Tuesday, January 6, 2009


We've snuck into my friend's house. You're a passenger in a truck I was driving, but I made a wrong turn and screwed up a routine. We've come here because it's cold outside, and I'm waiting for a phone call on my cell where The Boss is going to give me instructions about what to do next. The truck is parked nearby, and while it's somewhere that's probably going to bring me trouble, I'm really not caring about it because you're just so hot.

You hold my hand as we make our way into my friend's finished basement. I don't know where he is, but I have keys to his place, and it's very cozy and comfortable in here. Bright winter sunlight reflects off of the white walls, the white overstuffed furniture. It's charming to be in a warm place where you can still see bright snow, dripping icicles, swirling wind, blasting frost from a place of comfort.

And then we're laying side-by-side, forgetting the time, forgetting responsibilities. Your blonde hair is slightly in your eyes as you rest your head on a small pillow, and I lay on my chest across from you when we both feel the moment. We're strangers, you and me, but as I draw closer I watch your mouth slowly part open, your tender lips gently shudder, your eyelids gently waver as you accept my kiss. The metal jewellery in your lobes tinkle as your small mouth opens up with mine, the faint moan from your throat, the surge of warmth inside me.

Your dusky blonde hair is slightly in your eyes. You're on top of me now, bent over me, kissing me hungrily as we caress, rub faces against one another's skin, touch. Playful ferrets.

Yet still a seriousness about you. You're no doe-eyed innocent. You know what you're doing and you like it. When my hands caress under your top and my fingers reveal your small breasts to me, I can see the tiny tattoo, the small scar, the huge silver ornament that dangles from your pierced left nipple. The crinkles around the sides of your little tits, the contour of your small dark areolae, tell me about the baby you've mothered. You've had some experience, you've seen some things of the world. You know about life, men, the way things happen, and how to still stand up.

Your nipples, tiny and curling upward, respond to my gentle pinches as you hover over me, your legs tight at either side of mine. I take your nipple jewellery, the whole ornament, into my mouth in my eagerness to feel my lips and teeth around that particular nipple, and the silver clacks against my teeth. The metal leaves a sharp flavour on my tongue. My hands are caressing down your exposed back. You're warm.

You bend forward and press your chest closer to my face, your breasts at either side of my mouth, as my fingertips make their way under your tight jeans. I feel the strap of a thong pass my fingers, and the denim is firm against the back of my hands when my palms reach your tight, firm curves. Holding your ass, I grind you closer to me, and you can feel my cock through my pants as well. You part your legs a little and arch your back, and I relish the feel of your ass in my hands. A fingertip finds your rosebud, and your hips are grinding in small circles against me when you feel it flutter on you there. You like it. I can tell. In that one movement, you've told me everything I needed to know about whether or not you liked it in the ass.

The jeans are gone. We're naked. You're still on top of me. My hands are still holding your butt, and it's round and pert and small in my grip. Hungry kisses. Hot skin. The grinding. Panting.

You've been slowly bucking your hips, feeling my thick shaft between the folds of your beautifully wet pussy against you, pleasuring yourself with me, grinding your hard and quivering clit against my cock. I feel the head of me slip into you, and we freeze for a moment.

Oh my God, you feel incredible. Oh my God, it's tight and sucking me in. Oh my God, the warmth and wetness around the most sensitive part of my body. Oh my God, I want to stay here forever. Oh my God, I want to tug down against me and fuck you hard. Oh my God, and we've crossed a line.

We withdraw because there's no condom. We withdraw because we forgot to watch the time. We withdraw because I'm going to get it from The Boss. We withdraw because we've overstayed in my friend's place. We withdraw because we just met.

I awoke then, perplexed by this dream. The cat was warm and purring beside me. The blue morning light cast shadows against the snow outside my bedroom window. The clocks were ticking quietly, soothingly. Naked, I slowly pulled the thick blankets off of me and went into the kitchen to make a pot of tea.

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