Conversation

We reach the truck, and you toss my suitcase into the back with one hand while continuing to hold my hand with the other. (I packed that thing - it weighs a ton.)

You somehow spin me around so that my back is against the door and you're standing in front of me. You lean down and finally brush your lips against my throat. I reach for you, but you capture both my hands in one of yours, holding my arms above my head and keeping me trapped against the door of the truck. There is no question who's in charge here. And it makes me want to be even closer to you, but you're having none of it. You just keep teasing me, coming closer then backing away just enough that I can no longer feel your chest rising and falling when you breathe. I don't know that I can take it much longer when you lean in and kiss me on the forehead. You let go of my hands and open the door for me to get into the truck. As I am climbing up into the seat, you lift the back of my skirt, revealing the tops of my stockings and my naked behind. You hold the skirt up as I sit down, and lift the front of the skirt to my waist as you lock the seatbelt around me. It may be cold, but that isn't going to be a good enough reason to change the way I'm sitting.

You go around to your side of the truck and climb in, smiling down on me. You reach out your arm, and I lean over to rest my head on your shoulder. I know that this position places my bare hip and behind in plain view, but it doesn't matter. All that matters is that you are holding me once again.

I lose track of time as we stand there. It is probably only a few minutes, but it feels like forever. You just keep looking into my eyes, and I can feel you breathing but am not allowed to reach out to you. Just as the tears begin to sting my eyes, you turn away and begin walking out of the airport. "Come on, hurry up."

I'm stunned. I have no idea where you are headed, so I hurry to catch up with you before you disappear into the crowd. I know you can hear my shoes clattering on the floor, yet you just keep walking. I break into a run (no small feat in these shoes) and finally catch up with you. You reach out your hand and take mine as we enter the tunnel to the parking garage.

Your lips just graze my skin, and I feel all tingly with anticipation when you straighten up. "Hey," I exclaim, "Where are you going?"

"I see your suitcase," you reply as you head into the waiting crowd. You walk straight to it, and it amazes me that you can make your way through all those people so easily.

You grab the suitcase and turn to come back toward me, and catch me still pouting a little from the lack of kissing. You motion for me to follow you, and lead me back behind the escalator, near the bathrooms. It is deserted, as usual, and you gesture for me to come closer. "Closer," you say. And again. Until I'm only about an inch from you. "Now don't move."

I don't know if I have heard you correctly, but I'm sort of afraid to test it to find out, so I freeze there, close enough to feel the warmth of your body, but still not touching you anywhere.

"Look at me," you command. I lift my eyes to meet yours and see that you are enjoying the hell out of this. "May I?" I ask. "May you what?" comes the expected reply. "May I touch you?"

"No."

I lower my eyes, disappointed. Again you demand that I meet your eyes, and I see even more enjoyment and excitement there. I begin to speak, when you remind me that you've not given permission for me to do anything except look at you. And your reminders hurt.

You reach up between us and tweak my right nipple. "Is this what you want?" you ask as you pull your hand away. "Do you want to be touching my finger with your tit?"

Once more I try to look away, but you bring your hand up to my chin, keeping your eyes locked on mine. "There will be a punishment in store for you for trying that again,"

I see you in the luggage area. You look wonderful, even from this distance. I would love to walk up behind you, cover your eyes with my hands and say "Guess Who", but of course I'd need my stepstool to do that. Still, I could sneak up behind you... perhaps another time. I'd really like to keep my head solidly on my shoulders this weekend.

So I walk up next to you and slip my hand into yours. You turn, and smile. "I've been waiting for your suitcase to show up - and this time you got here before it did."

"Yes, well, I had a good reason to hurry, didn't I?"

You smile down at me and put your arms around me, pulling me close while still watching for my suitcase. "Hey - I'm down here," I exclaim.

"Hush." You lean down and gaze at the off the shoulder top I'm wearing. "Is that supposed to be a hint?" you ask. "Well, perhaps," I reply, "I really do miss feeling your lips there."

"Like this?" you ask, as you reach down to kiss the one spot that always turns my knees to jello.

As usual these days, I over react. Please forgive me, and now we'll return to our regularly scheduled smut.

Thank you.

A question:

Is she pretty? Do you see her? Do you love her?

Okay, that was more than one, but you understand, I'm certain.

And yes, I know you will be completely honest with me. It is one of the things I love most about you.

I was thinking today about what I'd like for your birthday. I know, that sounds backwards, doesn't it?

But, you see, what I would like for your birthday is to cover you with whipped cream and chocolate sauce, and very slowly lick it all off. Of course, appropriate cherries would have to be applied as well.

Hope your day was wonderful.

An old song, but somehow it fits today's mood.

I will love you, till the day I die
I will love you, and I'll tell you why
'Cause you're nice to me, you're so right for me

I will love you, with a love that's true
And the only thing I'll ask of you
Is to care for me, care for me alone

I will love you, till the day I die
I will love you, and I'll tell you why
'Cause your heart is pure, and your dreams are mine
And I love you, I love you, I care.

Thank you for thinking I was special. Thank you for making me believe I was special because you thought so.

Sometimes I think about what exactly it is that would make the nightmares go away. It isn't drugs, because so far, they're not even coming close to stopping them. It isn't being hidden - we've been hiding for months, and they keep getting worse.

No, I know what would make them go away.

I can picture it in my mind. The two of us, me on my belly, head turned to one side. Our arms outstretched, yours above mine, our fingers entwined. Your chest and belly resting on my back, your legs holding mine closed and you inside me. Your breath soft on my cheek as we both drift off to sleep.

I'd be willing to bet there would be no nightmares then.

In my dream you are sitting beside me. My arms are outstretched, as are my legs. You are smiling down at me, pleased with my reactions.

You stand, taking the slapper in your hand, and move down toward my hips. I watch as you gently stroke me with the edge of it, then use it to spank my cunt. Gently at first, then harder.

A word escapes my lips, and you lean down to ask what I had said. "Please," I respond.

"Please stop?" you ask. "No," I reply, feeling my face grow warm. "Please don't."

On many mornings I would love to just curl up and hug the blanket, content in the knowlege that you are pleased with me.

Perhaps tomorrow morning I will be able to do so, as there is no school for Maria, and I won't be expected to arrive at my appointment until 2. On the other hand, perhaps the Blue Angels flying over every fifteen minutes will keep me awake.

It is Fleet Week here in the Bay area. Lots of fun if you aren't disturbed by the crowds. Not so much if you want to hug someone's pillow and drift off while thinking of how wonderful it was the last time he touched you and how much you are looking forward to his touch once again.

I need to settle on one airline, so I can begin to build up more frequent flyer miles. After all, it isn't as if I don't go to your side of the country often enough to get free flights fairly often.

And I must admit that I am looking forward to visiting there again very soon.

You enter, and I drop to my knees before you. I bow my head, ashamed of what I have to tell you.

"What is it?" you question gently. I look up at you and see more affection and understanding than I deserve. "I have some things to tell you, Sir, and I am concerned that they will make you unhappy."

"I'll be more unhappy if you continue to keep me in the dark, won't I?"

"Yes, Sir. There are two things you need to know. One is that I will not be going back to where I used to spend my days, and the other is that I don't want to spend another moment not touching you."

"And you think that will make me unhappy? I want you to crave my touch, to miss me every time I'm gone for more than a few hours, to tell me exactly what it is you desire."

"Yes, Sir. I know that. It is the first part I think may be disturbing to you." "Oh, that? I always knew you wouldn't go back there. After all, once I brought you here, why would you ever want to leave?"

"I don't. Not ever. Not even for an instant."

Just in case you're checking my calendar (which I'm kind of hoping you're interested enough to do) Scott is my lawyer. He is supposed to have some papers for me to sign on Wednesday, and is coming down from Marin County to have me sign them.

Another one of those cases of "hurry up and wait" I'm afraid. Papers for this, court dates for that, paperwork going to everyone and his brother.

But the one good thing is that I may just be able to pull off keeping Maria here for a while - If I can come up with a budget we can live with.

(yeah, 'cause that's so going to happen.)

I warned you that the ending wasn't going to be pretty. I'm sorry that it has upset you. I wasn't trying to do that. In fact, I was pointing out that being honest with me is very important, and that I will love you no matter what circumstances separate us.

But I think you already knew that, didn't you?

I have promised everyone that I will go and say goodbye to you in person, and we both know that isn't going to happen, so there is nothing to fear.

I'll be back at some point. I can't stay away, as you know.

so rather than good bye, this is au revoir - until we meet again.

I recover at least some of my composure while loading things into the dishwasher, and peek out the door to see if there is anything else I need to do immediately. You see me peering out, and call to me, "Slut - why are you hiding in the kitchen? I can see at least two beers that need to be replaced, and I am beginning to think that we may want breakfast when we're done playing."

I duck back into the kitchen and come out with new beers for all, and while I am distributing them around the table I ask each of the players what he would like for breakfast. Most of the requests are extremely reasonable, but Pet's Master (and I swear I can see him winking at you while he asks) wants eggs Benedict. And you, real man that you are, have decided that you just can't live without quiche. Fresh from the oven quiche. Homemade quiche. Yes, you've made yourself clear.

"I'm going to need a couple of hours if I have to make the crust from scratch," I remind you. And you, being exactly who you are, remind me that if I make the crust it will be inedible. "There are a couple of crusts I have made that are still in the freezer," you remark. "It shouldn't take you more than an hour to complete everyone's requests."

As I turn to leave you give me a big swat on the ass, keeping your hand on the spot afterwards. I do the obvious thing, and, placing my hand over yours, spin back toward you and give you an enormous kiss. Then I kiss your cheek as you whisper to me "Good slut. We'll talk about everything later." Smile firmly back on my face, I head off to the land of eggs and cream.

Of course, the first thing I do when I get back into the kitchen is to put on some coffee. More than breakfast, you will need something non-alcoholic to drink - and soon. Then the pie crust comes out of the freezer, and I line it with bacon and swiss, make the custard and put it on a pan to go into the oven when it has preheated. I've got both english muffins and canadian bacon, so I pull out some tarragon, eggs and butter for the hollandaise sauce. (Could the two of you have made it any more difficult?)

I putter around in the kitchen, poaching eggs, toasting muffins, waiting for the quiche to be finished. When there are just about fifteen minutes left, I put the bacon on to fry, and scramble some eggs (soft, just the way we like them.) Then I pour the coffee into an urn to take to the table, along with some condiments and utensils.

There is a long table along the wall next to the kitchen, and I begin bringing the necessary items out... plates, bowls, silverware, coffee cups and cream and sugar. The pot of coffee comes out next - I really am hoping some of you will stop the beer and spend a couple of hours with nice hot coffee before you try to make it home.

The oven timer goes off, and I rush in to bring the quiche out to cool just a touch. Custards are tricky that way, as you know. You have to take them out just before the center is done, or they get overcooked.

When everything is ready, I take the platters of food out and place them on the table. I figure you'll get around to eating when you are ready, so I try to ease my way back into the kitchen. No such luck. You look at me and point to the floor by your side.

Normally, I am delighted to sit by you, but now I'm afraid of getting too comfortable. Don't want to fall asleep again. So I entertain myself counting the threads in the seam of your pants. You reach down and take some of my hair in your hand and pull me up onto my knees. You ask if all is prepared, and I reply that everything should be just as they ordered it.

"Well, then, I suppose we should eat some of it," you remark to the other players. They are more anxious than you seem to be to get some real food into their bellies, so you remain seated with me while they help themselves. "We'll have plenty of time to eat after they've gone," you say. I agree, as I don't see myself sleeping any more tonight.

The food and coffee disappear and soon there is very little left but a couple of slices of quiche and dirty dishes. "May I take care of the dishes, Sir?" "Not just yet, Slut. I want you here with me while I wrap things up."

You rise, and I can tell that the evening is coming to a close. You speak with Pet's Master, and the two of you go to her and wake her up from what has been quite a long nap. You look at me, and I approach and ask if it would be permissible for me to loan her the throw from the sofa for the ride home, so she doesn't get too chilled. "After all, she will be back here soon enough, won't she?" You look at me, and reply, "Yes, I imagine so."

I get coats for the players, and for Pet. She hugs me, and I give her a kiss on the cheek while I wrap her up in the throw. She smiles at me, and beams at you. I know she doesn't think I saw it, but I know the signs when I see them.

After all the guests are gone, you help me clean up the kitchen and then we're off to bed for what will wind up being most of the morning. "Tell me everything," you demand. "Every thought, every sensation, every taste and smell, everything." I begin telling you what went on, demonstrating on your body all the things I had done to hers, beginning with the first kiss, working my way down your body to the scar, licking the part of your body where your legs and torso come together. Then I do something with you that we both know I hadn't done for her. I slide down and begin licking your ass, sucking and flicking you with my tongue, teasing you with just the lightest of touches, then forming my tongue into a circle and using it to penetrate you. I taste you the way I tasted her, but in this more intimate way. I then proceed to lick and suck and caress your balls, eventually working my way up to your cock. I explore every inch of you with my tongue, licking, nibbling very lightly, and then soothing with the flat of my tongue again. I reach the head of your cock, and I tease you there as well, using the lightest of touches. Wetting the head, then using my tongue to spread the moisture around and underneath it.

You place both hands on my head. Not pushing, because you never push, just holding me there close to you. I take you into my mouth, and begin sliding my mouth and tongue from top to bottom. It doesn't take long before you're spurting into my mouth.

You pull me close to you, my head on your chest, and I think we'll be going to sleep soon. I couldn't have been more mistaken. "Tell me again," you command. "Tell me while I feel what you felt."

So I began with the soft kiss on the cheek, and so did you. Every move I describe, you recreat. The kisses that turn to licking and sucking as neck becomes shoulder, the soft approach to my breasts, taking each nipple into your mouth and teasing them with your tongue before taking my breasts into your hands and squeezing while you nursed at my nipples.

From there, you move on to my navel, then to the spot where I don't have a scar. And rather than licking the spot where my legs and torso meet, you run your finger next to my outer lips, stopping to pluck a hair or two, just to see my reaction.

I hold your head as you slide down to begin your exploration of my cunt. I describe the feeling of tasting each portion of her with my tongue, and you reenact each motion I describe. You hold my legs and open me with your tongue, filling me with it until I am straining against you, wanting more. You, of course, oblige, filling me with your fingers while you lick and suck and nip my clit, sending me places I can never hope to see again.

You crawl back up to me and kiss me good night. You turn over on your side and reach back to pull me close to you. My breasts next to your back, my legs curled up inside yours, your ass next to my belly. I put my face next to you and wait for you to fall asleep.

When your breathing has become soft and regular, I move my head away without waking you. I know what will happen, and I cry silently when I think of the fact that one day soon it will be her you are sleeping with, and I will be alone. But you are always honest with me, and there are almost always others. Even though it breaks my heart, there will always be others.

But I know that you love me, and that is enough. It has to be, doesn't it?

I rustle arond in the kitchen for a bit, gathering refills on the snacks and the drinks - it is beginning to sound as though this game could go on for a while. When I bring the beer, you request additional snacks (see, I told you...) and as I went back to the kitchen to bring them to you and your friends, I glanced over at Pet. Someone had covered her, and she looks as if she is just about asleep. She's pretty, something I hadn't really noticed before.

I go back through the swinging doors as you and your friends laugh about something one of you was dealt. I may understand the game of poker, but I will never quite get the way you and your friends play. It seems more like a social thing than a chance to win money, and I like that, even if it would be less work to just have a cocktail party if all you're going to do is socialize.

I grab the snacks I had laid out before entering the room with your beer, and head back into the game room. I place a plate of individual snacks at each seat, and then lean over your shoulder to put the larger platters on the table. You smile, and reach up for what I think is going to be a kiss... silly me. You pinch one nipple, and when I gasp, you pinch the other. I think I must be just about the original color of the Datsun by now, when finally you allow me to be seated beside you.

Once again I wrap my arms around your calf, feeling secure in your closeness. I know many things about you, one of which is that you won't allow any harm to come to anyone under your roof. So while I'm feeling warm and safe, I lay my head on your thigh and close my eyes. Just for a few seconds. I feel your hand in my hair, and look up at you. You look down at me with that wicked smile and say "You could at least refrain from snoring. You're interrupting the game."

I bury my face in your thigh, because I know you're right. Another of those things I know about you - you never lie to me. Not even when it would be easier on both of us if you did. You lean down toward me and say, "I think it might be time to begin cleaning up."

So I, still crimson from the knowlege that everyone in the room knows I fell asleep while I was supposed to be serving you, get up and begin to clear away the empty plates as you and your friends continue to play. I stop at the kitchen door to ask if anyone needs anything else, and one of the players grins at me and says "Nah, we should just finish up and let you get some rest. You've obviously had a hard day."

If I was allowed to run away from things, that's precisely what I'd do, but this is our home, and you have made it clear that here, at least, I'm to face things head-on. So I (as graciously as possible, given the circumstances) retreat to the kitchen, and once there I do everything in my power to keep from either laughing or crying - either of which would be heard in the next room.

Boy, at this point I'd give just about anything for one of those cigars you're passing around out there. Either that or a stiff belt. Or both. Yes, both. Then perhaps I could gather the courage to go back out there. I know, I know. No smoking for me. And drinking at this point wouldn't help me stay alert and finish the job, now would it?

You and I both know that the smart remark was made in jest, and that this is one of your closer friends, one who has known us for a long time, but still, it smarts.

I hesitate, unsure of my next move. I hear footsteps, and know I had better decide quickly what is going to happen next, so (to buy myself some time) I kiss the soft inside of her thigh, allowing my lips to savor the texture of her young skin.

I move around her thigh until I reach that tender flesh between cunt and ass. I think I'll start here and ease my way into this. I'm nervous. I don't want to hurt her, and I really don't know what I'm doing down here, but this is what you want, so here goes...

I reach out with my tongue and taste the soft, tender skin. She tastes sweet, even here. I slowly follow the skin up toward her outer lips, licking and kissing along the way. She has been waxed very recently, and her genitals are naked before me. I can see that her lips have become swollen and are gaping open, just a bit.

I lick along the outside lips with the flat of my tongue, moving my head toward hers, then back down to lick the other side. She places her hands on my head, and I glance up to see her smile. Perhaps I won't screw this up after all. I lick the very top of the outer lips, where they would meet if they weren't opening to receive my tongue. I reach inside to find the tiny space between the outer and inner lips, separating them and tasting each as I listen carefully for the slightest sign of distress. I follow this space to her clit, but I don't touch it. Not yet. I open her farther with my tongue and lick directly between her inner lips, from bottom to top, still avoiding any contact with her clit. I taste her, and then I slip my tongue inside her. Wow. This is different than anything I have ever felt before, the texture, the dampness, the way the muscles resist, then give way to me.

She begins to squirm, and I take that to mean that she is ready for me to start teasing her most sensitive area. Again I avoid touching it directly - that could be too much, and spoil her fun. I run my tongue around it, approaching the hood, backing away, approaching again. I let her set the pace, her hands directing my head to the places she enjoyed most, and away from others. But I can feel her arms begin to tremble, and I know the time is right for some direct stimulation. I push the hood over her clit back with my tongue, and begin to tease the small nub of flesh by quickly flicking it with just the tip of my tongue. Slowly at first, then faster as she pulls my face closer to her body.

I can feel her orgasm beginning, and I want to feel what you feel when you're inside me, so I slide my tongue inside her, as deep as I can get it, and feel the muscles contracting as she climaxes.

she moves away, just slightly, as more stimulation at this point could become painful rather than pleasurable. As she moves, I feel your hands on my waist, lifting me off the couch, away from her body.

You turn me to face you and kiss me - long and hard. You take her taste from me and replace it with your own. God I want you to take me right there, but you have something else in mind.

You hold me close and whisper in my ear, "I think the gentlemen could use new beers," and I laugh because you never change. I head off into the kitchen to get the beer, and I can hear you say to your friends, "So, which of you would like to deal?"

I'm nervous, but I know this is what will please you, and she did say I should just do what I would if it were you, so I guess things should start with a kiss. Soft, gentle, kissing her cheek and throat are so different from kissing yours. She smells like baby powder and lavender. Her skin is so soft, so young, so sweet.

I can feel her pulse with my lips as I approach the place where throat becomes shoulder. The place that always makes me weak in the knees. I kiss her there, softly at first, then with slightly more pressure, and I feel her arms tighten around me.

I pause for a moment, just to enjoy being held. Then I continue to explore her with my mouth, the gentle slope of her shoulder, the slight curve of her underarm, the mound of her breast.

Her nipples, slightly hardened by the chill in the room are at eye level now. I reach out with my tongue to taste one of them, and she moves her hands, holding me tighter with one while the other finds the back of my head. I meet her gaze, asking permission to continue, and she pulls my head closer, so I can reach with my lips and teeth as well as with my tongue.

I circle her nipple with my tongue, tasting her, feeling with my tongue the way her body reacts. I kiss the very tip of her nipple, enjoying the texture on my lips, before taking it into my mouth. This is a whole new sensation for me - your nipples react, but not like this. I am unsure of the amount of pressure to use, but she lets me know what she does and doesn't like. Very lightly scraping her flesh with my teeth, then soothing it with the flat of my tongue, kissing, licking, sucking - first tentatively, then with more pressure as she pulls me to her breast.

I reluctantly move on, as this was not the instruction I was given. I follow the curve of the outside of her breast to the larger curve of her waist. I tease her navel just a touch, with the very tip of my tongue, more of a tickle than anything else. Her belly is smooth and flat, and I kiss the spot where, if she were you, there would be a scar. Observing the place where thigh meets torso, she is lovely, but very different from you. This is one of my favorite parts of your body, and I love to trace the line between your leg and your torso, so this is what I do. I begin by spreading her legs to allow me access to the joint, using my tongue the way you might use a finger to gently tease, enjoying the sharp intake of breath when I begin and then the sigh when I reach the top of her thigh and remove my mouth from her body.