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Time together [mf]
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.
This story is another from the archives, and is not written by me.
Requests for just about anything concerning these posts will be ignored.
See the FAQ in a.s.s.d for more information. And stop sending talk
requests. Even when I'm logged in to this posting site, I usually
have the window closed, and if I don't, it's because I'm WORKING
The following is my story of anonymous creation. Since I
am anonymous, and, therefore, imaginary, its validity must
be questioned. If one enjoys it, let it be known and more
will follow suit. If it is not enjoyed, please follow the
advice of the renouned Sigmund Frewd, in his lecture titled,
"The Id, Ego, and Fast Cars," when he said, and I quote,
"Go fuck yourself."
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Time Together
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God, it was a beautiful day. The air crackled with excitement,
an excitement which had now been steadily growing for weeks.
Today was to be a day of reunion, of embrace. I could see each
individual second inch its way across my vision, moving slowly
into the recent past. The visions contrasted sharply with my
racing heart which now felt as the engine of a Ford Escort
must in San Francisco, pumping furiously up a hill, comforted
only by the thoughts of reaching the summit.
The airport was full, but not crowded. People were moving about
the terminals, most were rushing foolhardedly, not realizing that
life was meant to be savored, slowly and easily, as the taste
of an ice cream cone on a hot, humid afternoon.
As usual, I was early. I sat in the terminal, like a dog, panting,
waiting for your plane to come into view. I tried not to arrive
too early, for I knew the wait would torment me. But as I tried
sitting around the house, that too was a torture I could not bear,
so I jumped in the car and drove to meet you.
I had hoped to drive slowly, allowing multitudes of those tiny
little seconds to make their way by as I traveled. But as I
drove I thought, a terrible combination for one who often finds
it difficult to walk and breathe at the same time. Songs and
sights triggered memories and fantasies, dreams and desires, and
at the center of the earthquake in my mind was you. A properly
aged bottle of wine, a slowly steamed dinner, my hands massaging
the canvas of your body with the touch of Michelangelo, a totality
of the universe composed of your and I drifting together down
its river.
Rapids were approaching, shots of whiskey, frozen dinners, your
blouse ripped off, exposed chest, hardened nipples, skirt lifted,
ankles grabbed, penetration, and exclamation. The visions before
my eyes flew, ever increasing their pace. My erection started to
stiffen. My leg followed suit and it pressed firmly against the car
floor, vainly attempting to relieve some of the pressure. As
visions of you, of sex, sped through my consciousness, my car
sped down the highway, racing.
The piercing sound of the radar detector forced me to release
the pressure my foot was placing on the accelerator. If only
such a device could control a speeding libido.
And now I sit, waiting. Sweating. The erection which comes
every time I think of you alters all of my thoughts. Thoughts
of a meadow evolve, change, you and I dancing, with nature, movements
like the grass in the wind. Memories of our adventure in the
park, of you sucking my dick in the small pavilion, of when you
dropped your shorts in the trees and bent over, exposing your
aching cunt lips, shaking your ass in front of me like bread
to a starving man, and I coming over and fucking you, slamming
into your hole, as a man and his two sons were just yards away
through the trees.
Trying to shake these torturous thoughts out of my mind, I
go to grab a snack. I grab a Hersheys bar and a Coke. As I
taste the chocolate I remember the first time licked your
asshole, stuck my tongue in, my finger, my dick. You always
love it when I fuck you from behind and play with your ass,
or reach around and grab your tits and squeeze, not only with
my hands, but with my arms, and just as your tits fit perfectly
into my hand, your curves fit perfectly into mine.
Your plane was descending. I stood still, hiding the
anticipation which I felt so fully. I knew you would leave
the plane in an incredible state of sexual arousal. I had
monitored the computer networks for a month, saving each
erotic story, and just before your departure, I mailed them
to you to read through as you traveled to me. I could
picture your journey, your protruding nipples, flowing
cunt, and I wondered if you had to run to the bathroom on
the plane to masturbate, to relieve the ache that I knew you
were feeling.
As you disembarked, I leapt toward you in my mind, stripping
you of those useless garments, and made love to you, and fucked
you, and we did things together which I'm sure had never happened
before under this sun. But in reality I smiled, approached, hugged,
and kissed, fighting desires I know I couldn't control forever.
We held hands as we walked to the car, discussing work and
weather, of the hardness of our lives, of the heat and humidity
in the air. I was aroused, and with that went an excitation
of my senses, and I could smell your snatch, and its enticing
beverages, as we walked arm in arm. Vaginal visions replaced
doorways, the sweat dripping from my nose came from your cunt,
from burying my face between you thighs and kissing, and licking,
and nibbling, fucking you with my tongue and nose, and your
juices covered my face, forming and dripping on my nose as
on a mirror while you shower. This liquid I did not wish to
wipe away, but to enjoy for as long as you would allow it.
And we walked. The car must have been parked in China. We
finally made it there, finally. When we got in we kissed, deeply
and passionately, a kiss of two people who see each other far
too rarely, a kiss of passions withheld and released, of the eternal
and the erotic. My hand cupped your breast as our lips entwined,
your nipple poking between two of my knuckles. My fingers tried
to squeeze it, but one cannot squeeze a stone. So instead they
rolled it, twisted it, pulled it, pushed it, and basically
danced with it as if there were beautiful music playing.
And as we sat in the car, I lowered my head to your chest and
kissed the partner of my dancing fingers. Slowly, with a movement
matching smooth rotations of a second hand on a good watch in both
speed and pattern, my tongue encircled your nipple. And then I bit.
Gently, but never the less, bit. You let out a low moan, an animal
moan, one which I would swear your voice could never do. It was a
moan of distant ages, of primitive cultures and primitive desires,
a moan of necessity.
As with a fine wine, the bouquet from the vintage between your
thighs floated to my nose, and not wanting such a rare and lovely
scent to go to waste, I decided to cork the bottle. My hand cupped
your entire vaginal region, my palm pressing your clitoral area
through your skirt. I placed my hand on your knee, and it began
its journey home. When it reached the top of your thighs, it
played in your pubic hair like a young boy in the woods, innocently
and happily. This boy matured quickly however, and was soon
feeling the desires of puberty. I began to rub your clit between
my forefinger and thumb, and as the boy scout does when he rubs
two sticks together, I started a fire.
The flames were quickly, and unfortunately, and unforgivably,
extinguished when a family walked toward the car. You were never
one for public embarrassment. Myself, on the other hand, has been
a public embarrassment since birth, when all other babies would
point and make fun of this kid with dirty diapers.
You suggested we leave the parking area and head home. As I
drove, you decided to finish reading the collection of stories
I had sent you. As you read, your hands reached down and
massaged your cunt, still wet. For someone of embarrassment in
the parking area, you were one of lust on the highway. I left
the city and headed home, attempting to keep distant from all
cars, for you were strumming your clit in a manner that would
make Jimmy Hendrix proud, and the moanful music it produced
was as enchanting a melody as has ever been sung.
The car seat was quickly adjusted to suit your needs, horizontal,
slid all the way back. And your hands slid over your body,
lubricated by your juices which were soon to flood the world.
Your shirt was open, and your left hand played with your tits
while your right was working a magic of its own. I reached
over as I drove and grabbed your nipple. I held it tightly,
pulling it toward the windshield, forming your tit into a cone
of which I held the point. I moved it around in circles, pulled
as far away from your body as it would go, and watched your
reactions, jealous of your oncoming relief.
You reached over with your right hand and dipped it into my
waiting lips, and for the first time in months I tasted you.
More fragrant than roses, more tender than filet, I knew what
your fingers had been playing with. And as I drove, and as you
read, you began to shiver slightly, as one would in the summer
when a cool, refreshing breeze would brush over one's body.
Lips curled, eyes closed, chest exposed and pointing to the
stars, your hands moved at a feverous pace, attempting to cure
yourself of your aches. You began to mutter my name in that
low barbaric voice and I knew that your climax was beginning.
Your thighs quaked, feet firmly against the windshield, back
arched, breath coming only sporadically, and a tear formed
at your eye as the wave crashed upon your shores, and I was
only a sightseer at this erotic monument.
After you had regained your faculties, you straightened out
your clothes, and began to straighten out mine. You leaned
over to me and opened the doors to my penis. Your hands coddled
my balls as your lips engulfed my shaft. You squeezed firmly,
then gently, bobbed quickly, then slowly, teasingly, enticingly,
lovingly. And I sat, and I drove, and I smiled.
And I smiled, smiled until I saw that sign that said we would
soon be heading through another town, through traffic. And
my smile turned to a frown, because you noticed the sign also,
and as an observer of public morality, you put my hard on back
in its confines, and sat up. My balls ached to be relieved with
a need which could best be compared with that of the necessity
of two objects to be attracted to each other. They ached and
were drawn to the hole between your thighs, and the hold between
your lips, and the hole between your cheeks, and for them
to be confined in their drawers was against the laws of
nature.
But I drove. Then we ate. And if I thought my mind was
preoccupied with sex before, now it was simply obsessed. Its
amazing the amount of phallic or sexual symbols one can
see when encrazed with a desire like the one which now held
me. I gained much joy out of watching a young lady squeeze a door
handle, out of the way you brought a glass to your lips, and
I was indeed envious of that glass. And this whole time, at
the top of my mind, pervading every thought and word, was the
knowledge that under that shirt you wore no bra, and under
that skirt there was no underwear to stand in my way, and
that those treasures lie on the opposite end of the table, out
of my reach, barely.
And I drove home. Never had a car been such a slow mode of
transportation. And to further the agony, you played with
self, and the aroma filled my car, my mind. But this, like
all journeys through hell, came to an end, for in the distance
I saw my home. And in that house was my bedroom, and in
that bedroom were we within a few minutes.
My arms enveloped you, and mailed you to the bed, on which
you now laid. I removed your clothes, and you were naked,
a ripe fruit whose scent told of its need to be plucked. My
clothes were removed in an instant, and I laid between you
thighs, my tongue wetting your ear, my hand cupping your
breast.
I began to kiss every part of your body, your forehead, your
upper lip, your cheek, your nose, your bottom lip, your
neck, your chin, your ear. I started to work my way down,
for gravity was heavy upon me, but then I remembered how you
had teased me for hours in the car. And with that memory
fresh in my mind, I pulled back to my knees and put your
ankles upon my shoulders. I plunged into you with the
velocity of an object falling from the sky, my balls slamming
against your ass, the bed creaking and the floor echoing.
And I pulled out slowly, gently, kissing your calf, licking
your toes, smiling, then quickly, forcefully, swung my hips
forward, downward with the weight of my body behind, entering
you up to the limits and beyond. You grunted, and as you
breathed in, again I came pounding into you. You let out a
breath, and on that breath was the word "harder", and so
I obliged. And as our hips collided, my balls filled,
and with a final thrust, a thrust in which it felt that my
whole existence rode, I came, and collapsed, and fell
onto your chest with your arms around me. There I stayed,
happily, and can only wish to remain there, next to your
heart, for an eternity. But life, as always, separates
us. Teresa, I await our next encounter...
--
I will ignore all requests for: reposts, e-mailing parts, ftp/gif/archive
sites, and subscription requests. These stories get deleted immediately after
they are posted. For more info on the ARCHIVE postings, read the FAQ posted
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