this to her but frustratingly she just stares back at me, unaware of my passionate desire for further time with you. How would Trudie understand that any time in your company is a gift that I will welcome and embrace?
When the time comes for me to finally depart, I want to take you in my arms and dance you round the room wrapped in my arms. I can feel you want to kiss me, maybe I am wrong, but now I feel the wrongness of such an act inside myself. I know it is tearing at you.
I want to encourage you to embrace you choice for happiness with another. I don’t want to contribute to perpetuate any confusion that may exist about your choice. My life has shown me that a choice must be lived with, until another choice of love is made and then that choice must be lived with, no matter the pain that comes with each love choice.
I feel myself torn apart by wanting to kiss you, and yet knowing I should not. My heart is weeping as we move apart. Friends we are now, so that we may be friends in our minds, but my body knows you so much better than any platonic friend can ever be known to its other.
Trudie I hope knows, as well as I do, that my last hug with you in the foyer was my chance to melt again into a place that all lovers know so well. To rise above the physical constraints I face in my everyday life, and to fade into a lovers embrace that takes me away from the harsh world that I know too well, to a place where only joy and contentment exist.
I want to remain in your arms forever but I know the physical world is pushing us apart.
And now I feel myself reluctantly dragged out of the door where you reside to my car. How can I cope, and I am lost in solitude. Please Trudie I must cuddle you now, the pain is upon me. I can feel my tears streaming down my face. I need your consolation and compassion.
Oh! Empty me, my heart feels the overwhelming pain of missing you. Bring me consolation please, my Trudie. I am sure Mr Bean knows my frustration oh so well, to have a teddy to cuddle, but that it has no real understanding of why we need it to be cuddled. Yes Trudie does hear all my dreams of love, and yet she can never appreciate how much I love you.
She is soft and cute, my Trudie, but Trudie will never know my heart-felt tears that I cry inside for you my love. And while Trudie is there for me to hug as I gush out my sorrow, you are nowhere for me to cuddle.
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The blue-breasted mother stood over her warm fledglings with contentedness, and perhaps even pride. Her babies yipped, and the sun shone. The forecast called for a cloudless, eighty-seven degree atmosphere throughout the day. Inside, bathing, Denise watched through the bathroom window, the version of reality she witnessed, a polar opposite. The robin family huddled to preserve their warmth. The mother and father froze at a sacrifice for the cuddling newborns. The wind blew a branch from their...
Emily was devastated when she received the call that Jonathan, the man she was going to marry in two weeks, had just been killed in a motorcycle accident. Holding the phone to her ear, she stood still, stunned, unable to speak or comprehend the words she heard. The call came from Jonathan’s mother, who had just been called by the police. “Oh no!” Emily gasped and clutched her hair. Sobs broke loose and tears rolled down her cheeks to her lips. “The police just called. It just happened. They...
Love StoriesHeels: The Ultimatum 1 - A Change of Heart By Deane Christopher Copyrighted 2003 Prelude to Chapter 1: A Change Of Heart A few weeks before their upcoming marriage, Dennis' fianc?e, the future Mrs. Gale Mallory, informed Dennis that she was going to ask her girlfriend, Kelly, to stand as her maid of honor. That presented a real problem for Dennis, due to the fact that Gale's girlfriend, Kelly, was none other than his own feminine alter ego. Several years before meeting ...
The Further Adventures of Alan, & Elena "I don't want to talk about it, how you broke my heart, but if I stay here just a little bit longer, if I stay here won't you listen... to my heart" Rod Stewart(I don't know when, or album, ) September 1981, It's a new school year, Alan has just drove in for the first day of school, it to be his senior year, he has done well in the previous semester, not straight A's but well enough to to get the classes he need to graduate, on time with...
I was just getting out of a bad relationship. My ex, Emily, was a cheater. I’m not sure where our relationship went off the rails. But I know when that train hit the wall. I knew Emily liked to flirt but this went past flirting. I had just bought my house a few months before meeting Emily. She wanted to redecorate the place. I bought all the furniture she wanted, painted all the rooms in colors she wanted. I even finished the basement for her. She loved everything I did to make her love...
Cheating***Location :- London and Middlesex. Chapter 1. A Stylish Vamp. My name is Annette Moretti and I am a magazine editor in London. Having left home in my early twenties, I initially lived in Islington in an apartment, and wrote for a ladies fashion magazine. Over time my editorial responsibilities have grown and I am now its editor, with some shares in the venture. As the magazine prospered my share value in it has grown, and is now a substantial nest egg. I also write commercially so my salary...
LesbianNote: Thanks to B0b for beta reading this! Princess Malakisha – Ankush, The Queendom of Naith I strode through the corridors of the Ziggurat, my men at my back, armed, armored. Death was in the air. The future promised blood and violence. My nipples were hard as my purple sari whisked against my thighs. Juices dribbled down my legs. My heart, my dear Lucy, marched at my side, naked and unashamed, her light-brown hair bouncing about her shoulders. She smelled excited, too. Eager. She was...
‘That’s right,’ Lynn says, her voice a husky purr. ‘Deeper and deeper. Down…and down…and down.’ Each word is punctuated by a tiny caress on Michael’s cock, evoking an equally tiny whimper from him even as he sinks deeper into hypnosis. He doesn’t remember exactly when he went into trance, any more than he remembers exactly when Lynn’s touches became erotic instead of soothing. She was simply holding him and petting him, and her fingers slowly drifted down to his cock without any real moment of...
((Authors Note: I still can not bring myself to re-write the end of this fairy tale as it should be written. This is in it’s raw form, mostly. Some changes have been made because spell checker said so. For those that have read Guests Cum First, it explains why Mikal made the choice he did I think. Though she’ll never read it here, a heart-felt thank you to the voice, heart and soul behind Matty. For everyone else, if you believe in true love and soul mates, have tissues handy. You’ve been...
Author’s Note: A tip of the hat to member funnyalix for suggesting in a chat one night that I should ‘write from the heart.’ I decided to take her suggestion literally. So here we go… Leenysman ~~~~~ Disclaimer: All sexual activity described in this story is between fictional characters over the age of 18. ~~~~~ I don’t remember the crash. Maybe that’s a good thing, to block out the pain, both physical and emotional. I don’t want to remember the details. For a while, I didn’t want to...
This story is based on the song ‘Cold, Cold, Heart’. Hard to pick a category.I hope you enjoy it. A big ‘Thank You’ to PennLady for taking the time to edit my story. She makes it a much better read. **** My name is Ray Harman and I’m an over the road truck driver, I have been for twenty-five years. I’m often gone for days at a time, sometimes even a week or more. I try to stop home as often as I can and spend a couple of days at home before heading out again. I was in Indiana heading for...
This is my first attempt at this so, please be kind with your reviews. Email your comments to me at '[email protected]' Karl to Kayla - "Cross Your Heart" By Kayla Eastcock Eatscock My name is, or should I say 'was' Karl Eastman and it all began one evening while I was at work. I am an average looking 26-year-old guy. Short, sandy-brown hair, blue eyes, 5'10", 145lbs. Okay, so I was a little thin, no big deal. Over the past few months, I had developed a bad habit...
This story is based on the song 'Cold, Cold, Heart'. It was hard picking a category. I hope you enjoy it. A big 'Thank You' to PennLady for taking the time to edit my story. She makes it a much better read. My name is Ray Harman and I'm an over the road truck driver; I have been for twenty-five years. I'm often gone for days at a time, sometimes even a week or more. I try to stop home as often as I can and spend a couple of days at home before heading out again. I was in Indiana...