He settled into the sofa next to me with a weary sigh. "Long day." he smiled weakly. "Do you mind if I use the shower? I'm tense from driving and it would help to get warm and clean." "That's fine", I grinned, "you know the way, help yourself." He had been here many times, but this was the first time I had met him. Ella had been keeping Jerry to herself, but recently we had been discussing a few fun ideas that involved the three of us. And I was intrigued by the thoughts that arose in my mind now that I had met this man.
As the water ran in the shower, I began to hatch a plan. The more I thought about it, the more I knew I would do it. By the time the water shut off I had changed the lighting to soft candle light, and the music to a gentle sensual beat. And I was dressed in a simple silk robe which opened seductively when I moved.
"Sweet Jesus" he said as he entered the room and took in the scene. Soft music played, the candlelight danced, and I moved slowly toward him, smiling. "I....you shouldn't...." Jerry was clearly nervous and uncertain, but his interest was definitely piqued. I smiled and moved closer. "Don't worry" I said. "We're just waiting for Ella" I smiled as I gently pushed him down onto the sofa. "Try to relax, she will be here soon enough..." I said vaguely as I walked away. I moved like slow liquid in time to the music, gently untying the belt to my robe and letting it casually fall open.
I turned to him. His eyes were open wide, and his jaw dropped. My timing was perfect! I had heard the garage door, and Ella was about to enter the room. "Get ready" I said to him. She opened the door and walked in. "Whoo, that traffic..." she started to say, then a smile spread across her face as she stopped and took in the seductive scene I had set.
Ella, always one for adventure, dropped her briefcase and came to me, smiling. We kissed deeply and sweetly, she and I, allowing the excitement of the situation to build and envelop us. Then, arm in arm, we beckoned to Jerry...
Swept Away He entered her room, not knowing why. Maybe it was the simplicity of it all, or the kindness of her eyes. Still, he thought, she doesn't know me, not really, not at all. She reached for him then, her chin tilting up as she stepped closer, and her scent enveloped him. And he stopped thinking and instead, he felt.
Her innocent joy delighted him. She laughed as she explored him, rock hard, with her hand. She arched her back as she pressed against his crotch and it felt exquisite, painfully so. They were kissing now, and she dominated him, insisting and probing him with her tongue. And it was happening to him again, his heart was pounding with it, he wanted that raw sexuality that overwhelmed him, that took him away with the force of a changing tide.
She tore at his pants like an animal, wanting him for herself, for her own pleasure. He was helpless to resist, and he loved it, loved her in that moment for giving him release from the complexity of his life. Loved the sweet sadness he felt at the end of these hours with her. It was a fantasy world, he knew it with absolute certainty, but so much about it touched him profoundly. And changed his world.
~ June, 2008
Recipe for Pasta Puttanesca
First, you must appreciate the history of this sauce. I think it interesting and important to understand that ladies of the night are essentially "on call". That is why this sauce is called "Harlot's Pasta". It can be made easily and quickly. This particular night, however, would be a more sustained affair.
My lover arrived at the designated hour. We had planned to spend some unhurried time together, experiencing each other in a languorous session of pleasures. I was beginning the evening's enjoyment with a deeply flavorful red wine and Puttanesca pasta.
There are a few very important ingredients to a truly special and delicious Puttanesca. One must be in an especially sensual mood for the flavors to meld properly. As I began my preparations, I felt my lover's eyes following me, appreciating my body as I moved through the kitchen. An apron was all I wore; save for the high heels he had bought for me to "show off my legs". From the front I was protected from the heat of the stove, from the back I was a human landscape of hills and valleys, soft curves reminiscent of olives, completely open to appreciation.
For this evening, I was using a truly delicious olive oil, full of the scent-memories of a rolling hillside in Italy. Nothing less would do. I heated the oil, and added the onion, then garlic, stirring briefly. Next came the Italian olives, quartered, pits removed. I tossed in the fresh oregano. The aroma filled the room and I smiled in satisfaction, mouth watering. Then the anchovies. Yes, these are essential. Rich and salty, somehow uniting the flavors into a sunny Mediterranean coastal afternoon.
Chopped fresh tomatoes are the best, but canned will do. I crushed the tomatoes with my hands as I added them to the pan, letting the juices flow through my fingers. I felt his warm breath on my neck as I attended to this task. He touched me lightly with his lips, and my own juices began to flow.
It was time to let the sauce simmer. I moved to the counter, my lover following close behind. I leaned forward as if to reach for something. I was toying with him now, my ass was lifted invitingly. He didn't miss the cue. One hand reached up under my apron to feel my breast, with the other he undid his belt and I his pants fell to the floor. He grabbed my waist then with both hands, and pulled my hips back. I felt his warm skin press against mine, urgently. I was ready and willing.
It was quick, intense. He thrust into me, and my head flew up, throwing my hair onto my back. I spread my legs a little, arching my back further. My high heels put me at exactly the right height for easy access, and his passion combined with mine. We were animals, fast and furious pounding heart throbbing dripping wet and stretching for more. More. Our explosion united us in absolute passion, and we hung there for just a moment in time, suspended.
Other senses soon brought us back to the kitchen. Our noses were telling us that dinner was ready. I added minced fresh parsley and a small handful of fresh capers to the sauce, served it over fresh spaghettini with more red wine and a salad.
A toast, and our evening was off to a fine start.
Ciao, Bella! Enjoy!
~ May, 2008
Why I Love Chocolate
How could I have avoided it? The rich smells and the laughter beckoned me in the shimmering night. Chocolate! The distinct sweet smell of chocolate permeated the air. If nothing else had encouraged me, that alone had me curious. The light from the kitchen door spilled into the late night street where I walked. I was drawn forward like a moth to a flame, and as I drew near I saw into the bright kitchen, saw into the light and the secret world between four people. I stopped outside the doorway, unseen and suddenly rooted to the spot.
It was the back door of a boutique chocolate factory. The four people working after hours were apparently very close friends. The warm evening, made even warmer by the large vats of melted chocolate, had apparently driven them to remove their clothes as they worked. Clearly the rich and creamy chocolate had a seductive effect on them as well, and I watched transfixed as they playfully experimented with the sweet delights of the night.
A naked woman was on the table now, laying face up, her long hair falling in cascades from the table. Her girlfriend caressed her silky skin, running her hands over her like an appreciative sculptor, relishing every curve. She was magnificent. The two men were watching and their enthusiasm was apparent. A total sensual feast was about to begin, the likes of which I had never imagined.
Ephemere chocolate sauce was lovingly spread by hand upon the exquisite female form. All three worked on her, covering her from neck to toes in rich deep sauce. She smiled as chocolate was drizzled over her curves and valleys. Cream was next, whipped by hand to a firmness just shy of butter, and squirted through piping to accentuate and decorate. Next the fruit. Raspberries were nestled into the cream, blueberries dotted the chocolate and peeled bananas surrounded her on the table. On top of it all, a cherry was placed in her navel, the crowning touch. And desert was ready.
Her face shone with anticipation, and her lips parted as one of the men came around to the head of the table. Her head hung off of the end now as she took him into her mouth, deep and delicious, one chocolate-covered hand assisting. The woman who began the decorating now turned to fully enjoy her work. She straddled the woman's form, and began slowly licking the chocolate-covered breasts, teasing the sauce into her mouth and sucking the whipped cream from the nipples. The sight from behind was apparently too much for the second man who was at the foot of the table. He approached the beautiful display in front of him. The woman under could sense his presence and was excited beyond reason. As he approached, she spread her legs and he sampled the delicate melding of chocolate with her natural flavors. The fruits and cream were lapped up from her tummy, and as the sensations of licking and sucking pushed her toward a climax, he slid into her. The woman on top was now ready for attention too, and he thrust his tongue into her soft wet chocolate-covered opening, as she lifted her hips to his face.
Watching this show was more than I could take. I leaned against the entry in the dark and my fingers quickly found the source of the tension. It didn't take long. Release flooded over me in spasms.
The show continued into the wee hours, and I alternatively watched and tended to my own needs. As I walked home in the early morning I realized that, for me, chocolate would forever be associated with this amazing night.
~ July, 2008
A Tasty Moment
You know who I am. You see me sometimes in places that surprise you, everyday places. Perhaps you are shopping for a book in Barnes & Noble, or standing in line at the Godiva Chocolate Kiosk. But what you are doing, being a regular sort of guy, is hoping some lovely lady will rock your world, even for just a moment. And suddenly the day brightens a bit, and there I am.
It's not so much what I'm wearing, as how I'm wearing it. No Birkenstocks for me, thank you. These feet slip into something with a little sass. As I walk toward you, hips swaying slightly, we pretend not to notice each other for a moment. I am allowing you time to fully take me in, to appreciate me all over with your eyes. You are trying hard to be casual, but you find yourself imagining running your hands over my curves, exploring my texture and taste. Just as I pass, our eyes lock, and a small smile plays across my face. I nod in acknowledgment of this all to short moment we share. And I walk past.
I'm not a sweet young cotton-candy. I'm a woman you could know in regular life. I'm the one at the cocktail party that the other women are a little jealous of. I am self-assured, and fully aware of my sensuality. Men either avoid me, because their wives are with them, or come over to talk to me in the hopes of getting a better look.
I would love to meet you, to see you privately. I like your attention.
~ June, 2008
Jill Meets Alyssa - A Reminiscence
It was easy to imagine her from her photos. But truthfully I wasn't prepared at all for the person I met. We navigated by cellphone like two magnets, finding each other at the same instant. I was struck with how normal she looked in her jeans and cross-training shoes, cellphone in one hand and a large coke in the other. I was put at ease instantly.
Inside, our clothes seemed to melt away. I wanted to touch her creamy skin, and apparently she had similar thoughts. The feeling was electric.
Our date arrived, and seemed to blend right in to the fun. He emerged from a quick shower to find us on the bed, kissing each other deeply. To our delight, his appreciation was showing. Our four hands quickly tore the wet towel from his waist, and we set upon him like we were starved, coming up for air to touch and lick each other between strokes. We lavished our date with the attention he deserved and in return he enthusiastically participated in our explorations. He seemingly could not get enough of the intensity and sensation banquet that two women can provide. But in the end, he was weak in the knees and even asked (jokingly?) upon leaving if we provided wheelchairs!
My Favorite Things: I loved the sensation of Alyssa's hair on my skin, the way we touched each other, sweet and tender, exploring each other with lots of honesty and joy in discovery. Of special delight was one moment when I rubbed my nipples against hers and she arched her back, pressing up against me, our mouths finding each other and our kissing, deep and soft.
In summary, Alyssa's body is as nearly perfect as I have seen personally, so it was really fun to play with her. I gather that together we were quite the visual candy! How nice. The response from our date was certainly irrefutable. ;^)
~ April, 2008
A Story of Love and Sex
He looked at her, his wife, the woman he loved. They had shared so much time, so many experiences; the kids, the college payments, the decisions about remodeling, the vacation to Paris last year that they were still paying for. The love that comes from time together. He looked at her, watching as she chopped celery and onions into a bowl
for their favorite salsa. And he thought of Jill.
His secret was this: His time with Jill was a release from the bounds of his life. And what a release! As he sat and sipped his glass of wine, he had a sudden jolt as a visual memory took hold of him and flowed from his mind rapidly to his groin, lingered there and had an immediate effect. The memory of Jill, her legs spread wide as he thrust into her, pounding as she cried for more and wrapped her legs around his hips and pulled him into her hard, needing him.
There was so much of himself that was owned by his obligations. But those moments with Jill were his own. Those exquisite hours shoehorned in somewhere between reality and fantasy, those places of impossible
sweetness where his body touched hers and was released - he was fully alive then. In those moments he was free, between her legs, nestled in her sweet harbor.
And from there, the return to the familiarity of a nearly sexless marriage. The friendship borne of time, the busy life with no time for sensuality, no room for playful discovery. Now, though, the resentment was gone, and in its place a gentle acceptance.
Who could know how this would end? But for now, there was a way to keep going. And that mattered a lot.
~ April, 2008
Sticker Shock at the Gas Pump
I was standing and watching, mesmerized, as the gas pump flipped dollar bills out of my wallet at an alarming rate. As I stood staring at the rapidly mounting total for my tank of gas, I noticed a man at the adjacent pump doing the same thing - watching, captivated. Only, he was watching me.
I smiled at him and commented at what a large sum of money I was spending on a tank of gas, and his face lit up with a smile. I saw his face go from the usual stony look that people wear in public, to the face of an animated and interesting person. And it occurred to me at that moment that as a woman I hold a key, a way to unlock a man's sensuality, and to make both his day and mine a little brighter.
It was just too fun to resist. I reached to take the nozzle out of the tank, and because of my high heels, and because I chose to give him a little show, I leaned over just a bit more than was completely necessary. I stepped over the hose, and with one foot on each side of it, I bent forward and removed the nozzle. I did this as slowly as I could so that I could be sure he had a chance to get the full view of what my short skirt revealed.
It was artfully done, I must say. As I stood and turned, my eyes met his, and for just a moment we locked onto each other. We were fully aware of the electric energy that was passing between us. It was only a moment, but it was a hot moment for sure. I replaced the nozzle in the pump, smiled and wished him good day. And as I opened the door to my car he commented with a grin that this was the best tank of gas he had ever pumped.
I was pretty fired up by this little exchange and as I drove away I decided that I needed to attend to my excitement. Handily, I keep a small but powerful vibrator in my purse for just such occasions. I drove to a private spot I know nearby, parked my car, and put the seat back down. I was hot, horny, and ready. I began to replay the flirtation at the gas pump in my mind, and as I felt my body approach orgasm, I wondered if my new acquaintance was somewhere private doing the same, thinking about me.
Would you be?
~ March, 2008
Jillian's Spring Story
I admit it - I love to turn guys on. But sometimes I surprise even myself.
Today I was enjoying the spring-like weather, the new delicate green buds, the sweet innocent pink cherry blossoms, and the fresh green of the lawn as it awakens. This is the time of year that the neighbors begin their yard work, and we all reacquaint ourselves with friendly neighborly chit-chat. I have one gentleman neighbor who has a crush on me. I know he does, and I know he has to run and hide when he sees me, and I know why.
Last summer on a particularly hot day I was outside watering with the hose. My neighbor was tending his lawn. He waved and started across the street to exchange pleasantries with me when suddenly my garden hose got a kink in it. I struggled to shake the kink out of the hose, which proceeded to let loose a burst of water, completely soaking my t-shirt and face. As I blinked the water out of my eyes I saw my neighbor standing right in front of me staring at my chest, transfixed. My shirt was completely soaked and transparent, and I was not wearing anything underneath! He was locked on, completely in the moment, unable to move. For a few seconds he stood there, and I became aware of the rising bulge in his pants. A smile crept across my face, but a look of sudden horror and realization crossed his and he muttered "excuse me" and practically ran back across the street.
Now here it is a year later, and he still gets a woody when he sees me working in the yard. His wife can't for the life of her figure what's wrong with him, whenever I wave and say "hi" to him, he disappears. She thinks he's being rude, but I know better.
I like thinking about what he does when he is by himself, remembering that hot, wet day...
~ March, 2008