Strangers on a Train

ka-click ka-clack, ka-click ka-clack

The regular precision of the train wheels on its rails was hypnotic and soothing. Eric gazed out of the window to the passing landscape beyond. He loved trains. He didn’t realize he did until just now, but he definitely loved trains. The beastly power of them. The quiet calm of their speed. They were a mix of old world nostalgia and modern comfort. Being a Midwesterner from boring county encapsulated within a boring state, trains were not something that one chooses to ride. Not unless one was a steer or a pig and if that was the case you were definitely not riding for your pleasure. Trains in Eric’s area were not the kind that you read about in romance novels. They don’t have exotic names. They don’t have interesting routes. The terrain is flat and monotone, like a black and white picture of spilt milk. So when he was told by his travel agent that after landing in Antwerp he would be traveling by train for the remainder of his European business trip, Eric was less than pleased. His opinion, however, had drastically changed since then.

ka-click ka-clack, ka-click ka-clack

“Pardon me, is it alright if I take this seat?”

Eric looked up to see the pleasant face of a cheerful British woman staring back at him. “Yes ma’am you certainly may.” He replied with a smile and a slight head bob. If he could have he would have tipped his cowboy hat to the pretty woman, but of course that was left back home with every pair of jeans he owned.

Continue reading “Strangers on a Train”

It’s coming…it’s coming…..

For the regular readers of my blog, you may be wondering where’s the next short story? Where is it? Why isn’t it here! I WANT IT!!!

 

….well…it’s coming…I swear!

 

This story got away from me, but in a good way. Instead of being a 2000-4000 word “quickie” it ballooned into a 8000+ word extravaganza. A few months ago I may have worried about that. I would have concerned myself that the length would make it difficult for rapid consumption, digestion, and feedback. However with the repeatedly positive feedback I seem to be getting I’ve grown perhaps a little more comfortable in my abilities to mind fuck the shit out of all of you. 😉

 

So in that vein of thought I’ve let my normal unstated restrictions go. I’ve let this small story develop and I’m trusting myself to produce something worthy of your praise.

 

So if you’re sitting, waiting, wishing for a new story for you to consume while you toil away though your day, you’ll have to wait a little longer. How much longer? Maybe a few hours. I am, after all, at work right now…..and I have to get some of that done first.

 

If this little hobby become more than just an amusing side venture, perhaps I could dedicate myself further to writing and tantalizing your poor brains with my words, dreams, and fantasies.

 

….oh…and btw…this was just published 😉

 

Dreams_&_Desires_1-01…you’re the one that decided it was to be next…and so…here it is. =)

I appreciate any and all support you give me. Whether it’s supportive comments, or for those beautiful few that have actually gone out and purchased my stories. I’m grateful for it all.

Keep tuned in though….you’ll be rewarded in a few short hours 😉

Till then my lovers,

Julian

Chapter 24 – Rot In Whatever Hell You Believe In

Chapter 24 – Rot In Whatever Hell You Believe In

The tow truck was at your house first thing in the morning. A burly grisly looking fellow who looked like he was part black bear knocked on the door to tell me he had arrived and was ready to take me to my car. It was a strange goodbye. There was a tension in the air that was inescapable. Though we didn’t communicate it verbally it was clear that we had made some deeper connection than just the simple savage sex would have implied. You looked at me with a knowing look telling me what I needed to hear without uttering a word. “Talk to you soon.” I whispered into your ear as I hug you goodbye. “Drive safer this time.” you whisper back before kissing me on each cheek and sighing contentedly. I take a step back, pick up my suitcase, wink, and turn to walk out the door.

“You from the coast?” the big man grumbled. His sentence sounding like it was constructed from gravel instead of words.

“Sorry?” I asked, surprised that he had started a conversation in the first place.

“I suppose you must be.” he continued, irreverent to any answer I had or had not given. “Only someone from the coast would drive in this weather with that get up.” He snorted to himself proud of his put down.

He was right of course, it was foolhardy to be driving with no winter gear in the middle of an area famed for sudden and inhospitable storms. It is what some people call fate, or others may call Gods will, and even scientists ring in calling it chaos theory. If I hadn’t been ill prepared I wouldn’t have had to take shelter in your house. If I hadn’t taken the car instead of the plane I wouldn’t have even been in this storm. If it wasn’t for my grandfather passing I would have been at work pouring over something altogether useless in the spectrum of my life. All these moments culminated with my meeting you.

Would my life gone on had those moments not come to pass? Of course it would have. The lack of knowing you would not have affected me in the least. If I took the plane to the funeral I would have never crashed and never met you. My life would certainly continue unabated along whatever path I chose. But in this moment as I sat in silence next to this awkwardly shaped and slightly smelly tow truck driver I found myself attaching greater meaning to all these inane superficial connections. I knew that it didn’t make meeting you any more important or pivotal and yet I couldn’t help myself.

The tow truck slid around a corner with a small fishtail swoop and the gruff man snorted again as I grabbed for the door handle to steady myself. He was likely under the impression I was fearful of his driving and felt superior once more for being the bigger cro-magnon man. In truth I simply did not feel like sliding down the bench seat and colliding with his now distinctly odorous mass. It’s possible outside of work he was a classy gentleman and took his wife out to a nice Friday night dinner once a week, but at the moment he was a large hulking sweaty mass and I desperately wanted to crack the window open if only for one final breath of fresh air.

“How much further?” I asked, more for the smell than the driving.

“Round about five minutes or so dependin’ on tha deer.” He clicked and sucked at his teeth before coughing and spitting out the window. Friday night dinners with the wife seemed much less likely with every minute that passed.

“Ah I see.” I managed to reply as we slid around another bend in the road. In the distance I could make out the distinct tower of a grain elevator. The tiny hamlet would be coming into view shortly. These sorts of towns always mystified me. There never seemed to be a reason why they existed and yet there they were. What made the people of this area congregate and decide that they needed to construct a town at this spot was a matter of mystery. From the outsiders perspective there was nothing here of value except perhaps the gas station and the grain elevator.

Not surprisingly, however, as we reached the two block long section of downtown there were two competing churches directly across from each other. One protestant and the other catholic no doubt. It was difficult to tell from the outside. They both were very stalwart, solid and churchy. I smirked to myself. This town had more churches than grocery stores. I suppose the residents enjoyed being able to choose which version of the religion did a better job of making them feel bad about themselves.

The truck took one final turn into the gas station lot where he parked in front of the service bay that was attached. “You’ll have to pay Geraldine at the counter.” He said stiffly, out if habit making the assumption I knew who Geraldine was.

“Thanks.” I replied and sauntered off to the entrance while he remained in his tow truck. After entering the small front office I immediately saw Geraldine behind the counter. She was a cute woman and looked to be close to the same age as you. Geraldine, however, had taken to putting makeup on at a young age and it seemed never got passed the introductory phase of makeup technique. Less is more was a concept completely foreign to her as she looked like she was plucked from the mid-80’s with her big hair and overly blushed cheek bones.

“You the guy with the car?” She asked, smacking on her gum loudly.

The question was vague but I suppose I was the guy with the car. “That’s me.” I stated dryly with a subtle nod of acknowledgement as I a swerved her.

“You took a dip in the ditch huh?” She continued, flipping through a receipt book as she talked. “Out by the old Petkau place.”

It was still strange to hear your last name. I only found out what it was about an hour before this. I suppose we were content with first names. They are, after all, more familiar. “I suppose so yes.” I answered.

“So you met Ay then.” She said still flipping through the book before stopping and looking up at me.

I paused for a moment before nodding. I suppose to her you were Ay as you were Al to Celine and Alcina to me.

“That’s good. She needed a man to come visit.” Geraldine muttered. “She’s been cooped up in that place since her parents died and she came back from Spain or something.”

“Paris.” I corrected though a little surprised you hadn’t told me about your arrival back home. I suppose we had run out of time and had decided to enjoy it instead of reliving bad memories. I was just as guilty of not revealing unpleasant moments passed.

“Ya that.” Geraldine agreed. “Shitty way to find out your parents croaked.” She continued “come back from a trip and spend the night at the airport waiting for them to pick you up. Getting mad and shit like all pissed because they forgot about you. Meanwhile they’d been pried out of their car while you were all la-dee-dah in the plane and shit.” She scrunched up her face and scowled. “Ya that’s a shitty as fuck way to find out you’ve got no mom and dad anymore. Oh finally!” She exclaimed after finding the receipt for your repairs and tow. “Justin you dumbass you put this shit in the wrong fucking place.” Justin, if course was nowhere to be found and her irritation did not fall on deaf ears but no ears at all.

I stood for a moment contemplating what I had just found out. Geraldine, though crass and unsophisticated, was right. That was a horrible way to find out your parents had passed away. I felt like I should take my car and immediately drive back to comfort you. This was a silly idea though. In your mind you had already dealt with the loss. You had moved on as best as you could and pity was the least of your needs at the moment.

Geraldine passed the paper to me and I looked it over verifying the math quickly before signing it and handing her my credit card. All things considered it was a minor bill. I was quite lucky. “Thanks.” Geraldine said to me taking the paper away and passing me a copy. She then picked up the keys from the empty pegboard rack behind her before tossing them to me. “Cars round front.” She said with a smile. “Drive safe now ok?”

I thanked her and walked out of the building.y car was off to the right and was already covered in a thin veil of snow. I pressed on the remote and it rumbled to life shaking a small amount of snow off. I grabbed my suitcase and tossed it into the trunk before getting into the chilly vehicle. After a few moments I had keyed in my final destination to the GPS unit and started off.

For the first time in a long while I felt the nagging itchy feeling of loneliness creep into my mind. Despite the very short amount of time I had spent with you I felt that I was already missing your presence. I suppose the loneliness we feel as individuals is never as great as the day we lose a connection to someone we care about.

The irony of this was realization wasn’t lost on me, after all I was heading to a funeral. I didn’t feel that I had lost a connection when my grandfather passed. What I hadn’t admitted to anyone, is that I felt little to nothing at all. He was just…there, like an object I knew existed but had no attachment to. I could have been told that I needed to replace the taillight on my car and it would have evoked more of an emotional response. It wasn’t always like this though. It took a lot of time and effort to come to this cold detached state. I was grateful for it. The years I spent with him after my dad passed away were the worst. He was charged with my care and it seemed he was completely incapable of anything resembling caring. A vile, beastly, cruel man in private I suffered through his radical mood swings and violent outbursts. He was dead to me a long time before he died. Now I just had to go through the motions of burying him.

I knew I was expected to do the eulogy and I definitely wasn’t looking forward to it. I wasn’t concerned about speaking in front of everyone. I’ve never really understood that fear. I was more concerned with trying to come up with enough nice things to say. At least there was the road ahead of me. I had time to talk it out to myself. I had still a long ways to travel and many things to settle in my mind. I hoped that in that time I could recall enough positive moments that the eulogy would be adequate. As much as I loathed the man, his family need not remember him the way I remember him.

“His family.” I mused to myself. I had removed myself to such a degree that I did not even recognize them as my own. He was my mom’s dad, so he was blood and I suppose that blood makes him family despite my feelings. So really, I hadn’t seen my family in years. I hadn’t felt the need to. Family are the people you’re stuck with. The crazy people on the liferaft. You’ve got to stick with them, and they stick with you. Not because they agree with you, but because they’re programed to. There is no choice involved. It makes me wonder though, love without choice, is it really love at all?

When my mom died my dad took care of me. He looked after me and did the best he could to make sure I grew up strong and proud like him. When he passed I was still a young teenager. Cancer ripped him out of my life before I realized he was slipping away. I was left on my own. It was decided by someone, a will I suppose, that I was to be cared for by my mothers parents, only one of which was still on this earth. So at thirteen I was the orphaned and sent to live with my despot grandfather. He made sure I knew what he felt about that.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” he used to say whenever the mood struck him, and it did strike often. “You’re nobody. You’re nothing. You hear me?!” he’d yell. “The best part of you died with your mother, and now all I’ve got is the shit that’s left behind.”

Grandfather was the ‘spare the rod spoil the child’ type with the chilling bonus of not caring whether or not the child had done anything to provoke the rod. He kept a collection of leather belts he was fond of, most left over from his time in the army, and all but two that actually still fit him. He was fond of how they looked, their polished shiny exteriors, black, slick, and hard. The way they smelt. The way the leather felt in his hand. He liked the sound they made when he pulled the belt tight. The noise they made when they were stretched taught. He hung them in his room outside of the closet and next to the door. He’d stare at them as he went to sleep and stroke them as he left his room.

Often he’d carry one with him around the house. It didn’t serve any other purpose other than to comfort him. The belt he had on was less than impressive. It could barely contain the gut that had developed. He was far from the slim and trim hard ass that he used to be before he mustered out. I’d see him set it on his lap with care as if it was some beloved pet, stroking it and holding it as he watched hours of mindless TV and smoked several packs an evening. He was never awake in the morning. Instead he preferred to wander around the house with his belt in one hand and a large glass of miscellaneous booze in the other.

When he was feeling particularly frisky he would bound up the stairs like a rolling barrel of thunder then burst through my door yelling some unintelligible nonsense. If I didn’t respond correctly, which happened nearly every time, he would take whichever favorite belt he had in his hand, and beat me with it. His favorite spot was the small of my back. His second favorite was my stomach. “That’s why I have no money you dumb fuck look at you!” he would bellow. “You’re a big fatty.” he’d say, poking my stomach with a long fat finger. Before I could react the belt was whipping around and smashing into my stomach with surprising speed. If I curled up to protect myself he would simply aim for my back instead. “You and your big smack fat smack mouth smack You’re eating me out smack of house smack and fucking smack home! smack smack smack” You tell yourself when you’re in that situation that you’re going to be tough. You can take it. You’re meaner and stronger than him. You’re not going to give him the satisfaction of seeing you cry. But inevitably the tears come, then you plead for him to stop. The only thing that saves you is him getting tired, thirsty, or craving yet another cigarette. The hardest part to deal with was that there was no reason to any of it. If I was doing something to cause him to be upset, perhaps I could avoid that trigger, but it just wasn’t the case. I shook my head as I drove and became aware of my own tears. Dead and gone and he still managed to make me weep.

The truth was he blamed my dad for my mother’s suicide. His pain was tempered only by my grandmother, and when she passed he got even worse. We stopped visiting at that point. He and my dad would just end up in big arguments over me; where we should live, where I should go to school, what sports I should focus on. My grandfather was always bringing my dead mother into the argument by saying it’s what she wanted. My dad would counter with “He’s my son, I know what’s best for him.” It always escalated. It always got louder and it nearly always resulted in us leaving for home the next day. My grandmother was fond of saying how much I looked like my dad. I think that didn’t help the situation either. I even could recall one time while being worked over by a belt my grandfather yelling, “I will beat the lousy shit out of you.” At the time I had understood it to be that he was trying to beat me into being a better person. But as I think back on it, he was really saying he wanted to beat my father out of me.

“How am I going to write this eulogy?” I muttered to myself, watching the sunlight dim on the horizon in my rearview mirror. “Ladies and gentlemen thank you for coming today. We’re here to celebrate the life of horrible man that I’m happy is dead. He destroyed what was left of my childhood and took what family I had away from me. I despise him. I loathe him. I do not pity or accept him for what he did. I have no forgiveness in my heart, because he had beaten that out of me. Here in this casket lies a lousy piece of shit. May he rot in whatever hell you believe in. Thank you.”

I’m sure that would go over well.

What happened?

So last Friday you may have anticipated something being posted along the vein if a short story or perhaps a letter or poem etc. nothing was posted though and I’m sorry for that.

I was working on a story and it was going well but I felt it needed more heft to do it justice. Instead of making it a 4000word quickie I’ve decided to develop it into something a little larger and hopefully better.

Of course bigger isn’t always better. I guess we’ll see if my decision pays off.

Thanks for your patience and continued support. I enjoy your feedback and truly love hearing how uncomfortably horny my stories make you. 😉

J.

Truth #20

Have I ever been arrested?

As a matter of fact…….no…however….

I have been detained by the police, questioned, and eventually released.

Why you ask? Well, funny story….

It all began when I was poor. Not, living in a cardboard box poor, but the sort of poor that college students have to endure. The sort that makes you decide which bill you’re going to pay, and what the excuse will be to the other three why you couldn’t pay them this time. I wasn’t lazy. I wasn’t a lout that drifted through my schooling and lived off mommy and daddy, or a big fat loan. I was actually fairly resourceful.

I worked nearly full time and went to school full time. This left very little time for anything in my life other than school and work, but I’m sure at some point that will all pay off. (as of yet…not so much) It’s tough though. School is ridiculously expensive. I was renting a friends place and I had shut the water heater off because I wasn’t home enough to use it. Don’t think I was horribly disgusting, I showered both at school and at work….so no worries, I wasn’t a stinky freak. I just had no hot water at home. Then there was one point where I had to turn the water off all together. Conveniently just before I had to shut off the gas. I say conveniently because if you’ve ever been in central Canada or anywhere that gets cold, you’ll realize that water freezes in the winter. If you have no heat in the house, and there’s water in the pipe, pipes will burst. Now….if you’re “smart” and have turned off the water at the main, then even if your house is a balmy 0-5 degrees Celsius (35- 41F) the water won’t freeze and the pipes won’t burst. Problem solved right?

Anyways about this time when everything but electricity was shut off, I still had to get school papers done. Research papers and the like. Ever tried to go to a library at 2am when you’re done work? It doesn’t work too well. So what do you do? You have to use the internet. Right? Well that’s what I did. I would drive in my car and find open wi-fi in and around my house. I’d never stay at the same place for longer than an hour, and I’d never repeat the same location more than once in a month. “Is this illegal” you may be asking. Technically, I don’t think it actually is. Is this the reason I was taken in cuffs to the central police department to be questioned? Yes..and no.

What I had found is that people get a little creeped out by a dude sitting in a running car, tapping away at his laptop between 2-5am. Who didn’t get creeped out by it? Institutions and businesses that had no employees at work at that time. The best of which was a hospital that was near my place of residence. So what happened next? I found a open wi-fi next to a research wing of this hospital. Conveniently there were also a block heater plugs in the parking lot that was within range of this wifi. (if you don’t know what a block heater plug is, phone a Canadian, or someone from North Dakota or anywhere else that gets snow, they’ll fill you in on the juicy details) What this meant is that I didn’t have to idle the car for hours to ensure that the battery didn’t die.

Oh, that’s another funny story that’s worth digressing to.

I had a transformer that plugged into my car’s cigarette lighter adapter. From that transformer I would plug in my laptop. I would then run the car on idle from time to time to ensure that the battery didn’t die. A few times, however, I became engrossed in what I was doing and forgot. The result was that I had killed the battery. Now, ordinarily someone that was faced with this situation would think, “Oh darn, I guess I have to call someone to help me out.” but not this guy. Nope. I’m too smart for my own good sometimes. My car was a manual transmission vehicle. This means it’s possible to push start the car if you get it up to a decent speed and pop the clutch while turning the key. It’s so old school it’s awesome. Show your friends, you’ll be the life of the party. So I have from time to time, due to a dead battery, push started my own car. It’s…pretty impressive if you ask me. Especially when you don’t have a hill to run down. Oh, pro-tip; if you’re popping the clutch to start your car, it’s better to pop it into second instead of first. Common thinking is to put it into first but often if you’re not going fast enough that’ll just stop the car dead. Second has less rolling resistance. 😉

Right…so….where was I….

Yes…plugged into the block heater plug at a hospital while sucking back their wi-fi at 3am. You know what also happens at 3am? That’s right, sleepy time. So on one particular night I fell asleep. Actually it wasn’t on one particular night, but it had happened numerous times, and on the time that I had been taken into custody I had fallen asleep. At about 4am I awoke to a light rapping of knuckles on the window of my door. Freaked me out, and I woke up immediately.

“What are you doing there?”

“Research.”

“Research for what?”

“School.”

“You go to school here?” This is a security guard. The only thing that they’re trained to do is jingle keys and try to use sarcasm in clever manner. Usually they fail at both.

“No I go to school at the university.”

“What are you doing here then?”

“Using the internet.”

“What internet?”

“The internet that’s available on the free wi-fi hotspot at this location.”

“I don’t get what you’re trying to say, I’m not some tech nerd.”

“There is a router nearby that is broadcasting a free internet hotspot. I connect to that hotspot with my laptop so that I can research for my school paper.”

“Is that what you were doing when I saw you here?”

“No, at that point I had apparently fallen asleep.”

“I see. And who gave you permission to be here?”

“I saw no signs indicating I wasn’t allowed to be here.”

“This is private property.”

“No it’s not. This is a government facility, it’s government land, and therefore public land.”

“Is that so.”

“As far as I’m aware, yes.”

This is a mistake. If you’re faced with a security guard who’s trying to be all supercop, it’s best to act as dumb or dumber than you. Picture an inbred poodle-shitzu cross that spends most of it’s time barking at a crumpled piece of paper. That’s about where you’re aiming.

“Well that sign there says you’re not allowed to be here.” He’s deftly pointed to a sign indicating that there is no parking allowed 24hrs Monday – Friday. It’s 4am, but it’s Saturday.

“It’s Saturday.”

“And?”

“I’m…..look is there a problem here?” <– this is also a mistake

“I think there is, can you step out of the vehicle please sir?”

“Why?”

“Because I asked.”

“Why did you asked.”

“Because I have reason to ask.”

“And what is that reason.”

“I don’t have to tell you that.” (I’m pretty sure he did, but I’m still a 20yr old kid and he’s a big fat lard ass with a uniform, perhaps he didn’t)

“I’m failing to understand why I have to get out of my car. I think I’ll leave now.”

“I can’t let you do that.”

“Excuse me?”

“The police have been called, apparently there was a complaint. We have to hold you for them.”

“A complaint?” (wtf??)

“Step out now before there’s more trouble for you.”

“Complaint about what? Who complained? There isn’t even anyone here?”

“You’ll have to take that up with the officers.”

“This is ridiculous.” So I step out of the car and fatty asks me to turn around so he can check for weapons. Good lord, what an idiot. He smells like old pepperoni pizza. I’d suggest he take a bath but that still wouldn’t wash the stupid off of his face. Then he tells me he has to cuff me. “Why?”

“It’s procedure.”

Whatever, this is all bullshit and I know it. Fine, I’ll go with the douche off to his douche layer. Deputy douche has reached into my car and grabbed my laptop.

“What are you doing.”

“We wouldn’t want anyone to steal it, would we?” Security guards. God I hate them.

+++++++++++++++++++

Skip ahead a few hours and I’m in the back of a squad car. The police have my laptop in their hands and still I haven’t been told what’s going on. By the time I’ve reached the department I’m getting a little freaked out. “Why exactly am I here?”

“Were you not informed?”

“Informed of what?”

The two cops look at each other and I can see through the grate that they’ve rolled their eyes at each other.

“Well normally you’re informed why you’re taken into custody, you’re saying you don’t know, you weren’t advised?”

“No…I wasn’t. I was only told there was a complaint and then I was put in cuffs to wait for you guys.”

“One of the guards said he saw you viewing some questionable material on your laptop.”

…….wait….what??     “Huh? Questionable material?”

“The detectives will talk to you about that. I suggest for your own sake that you don’t say anything further.”

WTF???

A few hours later after being locked in an “interview” room all by myself, the aforementioned detectives wander in.

“So you know why you’re here?”

“No, not a clue.”

“Oh I think you know.”

“No I don’t. They didn’t tell me.”

“The officers that brought you in didn’t tell you?

“No all they said is that some security guard witnessed me viewing questionable material on my laptop. I don’t even know what the heck that’s supposed to mean.”

“I see. Well we have investigators going over your laptop right now.”

“For what??”

“Is there anything on there? Anything that we should know about?”

“No..”

“Are you sure? It’s better if you tell us now than we find out later.” (this is a completely obvious technique that cops seem to use in reality as well as on CSI)

“No there’s nothing on there, just my school stuff.”

“Nothing illegal?”

I pause….I’ve downloaded songs, movies, and porn on that machine….I’m not sure if it’s illegal or not….

“Just music, and a couple of movies….”

“What kinds of movies?”

“Like…” I try to think..what the hell did I download. I can’t even remember now. “I can’t remember actually…..no wait…I downloaded that Jet Li movie….I just…I can’t remember the title right now.”

“I see.” then cop two comes at me. A woman. She’s cute and all….I’m wondering what to expect from her. “You probably have porn on there though don’t you.”

I’m embarrassed  A woman asking about porn on my computer. Gah so awkward. Under other circumstances I could have easily been asking her to dance, “Ya….ya there’s porn on there.”

“That’s what we thought.” she says. “The witness said he saw you viewing child porn on your lap top.”

“……what??!?”

“That’s what the witness said.”

“This is bull. I….there’s no way that I would ever look at that crap.” (I went into detail why…but that’s too personal for this site)

“Well that’s what here to find out. We’ve got a special tech going through every file on your machine right now and when they find it you’re going to be in worse trouble then you are now.”

“They can look all they want, there’s nothing there to find.” — I’m angry, and upset now. I realize at this point that dickless the wonder-douche security guard has made up a bullshit line of crap to put me through this.

“The witness said you’re some sort of tech whiz, well we’ve got our own techs here and they’re pretty good.”

“I’m not a tech whiz, I connected to a free wi-fi hotspot. It takes a laptop and a click, that’s it. Any idiot could do it.”

“Why were you even there?”

…explained the situation…explained why…detectives seem to be getting a little puzzled…

Then they leave, and come back about 30min later.

“We’re letting you go.”

“Um, ok.”

“Our techs didn’t find anything, but your laptop is being sent to the federal branch that deals with these things.”

“I see.”

“Even though our tech couldn’t find anything, we have to follow up on this. You understand.”

“I do. I don’t fault you guys, I’m just pissed at the guard who made this bs up.”

“Well that’s between you and him. The feds will be in touch with you when you can get your laptop back. I suggest you get your own internet though.”

“Sure.”

I had to tell two profs this story to get extensions on papers that were due. They both thought it was hysterical. I was less amused. I guess from the excuses they normally here, mine was a welcomed change.

About two weeks later I get a call from the feds. I have to go to talk to this other investigator that’s part of a squad of people that tracks down and jails fucked up perverts that I was accused of being. There was an interview. She explained what they did. She explained how they went through the entire laptop and didn’t find anything. She explained that they even tried to reenact the situation to figure out how the “witness” would have thought I was looking at kiddie porn. After all of that, they found nothing. Of course. So she apologized for the inconvenience and wished me the best. I said that I’m glad that she and her colleagues are in the world though I wish they didn’t have to be and that she didn’t need to apologize to me. The dumb ass wannabe cop security guard needed to apologize. “Good luck with that.” was her last words to me and I thanked her once more before leaving with my laptop in a sealed evidence bag.

It was the most bizarre experience I’ve ever had with law enforcement.

So no….I’ve never been arrested. Detained, questioned, and investigated, but never arrested.

Next?

Which story should I publish next?

So at the moment I have three stories published on Amazon.

   the Breakup Man-01   WrongfulDismissal_3-01

I don’t think it’s likely that I’ll ever make a fortune from these, but the simple act of getting them published really is a satisfying moment.

In that vein of thinking I’m trying to decide which stories I should add to my now growing list of published short stories. So as the title asks of you, which story should I publish next?

My Strrrrange Brain…

I haven’t written a story for tomorrow. At least not yet. I had some ideas in my head of what I’d like to pursue but life, as it is, got in the way of the creative side. If you don’t know already, I do 90% of my writing while I’m at work. It’s not because I’m a slacker, I do work hard. I’m not lazy, and I certainly do a good job, but if I’m to be honest there are moments of dull drudgery within my day. In those spaces, in the quiet before each storm, I write. Sometimes I’ll start to write without knowing what the story will be. 

Cold Steel is an example of this. When I started to write it, the only thing I had in my head is the thought that revealing or cutting away clothing with a large steely pair of garment shearing scissors would be pretty hot. After that, my brain created the scenario needed to bring that concept to fruition. I did not spend inordinate amounts of time on it. I didn’t draw out a story line. I simply began to write and a little while later, the story was done.

 

This is how my strange brain appears to operate  I start with a minute piece of thought. A concept of something that I may find exciting or believe others would find exciting. A few moments later when I’m about to begin to write, the concept grows into a story.

 

What a strange brain I have.

Chapter 23 – Nothing is Forever

Chapter 23 – Nothing is Forever

A few hours later I wake to find you sitting upright. Your back propped against the large headboard you look deep in thought in the dim light. I watch you for a moment, seeing you stare off into the darkened room. After a few minutes pass you sense my eyes on you and you turn to meet my gaze. “Zale?” you say quietly barely speaking above a whisper. “You’re an interesting man, and I really like you….” the words trail off and I already know what’s coming next.

“But…” I interject smiling to allow you to realize whatever comes next won’t hurt me.

“…I….I’m just….I’m not in a relationship space….you know?” you turn to look at the wall again. This was your parents old room. They slept here for all the years you could remember. Yet here you were with this stranger. This man shared your bed and you didn’t even love him. Maybe you could in time, but right now, what was this?

“Neither am I.” I say, reaching out to place my hand on your leg covered by the comfortable puffy quilt. “but that doesn’t mean that I didn’t enjoy what we shared.”

“Oh you clearly enjoyed what we shared,” you chuckle, smirking at me as the memory of only hours ago is fresh in your mind as it is in your body.

“But I don’t think we need to complicate things here.” I continue. “This was a special time. A unique moment, and I don’t regret it for a moment.”

Continue reading “Chapter 23 – Nothing is Forever”

Truth #19

Do I keep secrets outside this blog?

Very much so. While I am as truthful and upfront as I can be, there are a number of secrets I hold close. These are both my own and those of others I know.

For whatever reason I seem to attract people who need to confide something in another. As a result I tend to be the chest of secrets not all of which are mine. I’ve been privy to friends that haven’t yet come out of the closet. Married women who were cheating on their spouse. Married men who were cheating on there wife with another man. People who lied about their education etc etc. For whatever reason people feel comfortable with me holding onto these secrets.

I suppose it’s because I don’t approach the situation with any preconceived judgments. I guess if I was to be judged by my own secrets I would not like it and can’t abide myself to doing that to another.

None of us is perfect. We all male mistakes. We all lie, tell miss truths, stretch the truth to our benefit, lose the facts when it suits us. None of us is worthy to throw those stones in a glass house so why would I judge someone for their errors.

So I do keep secrets outside this blog. Perhaps that’s obvious. There are things of myself, of my present and of my past that I have no interest in sharing with you. When faced with this reality I suppose you have to make the choice, do I still like him even though I don’t know everything about him? Or is the less than 100% honesty too much for you to handle?

Secrets don’t ever make the man, they only shape him. I am who I seem to you, my secrets are just the whispers in my past that deserve their own quiet space.

Dreams and Desires

“I dreamt about you last night.”

 

“Oh?” Your voice perks up and I can hear the curiosity clear as day.

 

“Yes, it was…”

 

“…was it good?” you interrupt, unintentionally. You’re distracted.

 

“…it was good.” I finish, answering your question.

 

“Tell me about it.” you query, nonchalantly. You’re still curious but it’s been a long day and you find yourself having to switch ears and shoulders holding the phone as you walk around your house, tidying up.

 

“Are you sure you want to know?” I tease, smiling as I walk around my own place, the dream fixed in my mind.

 

“Of course,” you reply. I hear the muffled scratching of your phone being moved again. “Of course,” you repeat, unsure if I heard you the first time, “I do love the way you tell stories after all.” A small chuckle escapes your lips and it puts a smile on my face.

 

We know each other, you and I, but not in the sense of a normal relationship. We’re more than pen pals, less than lovers, more than friends but less than boyfriend girlfriend. The status of who we are and what we mean to each other is intangible and undefinable. But regardless, there is the undeniable attraction. We think the same way, like the same things, enjoy the same music, and entice each other with our actions, our words. We could be much more than this, whatever this is.

 

“You were at my place.” I begin, settling into the chair in my living room. “It was dark outside, and inside only a few lights were on.”

 

“Mmm hmm?” you reply, and I can hear you still moving about your place. I haven’t yet caught your attention but I’m sure that will change.

 

“I’m not sure where we just came from but we’re dressed up quite nicely.” I continue, “I’ve got on the remnants of a suit, minus the jacket, and you have on a long dress. It’s tight at the top, showing off your figure and your hips, and it’s got a long slit down the side from your ankle to mid thigh. I seem to recall it being a charcoal grey, and I must say hun, you look fantastic in it.”

 

“Well that’s good to know.” you retort with a laugh.

 

“Yes, well you’ve got fantastic legs and an equally delicious ass. Of course any dream I have of you will show this off.” I chuckle then continue, “You’re wearing a pair of elegant black heels, which in a way is funny, because I don’t think I’ve ever seen you with heels on.”

 

“Nope.” you affirm. The muffled movement of your body has now stopped. You’ve sat down and have now given me your full attention.

 

“Anyways, we’re at my place, like I said, and I’m sitting on the one chair I have. The room is essentially bare. You walk in front of me and show yourself off. I sit there smiling like a goof, watching your figure, the slit in the dress flashing a soft sexy leg before it gets covered once more. You turn away from me and look over your shoulder, winking. My eyes run down your body and I smile at the fact I see no panty line.”

 

“Because I don’t wear full panties with long dresses.” you giggle, “Thong or commando, that’s the only way I roll.” you chuckle, “However did you know that?”

 

“I didn’t, but it seemed to fit with what I know about you.” I laugh in return.

 

“Then what happens?” you ask, now even more interested.

 

“You walk up to me and you run your hand down my body, from my chest, across my tie, down my leg and then back up again to rest on my crotch.”

 

“Oooh, nice dream.” you interrupt chuckling again.

 

“I definitely think so.” I reply then continue to recount my story, “Your hand cups me, and holds my sex gently. I feel your individual fingers running over the cloth covered organ of my desire and I can’t help but twitch and move my legs to give you further access.”

 

“Oh I do like that.” you whisper into the phone. You smile and let your own hand run up your leg and rest on you quickly dampening panty covered sex. “Then?”

 

“You blow me a kiss, lean into me, and whisper into my ear.”

 

“I say, ‘Now it’s my turn to tease you’ “you blurt out in a hushed but hurried way.

 

“It is isn’t it?” I smile in response to your active participation in my dream. “I guess that’s fair.”

 

“You’re damn right it is!” you exclaim, “You constantly text me all these naughty stories and fantasies. You get me revved up and I can’t do anything about it.”

 

I laugh in response. “That’s generally the idea.”

 

“Well it ain’t fuckin’ fair now is it.” you retort. You sound mad but I can tell it’s just a mask. In truth you love every message I send you. It takes you out of the humdrum boring day that you’re residing in, and whisks you away to a fantasyland of sex and sensuality. “So yea, it’s my turn to tease you.”

 

Realistically, I’d never mind it. Teasing is one of the best parts of a sexual encounter. If you just go for the dynamite finish you lose out on all the nuances. Without good, sensual, torturous foreplay sex just isn’t the same. Ramping up desires, withholding pleasures, it’s all part of the game to let each partner in the play feel as if they are the center of all attention. So by all means, I would certainly welcome your teasing….but I won’t let you know that. That’s half the fun.

 

“Oh shit.” I say in response, knowing full well how much I’d really enjoy your tender teasing. “What have I got myself into?”

 

“Well you tell me, it’s your dream after all. I just know that I wouldn’t let you have it easily.” you chuckle, biting your lip as you picture the scene we’re both painting.

 

“Yes, well you know what I like now don’t you.” I smile to myself, but the intonation in my voice conveys exactly what I’m thinking, “After you run your hand over my cock, and whisper into my ear you turn and walk away a few steps.”

 

“Mmm hmm?” you respond, getting comfortable on the couch you sat on. Letting your legs swing open and wag back and forth. Completely unladylike, but you’re alone, modesty is unnecessary.

 

“As you walk away you run your hands down your body, down your breasts, over your waist, around to your hips and ending at your delicious ass, which you of course….”

 

“…spank.” you finish the sentence giggling. Your own hands wandering over your body as you feel yourself getting flushed and excited as the phone conversation continues. “Then?”

 

“Well I’m sitting there watching you, and I have to tell you babe, it’s hot as hell.” I laugh, “You look over your shoulder at me and wink which gave me shivers and I felt my balls twitch with excitement.” I hear a giggle escape your lips but I continue to tell you about my dream. “Then you ran your hand up your back to grasp the tiny zipper before slowly pulling it down to where it stops just above your ass.”

 

“You love my ass don’t you.” you interrupt with a laugh.

 

“I do.” I admit, “Its fantastic hun. I can’t help but wish it was right here in front of me with my hand on it….feeling your soft skin…hearing you whisper all the things you want me to do to you….”

 

“Hey hey…one fantasy at a time big boy.” you laugh. “So what happened next in this dream you had?”

 

“Well you slipped one shoulder off, then the other.”

 

“Mmm hmm?” you reply, fiddling with your bra as I speak. Wiggling out of it and tossing it next to you on the couch. Much better you think, looking down and smirking seeing your nipples poking through the thin fabric of your t-shirt. You orient your phone to capture the moment, snap a picture and send it off to me as I continue the story of my dream.

 

“Then as the shoulders fall to the side, you slink side to side and ease the rest of the dress down.”

 

“Well now, that sounds like fun.” you chuckle, hearing the confirmation that the picture you took has been successfully sent.

 

DING my phone chirps and vibrates. I look down at it, pausing my story for a moment. Seeing the message was from you I look at it and bite my lip and laugh as I glimpse your tight t-shirt showing off your now bra-less breasts. Erect nipples so anxious for a tender touch. Delicious I think to myself. “Hey…you’re going to make me forget where I am in the dream!?” I curtly blubber, with a tinge of sincerity mixed with sarcastic overtones.

 

“Oh I’m sure you’ll be able to work through it…” you retort, “…so what happened next?”

 

“Well you’re wearing that set of lingerie I got you.”

 

“The black one or the red one?”

 

“You know which. The black one of course.”

 

“Ooooh I like those, they’re so pretty. So are the reds, but black goes well with everything.” you chuckle.

 

“Yes they definitely are both sets. But the garter and stockings look hot with your black thong and matching bra.”

 

“That’s why you picked them.”

 

“It certainly is.”

 

“I haven’t worn them yet.” you mutter with slight disappointment.

 

“Well you know if you ever need someone to appreciate them, I will.” I laugh.

 

“That’s true!” you laugh in return, “Ok, tell me more. I want to know what happens next!”

 

“Well now you’re standing in front of me, your ass facing me….”

 

“…again with the ass…”

 

“You’re still in your heels, and you look gorgeous.” I hear you laugh on the other end of the phone but continue, “So then you turn back and you walk up to me. I’m staring like an idiot.

 

“Of course.”

 

“I can’t help it, you’re so damn sexy. I’m overwhelmed with the need to have you.”

 

“Have me?”

 

“I want you desperately. I want to taste you, to kiss you, hold you. Feel your nakedness against me. Feel your soft skin, the touch of your fingers, and the tenderness in your lips. I want it all.

 

“Mmmmm…I like the sound of that.”

 

“So you walk up to me and run your hand up my thigh.”

 

“You’re not even naked yet!” you complain.

 

“No, but that’ll change.” I quickly reply. “You run your hand up my thigh and rest it again on my now very stiff cock.”

 

“Mmmmm…..then?”

 

“You fish around and find my zipper, then slowly pull it down, watching my cock pushing the fabric away as if it’s desperate to escape.”

 

“Mmmmm…nice….”

 

“I lift my body from the chair briefly and you pull my pants down and then off, tossing them next to your dress in the corner.”

 

“Good, about time!” you laugh, “Then?”

 

“You reach down and you fish my cock out from behind my underwear. You take it out and stare at it for a moment.”

 

“Mmmm…..bet it looks tasty.”

 

Anticipating that response I hit send on something I prepared earlier.

 

Blinggggg I hear your phone chirp.

 

You pull the phone from your ear to see it’s a message from me. Intrigued you open the message and see a candid shot of my erect phallus, as if you were sitting right in front of it. It’s hardness pulsating before your eyes despite the frozen nature of the captured moment in time. “Damn” you mutter under your breath, and I smirk to myself upon hearing your response. “It definitely looks tasty.” you giggle. I picture in my mind your smiling face. Your dimples so adorable. You’re biting your lip, gazing at my sex then back up to me transmitting with a look all the anxious desire you’re feeling. “I wish I had that in my hand right now” you mumble, adjusting the phone as you move your body on the couch removing another article of clothing. You reposition the phone now and relax, your legs splayed wide open, your fingers running soft delicate circles across your now naked pussy.

 

“Well in my dream that’s exactly what you did.” I continue, unabashed and brazen in my obvious tempting of your desires. “You pulled me out from the captivity of my underwear into the freedom of the cool night air.”

 

I hear you sigh before you whisper, “God I love the way you talk.”

 

“Perhaps then you should interrupt less.” I tease.

 

You giggle, “Yes yes, of course. Please good sir, continue your story. Pay no attention to the naked woman playing with herself while she imagines being a part of this story he’s telling.”

 

“No mind indeed.” I chuckle, my own hand lowering to my erection which is straining to be free, and would like nothing better than to be within your grasp. “Anyways,” I continue, trying to regain control of myself so that I can continue to control you, “after you freed my cock from my underwear you look into my eyes and drag a single finger up the underside, over the tip, and down the other side. You smile at me and lick your lips subtly before lowering yourself down to it, agonizingly slow.”

 

“Ugh.” you groan. “I’m teasing you in the dream but I’m only teasing myself now!” you let out an exasperated sigh. I smile to myself amused at your observation. You pull the phone from your ear and look at it, then holding it at arm’s length you bellow “Fuck, just let me taste you already damn it!” As you return the phone to your ear you hear me laughing, “Not funny. I’m getting so antsy here I could explode!” you admit, much to my delight.

 

“That’s the idea.” I retort, “But trust me, in my dream, it was me that was in agony.” The image is transfixed in my mind and I recall it with disturbing clarity. “You lowered your head to my cock, so damn slow I could scream. It’s then that I realize that the tie that I had around my neck before was suddenly wrapped around my wrists and holding me in place on the chair.”

 

“Oooooh…..so you’re trapped!” you giggle, enjoying the plight of your current tormentor.

 

“Very much so. I recall pulling and tugging at the tie, anxious and desperate. All I want to do is run my hands through your hair. I want to direct you closer and have your tongue on my cock, your mouth engulfing me.” I explain. I hear you moan through the phone and smile at the continued control I have over you. The thoughts in my mind tantalize me, but to have them tease and torture you is sincerely delicious. “But all you do is lower yourself so only the very tip of your tongue touches me.”

 

“Mmmmm hmmm?” you moan in response, running your finger across your lips and gently licking it as you do, imagining it to be my stiff member instead.

 

“Of course it’s torture. Your tongue so light, then your lips, then back to your tongue. My cock is aching and pulsating in agony. My hips push up as I try to get more of your attention. But each time I raise myself up you pull back the same amount, keeping the same slow, light, teasing pressure on my sex.”

 

“Gah……you’re making me so wet here!” you exclaim suddenly. “I can see it so clearly in my mind and I want it so bad babe.” you partly whisper and partly moan through the phone. You fingers that were dancing across your lips have now walked their way down your body and are drawing circles in the faint wisps of hair between your legs. You bite your lip and push a single finger into your pussy and gasp at your surprising sensitivity and delicious wetness. “Fuck me.” you mutter under your breath, knowing full well the story has only begun.

 

“It makes me smile to know how uncomfortably turned on you are hun. I can almost taste you through the phone….”

 

“Ugghhhh…..shut up. You’re killing me here. Now tell me what happens next in your dream. I need to know!!” the last word drawn out like a child whining for ice cream after already being denied twice before.

 

I laugh into the phone. If you only knew the state I was in myself maybe you would take small comfort in my anxious pain as well. But for now, I’ll continue. “Well it is my own dream so I didn’t let that teasing go on forever.”

 

“You must like it though if you dream about it.”

 

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” I retort sardonically, but your astute observation is definitely correct. “Anyways,” I attempt to continue once more, “the teasing….”

 

“Right….I have to stop teasing by now right?” you interrupt again. Your finger lazily pushing in and out of your very wet pussy as you speak.

 

“…the teasing stops abruptly when you lower your mouth and take me in as deep as you can let me.” I finish. “Of course I moan, my god it felt amazing. Your warm, wet, loving mouth, running down my shaft, engulfing the sensitive head of my cock as your tongue twirled expertly around me within your mouth.”

 

Your response this time only comes in the form of a drawn out guttural grunt. While you’re listening to me you’ve pushed a second digit into your pussy and bit your lip with the intensity of pleasure that pulsed through your body. “Fu-u-u-u-uck” you whisper, not so much to me as to yourself.

 

“Then you take your mouth away from my cock and slowly run your hand up and down the shaft but only using your thumb and middle finger. Your touch is exquisite but it’s so light, so tender I find myself squirming even more now.”

 

“Fuck…I’m squirming right now as you speak.” you admit in a moan. “I’m having trouble holding onto the phone!”

 

I smile and continue the story, realizing that I have your complete attention now. The kettle could be squealing, the neighbor’s dog barking, fire trucks could be arriving to put out a fire on the second floor of your house, and yet you would not notice any of that. Your focus instead is all on me. You devour each word from my lips. Each thought that I share you take into your body like a drug addict with a fresh needle. This is always the fun part. “As you tease my shaft you bend your head further down and run your tongue up my balls, licking one side then the other. Kissing, licking, and gently sucking on them which feels absolutely amazing.”

 

“Mmmmm….that sounds like fun. I’d love to make you squirm as much as you’re making me squirm. If you had any idea how turned on I was right now…..”

 

“….I’d be over there in a heartbeat to make good on all the fantasy I’ve been feeding you…”

 

“..Oh fuck don’t say that!” you exclaim, excited but firm, “Don’t you dare say that! I want you so bad right now it’s not even fair to tease me like that!” Your desperation is evident in your tone so I leave the matter for now.

 

In truth, even if I wanted to be in your home in a heartbeat, I couldn’t. With nearly 3000 miles between us, there would be no such thing as “over in a heartbeat” unless it was to describe how quickly you’d cum if I let you. “I know, I know.” I respond as I sigh. “Still….it’s a nice thought isn’t it?”

 

“Fuck ya….god…you have no idea how much I want that right now….” you breathlessly reply. “Tell me though, what happens next?”

 

“Right, the dream.” I respond.

 

“Yes! Tell me what happens next!?” you demand, anxious for the next morsel.

 

“Well you’re rubbing my shaft, and licking and sucking at my balls.”

 

“Yessssss.” you hiss, clenching your teeth and curling your fingers up inside of your pussy before retracting them again.

 

“Then you stop, abruptly.”

 

“What?!” you unconsciously shout into the phone mad at the dream version of yourself.

 

“Yes, you stop. You release my shaft and pull your head away, dragging a finger up and over my cock head one last time.”

 

“Gah….fuck. I hate that dream me is teasing real me! This isn’t fair!” you laugh, giggling away the frustrations.

 

“Then you stand up straight and stare at me before slowly turning around….”

 

“Oh the ass again….you and my ass…”

 

“Do you want me to continue the story or not?” I tease maliciously.

 

“Sorry sorry sorry!” comes the response, thick with desperation. “Please continue good sir. Do not let the weeping puddle of a desperately horny woman dissuade you from your storytelling.”

 

“Oooh, nicely put.”

 

“Shut up!” you retort venomously, “Just tell me what happens after I stand.” Unconsciously you have linked the moments of your fingers to the movements of your dream self. Each tease in the story teases you. Each moment of slow torture, tortures you. I’ve got you hanging off every word. “What happens next!”

 

“Well you turn around and yes, you present your ass to me. But before I can get a chance to appreciate it’s deliciousness, you’ve backed yourself up towards me. The soft skin of your shapely ass rubbing up against my hard, hot, blood filled cock.”

 

“Mmmmm…..that sounds fun.” you mumble, fingers moving once more to the beat of my dream.

 

“It feels amazing.” I reply, “The softness of you contrasting with the hardness of me, my cock bouncing and rubbing side to side as you snake your ass from side to side like a sultry private dancer.”

 

“Mmmm….then…..uhhh…then what?” you query, your fingers curling up inside of you again. Teasing each special spot within your pussy that you instinctively know how to reach at a moment’s notice.

 

“You slowly remove your thong, then turn back to face me.”

 

“Oh?” you blurt, “Is what I think going to happen….going to happen?”

 

I ignore the question and keep going despite the interruption, “You lean over and brace yourself against my chest, placing both hands on my body while staring into my eyes. As you do you swing one leg over my leg….”

 

“Oooh fuck…..and then the other over the other?……so I’m straddling you now?” you excitedly interject.

 

“Yes hun, you’ve straddled my legs. Then you shift yourself so that you’re inches away from me. My cock twitching and throbbing rests just outside of your wet, hot, excited pussy.”

 

“Mmmmmm…I think I know what happens next….”

 

“You reach down and grip me with one hand and place me at the entrance to your slickened sex before lowering yourself slowly onto my cock.”

 

“Yesssssss….finally.” you moan, your fingers now moving in and out of your body even quicker than before. Stopping only to pull out and rub gentle circles on your clit before being plunged back in.

 

“It feels so god damn good to finally have that relief.” I continue, smiling as I hear you stifling several moans on the other side of the phone. “Your pussy clinging to my cock as you move. It grips me and pulls on me as you slide up and then plunge back down again. I’m still tied up though and I’m at your mercy. I wish so much to be able to grip your hips and thrust up into you from my chair. I want to pull you close to me and nibble on your ear, whisper how amazing you look, how good you’re making me feel. I want to lower my mouth to your breasts and snare a nipple between my lips, licking and sucking on it as you bounce on my cock. I want it so bad, but you’re in control.”

 

“Fu-u-u-uck.” you moan. Even though I can’t see you I can hear in your voice the desperation, the anxious desire to cum. You want what I want. You crave what I can provide. You wish your fingers were my fingers, my cock, my tongue, my lips. You want it so badly. Your legs swinging closed and open again wishing there was a man’s body between them. My body. “Damn it man you’re turning me on so much.” you mutter between short excited gasps.

 

“Well it’s a dream so even though I was tied up, I’m suddenly untied.”

 

“Oh?”

 

“Yes, and perhaps more amusingly, now it’s you tied up to the chair instead.”

 

“What?? Noooooo” you complain. “That’s no fair!” you hand stops playing with yourself briefly as you try to picture the new scene in your mind.

 

“Oh I don’t think you’ll mind.” I chuckle. “Your wrists are bound to the arms of the chair, and your legs are tied to the seat. There’s a piece of fabric that runs over your calves and around the underside of the chair….”

 

“Wait so I’m….I’m facing…” the realization of what I’m describing slowly dawning on you.

 

“Yes…your ass is facing me, and you’re facing the back of the chair. So you’re strapped down to it, but you’re nicely accessible.” I laugh.

 

“Damn it…you’re killing me.” you giggle, thinking about how it would feel to be tied down. You haven’t ever had that experience, but you always love the way I describe it.

 

“Yes, well that’s not the best part.”

 

“Oh?”

 

“It’s a chair with wheels you see.” I say, pausing for a moment for you to contemplate the implications. “So I can wheel you where I want, spin you where I want, with ease.”

 

“I see.” you reply, cautiously optimistic that I’m not going to torture you too badly. You’re already aching to cum right now and if I prolong it any longer you feel like you could possibly lose your mind.

 

“So with you strapped down it’s my turn…”

 

“Fuck” you mutter under your breath, anticipating more teasing.

 

“…I’m sorry do you not want me to continue?” I threaten, while smiling on my end of the phone.

 

“No no nooooo….I’m just….I’m….well…frustrated.”

 

“You’re frustrated?” I ask, pretending to be ignorant of the plight of put you in.

 

“Yessssssss” you hiss, “I’m so turned on right now it’s killing me! I swear you know exactly what to say and exactly what to do to make this utter agony.”

 

“So you want me to stop.”

 

“NO! Don’t stop! I …I just…..god damn it I WANT TO CUM!” you yell at the phone again, holding it once more away from you while angrily demanding satisfaction.

 

“So I should continue…”

 

“Yes…”

 

“Then try not to interrupt.” I chuckle.

 

“Fuck you…just…tell me what happens next.” you laugh. Then once more bite your lip in anticipation of what my devious mind has designed for you next.

 

“Right so you’re strapped to the chair now, and I spin you around and kiss you. I look into your eyes and ask if you want my cock inside you.”

 

“God damn it…of course I do!” you answer for the dream version of you.

 

“Funny enough you answered something to that effect in the dream too.” I laugh. “So I spin you back around so your ass faces me, but before I aim my cock and stab it into you, I lower my mouth to your exposed ass and run my tongue up over your clit, up the moist slit of your dripping pussy, to your tender asshole before bringing my hand down on your ass with a loud slap.”

 

“You spanked me!?” you ask incredulously.

 

“You’re damn right I did.”

 

“Mmmmmm….I’d like that.” you moan, then giggle at your revelation.

 

“So after I spank your cute ass I grip it, aim my cock, and plunge it into you as deep as I can, without allowing you any opportunity to be ready for it.”

 

“F-f-f–f-u-u-uck” you moan, plunging your fingers into your pussy as you picture my thick phallus inside of you instead.

 

I know I’ve got to finish soon or you’ll preemptively gush before the story is ready for it. “I grip onto your hips and pull you back into me as I thrust deeply into your delicious pussy.”

 

“Mmmmm” you mutter, no longer able to reply with any coherent thought.

 

“I run my hand up your back, then drag my nails down before spanking you once more as I thrust into you over and over again. The room is echoing the sound of my hips slapping into your ass and I can hear you moan with each driving thrust.” On cue I hear you moan through the phone followed by another gasp. Your fingers are working their magic down below and with the phone wedged between your ear and shoulder your free hand has run up your stomach to your breasts where you’ve twisted and pulled at one nipple, then the other. “I can feel you’re losing control. I can feel your pussy twitching and gripping me as I thrust.”

 

“Fuck it feels so good.” you mumble, “I want that hot dick so bad.”

 

“…and you have it.” I continue. “But I abruptly stop and pull out of your spasming sex before you can cum to quickly…”

 

“Mother fucker!!”

 

“I spin you around again and position my pulsating sex in front of your face and immediately you take me into your mouth. As you lick and suck on me I reward you with another loud spank.”

 

“Bastard”

 

“I pull from your mouth and spin you around again, driving my thickness into you until you can feel my balls slap against your aching clit.” I can hear you moan again on the other end of the phone and deeply wish I could see you right now. To be able to see you losing control of your body, feeling delicious waves of pleasure pulsing through you, buzzing, electrifying your skin. Causing you to gasp and moan erratically. “I continue to fuck you, hard, fast, angrily, like a wild animal.”

 

“F-u-u-u-ck” you moan again, louder this time. “I want to cum so bad right now, but I want to hear the rest of the story.”

 

“…your eyes are clenched shut. Your jaw open and you breathe in big gulps of air as you enjoy every inch of me. Every touch tantalizes you. I run my tongue up the center of your back and you shiver and moan in response.” I smile knowing what comes next. “What you haven’t noticed though, with your eyes clenched shut, is that with each thrust I’ve shuffled the chair closer and closer to the front window.”

 

“Wait…what??” you splutter, pulled out of your near orgasmic trance.

 

“…I pull the curtains open and we look out onto the darkened street. It’s lit only by a scant few street lights. Your mouth is open and your face twisted in pleasure. In the window you can make out the silhouette of our reflection. Seeing us together is too much to handle you start to lose yourself in the moment. As you do you can see a couple walking their dog on the other side of the street. A car is coming the opposite direction. You feel my cock driving into you. The couple looks at the car pass. They’re looking right at us. The man doesn’t notice, but the woman does. Her mouth opens wide, your mouth opens wide. You gasp as she gasps. She taps her partner enthusiastically trying to get him to look where she’s looking. It’s too much…you can’t handle it. You can’t move. You shudder, you squeal, and gasp as you cum viciously and violently. Shaking your head from side to side creating a fan of hair whipping in front of the window. The man is watching you, the woman is watching you, I’m watching you and you can’t stop cumming. It’s too much for me now, the sight is just too beautiful. With a quick jolt I pull out of your spasming pussy, spin you one last time towards me and with a hot, thick jet of cum, spill my excitement over your lips in full view of the excited strangers on the street. Another pulse blasts through my body and another rope of cum jettisons itself onto your waiting tongue.”

 

“Oh fuck I’m cumming!” you squeal right on time. Your fingers spastically play with you as the moment takes you over. Your surroundings melt away and you find yourself in the scene I described for you. As you gasp and spasm you can almost taste my cum on your tongue, its salty sweetness a delight. You feel so alive, so incredibly beautiful in my eyes. You moan loudly as you slowly begin to regain control of your body.

 

I keep going with my story, “Your eyes fly open and you lick your lips as you begin to laugh with the relief of this release. We both turn to look out the window to see the couple giving us a thumbs up before walking around the corner and down the street.” I finish, “At which point, I woke up.”

 

“Damn it man….I LOVE the way you think.” you laugh into the phone, looking down at yourself and noticing the wet spot on the couch you have left. You roll your eyes at yourself and stand up, picking up the cushion and flipping it over. “I just wish I could have that in reality sometime.”

 

“I know……sometime….”

 

There’s a brief pause as we both think about the implications of such a moment.

 

The silence is suddenly broken….as there is a light, playful knock

 

….at your door

 

….you drop the phone….