One finger danced in circles upon my freckled shoulder. It wandered down my arm, inciting a familiar ache. Dropping to my bare waist the other fingers joined the revelry, teasing eagerly toward my round hip. Tiny hairs stood erect, fluttering with anticipation; betraying the coy masquerade my stillness and silence sought to nurture.
His ragged polo drooped over the back of my desk chair hiding from view a small brass frame adorning my mother’s photo. Footsteps echoed along the outside of my window. The blinds tucked tight one into another and the white linen curtains hugged secure from end to end. I could not see her shadow but I knew my roommate was home for the night. The lock popped with a turn of her key and faint footsteps shuffled along the tiny foyer toward her bedroom.
I held my breath as I feared she might want to tell me goodnight. I fixed my eyes to the door. A distant lamplight clicked on and the door across the hall snapped shut. I searched the floor alongside my bed. My white cotton nightgown with pink lace trim dangled from the ivory bed post. His jeans and boxers crumpled into a heap by my nightstand. One gray sock with red stitching across the toe peeked out from beneath the scalloped bed skirt. But there were no shoes.
I worried that he took them off at the front door. Had she seen them? Did she enter the dark apartment and notice a man’s shoes in the entryway? Perhaps she did not say goodnight because she fretted a man might come to my darkened doorway if she knocked. Would she tell? Did it matter to me anymore?
I had longed for this night since the first time we kissed, though I pretended to myself that I would resist. When the first pangs of emotion ignited between us I hurried to state my opinion on the mat...
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...t with a boy’s stare. They often looked. I could feel it. My breasts had grown. They pinched the edges of my sweaters together, causing them to pucker and wrinkle. Like two round oranges they stretched the fabric between and begged to be adored. Once skinny hips plumped and pulled skirts out from my waistband, an unwelcome surprise during my sophomore year of high school.
Now, four fingers caressed that generous curve from my waist to my hip. Down they traveled to my thigh and lingered but for a moment, teasing. Tickling further to my knee and cascading down my calf they stroked the soft part of my foot before hugging my toes. Finally, they sauntered upward and retraced their sensual journey. He sought to memorize me. With a slow and gentle stroke he photographed each curve that he might review it later. A naked muse, he could hide nothing from me, or I from him.
“I stepped into the room to remind my daughter of her school homework that was due tomorrow and all of a sudden, seeing her bed empty…it came to such a shock to me and my husband!”, Mrs Burke exclaimed.
A dark intensity shone from his eyes, and ducking his head, trailed his tongue over the firm edge of Booker’s jawline. Their lips met, pressing and caressing, savoring each other’s flavors with sweeping tongues and hungry mouths. But Tom wanted to explore and curbing his fervor, his lips left the sensual curve of Booker’s mouth and moved slowly along his stubbled cheek until he found an earlobe. Using his teeth, he lightly nibbled the smooth flesh. Sensing Booker wanted more contact, he buried his face in the crook of his lover’s neck, breathing in the warm, masculine scent of scotch and aftershave before brushing a kiss over the sensitive spot just below his ear. A soft murmur caught his attention, and smiling against the taut skin, he continued his exploration, his tongue trailing a wet path down to the hollow of Booker’s throat. His mouth nipped and sucked at the firm, inviting flesh, moving slowly downward until he reached a nipple. He grazed the nub with his teeth and was immediately rewarded with a moan of approval. His tongue flicked over the raised mound, teasing the tight skin before lightly mouthing over the warm flesh. Taking the nipple into his mouth, his soft lips sucked the brown areola, the tender caress eliciting an excited moan from above. When gentle hands entwined in his
I open up and she’s there with bags and big boxes, the new clothes and, yes, she’s got the socks and new slip with little rose on it and a pink and white stripped dress. What about the shoes? I forgot. Too late now. I’m tired. Whew!” (Pg. 46)
He entered the room and opened the lamp that only produced a dim light. Mike then placed his overnight case on the floor and shut the door. He walked farther in and saw two doors, one was the washroom and the other one was the closet. Mr. Enslin then took out his Sony minicorder and started to describe what he observed. On the walls, there was an amber colored wallpaper with some dark stains, and the floor was wooden, making a cracking sound every time someone stepped on it. In front of the window, there was a long and silky burgundy curtain. The room did not have much furniture either. There was a queen sized bed white cream colored sheets, one average sized lamp, an old phone, two red sofa chairs, a coffee table, a little refrigerator and a toaster which was placed on top of the coffee table. In the room, there was also two framed pictures. One was a picture of an old town and the other picture was a small family on a farm. Mike had also realized that the room had a particular smell; it smelled like an old basement that had not been ...
Her full heart-shaped lips with their natural light rose color beckon him to take and explore the depths of her luscious mouth. He brushed his lips against her all too tempting mouth. As a small sigh escaped her lips, his tongue slid inside to savor her sweet, spicy nectar. With a wanton nature, she nipped his playful probing tongue. This slip of a female was without guile, she made her needs be known to him without a word. With his Selkie, heighten senses, which enable him to hear her heart race from the pleasure of their kiss. Even as jaded as he was, he experienced a quickening of his own heartbeat. After such a kiss he had to have more, this made him question just who was the predator and who the prey in this
The proud and joyous young bride is initially exuberant about having her “ handsome” husbands hand complacently resting “ under the small of her, adolescent back”(55). The girl after savoring her new environment turns her attention to this “ powerful” hand(55). Her eyes were glancing over every small detail from his “red hairs . . . all curved in the same direction, like ears of wheat in the wind” to his “ flat nails” that “gleamed, coated with pink varnish”(56). The small previously unnoticed details of her husbands hand then began to frighten and disgust the wife because she then realized how little she knew about him and their love was just based out of lust. The nails of her husbands hand she moments before admired became the turning point in the brides emotional state. She says “ I’ll tell him not to varnish his nails . . .Varnish and pink polish don’t go with a hand so . . .”(56). In the next paragraph she looks at thumb and states that “ the hand suddenly took on a ...
The part of her hair gave birth to a running red river, so deep and rich and full of life it could call to mind in certain individuals of a sanguine cascade down stairs. The shape of her forehead, coupled with the delicate white of her skin, cast upon the room like a crescent moon. Then her face, the most angelic face, one of innocence and childhood ardor, had hints of lust carved into the creases around the eyes and besetting the lips. Her eyes were what she unaf...
As he stared at the ceiling, color returned to his face, numbness replaced with a warm sense of existing, the touch of the cool air against his skin. He looked at his hands. They were calloused and raw, nails gnawed to the quick, fingerprints lost among countless scars and burns. He grimaced. They didn't let him care for his hands, which was silly; he was a musician and he needed them to
Her hands shake as she places her size 6, custom crafted, pale pink ballet slippers next to an ancient off white folding chair. The dull chair moans and groans as she rests herself upon the antique. She tucks a few lose wayward strands of hair behind her left ear. She wipes her small hands on the thighs of her tights as she leans forward. She rolls her head back on her shoulders, stretching the muscles in her long, lean neck. She rolls and shrugs her tiny shoulders forward and...
11:14 p.m.-I slowly ascend from my small wooden chair, and throw another blank sheet of paper on the already covered desk as I make my way to the door. Almost instantaneously I feel wiped of all energy and for a brief second that small bed, which I often complain of, looks homey and very welcoming. I shrug off the tiredness and sluggishly drag my feet behind me those few brief steps. Eyes blurry from weariness, I focus on a now bare area of my door which had previously been covered by a picture of something that was once funny or memorable, but now I can't seem to remember what it was. Either way, it's gone now and with pathetic intentions of finishing my homework I go to close the door. I take a peek down the hall just to assure myself one final time that there is nothing I would rather be doing and when there is nothing worth investigating, aside from a few laughs a couple rooms down, I continue to shut the door.
Green eyes sparkled with amusement, and hunger, as her fingers curved under, save for the index, which went softly seeking, pushing between the slick, sodden folds, passing tenderly over the little nub and continuing on, only to return, beginning a lazy circle.
“When will it be my turn?’ I asked my reflection softly, brushing the stray hairs out of my face. My hair stood messily on the top of my head. I fingered a strand and twirled it with my fingers. It was dark brown and course styled in a massive afro. They hated it.
I gaze carefully. My little red friend scrambles across my keyboard. Amazing, all those limbs and joints bending and stretching in a rhythmic fluidity, tiny feelers waving excitedly. He approaches a friend, and they tap each other in friendly camradrie, perhaps even love. He waves in understanding and he is off again, this time swiftly scampering toward the Collegiate Coupon book sitting on my desk. He surges upwards a few millimeters and slips into the crack between the pages.
...e far end of her walk. Ever punctual, shoulders squared, fingers tight inside a pair of faded red mittens, gripping a cane and a poem, she faced the black sky against the snow. There, under the archway of cold, she set free a silent kiss. She watched it ricochet off the edge of time, follow constellations across the sky, exploding, raining frozen tears, and sparkling kisses upon his silent body.