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Dana by Dirty Dawg
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
"Dana"
By Dirty Dawg
Standard Disclaimer: Your basic unrequeited love story,
all characters of legal and appropriate age.
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Shopping for her that Christmas had become quite a
problem. She was my best friend, and in a perfect world,
we'd be dating. But as anyone can tell you with a quick look
around...this world ain't perfect. I lusted after Dana with
the lust only the truly infatuated and completely
unsatisfied can. If I were to open my personal mental
dictionary and look up the word 'perfection', Dana's smiling
face would be staring right back at me.
And, if you listened to her personal definition of
'perfect man,' I fit the bill completely...except for one
crucial detail. She wanted someone "Funny, warm, sensitive,
caring, not afraid to show his emotions..." And then,
always, she would add, to my chagrin, "...oh, and sexually
attractive."
Well, if you haven't guessed by <now> in which
catageory I'm deficient in, let's just say that I <am>
funny, warm, sensitive, caring and not afraid to show his
emotions. GET THE PICTURE? What I did have was an absolutely
undying love for this woman, a love that was fueled by lots
of late-night and early-morning fantasies. She once asked me
if I fantasized about 'us,' and if so, what were my
fantasies.
I told her quite honestly that I <did> have sexual
fantasies about her, but in the overall scheme of things,
that was only about one-tenth of the total fantasy/sex
content ratio. The rest of the time, it was about dumb,
romantic things like walking down the beach hand in hand,
having dinner in some classy resturant together, doing the
dishes together, having people over to 'our' apartment...
dumb, adolescent stuff like that, stuff I craved with every
fiber and nerve ending of my being. And I knew with the
deepest, most moral and emotional certainity that if we ever
<did> get together, she would be popping her head against a
brick wall for taking so damn long.
I'm one of those guys who's always on the outside
looking in; a little smarter than the rest of the people
around me, a little funnier, a little more 'hip', in a
weird, Nick-at-night kind of way. When it came to answering
the questions on Jeporady!, I had no equal. When it came to
playing Trivial Pursuit, everyone wanted to be on my team.
When a female friend bought a new VCR and had no idea how to
program it or get cable channels, they always, invariably
called me. Manual? Who needed a manual? I'd scoot down in
front of it, pushing my glasses back up my nose as I
instantly decoded what the problem was and fixed it. If it
was electronic and had some way of interfacing with the
world, I could figure it out.
It was the flesh and blood computers, the one with
the two large disk drives in front and the core memory
underneath that I could never reverse-engineer and decode.
They spoke in a language as forigen to me as binary is to
most people. I swear to God, if I heard the "Let's Just Be
Friends," speech one more time, I was going to kill
something.
But Dana was different. She knew on some private
mental plane that I was hopelessly in love with her, but
didn't make me feel bad about it, didn't ridicule me about
it. She rejected my affections without making me feel bad,
and in my own private hell, that earned her high marks. So
we remained friends, good friends, the kind of friend that
will call you last thing at night and first thing in the
morning...just to talk. Just to hear the sound of each
other's voice, the sound of each other's laughter coming
over the line. We had private jokes, inside little comments
that we threw back and forth like a personal, private code
that only we could understand.
If it were possible to have a love affair without
the sex, Dana and I did. We were closer than most boyfriends
and girlfriends, and we revelled in it.
But, as with all things of this nature, there were
invisible lines drawn, unspoken but understood limits that
we could never cross. Or, actually, that <I> could never
cross. You see, it was somehow OK for her to call me and
tell me about her latest boyfriend and what a stud he was
between the sheets, and how he treated her like a queen. But
it was <not> ok for me to talk about the women in my life
(what few there were...) because that hurt her feelings. I
know, this sounds incredibly masochistic, but those were the
rules, and I stood by them and tried to quell the little
flutter in my heart and the twisting knot of agonizing pain
in my gut I felt every time Dana started dating someone new.
That's not even mentioning the times I'd call her first
thing in the morning and some man's voice would answer.
Those times absolutely fucking sucked.
Or the times she would regale with me tales of her
sexual activity. Like the time she and one boyfriend flooded
out the bathroom because of some bathtub gymnastics. Or the
weekend she spent in front of a fireplace with another guy,
twisting their bodies into impossible positions for hours on
end.
I know.
Love's a bitch.
So here I was, Christmas shopping for the most
important woman in my life, and there were still rules I had
to follow: Nothing too personal. Nothing even vaguely
sexual. Safe things, like sweaters and books and videos.
Possibly a CD or two. But nothing personal, private...
nothing that she could cherish and treasure for the rest of
her life as having come from my hands and heart.
Oh, sure, I'd broken the rule once or twice. Like
the time I sent her a vibrator as a joke. She told me that
there was a dearth of male action twixt her sheets, and I
helped her out with this glow-in-the-dark, plug-into-the-
wall latex vibrator that was huge. She loved it, and we
nicknamed it "Glow Worm."
I'd given her a priceless Japaneese porcelin mask to
hang on her bedroom wall. It'd cost me almost six hundred
dollars. It was a birthday present. You know what she gave
me that year?
A keychain.
In the shape of a guitar.
I don't even <play> guitar!
So, anyway, being the miserable, self-abusing
asshole that I am, I was shopping for Christmas and trying
to figure out what to get her. The mall had shown me
everything it had, and I had one of two reactions to every
possible gift:
Reaction #1 : Not personal enough.
Reaction #2 : Too personal.
I hate Christmas. What did I have to look forward
to? My parents were long since dead, my sister had her own
thing going with a husband and two kids and her husband's
entire family. She'd made it more than clear that as long as
I sent her a check every month, she'd be happy if I stayed
away. My brother was off in some far-away country with the
Navy SEALs, and so was not going to be celebrating Christmas
this year, unless it was to stick a Bowie knife in his
mouth, sneak up and slit the throat of some unsuspecting
guard somewhere. Dana was spending it with her new
boyfriend, Ralph.
He was ten years younger and looked like a male
model, and if you could believe Dana, had this thing between
his legs that would make Mr. Ed hang his head in shame. So
much for <my> Christmas Eve.
Anyway, I was passing through the lingere department
when something inside me snapped. I wasn't going to be sorry
for my feelings anymore. I was going to give this fucking
woman a real gift, a gift from the heart. Something classy
and sexy at the same time, something beautiful and precious
and wonderful, just like the way I saw her.
I spoke to a salesclerk and explained what I was
looking for. She smiled at me and asked Dana's size. I had
all that information in my address book, under "D." I read
off all of Dana's measurements, obtained by going through
her closet when she was in the bathroom. (It always amazed
Dana that I managed to get everything right without asking..
..hehe...)
She brought it out and wrapped it in front of me. It
was a teddy, emrald green with black lace trimming. I'd seen
it on a mannaquin, and knew immediately that Dana's long
curly blonde hair and sea-foam blue-green eyes would do that
outfit <justice>. A little part of me was sad that I'd never
get to see her in it. A couple of years ago I was planning
to get her another present along those lines, and she
somehow found out about it and was kidding me on the phone.
"Hey," I'd said, "I won't buy you <anything> I don't
get to see you in." And that had been the end of it; she
hadn't had a response to <that> statement.
But this time it was different. I asked the
salesclerk for a small card, like the one you send with
flowers. I thought for a moment, and then remembered a
little ditty from Willy Shakespeare:
"To me, fair friend, you never can be old
For as you were when first your eye I eyed,
Such seems your beauty still."
I wrote it on the card and taped it to the outside
of the box. It was three days to Christmas, and I planned to
drop it off at her apartment that night. But I got paged by
work, and had to go in and rewrite some system utilities,
and that turned into a forty-hour programming marathon. It
was Christmas Eve, about noon, when I finally emerged from
my office and told me secretary that I was calling it a
night.
I walked in the door to a ringing telephone.
"Hello?"
"Rick!" The voice was Dana, and she was crying.
"What's the matter, honey?"
"That bastard Ralph! He broke up with me today!" She
started crying again, long wracking sobs that tugged at my
heart and made me wish evil things to happen to Ralph.
Things involving anthills and honey.
"I'll be right over," I said, and hung up. The drive
to Dana's apartment took six minutes. I walked in, as I
always did when I knew she was alone, and found her on the
couch, feet curled under her, crying into her hands. I went
to her, sat on the couch, and gathered her shaking form into
my arms, doing my wonderful best friend/dutch uncle/good
buddy routine.
She felt wonderful in my arms, like she belonged
there. I was just over six feet, and Dana stood five-nine.
Five-eleven in heels, so when we danced on those rare
occassions, her head fit wonderfully on my shoulder. I
chased those thoughts out of my head as I stroked her back.
"What happened?" I asked softly.
"He c-c-called me, and t-t-t-told me that he d-d-d-
didn't w-w-want to s-s-s-see me anym-m-m-more," she sobbed.
"He s-s-said that he m-m-met someone else!" She dissolved
into another round of crying, and I let her get it out of
her system. We had this routine down pat. Dana would cry, I
would hold her, I would tell her what a bastard he was and
that he didn't know what he was giving up (and thus saying
without saying that <I> knew what he was giving up and was
ready, <anytime>, to take up the slack...but that's part of
the dynamics of the relationship...)
So we went through the script. Neither of us flubbed
a line. Finally, all cried out, she asked, "What are your
plans tonight?"
"I don't have any," I said.
"Oh, Good. I'd hate to be alone." It sort of annoyed
me that she automatically assumed that I'd spend the night
with her, but there wasn't much I could do about it now. So,
we made dinner, ate it, did the dishes (just like in my
fantasy,) and sat down to watch "It's a Wonderful Life" on
TBS. She loves that movie, and as usual, was in tears by the
end. I must admit, I was also a little damp around the
edges, and she knew it. I didn't care if she did or not.
We sat in silence, with her head on my chest as the
credits rolled, and then the screen went to commercial.
We started talking about Jimmy Stuart, and what a
great actor he was, always playing sweet, warm, sensitive
men.
"Now why can't I meet someone like that?" Dana
complained. "Someone kind and sweet and warm and funny and
sensitive?" I'd heard this perhaps a thousand times before,
and each time had kept silent. My arm was around her
shoulder, and my hand reflexively closed, gripping her
tightly, so great was my sudden anger.
Keeping my voice even so as not to let on, I finally
said what I'd been waiting to say for as long as I can
remember. "Yeah, it must be pretty tough to find someone
like that. I mean, someone so funny that you can just call
them on the phone whenever you're sad and he'll cheer you
up. Someone so warm that whenever something happens to him,
either good or bad, the first thing he wants to do is call
you and share it with you. It's so hard to find someone
sensitive, someone who cries at the end of "Wonderful Life."
Someone so sweet that they write poetry to you for your
birthday." I had done all of those things, and I knew she
knew it. Sarcastically, I added, "Yeah...must be <real>
tough finding someone like that."
She didn't say a word. I dropped my hand from her
shoulder and walked into the kitchen to get another beer. I
was disgusted with myself for finally saying it...at ten to
midnight on Christmas Eve.
"Oh!" Dana said, sitting up. "Your present! I almost
forgot!" She ran into her bedroom and returned with a box.
It had polka-dotted wrapping paper and looked like a huge
dice. (die?) I took it and opeened it carefully, smiling at
her.
I pulled out a coffee mug. It said "Bestest Best
Friend" on it. I exclaimed that it was <just> what I needed,
and that I loved her for the sentiment. I kissed her on the
cheek and she smiled at me with shiny eyes. I told her I'd
be right back, and retireved my present from my car.
Suddenely, I was scared. She was going to freak. I
knew it.
I handed her the box and watched carefully as she
opened it, ready with an excuse or an explination as soon as
she saw it and went ballistic.
Amazingly enough, that didn't happen. She read the
card and smiled at me. (I'm sure that I'd have to explain it
to her later...she was never a Shakespeare fan...) Then she
folded back the tissue paper and saw what it was. Squealing,
she lifted it by the straps and held it in front of her.
"It's gorgeous," she breathed. "And my favorite
color!" (Actually, her favorite color is <forest> green, not
emrald green, but I wasn't going to correct her at <this>
point.) She suddenely leaned over and kissed me straight on
the lips.
Let me make something clear at this point. The
entirity of our physical contact over the past six years had
been two wonderful hugs, some slow dancing at a mutual
friend's wedding, several kisses on cheeks here and there...
and this kiss.
It was over in an instant, but it was an instant
that would be burned into my mind forever.
She jumped up and ran into her bedroom, slamming the
door behind her. I knew that she was trying it on, and I
wondered if she remembered what I'd said about giving her
sexy clothing. I turned my attention to the TV and tried
hard not to imagine Dana stripping her clothes off to try
this new present on. I flipped around and found some chior
singing "Joy To The World" on cable and watched the sopranos
reaching for those high notes. My mind began to drift and
fantasize, and in my dream I imagined us married, on
Christmas morning, watching our children opening presents
and giggling, me standing behind Dana, my arms around her
waist, the both of us in comfortable, fuzzy bathrobes as we
watched our prodigy open their gifts. I got lost in that
comfortable fantasy, turning it over and over, looking at it
from different angles, the way a film director might,
looking for the best shot.
And then, as always, that sad little tug at my heart
as the fantasy machine ran out of steam and told me that it
would never be, that I was chasing rainbows again, that I
should be happy with things the way they stood, and that I
should find someone to love, someone that would love me as
much as I loved Dana.
The idea that there might actually <be> someone like
that was, of course, ludicrious.
Snorting to myself, I changed the channel to HBO.
"Ghost" was playing, and I watched Demi Moore and Patrick
whathisname make slow love after smearing clay over each
other. That closeness, that physical intimacy that was made
so much better by the already-established emotional intimacy
made me teary eyed. And as always, when I watched two
characters in love kiss on screen, I felt like I was having
a heart attack. This little pain starts in the middle of my
chest, about heart-high, and then makes a sharp left and
descends...and then slowly fades away. I'm not sure what
that is, but I feel it. The most intense I ever felt it was
when I saw Dana kissing her boyfriend in the mall. She
didn't see me, didn't know I was there, and I watched them
osculate hungrily, tongues meeting to play on that silken
field, and I wanted to kill that man with my bare hands.
I heard the door open behind me, and I noticed the
clock on the VCR. It was 12:30am...Christmas Morning. Dana
had been in her bedroom for forty minutes. I wondered if
she'd brought Glow Worm out to play.
"Ghost is on," I said, without looking. I knew that
it was one of her favorite movies. There was no response,
and I detected that she was standing in the doorway to her
bedroom. Curious, I looked over my shoulder and felt my
heart sieze and the breath lock in my chest.
Dana was standing in the doorway, leaning against
one arm held above her head, all her weight on one leg, the
other bent slightly and held forward of the other...a
model's pose. And she was modeling my teddy.
"Like it?" she said. Her voice was a husky, deep-
throated whisper. I was speechless. I nodded softly. "I
remembered what you said a few years ago...about not giving
me anything you couldn't see me in. And then I remembered
what I said tonight about looking for a nice guy. And then I
finally listened to what you had to say, Rick. I really
heard you this time."
Still speechless, all I did was nod.
"C'mere," she said, softer still. I stared at her,
my mouth dropping open. Surely, she couldn't mean....could
she? My question and prayers were both answered when she
crooked her finger at me.
On shaking legs I stood and walked to her. She
dropped the arm that had been on the jamp and let it fall on
my shoulder. She curled her fingers, and she was suddenely
scratching the back of my neck lazily, as one might scratch
a cat behind the ears. Believe me, if I could have, I would
have purred. Her touch on my skin, this first electrical,
sexual touch sent bolts of passion shooting through my body.
I wanted so desperately to feel and smell and taste every
inch of her that I shook with desire.
Dana stepped in and molded her body against mine. I
could feel the dual pressure of her breasts against my chest
and the hot, burning pressure of her vulva against my
abdomen. She levered my neck, bringing my face to hers,
closer...closer.
And then we kissed. Really kissed, for the first
time. Her lips were soft and hot and slightly moist, just as
I'd always imagined them. It was a soft, friendly kiss at
first, scared and slightly tenative. As the passion grew to
overtake us, the pressure increased in little leaps and
bounds until we were kissing hungrily, trying to consume
each other through our mouths. My arms went around her,
crushing her body against mine. Six years of accumulated
passion and denial welled out of my body, transmitted to
hers through the kiss. She could feel my need, my hunger for
her, for every soft, sweet, tender inch of her, and she
responded, grasping my shoulders with her hands, pulling me
closer. As Groucho once said, "If I were any closer, I'd be
behind you!"
And suddenely, it was clear. As clear as a mountain
lake on a cool spring morning. Still kissing her, I bent and
swept her legs into the crook of my arm and carried her into
the bedroom. The only light on was the bedside table lamp,
and it had a red handkerchief draped over it, giving the
room and eerie, etheral glow. Gently, like she was made of
porcelin, I laid her on the bed and stood above her,
admiring.
Dana's hands were by her side, and she slowly
trailed them up, over her ribs, shoulders, and then into her
hair. She lifted it away from the pillow, arranging it
beside and behind her, imploring me with my eyes.
"Hurry," she whispered. "Oh, please hurry."
I started to take my shirt off, a heavy flannel
workshirt that I loved because it was so warm and soft. Dana
shot to her knees and slowly made her way to the edge of the
bed.
"Let me," she said. Locking her gaze with mine, she
undid the first button and spread the shirt, kissing the
part of my chest that was suddenely visible. Her kisses were
light and kittenish. Slowly, she unbuttoned the entire
shirt, exploring the muscles and skin she found, slowly and
gently licking each nipple until it throbbed in her mouth.
Returning her gaze to mine, she tugged the tail of
the shirt out of my jeans and worked it down my arms,
tossing it over her shoulder. I sat down on the bed, my back
to her, and started to work my cowboy boots off.
Dana wrapped her arms around my neck from behind,
slowly and softly running her silk-covered breasts across my
back. I could feel the twin hot, hard points of arousal
digging into my back. I moaned softly, deep in my throat,
still trying to get my mind in gear.
The boots came off with a little tugging, and then
my socks followed. I could feel the tension in my groin, a
hot, bulging hardness, a staff of pure passion and hunger,
all emotional and physical appetitie that would not be
denied any more.
Standing, I turned to her and slowly unbuckled my
belt. Dana sat back on her haunches, sexily biting her lower
lip, her eyes focused on my hands as I worked. The belt
opened, then the button, and the fly. I don't wear
underwear, and the hot, hard tip of my staff peeked out.
"Ooooh!" Dana said, her features melting into an
expression of pure desire. I shrugged my hips and the jeans
fell straight to my ankles. I stepped out of them, and she
could finally see me, all of me, presented for her
inspection and approval.
She smiled, and I suddenely felt proud that I could
display my hunger. Dana reached out a tenative hand and
grasped me softly. Her hand was almost unable to enclose my
girth, so aroused was I. She began a gentle stroking motion,
sending electric shocks up and down my spine.
"I had no idea," she whispered. "No idea at all!"
Then with a giggle, she said, "Is that <all> for me?"
"All for you, always and forever," I whispered. With
shining eyes she looked up at me, and then lept from the bed
like a jungle cat, wrapping her arms around my neck and
dragging me back to the bed, crushing herself with my
weight. I tried to shift myself off of her so as not to
crush her, but she held on.
"I want to feel you against me," she said in between
kisses. I settled on her body, running my hands through her
hair, returning her kisses with all the passion I felt. We
stayed that way for a long time, eagerly devouring each
other's mouths, lightly rubbing against each other, my
erection lightly teasing her silken mound.
Slowly, I began to expand the scope of the
operation. Kissing Dana's neck, I removed the shoulder
straps and moved to the skin there, lightly, dryly kissing
her, taking my time. A little voice in the back of my head
was patiently lecturing that this might be my one and only
chance with the woman of my dreams and fantasies, and I was
going to do it right. I had always professed to getting my
own greatest satisfaction from my partner's satisfaction; it
was now time to put rhetoric into practice.
I worked her body softly, always touching, always
stroking, taking my time to taste every single inch of her,
never rushing, never hurrying. I spent a good ten minutes on
her shoulders, neck and face before removing the silk cups
that surrounded her soft, snowy peaks.
When I finally revealed her breasts, I noticed that
the nubs were already hot and tight with arousal. Her taste
was sublime, better than the ultimate sorbet; I worked each
orb slowly, gently, patiently working towards the ultimate
conclusion. My hands were busy, stroking here, lightly
touching there, always gently exploring, like a blind man
might.
She began to writhe beneath me, the combination of
my touches gathering momentum in her center, drawing her
ever closer to the inevitable. I could feel her moist heat
underneath my hand, and I gently rubbed her pleasure center,
looking for the right mixture of pressure and motion. Her
hands clutched my shoulders and she gently rode my probing
digits through a wave of climax, sobbing softly so great was
her pleasure.
Returning to the land of the living, Dana attacked
my mouth, kissing me with an animal desire that I didn't
know she had, but always suspected she posessed. I removed
the teddy, and we were finally together, naked, bodies
touching in the soft red light of her bedroom, staring into
each other's eyes as my hands gently touched her chest and
legs and her hands stroked my buttocks and back. There was a
long moment where we did nothing but stare at each other,
each thinking silent, private thoughts.
I have never felt closer to another human being than
I did to her at that moment. Her skin was warm and soft and
smelled slightly of lilacs. Under that, at a more primal,
phermonal level was the scent of her arousal. It filled my
nostrils and made the thoughts in my head turn from the
soft, loving encounter I had planned (?!) to more
animalistic, passionate "taking"...dismissing those thoughts
from my head, I slowly lowered my head and kissed Dana
again, savoring the taste of her mouth as our tongues gently
entwined.
Two hands pushing against my chest filled my head
and heart with sudden panic. Looking at Dana's face, I did
not see reproach or anger, only passion. She wanted me to
turn over, not leave. Heaving a mental sigh, I did as she
wished, and then underwent the staggering pleasure of having
her repeat to me what I had done to her only moments ago, a
gentle touching and feeling of my entire body, centering
around my pleasure centers for instants at a time, only to
move on to less...dangerous place, lest I spend to quickly
and break this most magical of spells.
She was kissing my knees, and then the inside of my
thighs as she approached the towering monument of my
manhood. It twitched, trying to both encourage and repel her
slow, feline attack. And then her mouth was around me,
enveloping the head, bathing my most sensitive skin with
hot, moist saliva. I struggled, trying to think of anything
but the incredible pleasure I was feeling. I thought of calm
lakes and still ponds, sunsets over a gently crashing ocean.
I thought of horseback riding across a grassy field, the sun
at my back, the scent of wildflowers-
And then it was too late. With a lurge and a
staggering gasp, I spent, casting my seed upon her. Dana did
not let up, but redoubled her efforts, intense on retaining
as much of my essence as possible, wanting so much to keep
this gift I had offered her. In my dealings with her in the
past, I knew that this had been a sticking point with a
previous lover, her inability or lack of desire to fulfill
to completion this most intimate of kisses, and I was warmly
touched by her efforts to satisfy me in this way.
Finished, she crawled up my body and settled into my
arms. Knowing that it would both surprise and amuse her, I
kissed her mouth, tasting the brine of her most recent
activities in my own mouth; if asked previous to that
moment, I probably would have denied any desire to do this,
but with Dana it was an intimate, special moment that sealed
the passion between us better than any mere words ever could
have.
She was tenative at first, unsure that I knew what I
was doing; as she realized that I not only knew, but
welcomed it, the kiss intensified and we shared the remnents
of my generous liquid. Rolling over on the bed, I returned
to tasting her body, eager to give her the same pleasure
that she had given me. I worked my way down her torso,
stopping to French tickle her navel, listning to the
responding giggle and thinking that the songbirds in the
trees would be jealous could they hear Dana's laugh, and
then continued on to her legs, all the way down to her
petite feet, taking each toe in my mouth and sucking gently,
rubbing and touching seemingly everywhere at once.
Returning northward again, I slowed as I approached
her center, wanting to draw out the agonizing tease, wanting
her to be shuddering with need and desire minutes before I
arrived.
And then I had a sudden thought. I knew something
about her that no one else did. Years ago, scant months
before we first met, there had been another man in her life,
a so-called friend that had taken advantage of my Dana one
night, a night spent with too much liquor and not enough
common sense, until she was in no position to refuse his
advances, until he took from here that which should always
be given. My outrage and murderous impluses towards this man
were only compounded the night Dana tearfully admitted that
not only had he committed that atrocity against her body and
soul, but he had left something with her, something that
would always be with her, a little horrid something that
would appear in times of stress and linger for days. We
called it "The 'H'" between us, and there was always an
understanding that it made no difference to me one way the
other, and it was about to be proven in the most intimate
way there was.
I'm sure she expected me to swerve, lest it be the
wrong moment. I knew that if she knew, she would tell me so
that we would take the proper precautions, so I continued
ever upward. I was willing to take the chance, and not stop
and spoil the mood by asking. I wanted my absolute disregard
of personal issues to be another gift to her, another way of
telling Dana that I loved her no matter what...forever and
always.
And then I was upon her, tasting her arousal and
excitement, following it up by rubbing her pleasure center
with my nose, gently, like a kitten might bump noses with
you. Dana's hips responded like a young colt's drving
herself into my mouth again and again as I tried to keep her
still so I could concentrate on giving pleasure. Her
slickness aroused me to no end, and I tried to capture and
taste as much as I could, knowing and believing that it was
ambrosia. Her hands were in my hair, nails scratching my
scalp. Little feral moans, animal sounds really, started
eminating from deep within her body, and I rode her slick
"V" through two monumental climaxes, grinning to myself and
feeling myself grow closer still.
Finally, I seperated from her vulva and made my way
still northward, again sharing a kiss with her. She sucked
hungrily at my mouth, eager for her own taste, her own
scent. We stayed that way for several long moments, enjoying
the glow of pleasure and satisfaction between us.
A hand reached down below my waist and gently
circled me. "My, my," Dana said. "Is this all for me? And so
soon?"
"Always and forever," I whispered again. Dana smiled
at me and tugged at my waist, pulling over on top of her. I
felt myself nudging at her entrance, and then I was
penetrating her, filling her with me. She was mucuerically
warm for me, a silken vise coated in slick, hot honey that
covered every inch of my passion and bathed it with hers. We
began to move together, gently at first, softly, two friends
exploring the dimensions and limits of passion together,
trying to find a rythym, a pace that we could call our own
and dissolve into, losing our seperate identities and
becoming a spirtual 'one.'
Slowly, in stages, our passion increased until we
were rutting like animals, sweat pouring between us, our
skin sticking on each stroke. Our breathing intensified, and
we moved closer and closer to the ultimate, mutual release
point. My view was filled with the sight of Dana's face, her
eyes closed in enjoyment, concentration and passion, sexily
biting her lower lip, her upper lip covered with a fine
sheen of persparation, her incredibly soft and firm breasts
jiggling with each stroke, her soft, guttural moans of
enjoyment filling my ears. I could feel my own impending
release arriving, and I waited for her, exercising a control
I wasn't aware I posessed, until I felt her clutch at me,
inside, drawing my semen from me, into her, until we
completed...together, collapsing against each other as the
waves of release and passion washed over us, drowning us
both in their unstoppable waves.
Slowly, our breathing returned to normal as we held
each other and talked and laughed quietly.
"My God!" she enthused, smiling like a woman who had
just discovered a very delicious secret. "I had no idea,
Rick!"
"I did," I said seriously, a half-smile on my face.
"I always knew it would be like this...between us."
A little frown crossed her face. "Really? How?"
I shook my head, eyebrows raised. "I don't know
'how' I know...I just did. I've been thinking about this
moment for six years."
"Since when?!"
"The day we met. I looked up at you, and I knew at
that moment that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with
you." She opened her mouth to respond to <that>, and I
silenced her with a finger across her lips. "That's not what
I meant, Dana. Even if nothing else ever happens, it will be
worth it, because I have this perfect pristene moment,
holding you in my arms after we made love. I've wanted
nothing but that for the longest time, just the chance to
show you what we can be like together. Let's just leave it
like this for now, honey. I'm not expecting anything from
you. I just want to spend tonight in your arms, holding you,
feeling you next to me. As far as <tonight> goes, I don't
want to let you go. When the bright, rational sunlight of
morning is filling this bedroom, we can discuss all the
other issues. But for tonight...just let me hold you."
She dissolved into my arms, sobbing either with
happiness at this newfound joy, or sadness because she
suspected it was only for tonight.
I didn't know which, but you know what? As we
slowly, softly fell asleep that Christmas Eve, I didn't
care. I knew that I had given her something only one person
on the Earth could give her; I'd given my all to her, given
of myself to her, and she had taken it gratefully, with love
and warmth and tenderness. Whatever artic winds waited in
the wings for tomorrow, ready to blow what we had out to
sea, I knew I would be happy and content.
We fell asleep in each other's arms. I woke first,
almost half an hour before Dana did. I spent the time
watching her sleep, the sun cutting in from the window,
split into prison-bar shadows by the blinds, perpindicular
to her body. Dana was on her stomach, her face towards me,
her hair a glorious mane of dissarray on the pillow. I could
see the flattened weight of her breasts against the
mattress, and the gentle sloping curve of her rump. The
sheets were down below her waist, low enough so I could only
see the beginning of the cleft of her behind. Breathing
slowly, evenly, her face the innocent mask of an angel, I
toyed with her hair and brushed it away from her face,
content to just look at her as she slept. In my fantasies, I
always used this special time to whisper sweet nothings to
her, to tell her sleeping form how much I loved and adored
her, how I would never, ever leave her, things like that.
"Dana," I said softly so as not to wake her, "I'm
not sure what today is going to bring for us, let alone
tomorrow. But I want you to know...that I always loved you,
and I will always love you. You're the first person I want
to talk to every morning, and the last person I want to talk
to at night. I want to share every aspect of my life with
you. I know that it may not be what you want...but I want
you to know that it's here for you if you want it. All you
have to do is ask me, and I'll be yours...always and
forever."
Dana opened her eyes and smiled at me, and I knew
with a sudden, embarrased certainty that she'd heard my
entire speil. Kissing me gently, she asked, "Always?"
Kissing her back, I said. "Forever."
================================================================
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